Travel on the Gravel

James and Judy Watson were generous and hospitable to us in Palmerston North, where we stopped for just one night. Next day, 14 March, we trotted up to campus, where ZZ holed up to do some editing while I gathered interviews about recent historical literature on agriculture. In the morning James gave me a thoughtful interview touching on quite a bit of recent historical writing. In the afternoon Mike Roche, the historical geographer, was also generous with his time and with some fascinating recollections about the development of his discipline in New Zealand. In between ZZ and I had lunch with James and with a lovely old friend, Basil Poff.

James Watson and Mike Roche
Old Main, Massey University - first building on campus, reflecting Art Deco period
The Refectory

Our itinerary in New Zealand was intentionally tight the first few days, as in my experience, that’s the way to get your body clock adjusted. Arriving in Auckland at 6:00 AM Sunday 13 March, we cleaned up at the airport, then caught a cab over to Middlemore Station, the stop of the Overlander closest to the airport.

The Overlander is the Auckland-Wellington train across the North Island. The New Zealand national railway is now called Tranz Scenic. It has a few things to work out. In the first place, Tranz Scenic announced on its website it would go to its winter timetable on 12 March, then changed its mind about that, but didn’t tell anyone about it. We arrived more than an hour early for our train, we thought, but almost missed it. The conductor then was grumpy about letting us on the train, didn’t like our rail passes for some reason. I’m sure the reason the railroad has delayed going to the winter timetable is because it is tighter, and the roadbed through the North Island interior is in a sad state of maintenance (or lack thereof)—a rough ride in many places, slow in others, rough and slow in still others.

Still, the train trip—to Palmerston North this first day—was a pleasure. We catnapped a bit, but mostly stayed awake for the scenery. Leaving the Auckland suburbs, we basked in the reflected green of rolling dairy country. The country got a bit more rolling as we entered the Waikato, and downright rugged as we passed through the King Country. The most spectacular scenery of the day was in the Rangetikei River valley—fabulous gorges viewed from improbably high trestles, which here they call viaducts. I got no pictures of these particular features, not being in good position, but here are a few snaps.

Rolling Through the Waikato
Our Coach Awaits (Stop in Hamilton)
King Country Scenery
Not All Passengers Enjoy the View
The Overlander Winds Through the King Country
ZZ and Flax at National Park Station

Late night Good Friday we landed back in Fargo after two weeks in New Zealand. The day we left Fargo, on 11 March, I said to ZZ as we boarded the plane, look around, because remembering this will make us appreciate Auckland all the more when we get there. Piles of dirty snow were everywhere, the ground was frozen ruts, new snow was blowing hard across the runways, and the forecast was for a week of similar stuff.

On our return I can’t say spring has arrived, but winter is in retreat. There are still remainders of drifts in the shelterbelts and the bar ditches, but the fields are clear. Saturday was 50 degrees, Easter Sunday 55 or so. The creeks are running free and the rivers running under and around the ice. The country is draining. Flocks of snow geese in modest numbers are in the air much of the day, but going all directions. Last night I noticed a small flock of swans.

This Sunday was an Easter that actually seemed like an Easter. It was overcast, but mild, and the roads were dry. We attend Maple-Sheyenne Lutheran Church, a little country ELCA church with a mixed membership. There are the old Swedes, and the descendants of the old Swedes, but also some lifestyle people who have moved into the country. The church was packed for Easter, to the rafters, I mean literally, since the little choir loft was jammed along with all the regular pews. There was a baptism, too, which meant that all the kids in the choir loft leaned over the rail to look down at the baptismal party, much to the consternation of their parents. One paper airplane was confiscated just in time by an alert father.

It was just the two of us for Easter dinner, which meant we could have lamb—a small roast, rubbed with garlic and rosemary, along with lots of roasted root vegetables. We made mint tea and used that for the fluid in the gravy, which was lovely. Afterward we boiled some Great Northern beans with the leftover lamb joints, diced in the leftover carrots, thickened with the leftover gravy, and ended up with a remarkably good lamb & bean stew, which we’ll dip into through the next week.

In the next few days I’ll be blogging descriptions and images from the New Zealand expedition. My main task on this junket was to update my knowledge of New Zealand’s agricultural historiography, on which subject I’ll present a paper at the Western Science Association in Albuquerque in a few weeks. ZZ was gathering material on the historic kneelers at Tarras Church, in Central Otago. We were well treated by many Kiwi friends and ate and drank way too well. Which we continue to do now we are home.

Early Sunday morning the 6th I was stretched out, sipping coffee and reviewing a manuscript, when I heard the first honker of spring pass by. Not a flock, mind you, just a honker or two, but I heard them sure enough. These scouts were too early, for there is winter yet to come, but they were honking hope. The weekend, indeed, was unseasonably mild, highs in the 40s. Most of the snow is gone, although it will linger long yet among the trees.

What we have now is the worst time of year. Everywhere there is dirty snow, or snowy dirt, and cold water with nowhere to go. March has the face of desolation. All the cans and bottles and fast-food containers of winter lie where they fell. It’s time to get out of North Dakota for a while. Actually, we just did, down to Omaha a few days, where the cafes had cleaned up their outside tables for the first nice weekend of spring. End of this week, though, we’ll get away for sure, on our annual junket to New Zealand.

In March I not only look ahead to spring but actually look fondly back to winter. This winter we had no blizzards, none. Our snows fell gently, limply, beautifully. The last snow of February (I’m sure we’ll have some in March) was like that, Wednesday the 25th. I was out in it, messing with the dog in the backyard, when I heard our great horned owls for the first time. The neighbors tell me they have been here most of the winter, as usual, but somehow I hadn’t encountered until that Wednesday night. Their hoot was welcome—I love having them around.

Also late this winter was our bison delivery from Elaine Elijah, due to a combination of family matters and weather patterns, but now we have a hindquarter in the freezer. Last weekend, perhaps the final weekend of deep winter, was an intensive cooking weekend, which we documented with photographs.

Supper Friday (Lutefisk & Meatball Supper at the Sons of Norway)

A pretty arrangement of lefse
Norwegian ambrosia
You gotta put lotsa butter on it
John only eats meatballs, Susan only eats lutefisk

Breakfast Saturday (chorizo & green-chile omelet, chorizo from a Mexican meat market in Omaha, dried green chiles from last summer’s garden)

Two skillets--chorizo and green chiles for filling the omelet
Omelet, potatoes on the side

Supper Saturday (bison roast marinated in native plum juice, Sauerbraten-style, with mashed spuds & rutabaga)

Bison roast in marinade of native plum juice
Bison-plum Sauerbraten with rutabaga mash

Breakfast Sunday (sourdough pancakes and smoked sausage)

Served with chokecherry syrup

Supper Sunday (broiled Hutterite chicken, scalloped rutabaga with Havarti)

Served with a side of asparagus and a glass of Ozzie Chardonnay