So here I am, on the plane, somewhere over Europe - probably Bulgaria. We still have some distance to travel before we can crawl into our bed in Cornwall but the Great New Zealand Adventure is over.
Although I've managed to do lots of posting while moving from airport to airport, and while in the air, the Wi-Fi on the plane is not good enough to cope with uploading photos so I'll have to go back to my posts and do that later.
And I'm not even going to attempt to collect my final thoughts until I've had a good night's sleep!
It's been 29 hours so far since we left the hotel in Auckland bound for the airport. Crossing time zones as we go, we've had 2 dinners, supper, 2 breakfasts and a mid morning snack in the air so far. It looks as if we're about to have lunch soon.
It's 10 pm NZ time, 9am British time and 11.30 am local time.
It takes stamina, this time travelling.
Saturday, 29 March 2014
Friday, 28 March 2014
Colours
The colour of New Zealand is green. Once the land was completely covered in luxuriant bush. The bush, with its great riches of plants, shrubs and trees is a multitude of shades of green.
But there has been colour too.
But there has been colour too.
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| Juvenile Black Swan |
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| Toatoa |
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| Rocks at Catlins seashore |
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| Seaweed |
Before we leave
Somehow, in our hotel room, on Thursday morning, 27 March, we managed to squeeze 7 bags full of stuff into 2 large cases and 2 carry-on bags - without leaving much behind - and to stay within our weight limit.
And at 4 o' clock we were ready for the shuttle bus to take us to the airport.
But before we leave North Island here are some more places we visited:-
Sleepy Foxton on Manawaiu Estuary, north of Paraparaumu
Tawhai Falls, Tongariro National Park
The Mounds, Tongariro National Park
Rangipo Desert, Tongariro National Park
DoC Campsite at Waioeka Gorge, on road to Opotiki
Turangi Bridge Walk, Waioeka Gorge
And at 4 o' clock we were ready for the shuttle bus to take us to the airport.
But before we leave North Island here are some more places we visited:-
Sleepy Foxton on Manawaiu Estuary, north of Paraparaumu
Nikau Palm Forest and pioneer cemetery
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| Some went to Canada, others to NZ |
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| Rare Blue Duck at the Falls |
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| Shrub covered mounds of volcanic debris |
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| Mount Ruapehu across an arid landscape |
Turangi Bridge Walk, Waioeka Gorge
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| Bush reclaiming once settled land |
Into the city and back
We enquired at the hotel about getting a bus into the city thinking that this would be the most economical use of our few remaining New Zealand dollars. We were told that the bus would cost 32 dollars each one way but a taxi only 35 dollars for us both. So we asked the receptionist to order a taxi, and while waiting changed some US dollars we'd had since the Costa Rica trip for more Kiwi currency.
The taxi driver was a nice chap, although we struggled with his accent and wondered about his origins. He said he'd be happy to take us back to the hotel when we were ready and we agreed that we would call him around 9pm. He scribbled his number on a card.
Later, after we'd had a taster session in the city, strolling along the waterfront and going up the SkyTower, we tried to call the taxi driver but the number he'd given us - and all the possible variations - was unobtainable.
The business card the number was on had another, printed, number for a firm called Discount Taxis. We tried that number: unobtainable.
At the next taxi rank Lawson enquired about the fare for the journey to the hotel and was told 66 dollars. Although 31 dollars more would not have been significant given what this trip has cost us in total we decided to make another attempt at contacting the original firm. We knew the hotel had the number. But what was the number of the hotel?
It was while we were scanning tourist accommodation leaflets in the foyer of the closed i-site that Lawson thought about looking on our room key card. There was the hotel's number.
Once we contacted the hotel it was not long before we were back there having paid Discount Taxis 35 dollars for the fare. Cash, of course.
The taxi driver was a nice chap, although we struggled with his accent and wondered about his origins. He said he'd be happy to take us back to the hotel when we were ready and we agreed that we would call him around 9pm. He scribbled his number on a card.
Later, after we'd had a taster session in the city, strolling along the waterfront and going up the SkyTower, we tried to call the taxi driver but the number he'd given us - and all the possible variations - was unobtainable.
The business card the number was on had another, printed, number for a firm called Discount Taxis. We tried that number: unobtainable.
At the next taxi rank Lawson enquired about the fare for the journey to the hotel and was told 66 dollars. Although 31 dollars more would not have been significant given what this trip has cost us in total we decided to make another attempt at contacting the original firm. We knew the hotel had the number. But what was the number of the hotel?
It was while we were scanning tourist accommodation leaflets in the foyer of the closed i-site that Lawson thought about looking on our room key card. There was the hotel's number.
