Nick and I went to Arthur's Pass so I could finally complete the climb to the top of the Temple Basin track.
Just past the track is a small town called Otira. It was a booming hive of activity during the twenties when the rail tunnel was being built and the train station was in heavy use.
The entire town was purchased by a couple in 1998 for $80,000.00
Today the town consists of an historic hotel and a collection of cute cottages built during the boom days.
It had a school, heated swimming pool, tea rooms and post office once but they have all been closed or converted into something else.
There are about 80 residents (though where they all live is a mystery to me).
The town hasn't really been a destination spot for a while and it has a quietness that I love.
I guess most people know of Arthur's Pass with it's two cafes, reasonable accommodation and easy access to multiple walking tracks.
For me though, a quiet spot with cottages that back up to a national park forest and are available for short term rent is a dream come true.
The town is two hours from my house so it's accessible on weekends. It is the perfect place to establish a study base for the areas various kea populations.
Nick and I popped into the hotel for lunch and I was fascinated by the antique decor.
There were some creative examples of taxidermy in there including two hairless rats that had been given bird wings. A stuffed possum was graced with a pair of horns and fangs.
There was a fire going and a brass bucket full of coals sat nearby.
There was a canary in a small cage by the window and an Australian Galah in a large cage opposite of it.
While I whispered to the larger bird, an old man in the corner told me the bird's name was Scottie and that he could talk.
This man was quite lively and had a twinkle in his eye.
He decided to get out of his seat at one point and it took him three tries to get up the momentum to stand.
"I'm as old as some of the things in here," he chuckled, nodding toward the ephemera of yesteryear.
As I whispered to Scottie he set his crown feathers up and asked how I was doing.
"His name is Scottie," a younger man said to me.
The older man hissed out an aggressive "Jesus Christ!" at him.
I guess when you grow up in a place you feel you've earned the right to tell the outsiders all the good stories.
How dare some young upstart swoop in a steal your glory! The cheek!
The younger man then proceeded to tell me everything the older one had just explained.
Nick and I were given a tour of the hotel. Several of the rooms held giant ornate wooden beds, including one Queen Elizabeth's father had used when he had visited the place back in 19-humdee hum. And they are still talking about it like it was yesterday.
I liked that town. I felt an immediate connection to it and looked forward to returning soon.
Recently, I contacted the family who own the town and they have agreed to rent one of their cottages to me after Christmas.
I can't wait to get down there with pens and notebooks and wander off into the woods to study kea.
The lady who runs the pub and hotel told me there are three keas that like to come to the window and stare at Scottie.
Maybe I won't have to venture far to meet my first study subjects.
Just past the track is a small town called Otira. It was a booming hive of activity during the twenties when the rail tunnel was being built and the train station was in heavy use.
The entire town was purchased by a couple in 1998 for $80,000.00
Today the town consists of an historic hotel and a collection of cute cottages built during the boom days.
It had a school, heated swimming pool, tea rooms and post office once but they have all been closed or converted into something else.
There are about 80 residents (though where they all live is a mystery to me).
The town hasn't really been a destination spot for a while and it has a quietness that I love.
I guess most people know of Arthur's Pass with it's two cafes, reasonable accommodation and easy access to multiple walking tracks.
For me though, a quiet spot with cottages that back up to a national park forest and are available for short term rent is a dream come true.
The town is two hours from my house so it's accessible on weekends. It is the perfect place to establish a study base for the areas various kea populations.
Nick and I popped into the hotel for lunch and I was fascinated by the antique decor.
There were some creative examples of taxidermy in there including two hairless rats that had been given bird wings. A stuffed possum was graced with a pair of horns and fangs.
There was a fire going and a brass bucket full of coals sat nearby.
There was a canary in a small cage by the window and an Australian Galah in a large cage opposite of it.
While I whispered to the larger bird, an old man in the corner told me the bird's name was Scottie and that he could talk.
This man was quite lively and had a twinkle in his eye.
He decided to get out of his seat at one point and it took him three tries to get up the momentum to stand.
"I'm as old as some of the things in here," he chuckled, nodding toward the ephemera of yesteryear.
As I whispered to Scottie he set his crown feathers up and asked how I was doing.
"His name is Scottie," a younger man said to me.
The older man hissed out an aggressive "Jesus Christ!" at him.
I guess when you grow up in a place you feel you've earned the right to tell the outsiders all the good stories.
How dare some young upstart swoop in a steal your glory! The cheek!
The younger man then proceeded to tell me everything the older one had just explained.
Nick and I were given a tour of the hotel. Several of the rooms held giant ornate wooden beds, including one Queen Elizabeth's father had used when he had visited the place back in 19-humdee hum. And they are still talking about it like it was yesterday.
I liked that town. I felt an immediate connection to it and looked forward to returning soon.
Recently, I contacted the family who own the town and they have agreed to rent one of their cottages to me after Christmas.
I can't wait to get down there with pens and notebooks and wander off into the woods to study kea.
The lady who runs the pub and hotel told me there are three keas that like to come to the window and stare at Scottie.
Maybe I won't have to venture far to meet my first study subjects.
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