..TO THE GOLDFIELDS OF CENTRAL OTAGO

DUNEDIN TO ST BATHANS VIA MIDDLEMARCH AND THROUGH TO ALEXANDRA
We left Dunedin on a gorgeous mild Autumn morning heading south to Mosgiel and then taking route 87 to Middlemarch.
It was stunning (you'll read a lot of the 'big' superlatives in the following Blogs as we rediscovered NZ - the country with the WOW factor!) The countryside had that green park quality- as if we were driving along the approach to a stately home in England - landscape by Capability Brown.The sheep and the trees had been strategically arranged and the road just meandered onward to another photo opportunity.It was 'our' road - well nearly, we only saw one other vehicle - a farm tractor looking for something to mow.
At Middlemarch we stopped for lunch at The Kissing Gate Cafe- homemade bread and soup you could stand your spoon up in.The other diners were all 'age-no object' bicycle tourists starting off on the famous Otago Rail Trail - 150km of manageable stages . By the time we arrived at our end destination that night in Alexandra, we had seen hundreds of bikes attached to cars etc.They were all heading to or from various points along the trail.
North of Kokonga, the road turns left to route 85 and Gold Country.Armed with a map and our now trusty satnav we head off to the towns at the heart of NZ pioneer spirit and gold fever.Ranfurly,Naseby, Kyeburn,Ophir and my favourite, St Bathans.Hot enough in the summer to fry eggs on the roof of the car and cold enough in the winter to play curling on the frozen lakes.This is bleak but beautiful country - captured magnificently in the paintings of Grahame Sydney. This is the Maniototo - Big Sky Country - stunningly beautiful and in such contrast to the lush farmland around the Dunedin inland area - yet half a days drive away.
Have I got your attention yet? Well let me tell you about the beauty of St Bathans- not a modern amenity in sight- all ghosts and gold diggings - little lakes and wind sculptures - pioneer cottages and overgrown gardens. Where true Kiwi Blokes drink Speights and not Heineken. Where the wives chase the chickens off the one main street and the kids wander at will with their dogs, and time stands still...But that is in the Autumn when the other Tourists have gone home and the local remain to winter over.Cold it must be and you shiver at the thought of the sufferings of those early pioneers who risked their all for a better life on the other side of the world.

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