The bus journey on Friday 22nd back to Tauranga via Thames was enjoyable except for a most boring man who, for the whole journey, was subjecting the young woman who he sat next to, to details of the SIM card in his phone telling her over and over that it should have been topped up automatically by direct debit but wasn’t. He spent the whole journey from Thames to Tauranga telling her the same thing at least 3 times including every little detail of his account, phone calls he’d made to try to sort it out, what was said by whom, emails etc etc. The poor girl was trying to help him and had a great deal of patience. If he’d been sitting next to me I’d have given him short shrift or feigned tiredness and closed my eyes to shut him up. My over the shoulder glances in his direction went unheeded.

I picked up my hire car from the same place as before, paid a visit to Countdown supermarket for supplies and drove to Ohope Beach, just over an hour away, where I’d booked a small studio for 3 nights via Airbnb. It has a small bedroom, bathroom and tiny kitchen but is perfectly adequate and at only £25 per night very good value here. The owners, a young couple called Jessy and Daniel, live in the house above. When I went to say hello I discovered that they had also done some housesitting via Trusted Housesitters in England for 6 months.

This part of the journey is travelling around the East Cape, down the East Coast as far as Napier then across to Tongariro National Park. Maori culture is particularly visible on the East Coast and lots of brown signs point to various ‘Marae’ (meeting houses). The East Cape is slow-paced, quiet and everyone knows everyone. The drive around should be a rite of passage for NZers but many haven’t done it.

After dropping off my bags and filling the fridge I went to investigate the beach, about 200 yards from the studio. I’d noticed signs saying it was voted NZ’s most loved beach. If that’s true I could see why as it offers ‘the walker, bather, surfie or fisherman 11 kms of uninterrupted white Pacific beach sand’. It was pretty empty, being working hours still, but there was a father with four young children, teaching and encouraging the older two to surf while their mum took videos and photos. It was lovely to see.

I decided to walk in a westerly direction from about the middle of the beach right to the end, known as West End, surprisingly! On the way more people came to the beach, some with dogs, the odd surfer (not big waves today so good for novices I imagine), couples and friends just enjoying a stroll in the lovely warm weather. I came across a couple (Kerry – male and Lea – female) with a machine called a fish harvester that was letting out a length of fishing line. I stopped to ask them about it. They told me the line went out electronically and had been set to unroll for 20 minutes. NZ law allows no more than 25 hooks with bait and they’re allowed 8 fish each, so if they caught any more they’d have to put them back. Once the 20 minutes was up they were leaving it for an hour while they went back to their house, overlooking the beach, for dinner and would return to reel it in and see what they’d caught. I told them I’d be interested to see and they invited me to call on them at their home and suggested I might even get a glass of wine. I left them and decided I would take them up on their offer.

The end of the beach was further than it looked and my return walk was over 3 hours. I called at Kerry and Lea’s house and they’d only just got in with the fish, just 2 snapper but quite large and each one enough for two meals for two. I was offered a cup of tea (not wine!) and sat chatting with them in their lounge with huge picture windows overlooking the beach. I was only there for about half an hour as got the impression they wanted to watch ‘Doc Martin’ which had been paused on their large TV, and Kerry kindly offered to drive me ‘home’ as I was still 2.5 kms away and it was dark.

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I’d booked a boat trip to White Island starting at 1pm on Saturday 23rd. This had been recommended by a lot of people so I thought I’d better go. It wasn’t cheap but it turned out to be well worth it. While waiting for the boat I had a cup of tea at the tour company’s cafe and noticed a nice man sitting on his own. I smiled at him but decided not to sit near him as he was smoking. While waiting for the boat I sat on a wall near a young woman who was reading avidly and asked her what the book was, which then got us in conversation. Her name was Kim and she was from the Netherlands. Of course her English was perfect. She told me she and her boyfriend (a few years younger than her) were travelling for 5 months, had bought a 7 seater car for $1600, had taken 2 of the seats out and slept in it. I thought this very resourceful but personally didn’t fancy the idea of sleeping in a car. They’d bought curtains and towels from opp shops.

White Island (Whakaari in Maori) is NZ’s only active volcano and is situated 49 kms off the coast of Whakatane. The island is estimated to be between 150,000 and 200,000 years old and originally formed from 3 separate volcanic cones. On checking in for my tour I was told the volcano’s alert level had just recently increased from 1 to 2, meaning it was ‘in a moderate to heightened state of unrest with the potential for eruption hazards and an increased risk to visitors’ and signed a form that I understood the risk involved. Yikes!

Our boat was one of four owned by the company (White Island Tours) and very nice too. I sat with Kim and we chatted for the whole of the 60 minute journey. She said her boyfriend had been nervous about going to the island when he heard it was an active volcano and was doing the walk I plan to do on Sunday instead. The crew were quite young, apart from the Captain, and very entertaining. The Captain said we might see dolphins or whales as they had on a recent trip out, but, sadly, we didn’t.

