I am barely able to catch my breath before we lurch away in the Rino. A semi-comfortable seat never felt so good . We are going even further up into the Mt. Mable Range as M wants to check his cattle. He has approximately 300 cows foraging in the surrounding hills, some he hasn't seen for over two years. We pass through several gates all with warnings on them that trespassers will be prosecuted. My only thought is who the hell is going to be crazy enough to come up here. The two kids cling to the gun rack as we traverse the clay based muddy cow path. M negotiates the narrow path, on my side is an old wire fence precariously leaning over supported by a single strand of barbed wire. On the drivers side a yawning chasm sports a straight drop of at least 500 metres. The wheel of the Rino straddles the edge of the path sending stones and small rocks careening down the cliff.
I am terrified to the point that I can't bear to look. I imagine the Rino cartwheeling down the side of the mountain ejecting us from the vehicle as it goes. Who would find us in this remote abyss? I tighten my grasp on the HF handle and close my eyes praying that if I make it out of this alive I will be a better person. I can't resist the temptation to look as M slows down. There is a 1000 pound heifer standing on my side of the path. M deftley veers around the cow and the wheel slides further off the path, the vehicle tilts at a godforsaken angle and I feel as though I am going to pass out. Did I mention that I am so acrophobic I have trouble climbing a stepladder? My heart is pounding in my chest and I say a silent prayer. The Rino slips sideways and for a split second the tire loses it's bite and catches the mountainside tilting us even further. M yanks the wheel in the opposite direction and we are back on the path again climbing to the peak of the summit. The view is stunning I can see the entire mountain range. It is cold and I notice a dusting of snow at my feet, my heart beat is slowly returning to normal.
We climb back into the Rino for the voyage down the mountain. M lights a smoke and we make our way
back to civilization. I opt to keep my eyes closed as I am now on the cliff side of the equation I just can't look. I am numb, cold and scared I can't even bring myself to take a picture. I pull the tuque down over my eyes and pretend to rest as the Rino bumps and grinds us down the mountain. I am cold, wet, numb and exhausted, the kids in the back are having a ball playing with the boar jaw and arguing with each other. In the valley we ford a stream and stop at M's Maori friends isolated ranch house. The stream regularly floods and strands them for months at a time. We get out and stretch our legs it is a little warmer in the valley but I am still feeling the effects of wearing damp wet clothes in zero degree temperatures. After a cordial visit in the farmyard and a badly needed drink of water we are heading back to the station. I can't wait to get into the house and dry my clothes by the fire. The house is quiet and the fire has gone out M decides we don't need another fire, but I still strip down and start waving my damp shirt around like a rabid fan at a rugby match. I am chilled to the bone and feeling rather miserable.
In a couple of hours M's wife arrives with the two other kids and we take off for S and E's ranch house where he is farm manager. To my relief S has nice warm fire going in a large wood stove in the corner. I gravitate to the fire like a flea to a dog parking my butt a few inches from the soothing warmth. Within the hour I feel human again. We start with the bourbon and cola's, a few too many if truth be known, followed by a lovely meal and table tennis tournament. It has been one helluva day. Would I do it again? You bet, in a heart beat. Next time I'll bring warmer waterproof clothes and a contact case!
Kiaora
ps: coming up camper van mania on the wrong side of the road.
