9. Buttercups
The nearby fields were bright yellow with following buttercup and each week I would pick some and place on my windowsill. Sadly these flowers would never saw the sun again as my room was completely shaded by the tall mountains but they still opened their petals each morning and it would brighten my day!
I wondered if these buttercups were native or not. Six months later, I was staying at my brother’s place in the UK and on his late mother-in-law’s lawn was the very same buttercup flower variety that I had picked up the mountain. I used Google to identify both the UK and NZ flower and it said they were both Creeping Buttercup, native to Europe amongst other places. This particular Buttercup is not much wanted in NZ either, it’s actually identified as a weed that is toxic to cattle, takes potassium from the soil and matts the earth with its roots. Pull it out, they said.
The genus Ranunculus has about 300 species of herbaceous flowering plants around the world. Interestingly, the word ranunculus comes from the Latin "rana" or frog, which is thought to describe their typical marshy habitat. Apparently all buttercups are also poisonous when eaten fresh. I remember my father packing Buttercup honey years ago, a beautiful tasting honey and definitely not toxic.
I had been taking a lot of photos of pretty white flowers whilst walking up the Pass on a day off work and I didn't know that they are also part of the Ranunculus family (lyallii) until a guide told me. The Mount Cook buttercup is the world's largest buttercup, also known as the giant buttercup, mountain buttercup, and formerly, Mount Cook Lily or Mountain Lily. Their bold saucer-shaped, leathery leaves are deep shiny green and look very lily-like, but they are buttercups!
NZ apparenly have 40 wild buttercup species, of which 34 are native, including our own rare and critically endangered species, Ranunculus Viridis, the Mt Allen Buttercup (found only on Stewart Island).
One day when I was picking the buttercup “weed” from near my cabin, the Chef walked past and stopped to ask me if this was what I thought the job would entail. “The work was a lot tougher than I expected” I told him. “It didn’t help with the negative chat about me and anyone else… that could be managed better.”
He suggested that on the days off, go for a walk, cross a river or do something to get out of the place - but do it safely. I usually went up to the summit on my days off, I told him but I didn’t tell him about another experience where I misjudged the water on a river.
It was on a day a couple of weeks earlier when I joined a couple of the lodgees on a walk to the Hirere Falls hut, about an hour south from our lodge. I actually wanted to walk to the falls and I had asked someone who had been there before for the directions to get there. It had been many years since they were there so their directions were not exact. "Once you get to the Hirere Falls hut, back up a bit and you'll see a track to the river. Cross it. Follow the path to the waterfall.”
I took my camera and a backpack with an extra merino top. The day was sunny and not too cold, but nonetheless I decided to wear my striped bumble-bee-looking merino leggings under shorts, a yellow long-sleeve merino top under a rain jacket. When we arrived, the other two decided to not go any further and just enjoy lunch there. I should have stayed with them but I felt the urge to cross the river and find those waterfalls.
The river was deeper than I expected so I carefully waded across until I reached the other side. The very cold water only reached the bottom of my shorts so was relieved to get to the other side nice and dry. I climbed up river bank onto a sandy patch and followed a path.
It turned out the path was no more than a muddy deer path which led me up another muddy river and to nowhere so I turned around to try and find any other path. Despite several attempts, I gave up and decided to abort and head back. By this time I was quite a way up the river so when I found a place to cross, it turned out to be a lot deeper than I realised, despite being crystal clear to the bottom and shallow-looking. No sooner had I got in, with my camera and bag above my head, I was already at waist level. By the middle of the river it was at chest-level and I was virtually floating.
Fortunately the river was not fast flowing as it hadn't rained for a few days. I walked carefully over the rocky bed and watched as a trout swam past me. As thrilling as that was, I looked carefully into the dark recesses and hoped the eels would stay away. One guest has been bitten by one and needed some medical attention. I was already in enough trouble with the water now reaching my shoulders and my arms were above my head protecting my bag and camera.
When I finally got to the other side I quickly clambered up the side and quickly stripped off down to my merino knickers! The water was absolutely freezing and I was keen to get into the spare dry merino in my bag. I should have brought a towel because what I put on quickly got wet. Despite dripping the entire way back to the lodge, the merino kept me warm.
After the Chef left I went back to collecting Buttercups, grateful I didn’t get into trouble that day and I would definitely be more careful next time! I put the buttercups into a glass with fresh water and placed it on my window sill. There! That will give me a week’s worth of joy, and for anyone walking past.