On arriving at the island we were all given a life jacket, hard yellow hat and gas mask and ferried in groups in a dinghy to the jetty. We spent about an hour or so being guided around a small part of the island and told to use our masks when necessary. It was amazing to see the steam and smell the sulphur. There were the remains of a factory and walls of buildings that housed men who had worked on the island collecting the sulphur, between 1923 and 1933. Apparently these men earnt twice as much as the gold miners in Waihi. Despite the harsh conditions there’s a thriving gannet colony and I was surprised to see grass and trees in places. We were told to wear the gas mask as the sulphur could make us cough and give us sore throats and that constant saliva also helped, so we were offered boiled sweets to increase our saliva! We all managed to get off the island without incident.

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On the way there we’d been told to stay seated inside the boat but could sit on deck on the return journey which Kim and I did, sitting near the man I’d spied earlier in the cafe. I asked him where he was from and he said Copenhagen. He was married (just my luck!) with four children but had recently had some kind of problem and needed to get away. He was travelling for a total of 13 weeks and his wife had recently joined him for 2 of those, although that hadn’t been part of the original plan. He said it had gone well and the trip had done him a lot of good.

In the early hours of Sunday (about 0530) I was woken by two locked doors (that lead off the garage) in my room shuddering for a few seconds and thought it was the young owners above getting amorous! I thought no more of this in incident and later drove to Whakatane parking the car near the start of the big circular walk (Nga Tapuwae o Toi, meaning ‘The footsteps of Toi’) I’d decided to do. Kim texted me to say it had taken her boyfriend 5 and a half hours to walk it yesterday, including a lunch break. A lot of the walks in NZ have Maori names and are historic, often in the area where Maori used to live, this one being no exception. It includes pā (hillfort) sites of major historical significance, superb native forest with spectacular pōhutukawa trees (known as NZ Christmas trees) fabulous coastal views, beaches and an abundance of birdlife.

Ngā Tapuwae o Toi (The footsteps of Toi) is aptly named as it traverses the heart of what was once the great chieftain Toi’s dominion. His stronghold, Kapu-te-Rangi (Pā of Gentle Breezes), is one of the oldest known pā sites in the country and is a highlight of the Kōhī Point portion of the walkway.

I started the walk through forest, steadily climbing and passing through the important Pa site, then walking along the clifftops with superb coastal views. After rounding the headland there were lots of steps down to Ottarawairere Bay. I only read while doing the walk that this wasn’t accessible during high tide, fortunately it was low tide otherwise I’d have had to retrace my steps, which would have been disappointing. The walk continued across the beach and then up lots of steps and down steps the other side to arrive at the West end of Ohope beach. It was about a 30 minute walk along the beach to then cross the road to Ohope Scenic Reserve. The walk went through forest and then through some private land (where I crossed my first NZ stiles). There were some steep sections and it ended at the bottom of a gorge (although that wasn’t obvious) then walking along the road to get to my car. I really enjoyed the walk and thought it was putting some mileage in my legs in readiness for the big one (Tongariro Crossing if I do it). It had taken me 6 hours,which included lunch and getting slightly lost twice, and I was tired at the end.

Views during the walk:

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I reluctantly left my little studio in Ohope Beach on Monday morning (25th). It was going to be a hot day. Not long after leaving I saw a brown sign to the Nukuhau Saltmarsh so thought I’d stop as was in no rush. Apparently a saltmarsh helps to keep a harbour clean and this one is of national significance, providing habitat for secretive marsh birds such as the fern bird (Matata) which I could hear but couldn’t see. There was a variety of rushes and flax:

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I thought this was a good idea of Basil Simpson’s to plant a tree in 2003 before he died in anticipation of having his ashes buried there when he finally died in 2008:

My next stop was Opotiki, just 36km from Ohope going East (as I’m travelling in an easterly direction around the East Cape. I stopped at the i-Site office and was told there was an interesting reserve, Hukutaia Domain, 8km away with a Maori burial tree, one of Opotiki’s main attractions. There was a track which took about 25 minutes to walk around through native bush with some ancient trees, varieties of fern and fungi. Like the Saltmatsh, volunteers care for it. It was set aside as a reserve in 1918 mainly to protect the burial tree. From 1930-1970 Norman Potts, a keen local amateur botanist, travelled throughout NZ to collect plants for Hukutaia whose work was continued through the 1970s to 1990 by Marc Heginbotham.

Burial trees are highly sacred to the Maori people. Exhuming bones of the distinguished dead was an ancient practice conducted in accordance with ritual. Sometimes slaves were sacrificed to add prestige to the occasion. The bones were scraped clean then painted with oxide of iron (ochre) and hidden in a cave or hollow tree where they would not be found by tribal enemies. If a person desecrated a burial tree (or cave) the offender’s death would follow. This particular burial tree is a puriri tree (hard and durable timber) is called Taketakerau and is guarded by two wooden statues.

