As New Zealand hikes go, the trail to Ohau waterfall was short, less than half a mile. It started the way things often do in that part of the world, at a deserted gravel pullout next to a deserted black-cobble beach. A microscopic trail sign pointed up a hill.
A small dark path, a mix of packed earth and rock, ran next to a boulder-strewn stream. We began to walk.
The going was flat enough, but within a hundred yards the trail ducked into the thorny and dyspeptic jungle that Kiwis call "the bush." The sun vanished, leaving the world mossy, ferny, Jurassic.
As New Zealand hikes go, the trail to Ohau waterfall was short, less than half a mile. It started the way things often do in that part of the world, at a deserted gravel pullout next to a deserted black-cobble beach. A microscopic trail sign pointed up a hill.
A small dark path, a mix of packed earth and rock, ran next to a boulder-strewn stream. We began to walk.
The going was flat enough, but within a hundred yards the trail ducked into the thorny and dyspeptic jungle that Kiwis call "the bush." The sun vanished, leaving the world mossy, ferny, Jurassic.
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