Leaving Aoraki was sad, as there was more to climb and maybe even swim. But NZ is too vast and beautiful, so we forged on.
We didn’t get far before a sign for fresh salmon called. Out if respect to my dad, we pulled over and did a new tasting. The clever store owners had pellets you could feed the salmon, a Japanese barista in training and a fishy man packing up crates. While waiting for my 67th flat white, we watched the fish jump. Then we had sashimi, which sounds almost cruel but maybe it’s just river to table at its finest?
Our next detour led us to Bryce Canyon- or a cliff walk. After testing our patience and the van’s suspension on the gravel roads, we arrived at some pretty cool cliffs. I tried playing hide and go seek with T in the slots, but he was consumed by his Ansel Adams ways. I chatted with the few others there who marveled at the beauty, and then I marveled at the calves and fortitude of the senior bike riders who joined us.
Some winding road and mountain passes later, we arrived at our campsite by a river. T went for a run and I did a bit of laundry; maybe Darwin was had selected is for survival on our trucking trek after all.
Was the salmon wild or farm raised? I suppose the timing/season is about the same as wild salmon harvest is in the Northern Hemisphere. But there has to be some difference, like maybe they swim on the opposite side of the river? Or have to swim against clockwise currents?