Once we contacted the hotel it was not long before we were back there having paid Discount Taxis 35 dollars for the fare. Cash, of course.
Goodbye Tim
Wednesday 26 March started with us having breakfast at the campsite with the food we still had left.
Then we crammed all our clean clothes, dirty washing and other possessions into the available bags. We had started out with a holdall and a carry-on bag each. My back pack had travelled in my holdall. We had acquired another small bag each as a result of our walk in the Kaikoura mountains. Worryingly we filled all these bags so that we had 7 full bags when we would only be allowed 4 pieces of luggage on the flight home.
Things were going our way when we managed to clean up Tim and still check out of the site on time. It got even better when we drove to the Jet Park Hotel, where we'd booked a room for that night, and were able to dump the bags in our room immediately.
We had until 4pm to return Tim, so, loathe to part from him before it was really necessary, we drove to Ambury Park, walked along the estuary (still no sighting of a Reef Heron), walked up the extinct volcano called Mangere Mountain and had a picnic lunch.
Then we could put off the evil moment no longer; we had to abandon our old friend - who with only a few grumbles and quirks, had done all we'd asked of him and served us well - at the Apollo depot.
After this we went downtown to drown our sorrows.
Then we crammed all our clean clothes, dirty washing and other possessions into the available bags. We had started out with a holdall and a carry-on bag each. My back pack had travelled in my holdall. We had acquired another small bag each as a result of our walk in the Kaikoura mountains. Worryingly we filled all these bags so that we had 7 full bags when we would only be allowed 4 pieces of luggage on the flight home.
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| At least we didn't have this much! |
Things were going our way when we managed to clean up Tim and still check out of the site on time. It got even better when we drove to the Jet Park Hotel, where we'd booked a room for that night, and were able to dump the bags in our room immediately.
We had until 4pm to return Tim, so, loathe to part from him before it was really necessary, we drove to Ambury Park, walked along the estuary (still no sighting of a Reef Heron), walked up the extinct volcano called Mangere Mountain and had a picnic lunch.
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| Natural masterpiece, Ambury Park |
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| Inside the crater of Mangere Mountain |
Then we could put off the evil moment no longer; we had to abandon our old friend - who with only a few grumbles and quirks, had done all we'd asked of him and served us well - at the Apollo depot.
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| Goodbye hug! |
After this we went downtown to drown our sorrows.
Thursday, 27 March 2014
To Auckland by the back road
For the last proper walk of our holiday we stopped in the Whaharau Regional Park and walked through bush again to a ridge from which there were views over the trees to the Coromandel Peninsula. We had lunch there too.
Mindful of the lazy, unreal days of our holiday slipping away from us we stopped in Kawakawa Bay and just sat, snoozed and had an ice cream. Then we accepted the inevitable and drove into the comparative (after the peace and space of most of thevrest of the country) frenzy of Auckland to where we'd booked a night on a site (Top 10!) near the Apollo campervan depot, the Jetpark Hotel and the airport.
The population of NZ is approaching 5.5 million and 35% of them live in and around Auckland. Like London (and, I suppose, most cities) Auckland is an amalgamation of a number of other towns. These grew up originally along the edge, and climbed the hills at the back, of the indented coastline which has created a network of large inlets and harbours, and then spread until they became one.
It was apparent as soon as we arrived at the site that we were not the only ones who have used it on the night before returning their camper van; in the kitchen was a large box full of abandoned items such as salt, pepper and cooking oil, with a sign saying 'Help Yourself'. Because we were going to the Kenworthys for dinner we now had even more food that we wouldn't use so Lawson went in search of someone who needed it. He returned saying it had been donated to a young German camper.
Showered and dressed as tidily as we could after 2 months on the road, we drove to Mount Wellington and spent a lovely evening with Leone, Trevor, their daughter Karen, her husband Peter, Millie the Shnauzer and Wilf the cat. We discovered that Leone's Great Grandfather came from Tiverton in Devon and Trevor's from Yorkshire. We also admired Leone's paintings and Trevor's work in progress - his crimson and cream, old Ford pick-up. I know; I should have had my camera with me and taken a photo. Sorry.
Mindful of the lazy, unreal days of our holiday slipping away from us we stopped in Kawakawa Bay and just sat, snoozed and had an ice cream. Then we accepted the inevitable and drove into the comparative (after the peace and space of most of thevrest of the country) frenzy of Auckland to where we'd booked a night on a site (Top 10!) near the Apollo campervan depot, the Jetpark Hotel and the airport.
