We arrived at Nugget Point, a large rocky peninsula jutting
out into the
on the very south-eastern corner of the island, at a wee bit after
six o’clock. A
lighthouse sat high on a hill out on the Point, with dozens of small
rock islands scattered around it. We had been told that elephant
seals, sea lions and penguins could sometimes be seen there; we were
eager to see some interesting NZ wildlife, and this seemed like it
might be our best chance. We
especially wanted to see penguins!
We started on the 15 minute walk along the top of the cliff
out to the lighthouse – but in the end it took us over an hour to
get there. First we
stopped to observe a colony of birds nesting on a huge rock
outcropping far below the path.
With our binoculars we had a pretty good look at them, and we
were delighted to see several spoonbills nesting among the gannets
and gulls. These large
fluffy white seabirds were very distinctive and almost comical
looking with their large black shovel-like bills.
As we stood watching the spoonbills we started hearing
amazing loud noises from far below us, reminiscent of the trumpeting
of elephants; it was obviously the sound of some large animal.
Unfortunately, whatever was making the noise was around the
corner of a rock outcropping and just out of our sight, but we
surmised that we must have been hearing elephant seals.
Presently we continued down the path towards the lighthouse,
searching the shoreline carefully.
Rounding a bend, we found ourselves looking at a colony of
sea lions on the rocks down below us.
They looked somewhat similar to the fur seals we had seen
earlier in the trip, but they were much larger – the males can
weigh up to 2000 pounds. Several
of the females had young babies; some of them appeared to be
youngsters were romping and playing in the tidal pools.
The huge males slept on the rocks; they looked like giant
slugs. We stood and
watched the sea lions for a long time.
We followed the trail out to the lighthouse at the very tip
of Nugget Point. We
stood on the overlook and watched the waves coming in, crashing on
the many rock islands that stuck up out of the ocean like teeth.
The sun was low, its brilliant rays slanting over the water,
shining golden in the waning light.
Below us we could see fur seals, resting on the rocks, and
diving in and out of the water.
We went over to
, on the south side of Nugget Point, to the penguin sighting area.
We were really hoping to see penguins, but they are scarce
and very shy, so it’s quite difficult to get the chance.
We went down a trail to a wee building overlooking the beach;
the ‘penguin blind.’ We
were looking for the ‘yellow-eyed penguins’; a colony of them
lived in the area. We
had read that just before sunset was the most likely time to see
one; that is when they come in from fishing in the ocean and cross
the beach to return to their nests.
By then it was 8:15 p.m., and since it wasn’t fully dark
until after ten o’clock, we figured our timing was about right.
We walked down the winding path to the blind, and the wind
was fierce and bitter cold. We
huddled inside the small open-fronted shed, which was designed to
hide us from view but did nothing to block the wind.
Four or five other people were there, watching intently.
We saw our first penguin right away, standing on some rocks
by the beach. He was
adorable! We were not
very close to him, but we could see him fairly well with the
binoculars. He stood for
a long time, gazing out toward the ocean.
After a while he lay down on his belly on a rock, where he
remained for the whole time we were there.
Before long, a second penguin appeared suddenly on the path
directly below us, much closer.
He was about two and a half feet tall.
His back and wings (arms? flippers?) were a bluish black
color, and his belly and front were pure white.
Pale yellow feathers surrounded his eyes, and his feet were
pink. He walked down the
stony path, hopping from rock to rock, and set out across the beach.
He waddled along, rocking back and forth from one foot to the
other in a comical manner. But
as soon as he hit the water all of the funny bobbling was gone, and
he was swift and graceful as he dived and disappeared into the
We watched for a long time, waiting for him to come back, but
nothing happened. The
other people in the blind left.
We were shivering with cold in the icy wind, but we were
determined to wait, feeling sure that the penguin would return.
We were rewarded for our vigilance.
Eventually our swimming friend came out of the waves and
waddled across the sandy beach.
He stopped not far below us and shook himself vigorously, and
then he went through an elaborate grooming and preening routine.
We had a great view of him, and though the light was a bit
dim for photographs, I was clicking away with my camera like mad.
He put on quite a show for us.
