Rain

We woke this morning to the sound of raindrops on the tin roof. Like most buildings in the area the bach at Awaroa has a corrugated iron covering, the preferred roofing material throughout rural New Zealand. Rain had been predicted but today it has poured and poured. The view across the bay is entirely obscured by the mist and this place feels more remote and cut off than usual.

Tom spent half the morning restlessly suggesting trips to the beach. Neither Barbara nor I were that excited by the prospect. For me it would have brought back memories of childhood, sitting in a damp and fuggy car with sandwiches and staring out at endless rain sheeting down on the beach. Eventually, unable to bear it any longer, Tom persuaded Barbara to go for a walk to the Lodge. Or rather to get in the yellow boat, now renamed the Yellow Peril, and cross the inlet. Instead of a sail, Barbara hoisted an umbrella while Tom rowed lugubriously across as raindrops patterned the surface of the water with a million tiny bubbles.

I stayed at home and listened to music - wimpy, yes, but far more comfortable. While they were gone, a party of hikers - two boys and a very white faced girl who looked to be in the final stages of hypothermia - staggered up the track in search of the nearby Awaroa hiking hut. With such a high tide it's not really possible to get to the hut without a lot of wading. The best way is to take the path through the garden, then go along the the low cliff until to the ramp down to the beach. I really felt for them as they had no rain clothes and it is still about a kilometre to the hut from here.

When Tom and Barbara returned they were soaked, having walked the long way back, around the loop that runs high above the inlet. Tomorrow the forecast is for better weather.