I guess I had expected any apocalypse that I live through to be more about zombies and pestilence rather than all this… silence. Actually, we do have the pestilence, but as it is populated by those ‘invisible little beasties’ that invade your body and immune system, it doesn’t feel like superhero territory. Like the Australian bushfires, it is populated by superheroes though, but they don’t wear capes. They wear scrubs, supermarket uniforms and face masks.
We were originally booked on a ferry for Saturday to travel home to the West Coast when the lockdown hit. We assumed we wouldn’t be able to go. Then, in spite of seeing the queues and the panic at ferry terminals, we got a call from the Interislander on Wednesday, saying we could travel on Friday. We agonised over whether or not we should go. Were we forcing someone to end up in a motorhome in Queenstown for 4 weeks? We could have stayed in Wellington. What about the crowded ferries? Would it be better to just stay in Wellington? We almost did, but then realised that, if you have to do lockdown, it will be much easier at home. Mr Christie would have gone stir crazy stuck in a small Wellington house, and to stop us killing one another, we decided to risk it.
I visited the people next door, staying 2 metres away and told them we were going. She almost cried. She said the kids (teenagers) were already driving her crazy and this was only Day 1. I can’t imagine what she’ll be like in 2 weeks time. I really don’t envy her. Only 27 more days to go… maybe.
The roads to the ferry terminal were empty. Couldn’t believe it. No Wellington rush hour traffic at 7.30 am on a weekday. This never happens. The end of the world as we know it must have finally arrived. It was very strange.
Mr Christie, a former scientist, raised laughter when he handed over the ferry tickets, and photo ID using a pair of pliers. All crew were wearing protective gear. The atmosphere was very grim. Those that say we are on a war footing are on to something.
We needn’t have worried about depriving anyone of travel. Most of the panicked travellers were going from south to north, and our ferry had only 15 cars on it, plus, of course, a lot of trucks. As for the question of keeping your distance on the ferry – no problem.
An update on the vodka story. I did in fact buy all the ingredients, but a bit of research showed that 40% alcohol would not do the job mixed with other solutions, so we decided to use the vodka neat. We put it in little pill bottles, and also some in a small spray bottle and sprayed our hands every time we touched anything. The ferry did have hand sanitiser, but only in a few locations, so we tended to use the vodka. Yes, we must have smelt like a couple of alcoholics, but hey – the bar was closed.
Driving from Picton to the West Coast was an eerie experience. The roads are normally quite busy with tourists and campervans, but there was nothing. Most of the time, there was not another vehicle in sight. The strangest thing was the flocks of birds. They were everywhere. It had taken only one day of lockdown for the birds to be taking back their territory. Either they were extras for the latest Hitchcock movie being shot in the south island (with filming suspended) or our feathered friends were really enjoying the lack of humans.
We reached Murchison and stopped at a cafe to eat lunch. The cafe was closed, of course, but we used one of their outside tables. Murchison is usually full of campervans and tourist buses, so seeing it like this was weird. After leaving the cafe, we wiped everything down with vodka again, including the steering wheel, the door handles and our hands. I spilt some on my trousers, and we laughed about how we must REALLY smell like alcoholics by now. Yes, what a waste. No regrets.
As we got closer to Westport, we encountered a new problem. Kids. Not children, goats, everywhere. Black baby goats all over the roads. Never seen them here before. Obviously wild, they must live in the hills and again, with no humans around, have ventured onto the roads. Again, with one day of lockdown, the local wildlife has reclaimed its territory. Fascinating.
We arrived in Westport, to a police roadblock. Yes, the police were actually stopping people from coming into the town. This was the time to question the use of the vodka, as the window went down and the fumes could be seen against the blue sky, but thank goodness for 2 metres of distance. The police officer didn’t notice and was more concerned about whether we were locals or not. We passed through.
I got yelled at in the supermarket for walking straight past the hand sanitiser at the door, and it was the ‘No Touch’ sort, which was brilliant. This is a small town with no Covid-19 cases, but they are taking it seriously. Good. I was wearing thin disposable gloves anyway, but I was impressed. This had not happened in Lower Hutt’s New World the day before.
All this washing, sanitising and wiping down is foreign to most of us, but Mr Christie is ‘lab trained’, or so he tells me. (I’m still trying to work out if he means ‘laboratory’ or ‘Labrador’. There are arguments either way at this point in time.) He has taught me how to keep a ‘clean’ area, how to take off disposable gloves without touching them on the outside and how to use an EFTPOS machine without paywave. He carries a nail in his pocket for that purpose. And don’t forget the pliers. Ingenious.
From what I can tell, the biggest problem here is older people. Not only are they at the highest risk, but they seem to be the ones flouting the rules. We have had several attempted visits from people in their seventies and eighties who want to catch up, but obviously, we can’t do that. Telling them we are self-isolating because we have come from Wellington has worked so far, but they are also supposed to be self-isolating, and they don’t seem to realise that yet. Born in the Depression and remembering the Second World War, they may feel invincible, but they are very vulnerable now.
And so lockdown begins in earnest. My general impression is that most people are taking it seriously. Remember Shakespeare wrote some of his best plays while in quarantine from the bubonic plague. Maybe this is the chance to get some of those projects finished. Complete the novel. Organise the photos. And we will all do what we can to keep you amused. Maybe I’ll write a novel entitled “Love in a Time of Covid”. It’s been done before? Not this version. It isn’t going to be easy writing a romance in circumstances where people cannot go within 2 metres of each other. Oh well. Time for a bit more poetic licence. Watch this space.
Anyway, it is good to be home.
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