WHITECLIFF CONCRETIONS

We walked with a church group to see the Whitecliff Boulders today.  The trek starts on farmland which you reach via a winding gravel road not far from Mangaweka.  Then there’s a 4.1km walk down the cliff and along the Rangitikei River.  The difficulty part is that the trail descends 460 feet between the car park and the low point of the route to the boulders – alright going down the steep clay farm track, but not so good climbing back…

You pay a small fee for public access and park at the top of the bluffs, and we were amazed to find a composting long drop toilet down at the boulders – that flushed!  The boulders (concretions) are spectacular and well worth the visit.

Unfortunately, despite carrying water and trying to stay hydrated, I got ill halfway back up the track – it was a pretty hot day – and others stopped to help.  I am so grateful for the kindness of my church family.  However, it became clear that I wasn’t going to make it without more help, so the farmer picked me up with his quad bike and deposited me up at the carpark again – along with another walker who needed the lift…

I wouldn’t have missed it though, despite that small setback, but when we got home Rod, Bert and I all collapsed and had an hour’s snooze.  I’ve attached a few early shots, but will post some more of the boulders when I have time.

BASHO’S DEATH POEM

Answering a challenge to condense three of Basho’s wonderful ku into one.  To see the whole challenge visit the original post

It is unexpectedly cold tonight and I am curled up under two quilts, wondering how I came to be in this unknown place.  The moon is lost among drifting stars that call to me with a strange intensity.

falling sick
in a field of dry grass
autumn wandering

 

 

GIFTED…

I planted a small deciduous Azalea in the front garden when we first came here.  I didn’t have much hope that it would survive because our soil is poor and damp, and at one stage I thought it was dead.  But this spring these beautiful, tightly furled buds are finally open, looking like crushed silk.

a geisha
swirls the creases
from her kimono