We arise early in the morning to catch the TranzAlpine, a very scenic train ride from Christchurch on the east coast through the South Alps to Greymouth on the west. The scenery is staggering. I entertain myself by pointing out every flock of sheep to Dave (“Hey look! Sheep!”), which he finds endlessly amusing. We also really enjoy eavesdropping on a journey-long conversation between two Australian couples and a British family, in which they discuss the Chunnel and narrow boats, funny things the British son said when he was 6 years old (much to his embarrassment), pollution patterns in London and Sydney, the latest in photography equipment, how much the internet has improved travel, and everything in between.
When we arrive in Greymouth, the Hertz agent is at the station to meet people with Hertz reservations… in this case, a couple from Berkeley (small world!) and us. The agent has brought both rental cars with her. She drives the Berkeley couple back to the Hertz facility to fill out the paperwork. I drive the other car. The woman actually hands me the keys before I sign any paperwork or show any ID. This strikes me as a little weird. Dave tries to talk me into making a break for it, but we eventually decide to follow along.
We head up to Punakaiki to take a look at the Pancake Rocks and stay the night. The coastal road between Greymouth and Punakaiki is amazing. Amazing. Amazing, amazing, amazing. I’ve driven on CA 1, and I’ve driven around Kauai, Maui, and Oahu, and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. There are volcanic-looking cliffs covered with rainforest-y vegetation, and there are beautifully arranged and eroded rocky outcrops and islands just offshore, complete with clinging mist and crashing waves. Wow.
The Pancake Rocks are more of these outcrops and islands that are comprised of layers of limestone and layers of mudstone. The mudstone erodes away, leaving something that with enough imagination looks like a stack of pancakes. These are partially eroded to form natural bridges, caverns, blowholes, and every striking other-worldly form imaginable. I go nuts with the camera. I usually try to limit the number of landscape shots I take, since I’ve seen from my parents’ collections that photographs with family members in them are so much more interesting in the long run. I just can’t help myself. I am apparently not the only person having this problem, as I overhear a British woman saying “My God. I’ve taken 13 “rock” pictures already.”.