He would pose, with both stubby wings held straight out from
his sides to dry. Then
he would waddle a few steps and preen, combing himself with his
bill, and then pose again. It
Suddenly he turned and faced the ocean again, looking
intently toward the waves. Another
penguin came in from the surf. Apparently
this was his mate, and he greeted her as she came across the beach
towards him. (Not that
we could really tell which was ‘him’ and which was ‘her’ . .
.) They ran (waddled?)
eagerly toward each other, stubby wings outstretched, and for a
moment I thought they were going to hug.
They stood and posed together in some sort of greeting
ritual, with their noses in the air and their flippers stretched
out, and then they started the whole preening routine again.
After a while our pair made their way up a very steep path to
where presumably their nest was located in the bushes.
They hopped up the stepping stones, leaning forward to
scramble their way up the steepest parts.
We were surprised that they were able to negotiate that sheer
slope, but the penguins proved to be much more agile than they
During this time, yet another penguin, the fourth we had
seen, emerged from the underbrush and crossed the beach for a swim.
We surmised that it might have been the mate of the first one
we saw, who was still lying belly down on the rocks.
The sunset had painted the sky red and purple, and as the
last daylight faded we headed up the trail to the car.
We were ecstatic - we couldn’t believe our good luck.
Seeing the penguins was so much better than we had
anticipated. They were
very much cuter, funnier, bigger and more beautiful than we had
expected. It was amazing
to watch their behavior and interaction.
We felt that we had experienced an exceptional wildlife
viewing day. The only
thing that could have made it better would have been to have seen a
baby penguin as well.
Before penguin viewing, we had used our rented cell phone to
book lodging for the night; we reserved a room at a motel in
Balclutha. We were
dismayed when the receptionist told us that they were only open
until 9:00 p.m., until she said, “No worries, I’ll just leave
the key for you under the mat.”
Gotta love NZ!
It was quite dark by the time we found our happy hour spot,
overlooking the beach near the point.
We sampled the Montana Chardonnay; it was fair, not
outstanding but very drinkable.
We dined on peppercorn pate and Colby cheese, on crackers
with apricot preserves – it made for an excellent dinner.
It was almost 11:00 p.m. when we finally headed for our
motel, but our adventures weren’t quite over.
It was the first time we had driven when it was fully dark,
and we had several more wildlife encounters.
We saw something that we had been starting to doubt really
existed; a live possum!
We had seen hundreds of these nocturnal creatures dead in the
road, so we were really excited to see one that hadn’t been run
over. We also saw a
hedgehog crossing the road. I
slammed on the brakes, but by the time we fumbled for our torches
and went back for a closer look he was long gone.
Then something really special happened.
As we drove along the beach road we suddenly saw a shadowy
shape come from the side of the road into the view of our
headlights. To our utter
surprise and lasting delight, it was a baby penguin.
wandered along the edge of the road, and we got to watch him for
several minutes before he disappeared into the bushes.
He was amazingly cute. We
didn’t know what he was doing out of his nest at that time of
night, but we felt extremely lucky to have gotten a chance to see
him. We decided that we
should drive at night more often.
In the morning we went to Mosgiel, near
, to look at a horse, our only ‘business’ part of the trip.
In this area there were a lot of nice horse farms, with their
green fields and high hedges. Soon
we were on the road again. We
passed through lovely farmland with great numbers of cattle and
sheep in their small rotating paddocks.
We saw what we thought must be called ‘shoe fence,’ a
section of fence with shoes of all types and sizes hanging on it.
Was this a replacement for ‘bra fence’?
As we headed north up route 87 we had panoramic views of the
farming country; big long green hills, very open, with just a few
stands of pine trees, and lots of sheep.
We pulled out our map book and located the smallest wee
yellow roads we could find, and we set out northwest across central
Otaga. It was the
warmest sunniest day yet. We
followed a series of small unsealed roads that led us further and
further up into the hills. As
we left the lush green valleys behind, gradually the landscape
became drier, browner, rockier.
Everywhere we looked there were sheep, thousands and
thousands of sheep. No
small paddock rotations out here; they grazed on huge open ranges.
They were quite shy, and ran when our car approached.
No fences separated the pastures from the small road; we were
right among the sheep. At
one point we drove through a mob of them and they were all running
with the car in a panic. We
were stampeding with the sheep!
