Lake Kereta

page 2

The first day we head out is in the wake of a severe storm,

and as we crest the rise and look out across the pines to the coast, the surf is impressive. Remember, it is about a kilometre or more distant

We have just been walking through mature pine forest, but here we strike the new forest, and head on down to the intersection with Inland Rd. Inland Rd is still used as a major forestry route, but is closed to the public.

Immediately to the other side of the intersection is a small carpark for hunters. Fallow deer roam throughout Woodhill forest, and hunters ballot for shooting rights - a bit like the time-share concept, except it's a lottery of sorts. Ballotted hunters are restricted as to time and location, and maintain a minimum distance from public access ways, but poachers, respecting none of these constraints, are not unheard of, and it probably pays to wear brightly coloured clothing, especially out towards the coast. Part of the northern forest area is completely closed to the public during the main shooting season in winter.

The track is firmly packed sand, and at least this far would probably support a 2WD vehicle, but I imagine in the heat of summer it would dry out considerably and be much softer. In any case, the sand immediately next to the coast is no place for a standard sedan.

Just here, Coast Rd heads south and north, almost invisible behind a barrier of tank traps, piled up logs and bulldozed sand ridges. Carter Holt Harvey (CHH) has one of the most consistently zero-scoring aesthetic records of any outfit I've come across.

This patch of pines will probably never be felled, offering it's grotesquely twisted and sculpured shelter to the belt of new forest immediately inland.

And here we are. It's considerably quieter here today than it was last week.

though you can see where last week's storm has eaten into the coastal dunes.

An earlier vehicle has headed north along the coast, probably fishermen.

Alice heads out to investigate the surf, and romps around in the shallows.

I think this is just about my perfect West Coast. Clean sand, sea, and isolation.

The brisk north westerly wind carries a stinging load of fine sand along the beach and even up into the dunes. We hunt for a sheltered spot to grab some lunch, and I note more or less subconsciously that a norwester is one of the main rain-bearing winds in this area. Alice wants to know why we don't do this more often.

We find a sheltered spot and unship the thermos and sandwiches. The sky above is fluffy white and blue. It's been ages since I've just lain back and watched the clouds. As kids we used to look for flying thistle and dandelion seeds against this sort of blue.

Suddenly we have visitors.

Despite the bright blue, the wind has a bite in it. It might be time to start home.

More tank traps discourage 4WD vehicles from exploring along the ridge of the dunes. It's arguable which is likely to generate more wind erosion, the vehicles or the tank traps which rip out the vegetation holding the surface in place.

We take a last look south at the houndstooth patterns in the sand, and head back towards the van.

About 100 metres from the van, it begins to cloud over very fast. About 50 metres from the van it begins to pelt down, a cold, stinging and drenching rain, and we finish at a run, fumbling for van keys as we do so. So much for the clothes on the line at home which have already been there for some 72 hours.

Total time, including lunch, a little under three hours.