The population of NZ is approaching 5.5 million and 35% of them live in and around Auckland. Like London (and, I suppose, most cities) Auckland is an amalgamation of a number of other towns. These grew up originally along the edge, and climbed the hills at the back, of the indented coastline which has created a network of large inlets and harbours, and then spread until they became one.
It was apparent as soon as we arrived at the site that we were not the only ones who have used it on the night before returning their camper van; in the kitchen was a large box full of abandoned items such as salt, pepper and cooking oil, with a sign saying 'Help Yourself'. Because we were going to the Kenworthys for dinner we now had even more food that we wouldn't use so Lawson went in search of someone who needed it. He returned saying it had been donated to a young German camper.
Showered and dressed as tidily as we could after 2 months on the road, we drove to Mount Wellington and spent a lovely evening with Leone, Trevor, their daughter Karen, her husband Peter, Millie the Shnauzer and Wilf the cat. We discovered that Leone's Great Grandfather came from Tiverton in Devon and Trevor's from Yorkshire. We also admired Leone's paintings and Trevor's work in progress - his crimson and cream, old Ford pick-up. I know; I should have had my camera with me and taken a photo. Sorry.
Firth of Thames 2
We'd been told that there's a place just a couple of kilometres up the road from the shorebird centre where campervans are permitted to park overnight. We found this place and established that there was still room for us but continued along the road searching for somewhere to eat, and with the intention of returning.If we hadn't gone on we wouldn't have met Leone and Trevor Kenworthy.
We came to the small hamlet of Kaiua, and spotted not only a sign advertising fish and chips but also a grassy area like an English village green that had campervans parked on it. This looked like a freedom camping site but there was no sign to confirm that camping was permitted.
As we drove around the edge of the green we saw Leone and Trevor - members of the New Zealand Campervan Association - walking back to their van (called Tom Tom after the navigation equipment on board ) and asked them whether overnight camping was permitted. They said it was, and we had a long conversation which ended with them inviting us to their van for a cup of tea after we'd had our meal.
At the van we were introduced to Millie the dog and we sat outside chatting until well after it got dark and the stars were out.
The next morning (Tuesday), as we were preparing to move off to enjoy the last relaxed hours of our holiday, Trevor invited us to join them for a meal at their home in Auckland that evening.
We came to the small hamlet of Kaiua, and spotted not only a sign advertising fish and chips but also a grassy area like an English village green that had campervans parked on it. This looked like a freedom camping site but there was no sign to confirm that camping was permitted.
As we drove around the edge of the green we saw Leone and Trevor - members of the New Zealand Campervan Association - walking back to their van (called Tom Tom after the navigation equipment on board ) and asked them whether overnight camping was permitted. They said it was, and we had a long conversation which ended with them inviting us to their van for a cup of tea after we'd had our meal.
The next morning (Tuesday), as we were preparing to move off to enjoy the last relaxed hours of our holiday, Trevor invited us to join them for a meal at their home in Auckland that evening.
Firth of Thames 1
Miraculously (as if!) we had arrived to within kilometres of the most important site for shore birds in New Zealand.
The town of Thames has the Coromandel Peninsula on one side and a big tidal inlet called the Firth of Thames on the other. On the opposite side of the inlet is the Miranda Shorebird Centre. There's also a commercial venture called Miranda Hot Springs with, it seems an Olympic sized pool at a constant 38 degrees and big orange flags advertising its presence but we gave that a miss.
After an afternoon walking along the track beside the mangroves, watching rosy breasted Godwits and flocks of Pied Stilts which minced daintily around the inland pools then took off, looking like black and white pocket handkerchiefs trailing long red legs, we visited the 2 hides. While Lawson scoured the birds foraging in the mud I contemplated yet another wonderful NZ view to a plaintive soundtrack of gulls and oystercatchers.
Across the glistening mud, over the white shell chenier or bank, across the dark turquoise sea being whipped by the breeze, to the distant, blurred buildings of Thames and its long backdrop of blue mountains.
As we were leaving the hide and about to retrace our steps to the van, a German couple arrived.
'Are there any Wrybills?' they asked.
The husband was ecstatic when Lawson told him there were a couple of thousand out on the mud. The two men then went back to the hide to look at small grey and white birds with beaks that have a kink at the end while I chatted to the German woman about the difference between a holiday during which you watch birds and a bird watching holiday. We agreed that when you are married to an enthusiast it's usually difficult to differentiate.
The town of Thames has the Coromandel Peninsula on one side and a big tidal inlet called the Firth of Thames on the other. On the opposite side of the inlet is the Miranda Shorebird Centre. There's also a commercial venture called Miranda Hot Springs with, it seems an Olympic sized pool at a constant 38 degrees and big orange flags advertising its presence but we gave that a miss.