We turned on to the first part of
Old Dunstan Road
, a 4WD track marked on the map as ‘summer only.’
The road was narrow, and in places extremely rutted.
It passed through gateways with cattle guards, open stream
fords, and many gates that Jineen had to get out and open.
The landscape grew harsher as we went on.
The trees were replaced by rock formations, as we passed
along the edge of the ‘Rock and
.’ It was still a
country of great long rolling hills, and we were struck by its
vastness. The ground was
covered in brown tussock grasses and rocks.
Sheep still dotted the hillsides, but fewer numbers could be
The further we went the rougher the road became; less
maintained and definitely less traveled.
The fords got deeper and the gates got harder to open.
Rock outcroppings and formations were more and more numerous,
many of them large and weirdly shaped; some of them resembled
animals or faces. High
up in the hills, we passed a large lake that apparently had no name;
at least none was listed on our detailed map.
Soon there was nothing but rocks, as far as the eye could see
in all directions. There
were long sloping hills, tough tussocky grasses, and rocks, always
more rocks. The
countryside had a unique beauty, a kind of quiet grandeur, very
different from anyplace we had seen.
The vastness of it was amazing.
We had left the sheep behind.
We had been steadily climbing, and once we crossed the
ridgeline the grass between the outcroppings grew slightly greener
again. The dark grey
layered rocks formed exotic shapes and tall pillars.
The hills and rocks just went on and on, but after a while we
started to see steep brown and grey mountains in the distance,
capped with snow. This
area was where they filmed the ‘Plains of Rohan’ in the Lord of
the Rings movies. The
countryside was quite beautiful, but also sort of lonely.
It was very remote; the whole time we were on this road we
had seen just one farmer, and one 4WD pulling a boat.
We descended off the high ridge and drove back down into a
river valley, lush and green again, with signs of civilization:
farms, houses, and crossroads. We
had come to the end of the first section of
Old Dunstan Road
It took a bit of navigating and a few wrong turns, but we
finally found the turnoff for the second half of
Old Dunstan Road
. It was marked with a
warning sign: ‘Not
suitable for cars. Lightly
Traveled. Closed in
Reservoir - 31 Kilometers.’ There
was a gate across the way, which Jineen opened with difficulty; it
was rusted shut. (The
gate less opened . . .)
The road seemed to go on for ever.
It takes a long time to drive 31 kilometers on the kind of
track we were on. We
didn’t see a soul, and there was no sign that anyone had been this
way in a long time. We
passed through probably a dozen gates, and half that many stream
crossings. The only
other living creatures we saw were numerous magpies along the way,
and high above us the falcons riding the wind.
We were back to brown tussock grass and rock
formations again. We
climbed up a long gradual slope to a high ridge; we could see row
upon row of rocky hills, rolling back to the mountains like waves.
At last we crossed the top of the ridgeline and came down to
Poolburne Reservoir, a large irregular-shaped lake with many arms,
surrounded by hills of tussock grass and rocks.
We could see the
ahead in the distance.
We parked the car near the edge of the lake.
It was quite warm, so we cracked the windows a bit so that
Manny the Driftwood wouldn’t get too hot.
He was just dumbfounded by the vastness of the area – he
hadn’t realized that the world was so big!
We walked around the area, exploring.
It was very quiet; nobody was there except for a few birds.
There were some small fishing shacks or holiday houses (known
in NZ as baches) around the lake, but they all seemed deserted at
the moment. Crossing the
spaces between rock outcroppings, we found the walking more
difficult that it looked; the ground was uneven, and the clumpy
grass was hard to traverse. There
were many rabbit holes, and we saw bones of long-deceased sheep.
We climbed on the rock formations, peering into all of the
wee nooks and crannies. The
reservoir stretched serenely before us, quiet and peaceful.
Eventually we came down out of the hills and back to
civilization. We stopped
in the town of
for a coke, and then headed for Dansey’s Pass.
We crossed through a fertile green valley; yellow broom and
purple lupins lined the shores of the braided river, and steep brown
cliffs loomed above.
We passed the Dansey’s Pass Hotel, sitting by itself in the
middle of nowhere, and then the road turned into a 4WD track.
Immediately it began to climb.
