Now and Then
In the summer the small town of Wanaka fills with people from every direction bringing their boats, caravans and tents that have been waiting all year for there one time in the sun. Seeing that first boat go through traffic signalling the stampede of intruding beast behind it. The warning to locals to leave or be trapped in the business that is summer. Clogging car parks, traffic and supermarket that is becoming a mosh pit of people trying to walk past, like quicksand the more you try to get out the worse it gets but if you do nothing you’re stuck forever. The noise is so loud you can’t hear your own thoughts. The strange sounds of many people combining like an orchestra. It lays booby traps everywhere of familiar faces that make you stop and talk which gives time for the jungle to grow thicker and never ending.
People backing their boats in the water lining up along the shore and more people parking up behind them, waiting for that tiny space. Then they squeeze through where they’ll show their boat and it’s frame, especially clean to shine in the bright sun beaming down. The boats tear up the water as they shoot through leaving a wake that folds into the glassy lake.
Flavour of a kiwi barbeque, free range meat getting tattoos from the grill and fresh vegetables browning. The smells drifting in a grey puff through the early night that looks like it could have been painting, flaunting its colours and scenic mountain ranges that are golden dry. In the heat of the day spilt fizzy makes the payment sticky and staining dark grey as it collects dust, dirt and dregs that have no meaning, no need to be cleaned.
Winter, it’s been building up all summer as hides away and comes back bigger slowly making it way round. It starts the night you turn the clock back then wake up in the morning deeper in the covers retaining warmth. The break in traffic during autumn casually disappearing. Then that first drop of snow following on behind by the heaped spoon from the grey clouds that hover over the towering mountains now given their centrepiece. These crown jewels that give Wanaka its name, bring in crowds of people from all over the globe. The combination of different cultures creates a crazy feeling of several countries mashed into one.
Smokey wood trace suffocates your throat and waters out your eyes. It floats around in a dull smog cloud that drifts into the large haze above. The days dark, damp and misty just the same every day. It blackens as the night goes on. Lightning strikes out from the swollen grey clouds, breaking out, let loose like that angry feeling you get when you’ve had enough with being second class. Leaving a loud roar of thunder that shocks the town.
The lake is choppy, dark blue and feared by alls sensitive feet. The monster like lake looks to swallow whoever shall enter. No dear to test its raw chill factor or beastly waves. Its source comes from the mighty snow-capped mountains that freeze the rivers and creeks that flow into the lake.