Rain; some heavy falls

So read the forecasts, all three that we checked before heading to the west coast of New Zealand. Rain, with some heavy falls. We took it in stride, planned a few relaxed days, and carried on. But what none of the three forecasts, two parks offices we stopped in (or anybody, really) knew was that we were headed into the tail of a cyclone. Not yet spent from battering Australia, the storm veered off and made a direct hit on the west coast of New Zealand. Winds of 120 knots (that's something like 140 mph), and rainfall of over an inch per hour at times.
We missed the "bad" day, but when we arrived in Haast, the locals looked pretty haggard. The woman tending the desk at the campground we checked into hadn't slept in 48 hours, and told us the bridge was out just north of town. We asked why. And she replied nonchalantly, "a flying tree hit it." Which was true. Said tree had taken out a railing; if we were to make it across, an early start was required before they closed it for repairs at around 8:30, she said. And so we went to bed, thinking the storm had passed, that the worst was over, and that we could continue on our merry way. Rudely awoken by a driving rain and shaking van at 3:35 am, we realized the storm wasn't spent. A few somewhat-sleepless hours later, and we were back on the road, headed north. The bridge was not closed, as it turns out, but a big orange sign on the other side read "Road to Fox Glacier: CLOSED." So we turned around, went back to town, and found a fisherman who knew that another bridge, an hour north, had lost several of its cables in the winds. They were letting cars across one at a time, maybe. So again, we headed north. It was that, or an 8-hour drive back through a pass that could also be closed due to mudslides.  It only takes a glance at a map to realize just how isolated the Southwest coast of New Zealand is. We were, we realized, on something of an island.

We reached the bridge, waited in line, and made it across. Then we drove through a blasted, flooded countryside that put our minor travel hassles into clear perspective.  Smashed buildings. Trees, 150 feet tall, uprooted and thrown across fields. Miles of concrete power towers felled like blades of grass. A mobile home tossed 50 feet from the road. And still, a lashing, hard rain fell, and trees continued to crack.

After several hours of very cautious driving, we made it to Hokitika with a small sense of relief. The rain hasn't quite ended, but we found a dry place to camp and a public pool that was still open for a few laps in the late afternoon.

Travel, we were reminded today, is sometimes powerless. You are at the mercy of the weather; you can't Google answers from an alpine pass; and sometimes you just don't know what the hell is happening - despite your best efforts to find out. And so you hunker down, regroup, and say a silent prayer for the local farms and families who were uprooted by the cyclone. And then continue on your way.