The road was narrow, and it wound its way up the side of the
mountain in a series of tight turns.
There were numerous places where the road had seriously
collapsed, with just one lane remaining, and a sheer drop-off where
the edge of the cliff had crumbled away.
(No guard rails, of course!)
They had shored it up on the collapsed areas with small rocks
held in place by chicken wire - this did not inspire confidence.
Near the top, we saw firsthand evidence of what happened if
you took the turns too fast. We
passed a van that had been pulling a garden spray trailer; it had
run off the road and was on its side about 50 feet below a
particularly nasty hairpin turn.
It looked like it had been there a while.
At the top we stopped to enjoy the view - it was spectacular.
The mountains surrounding us were grand and majestic; they
were all of brown and grey, with big gravel slides on the higher
reaches. We could look
down on the green valleys far below.
We saw a dragonfly and a couple of butterflies; both seem to
be quite rare in NZ.
Presently we made our way down the other side – carefully.
The grade was steep as we wound down the mountainside.
Toward the bottom we came to a single house, all by itself
near the base of the mountain, with no other dwellings for miles.
We figured whoever lived there had quite a long way to go to
pick up a bottle of milk.
Having successfully negotiated Dansey’s Pass, we followed
signs for the Vanishing World Earthquake Site.
We thought this would be an interesting place to visit, since
neither of us had seen an earthquake site before.
But when we got there, the sign explained that it wasn’t
really the site of an earthquake at all, but actually just a big
landslide. We passed on
that and moved on.
Our next stop was the Maori Rock Drawings.
This was a large undercut cliff face where some symbols and
drawings were visible, dating back to ancient times.
As artwork it was not too inspiring, but the sense of history
of the Maori people made it quite interesting.
Humans first came to
about a thousand years ago, during the Stone Age.
They used stone axes to cut trees for their canoes, and built
them with only the most primitive tools and supplies.
They sailed across the ocean without a compass, navigating by
following only the stars, the waves, and the migrating birds.
They must have been amazingly imaginative and brave to have
done this. Imagine the
courage it took to set out on a one-way trip across the wide expanse
of ocean, in tiny canoes, not knowing for sure if there was even
land on the other side.
We had called ahead and booked a room at the
. It turned out to be a
really nice big room with a full kitchenette, for $90 NZ, or about
$60 US. It was a great
We had happy hour at
Kakanui Beach Road
, overlooking the Pacific. It
was mostly dark; we looked for penguins but saw none.
We made a meal of fresh bread with pate, cheese, and chutney.
We finished off the Montana Chardonnay and tried the Delegati
Sauvignon Blanc; it wasn’t especially good but we drank it anyway.
We awoke to overcast white skies for our last day in NZ.
We stopped for scones for breakfast on the way out of town,
and headed north with the ocean on our right.
We passed a highway department safety sign that showed a
bunch of sheep jumping in an arc, and said, “Feeling sleepy?
Pull over and rest.” We
stopped in the town of
to do a wee bit of shopping (Christmas was just over a week away),
and then turned inland.
We headed northwest, and turned left at
. We took a long
unsealed road through breathtaking mountains and valleys.
The weather was cloudy, but there were patches of blue
breaking through; it looked like it was clearing up.
On this trip we had visited different places than when we had
come previously. For the
most part we took a completely different route, and where we did
repeat some of the west coast roads, we stopped at different spots,
and saw different sights. But
there was one place we had visited on our previous visit that we
really wanted to see again. Jineen
and I decided to return to
, better known as Edoras of Rohan in the Lord of the Rings films.
It was an incredibly beautiful place, and both of us had
really loved it on our 2004 trip to NZ.
This was the only place we had visited before that we
specifically returned to (other than the Kaikoura Whale Watch at the
beginning of the trip).
Mt Sunday is a large steep hill that rises quite suddenly out
valley, on the Erewhon sheep station.
It is surrounded on all sides by incredibly beautiful
mountains; even for
the scenery is exceptional. For
the filming of the movie, a great golden hall had been built on top
of it, to portray Edoras, home of the Horse Lords; but all of the
set had long sense been removed, and we saw the hill as nature made
As we approached, we topped the ridge and looked down at the
river valley stretched before us, with Edoras rising abruptly out of
the flat plain. The
first thing we noticed was that the mountains at the far end of the
valley were invisible, obscured by white clouds.
