Lost in Wallacetown

Margaret and I got lost in Wallacetown.   We were told it was impossible to get lost in Wallacetown but we did get lost, and no one believes us.  It was scary.

We stayed with Shona in Wallacetown for a few days, when the weather was at its worst.  A strong cold wind blew around the house.   Shona even lit the wood burner at night.  It was snug inside the large house.  

However on the evening that Margaret and I went for our walk the wind had died down and the sun was shining. 

Wallacetown is about 10 kilometres north west of Invercargill, between the Oreti and Makarewa Rivers.  The Southern Tourist Trail passes through the township.  It is a small but strong community, with a population of 400 people.  It also has a school, a community hall, an old cemetery plus a new cemetery, a Presbyterian church, a pub, a garage and a store.

We first walked around Shona's house and took a few photographs.

The first photograph was not of Shona's house, by the way.  It was a photograph of the very large, and old, children's playhouse which sat on Shona's large front lawn.  Children really love playing in this three roomed house, with its own little garden.  So cute.

Shona's colourful and sparkling fluorescent tree, which lights up the garden each evening.

The reserve that borders Shona's front fence, has a variety of interesting plants in it.

Interesting old tree stumps line the bank of the river behind the house.  Shona has planted grasses on the slope in front of the tree stumps.

After we walked around the house and garden, we walked around the streets.  And it was there that I lead Margaret astray.  I decided to take a short cut through some trees in order to get back to Shona's street.  As I have a terrible sense of direction, this was a mistake.  The path led off in the opposite direction, but Margaret trusted me completely.

A wide path, in the photograph below, looked important.  So we followed it.

It was dark and gloomy in amongst the conifers and I did not like being there.  We kept walking, and found that the path led past the swollen river.  A path for fishermen, perhaps.  Luckily we did not fall into the river.

Margaret lead the way forward, towards the long grass, and a group of beehives.  This was not Shona's street.  We were heading out into the countryside somewhere.

We retraced our steps, without the help of any clues, and found ourselves back at our starting point.  What a relief.  Out in the sunshine again.  We then walked a few metres up the road to the street which lead to Shona's house.

The street led past the Makarewa River, which looked a lot less sinister out in the open and in the sunshine.

We passed a truck loaded with haybales.

And past the grass clump which looked like Donald Trump's hair.

When we arrived back we told Walter and Shona our story about getting lost amongst the conifers. And asked if they were worried about us. However they were not worried, even though we had been gone for some time. They thought we had decided to walk to the cemetery.  And of course we did not have a phone with us.

Apparently we had found the old rubbish tip, which was now covered in conifers.  In fact it was only a small area but it seemed large to us. However I know I am not going to repeat the experience.  That was a spooky place.