Shake, Rattle and Roll

Sunday, January 15

Christchurch, early Sunday morning with only the birds chirping and the sun shining, after a restless night, John decided to write. It was a rough night. About 2:47 AM as he was falling back to sleep after a short waking, the ground shook with what he estimated was a 4.0 earthquake. The building moved a bit as it shivered from the the shaking earth. Hard to fall back to sleep. Ben slept through it! It was in truth a 5.0 earthquake. Here’s the official posted report:

1. Reference Number: 3642657
2. NZDT: Sun, Jan 15 2012 2:47 am
3. Magnitude: 5.0
4. Depth: 9 km
5. Details: 10 km east of Christchurch

It was only the second time we had felt an earthquake, the first being Washinton’s August shaker. And It was a rather funny coincidence. Just yesterday afternoon the taxi driver bringing us back to the Argyle on the Park from Christchurch Station had said that the quakes continued and he expected one last night. Of course earthquakes are not quite that predictable, but he was right on. I suppose later this morning we’ll venture toward downtown to see a bit of damage. Not to gawk, just to sympathize with the Christchurchers who live with them so regularly as they continue to rebuild after the two that razed their city center. (We did take a walk, and the damage is substantial, but at the same time the strong-willed Christchurchers still continue to punt on the Avoon and have taken up rebuilding.)

We’ve had a busy two days of train travel. We awoke on Friday morning to pouring rain with heavy thunderstorms waking us during the night in Picton. We had our breakfast at the Broadway, a fine, newish motel, at the top of the main street, left our bags and went to explore the tiny town before leaving at 1 PM for Christchurch. Not much to see, so we bought sandwiches at the Bakkerij Picton, a Dutch-founded pastry and bread shop, and headed for the station. It was a good ending to our days in the Sounds area of the South Island.

The train ride south to Christchurch is long but quite pretty. It passed many small towns on the East Coast of the island, making few stops. At various points the tunnels show how hard it has been to build rail lines in New Zealand as they go through the promontories into the Pacific. The line was begun in the 1860s but not completed until 1945, in part because of wars, in part because of politics! The train passes salt flats, fields, loads of sheep and cattle, and then races across the Canterbury Plain around Christchurch to the city.

We are staying in Riccarton, on the west side of Hagley Park, a pleasant suburban neighborhood. The Argyle is a pleasant motel with a full kitchen and a bedroom in our suite. No breakfast for free, but we got supplies at the local superette. Around the corner is a restaurant row where we have eaten both nights here.

Our first evening the motel owner suggested the Running Bull in a hotel at a nearby corner, a very loud young folks bar, but with a very good restaurant. We got two small salads to start, John had a sauvignon blanc from Marlborough and Ben ordered a local pinot noir. We coupled this with a Canterbury Tray of meats and vegetables: this was a huge cutting board of lamb shoulder, roasted slowly and very juicy, covered in a red wine reduction, green beans steamed to crispness, a mixture of kumara, carrots and parsnips, some fresh sweet peas, and rosemary potatoes. It was a huge amount of food, which we didn’t quite finish, but it was just what John wanted, he admitted sheepishly.

Yesterday, Saturday, was an all day excursion over the Southern Alps to Greymouth on the West Coast. This is an 9 hour trip, leaving at 8 AM returning at 6 PM with an hour in Greymouth for lunch. The trip is listed as one of the world’s great rail journeys, and it truly is. It follows the Waikikiri River Gorge on the eastern slopes as the train climbs about 700 meters (2,300 feet), through 21 tunnels and over three major viaducts. At sea level and for some miles the ride is through agricultural lands with the mountain vista visible to the West. Then the climb ride is through scruffy yellowed hills, reminiscent of parts of the American West until reaching a spring-like Alpine peak. it rains intermittently as the trains pass under the low-lying clouds. At Arthurs Pass in the national park, the train begins a descent through a five mile long tunnel to Ohira which is the geographical divide of the South Island.

While there isn’t much snow at this time of year--it is mid-Summer--there was still some snow on the sides of the peaks. Not as much as Montana or Alberta’s Rockies, but still visible. Clearly much of the snow had melted evidenced by the waterfalls and swollen, rushing rivers.

The ride down on the eastern side to the sea follows two rivers, with evidence of old mines and passing coal trains on sidings where the track doubles to allow two way traffic on what is mainly a single track ride. New Zealand’s trains run on a 3’6” gauge, considerably narrower than the Americas’ or Europe’s 4’8.5” gauge.

Greymouth is small, population 10,000 and we were not there long enough to explore for more than a place to have lunch. We found a suitable coffee shop, Ben had a small muffin with his textured cappuccino and some of John’s breakfast, which was very good--meatless but with good bread and lovely roasted tomatoes to go with the poached eggs.

The train home gave us chance to see the trip from a different angle, trying a bit to converse with the Russians from Vladivostok across the aisle. John’s 50 year-old Russian was not up to it, but he did manage ‘khorosho’ and ‘spasibo’. ‘Fine’ and ‘thanks’, which impressed the Russians a bit, only one of whom spoke English!

For dinner we looked through our list and checked local listings. We found a table outside at a local eclectic place about ten minutes walk away. Treviso served us whitebait, a local delicacy, a tiny fish, about an inch long, in an omelette as a starter, followed by gurnard for Ben and lamb grilled for John. The woman who recommended the whitebait, Brenda, had a good long conversation with us and then introduced us to her husband after we had finished our meal and they were on a cigarette break.

The wine was a Central Otago pinot noir, a Mount Difficulty, Roaring Meg, recommended by Brenda, and the waitress, from the southern part of the South Island. On arrival John had had a Old Mac Gold ale, which was not as deep in taste as the Tui in Auckland, but a good quaff.