Not a good sign. The
closer we got the thicker the mist became, and soon it was starting
to rain. We went further
up the valley and explored some side roads, hoping for a break in
the weather. We crossed
several open fords where the gravel slides came all the way down the
mountain and into the road, with wide areas of fallen scree.
We passed some fields with horses; they were breeding
Clydesdale crosses there on the sheep station.
By the time we parked the car by the trail to
Edoras, it was
raining steadily. It had
been our intention to pack a picnic, hike over across the
many-channeled river to Edoras, eat our lunch there, and then
thoroughly explore the area. Because
of the rain we canned the picnic idea, but set out for the hike
nonetheless. However, by
the time we got to the first river crossing (there had been 7 in all
last time!) the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was
blowing it horizontal. We
decided to abandon our plans and head back to the car.
With all of the lucky timing we had enjoyed with our hikes
and the weather on this trip, I guess we had to pay for it sometime.
Perhaps we weren’t meant to return to Edoras.
As we drove out of the valley, Edoras disappeared into the
rain and mists. We were
disappointed that we didn’t get to explore
as planned, but we decided to follow another small road, north, up
. Once we had traveled a
few kilometers away from Edoras it was no longer raining; but we
could look back and see the
still obscured in raincloud – the stormy weather seemed to hover
We turned up another beautiful valley, and set out to see
what we could find. There
was a wide flat plain on either side of the unsealed road, and the
mountains rose up rather abruptly at the edges of it.
The mountains were steep-sided, brown and grey, and accented
by bits of white snow at the tops of the taller ones.
There were green foothills in the foreground, with occasional
secluded farms at their base.
was extremely windy as we headed up through the valley.
As we drew closer to the lake, we seemed to be heading into
doom and gloom again, and the mountains were obscured by mist.
We passed a pond, and swimming on it was a pair of black
swans, with tiny downy babies, young enough to still be almost
white. We came to a nice
wee house with a yard full of flowers, and a brass plaque on a large
stone: ‘In memory of
Max and Robert Buik, who farmed the Clent Homestead for 60 years.’
It was an intriguing memorial, and left us wanting to know
We rounded a corner and
was before us, framed by brown and grey mountains.
It was a dark green color, with whitecaps and breakers
rolling in to the shore. Whitecaps
and breakers? Wait, that
can’t be right, it’s a lake, not an ocean.
But if you mentally cut out the mountains, it did look like
the ocean. The wind was
just howling across the surface of the lake, creating the waves.
It was so strong that when we stopped, we could feel it
shaking the car.
We parked by the edge of
and had an early happy hour (it was about 4:30).
As the wind continued to buffet the car, we had our
now-traditional fare of peppercorn pate, cheese, and chutney on
crackers. We opened a
bottle of Five Flax Sauvignon Blanc; it was fabulous.
We decided it was as good as the Stoneleigh, and it was very
economical in price; we gave it four stars.
After a while we noticed that our car seemed to be moving
more; either the wind was stronger or the wine was making us more
attuned to the motion.
the waves were so strong that you could have surfed on them. The
car was shaking. I, of
course, decided it was a good time to take some photographs.
When I got out of the car, I had to hang on to the door to
make sure it didn’t get ripped off.
Or maybe I was just hanging on to it to be sure I didn’t
get blown away. Trying
to take photos was a joke; there was no way I could hold the camera
steady. The wind blew
all of the time in
, but this was above and beyond - I think it was the strongest wind
I have ever experienced! I
do love the wind, though, so I found the whole thing exhilarating.
We kept a notebook on the dashboard of the car, like a
journal, to jot down notes for this trip report.
Later, upon reviewing it, I found the following excerpt
written in it by Jineen:
“Phyllis seems compelled to have a Kodak Moment – the car
is shaking – she is in serious jeopardy of being blown away.
My god, you could surf on the lake!
I, being older and wiser, am calmly sipping my wine, and
resisting the urge to put on my seat belt.
I’ve just been informed that I have no sense of
Major wind continued as we drove up
the valley past the lake.
The tall tussock grass was blown flat on its side.
