The scenery is stunning as Robin wheels the van up and down the coastal roads. The postal truck creeps along the one lane roads barely touching the edge before it drops off to the jagged shoreline below, a mere 500 or 600 metre drop of death. The odd farm or coastal home cling to the hillsides. Off in the distance the snow capped peaks of the South Island Mountains frame the rustic picture of a typical N.Z. post card view. It seems that every curve in the road reveals a different scenic landscape. Sheep and cattle dot the coastline pastures, zig zag paths allow them to traverse the otherwise inaccessible hills.
I shudder and can't look down as we careen close to the gravel strewn edge of the road. One minute we are roaring up a hill and then careening down the other side in an almost roller coast like ride. The odd church or community hall are the only disruption to an unending vista of scenery. I snap away with my camera, Robin graciously stops to allow me to grab shots which I will later share to help promote the postal tours. In Decantur Bay we stop for tea (also known as lunch). Robin spreads a table cloth, a thermos of tea and some home made scones, out on an ancient picnic table. The Bay provides a stunning backdrop for such a scrumptious snack. Life is good I feel truly blessed. The air is pure and clean, the sun is shinning and Robin proves to be an amiable host chatting about life on this beautiful island, I am envious.
The next leg of our journey takes us deep into some very remote farm country. I am disappointed, I haven't seen any sheep yet, the quintessential N.Z. scene. Robin tells me we may not see any at all as farmers have turned to raising cattle for bigger profits so sheep aren't as plentiful as they once were. A few moments later we round a corner at the top of a huge hill, the road is jammed with sheep two border collies race the circumference of the flock corralling and cajoling their charges. We sit and watch the scene as the farmer on an old 100 CC motorcycle arrives to chat up Robin, I climb out of the van and snap away.
Our next stop is a small church perched like a swallows nest on a cliff. Robin delivers the mail and I take more pictures. I get back to the van and Robin is chatting with a strange looking chap on a quad, he has a white haired mullet with a balding pate and mutton chop moustache. Each knuckle on his fingers is tattooed when he smiles half his dental work is missing. This is Norm the "possum hunta" a man before or after his time. It turns out that possums are running rampant in the N.Z. countryside and blokes like Norm trap and kill them for the farmers. Norm gets a good price for the hides and a better price if he plucks the fur that is then mixed with wool to make winter garments. We bid Norm adieu, just as we are getting into the van a young farmer comes around the corner on a small motorcycle towing two calves in a cage with the mother plodding along behind. He is frustrated with the old cow as it is his second trip down the mountain this week "to retrieve the awld bugga". I laugh recalling my own childhood days on the farm chasing wayward cows.
Off they go up the mountain, the motorcycle chugging with the calves held prisoner in the cage and mom reluctantly following. The cow refuses to let us pass swerving in front of us each time we try to sneak by, her large posterior forming a black and white wall. Robin chuckles "You're certainly getting an eyeful today mate some days there's no one on the route."
We bob and weave up and down roads like a punch drunk boxer. Auld Joch waits patiently by his mailbox he leans on Robin's window when we stop at the mailbox. "Ya forgot me pills yestaday, I rang up the chemist to tell em ya know." He smiles revealing a few missing teeth. Robin hands him his prescription and I am reminded how important mail service still is here. Robin shakes his head and smiles the old bloke sure missed his pills. At the next curve we drive up to a tree trunk mail box looking like something out of Winnie the Pooh. As we pull up the mailbox a younger woman comes out of the house and presents Robin with an upside down mini ice cream cake. "Crikey just what I need for my cholesterol" He puts the cake on the console of the van to be consumed later when I am not looking.
I am struck by the relationship Robin has with the people on his route they are his people, kind hard working country people - the best. I am reminded how we are losing rural populations to the city New Zealand seems to be no different than Canada. Another tiny village and back to the roller coaster ride as we round a turn the ocean is played out before us a spectacular vista that stretches as far as the eye can see. We pass a dusting of snow on the side of the road, I do a double take. "Are we up that high?" I inquire.
"Oh yes mate as a matter of fact school had to be cancelled the other day, the kids were really disappointed"
He laughs "but the mail got through" He winks to reinforce the message.
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