moving the Morrisons

Bern has been keen to take the kids and I for a drive up the Nevis Road, the highest public road in New Zealand, ever since we arrived at Bannockburn. 

So when the kids were fraying nerves this afternoon, we bundled them into the car and off we went. Bern cycled up part of the road yesterday and discovered a wild gooseberry bush growing by the side of the road, loaded with fruit, and the Martha Stewart in me just couldn't resist the opportunity to collect some berries for jam.

While I picked berries (a romantic-sounding term that actually means 'tortured by the bush's sharp barbs'), Bern and the kids amused themselves by throwing sticks and stones into a little irrigation channel running nearby. 

Unfortunately, Charlie decided to throw himself in as well, and considering the water in the channel travels down from the snow-capped mountains, you can imagine how cold and outraged he was when he was fished out. 

Not to be put off, once Charlie had been stripped, dried and bundled up in Daddy's polar fleece, we continued up the mountain. That has no guard rail. Even at the steepest one-false-move-and-the-car-plunges-down-the-hill section. I am not ashamed to admit that I was a little spooked at times. I may even have clutched the dashboard. The scenery, however, was spectacular, and at the top we watched snow falling on the peaks in the distance. 

Very rugged and quite barren, and definitely not the place you expect to see a shepherd (yes, they have shepherds here) running down the hill. 

Once we reached the top, Bern and Grace braved the icy wind to climb a few rocks. Charlie and I chose the far more sensible option of staying in the car with the heater on.

A final note...after gathering 3.2kg of gooseberries, we now have six big jars of jam. Not many people get to pick their fruit in such spectacular surrounds. Actually, come to think of it, most sensible people would just buy the jam. But now where's the fun in that?