We took photos out of the car window so we wouldn’t have to
get out in the wind. We
imagined the caption: “Photograph New
from the comfort of your vehicle!”
But we really didn’t want to risk losing a car door on our
We headed east again. We passed a herd of
, all does, looking alertly at the car.
I rolled down the window and called out, “Hello ladies,”
and they all took off. Jineen
said maybe it was my accent, so the next group we came to, I yelled
“G’day, mates,” and this was much better, they just stood and
stared. Further on, we
passed a paddock with three elk stags, with the most enormous
antlers we had seen.
We were heading for the town of
, where we intended to stay for the night.
But as we got near, we decided to drive up the road to the
Mount Hutt Ski Field. The
map showed a small road winding back and forth up to the top.
It was 7:30 p.m., and we hadn’t yet booked lodging, but we
figured that if we arrived in Methven by 8:30 we should be OK.
We thought we should be able to make that all right; after
all, it’s only 16 kilometers to the top; and anyway, how hard can
it be? (Sorry, I had to
do that just one more time!)
We headed up the curving road.
It was a wee bit wider than the one at the Remarkables Ski
Field, and there were fewer really tight steep switchbacks, but it
was still nerve-wracking, especially as we got higher.
As we climbed, we encountered dozens of rockslides; we
repeatedly had to pick our way around the rocks and rubble in the
road. It looked like
nobody had driven up here in weeks, maybe months.
The wind was whipping, and in the exposed areas I feared that
we would be blown off the mountain.
The views were spectacular.
There were level plains far below us, with the hedges and
paddocks of rich fertile farmland, and the wide many-channeled river
flowing through it. We could look down on the green fields, laid out
before us like a patchwork quilt.
Closer to the top the turns became tighter and the road
steeper. My nervousness
increased along with the altitude.
I wondered why on earth we had decided to drive up this ski
road. We should have
learned our lesson at the Remarkables!
Slow learners, I guess.
We were getting close to the top, and I was gripping the
steering wheel white-knuckled, when we came around a bend to find
. . . a locked gate! There
was no room to turn around; I had to back the car up on that narrow
gravel road, with a wall on my right and a thousand foot drop-off on
my left (no guard rail over the abyss).
Were we going to die on our last day in NZ?
Jineen got out of the car to direct; she said it was to see
better, but I suspected it was in case I went over the edge.
Presently we reversed back to a wide enough spot to turn
As I carefully negotiated the treacherous road back down,
going in first gear and pumping the brakes, Jineen said, “You
better hurry if you want to make Methven by 8:30!”
Ha ha. Needless
to say, we didn’t make it.
We pulled into town about nine o’clock, and we found a room
right away. It was
actually a very spacious and classy condo, with a living room, full
kitchen, two bedrooms, and really nice furniture, all for $130 NZ
(less than $90 US).
After checking out several pubs that didn’t suit us, we had
dinner at the ‘Ski Time’ restaurant.
It was a bit noisy, but the food was good.
We went back to our rooms and repacked our bags for the trip
home. This was quite
challenging, because we had to find room in our luggage for Manny
the Driftwood, who was about three feet long and very oddly shaped,
and also for the dozens of ferns we were planning on smuggling out
of the country for Mom. We
could only hope that the fern-sniffing beagles wouldn’t be out at
On our last morning in
it was raining, which seemed fitting.
We headed for the airport, but had some extra time on our
hands. We explored a few
last back roads, drove along the edge of a lake, and passed some
nice horse farms. A
Standardbred harness racer with a sulky came trotting up the bridle
path past us, with his driver leading a second trotter behind him.
We saw a field full of pinto mares and foals standing
together in a group; it looked like something out of a Bev Doolittle
We stopped at a wee café for lunch, where we had a great
last meal; delicious meat pies (chicken with cranberry) and chips.
Then it was off to the airport, where sadly, it was time to
say goodbye to
. When we returned our
rental car, we had put 3592 kilometers on the odometer; that’s
2155 miles. Not bad for
two weeks; we had covered some ground!
We managed to get through the airport without our luggage
being confiscated by the fern police, and we successfully smuggled
Manny onto the plane. It
had been an awesome trip. And
now we had the wonderful Air New
‘Business Class Royale’ to look forward to on the plane ride
~The End ~
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
~ Robert Frost ~