After an afternoon walking along the track beside the mangroves, watching rosy breasted Godwits and flocks of Pied Stilts which minced daintily around the inland pools then took off, looking like black and white pocket handkerchiefs trailing long red legs, we visited the 2 hides. While Lawson scoured the birds foraging in the mud I contemplated yet another wonderful NZ view to a plaintive soundtrack of gulls and oystercatchers.
Across the glistening mud, over the white shell chenier or bank, across the dark turquoise sea being whipped by the breeze, to the distant, blurred buildings of Thames and its long backdrop of blue mountains.
As we were leaving the hide and about to retrace our steps to the van, a German couple arrived.
'Are there any Wrybills?' they asked.
The husband was ecstatic when Lawson told him there were a couple of thousand out on the mud. The two men then went back to the hide to look at small grey and white birds with beaks that have a kink at the end while I chatted to the German woman about the difference between a holiday during which you watch birds and a bird watching holiday. We agreed that when you are married to an enthusiast it's usually difficult to differentiate.
Thames
It was Sunday evening 23 March when we spent the night on a campsite in Thames. A campsite with a long-haired, decidedly eccentric male owner, and where signs and rules proliferated. 'Floor may be slippery'. 'No noise after 10pm.' 'Penalty will be imposed for showers longer than 6 minutes'. 'Please clean basin after use'. That sort of thing, and also a notice in the ladies' shower block asking us not to complain about certain short comings because updating was in progress - when it was obvious that the owner had only been tinkering with improvements for years.
The site advertised free Wi-Fi but the owner would not disclose the password and insisted upon entering it himself on guests' computers. There was only a signal on the decking outside the shop and the router was switched off at 10pm.
What made up my mind about the owner's madness was the information that his freezer contains wild pig that he shot one night on the site. I had a vision of campers fleeing in all directions as the pig ran through the site pursued by the man on his bike, hair flying, shot gun on the handlebars.
With muesli (me) and cocoa pops (him) running low, we drove into Thames on Monday morning for breakfast. Progressing slowly, with an elevated view from the cab of the van, down the long main street lined by single storey shops with verandahs felt like driving into town on the stagecoach in a Western.
In a cafe run by a Cambodian couple we had the full English. Then it was off to the library for free Wi-Fi and blogging for me and a wander down to the waterfront with his binoculars for Lawson.
He met me later at the library saying that he felt Thames was a town he'd be happy to retire to because it seemed to have everything except the frenetic activity and traffic of bigger places. I had to agree that, sitting listening to conversations and people watching in the library, I also got the impression of a relaxed, friendly but thoroughly modern, community.
The site advertised free Wi-Fi but the owner would not disclose the password and insisted upon entering it himself on guests' computers. There was only a signal on the decking outside the shop and the router was switched off at 10pm.
What made up my mind about the owner's madness was the information that his freezer contains wild pig that he shot one night on the site. I had a vision of campers fleeing in all directions as the pig ran through the site pursued by the man on his bike, hair flying, shot gun on the handlebars.
With muesli (me) and cocoa pops (him) running low, we drove into Thames on Monday morning for breakfast. Progressing slowly, with an elevated view from the cab of the van, down the long main street lined by single storey shops with verandahs felt like driving into town on the stagecoach in a Western.
In a cafe run by a Cambodian couple we had the full English. Then it was off to the library for free Wi-Fi and blogging for me and a wander down to the waterfront with his binoculars for Lawson.
He met me later at the library saying that he felt Thames was a town he'd be happy to retire to because it seemed to have everything except the frenetic activity and traffic of bigger places. I had to agree that, sitting listening to conversations and people watching in the library, I also got the impression of a relaxed, friendly but thoroughly modern, community.
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| Thames sculpture |
Coromandel 4
As we made our way up the Wainora walk we heard something crashing around in the bush and expected to see a wild pig or goat but then heard voices. Thinking that perhaps some trampers had lost their way we called out, asking them if they were OK.
'Yes,' came the reply, 'where are you?'
'On the track,' we said.
This produced whoops of joy and an increase in the sound of people hacking their way out. Eventually a man, and a woman wearing a protective helmet, appeared.
'We took a shortcut,' the man said in a matter of fact way and in a Kiwi accent, as if it was normal behaviour to launch oneself down the mountainside into thick bush in a remote area. Then, as if to emphasise his nonchalance, added 'where are you going today?'
The couple continued down the track while we kept climbing.
There had been sunny spells as we moved upwards but just as we reached the exposed ridge it began to rain again. We sheltered in the bush for a while, hoping that the rain would stop. It didn't until we reached the turning point - when the marked route began to head back towards the campsite below - by which time we were both very wet. We ate lunch sitting on a tree trunk in our sodden clothes. Then we started on the homeward route now made treacherous by the rain.
Our jackets and shorts dried as we walked and were only a little damp when we reached the campsite. Still, after suffering such discomfort we were in complete agreement that we wanted a pitch that night on a site with full facilities including hot showers.
So we turned Tim in the direction of Thames.
'Yes,' came the reply, 'where are you?'
'On the track,' we said.
This produced whoops of joy and an increase in the sound of people hacking their way out. Eventually a man, and a woman wearing a protective helmet, appeared.
'We took a shortcut,' the man said in a matter of fact way and in a Kiwi accent, as if it was normal behaviour to launch oneself down the mountainside into thick bush in a remote area. Then, as if to emphasise his nonchalance, added 'where are you going today?'
The couple continued down the track while we kept climbing.
There had been sunny spells as we moved upwards but just as we reached the exposed ridge it began to rain again. We sheltered in the bush for a while, hoping that the rain would stop. It didn't until we reached the turning point - when the marked route began to head back towards the campsite below - by which time we were both very wet. We ate lunch sitting on a tree trunk in our sodden clothes. Then we started on the homeward route now made treacherous by the rain.
Our jackets and shorts dried as we walked and were only a little damp when we reached the campsite. Still, after suffering such discomfort we were in complete agreement that we wanted a pitch that night on a site with full facilities including hot showers.
So we turned Tim in the direction of Thames.
Coromandel 3
We moved to another of the DoC sites in the Park so that we could walk from there to the start of the second walk the following morning. Again it was a clearing in the forest. We were sharing it with 2 other campervans, one containing a man on his own, and the other occupied by a middle aged couple. The occupants of the tent were also of mature years. So there were no late night revels. Soon after dark all was quiet.
Lawson proposed going out looking for possums. I humoured him and we wandered around in the dark for a while, with Lawson shining his torch into the trees every time there was a rustle of leaves. We saw no possums but the night sky was ablaze with stars. We found the Southern Cross and the Pointers and used them to locate south for the last time before we had to return to the northern hemisphere.
During the night it rained. I expected Lawson to propose calling the walk off; he may be ex Royal Marine and Submariner but he's a wimp when it comes to a bit of rain. However he continued to make preparations, so off we went.
This walk was called the Wainora/Boom Flats circuit. It climbed through forest, past some enormous surviving Kauri trees ( I still find it hard to understand how the first European settlors, when finding New Zealand covered in forests of these and other majestic native trees, could think only of cutting most of them down ), and emerged upon a ridge with views across the bush covered hills around before climbing through more bush and then taking a switchback route down.
Except for the very beginning, where there was a well formed path to the first Kauri, there was no obvious track, just orange plastic triangles pinned to trees here and there to indicate the direction of travel. We climbed over boulders, crossed streams, clambered over tree roots and fallen trees, walked over years of accumulated debris including beds of dead branches from tree ferns and palms, avoided trailing vines. The tangle of the bush was close around us and echoed with the repertoire of clicks, cackles and trills of Bellbirds and the cooing of the giant pigeons, the Kereru.
Lawson proposed going out looking for possums. I humoured him and we wandered around in the dark for a while, with Lawson shining his torch into the trees every time there was a rustle of leaves. We saw no possums but the night sky was ablaze with stars. We found the Southern Cross and the Pointers and used them to locate south for the last time before we had to return to the northern hemisphere.
During the night it rained. I expected Lawson to propose calling the walk off; he may be ex Royal Marine and Submariner but he's a wimp when it comes to a bit of rain. However he continued to make preparations, so off we went.
This walk was called the Wainora/Boom Flats circuit. It climbed through forest, past some enormous surviving Kauri trees ( I still find it hard to understand how the first European settlors, when finding New Zealand covered in forests of these and other majestic native trees, could think only of cutting most of them down ), and emerged upon a ridge with views across the bush covered hills around before climbing through more bush and then taking a switchback route down.
Except for the very beginning, where there was a well formed path to the first Kauri, there was no obvious track, just orange plastic triangles pinned to trees here and there to indicate the direction of travel. We climbed over boulders, crossed streams, clambered over tree roots and fallen trees, walked over years of accumulated debris including beds of dead branches from tree ferns and palms, avoided trailing vines. The tangle of the bush was close around us and echoed with the repertoire of clicks, cackles and trills of Bellbirds and the cooing of the giant pigeons, the Kereru.
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