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From there I drove for 27kms to a historic bridge off the route I was travelling. It was well worth the drive, different scenery to the coastal route (which most of the time went inland) as it went through a deep gorge. The bridge was a short walk along a gravel path from the car park. This bridge is the second to cross the Waiheke River, the first having been destroyed by flood in 1918. This bridge was likely built in 1922. It’s a single span multiple rope or harp suspension bridge spanning approximately 60 metres and is one of only two of its type remaining in NZ. It fell into disrepair but a conservation project was initiated and the bridge was officially reopened in 1995. The bridge was originally needed to link the farms of the Tauranga valley with the outside world and stands as a monument to the settlers’ commitment determined to make a living off the land of the Waioeka, an inhospitable place.

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I briefly chatted to a young French chap over our respective picnic lunches on a bench in the shade. He was travelling alone in a small camper he’d bought and was hoping to sell it for a similar price before returning home.

I drove back into Opotiki, which seemed quite a dishevelled town if you can describe a town in that way. Lots of shops had been closed and it generally looked rather shabby. However there was a Church of interest and a theatre, now a cinema. As luck would have it, just as I approached the church a lady opened up the main door. I followed her in but she told me the internal doors were on some security system which she couldn’t control so we stood looking in as she told me the history of the church, Hiona St. Stephen’s. It’s a small wooden church built in 1862 whose original minister, Reverend Carl Volkner, was thought to be a government spy by the local Maori Whakatohea tribe during the land wars and executed there in 1865. As a result a Maori man, Mokomoko, was wrongly hanged for his murder and in 1992 was posthumously pardoned by the governor-general.

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I continued with the lovely drive, circuitous and really scenic and arrived at Waihau Bay Lodge, which looked lovely on the outside, where I was staying the night in a budget room. The lodge looked lovely from the outside but when I was shown my room my heart sank. It absolutely stank, the windows not having been opened to air it. There was one very soft king size bed and two single beds. The only other items of furniture were a mirror in a corner and a big, dusty old fashioned TV taking pride of place in the room which didn’t work anyway. There was a kitchen which could be used and that also stank of fish, with a rusty old empty (defrosted) chest freezer in the corner. There were two toasters but no kettle so when I asked for one was given a pan to boil the water.

I went to the bar for a pre dinner drink and someone asked if anyone had felt the earthquake early on Sunday morning. I asked where it was and was told that the centre of it was in Opotiki (36km from Ohope where felt the shuddering) so I said I had felt it but had thought it was the people above lovemaking, which raised a laugh! I had dinner of fish and kumara chips with salad (I’d earlier been told that they pan fried their fish with margarine!) and went to my now slightly less smelly room to read. I could not believe that I’d paid $60 for that room, more than the lovely little studio in Ohope Beach had cost.

I woke early on Tuesday so got up, had a quick breakfast outside and left by 7.30am as realised I had a fair drive to get to the next overnight stop and didn’t wish to stay a moment too long in that room although it did have a nice location overlooking the bay:

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My first stop was to be the East Cape lighthouse, the most easterly point of NZ. Once I got to Te Aurora I took the East Cape Road, 20km of road half of which was unsealed, so quite a bumpy drive. There were one or two houses but this really is as remote as you can get. It’s recommended to walk up the 800 steps to arrive at the top for sunrise, but that would involve camping and a very early start in the dark, but I know some people have done that. By the time I was there it was 10am. The steps were initially very shallow and gradually got steepish but it wasn’t that taxing. Just a few steps from the top I met a lovely Kiwi couple called Lil and John and stood chatting to them for at least 30 minutes. They’d done loads of travelling, mainly backpacking and were currently doing a bit of travelling in NZ with their caravan. They live in Tauranga and offered to put me up, but I declined graciously (I’ve spent a lot of time there) and said I was booked in Rotorua, but said I’d try to meet them for a cup of tea en route to dropping off my hire car.

(Bottom 3 pics: views from the East Cape Lighthouse)

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After my chat and visit to the lighthouse with some wonderful views, it was back to the main route and a drive around the east side of the Cape. Amazing how different the scenery was, not half as attractive weirdly as the west side. I stopped at Cafe 35 along the route as it had been recommended, for tea and scone, and then got to Tolaga Bay at 4pm. My Airbnb here was a nice little cabin, no one was around but the door was unlocked with key on the inside. I dropped off my things and went straight out to explore the beach, which was disappointingly full of driftwood:

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I decided to walk back to the cabin and spotted a woman with a Jack Russell. I got level with her and she asked if I was travelling and we got chatting. Her name was Maria and she told me that she was nearly 65, that 18 months ago she’d decided to sell her house, most of her belongings, pack her car and take off around NZ not knowing where she’d go. She said it was the best thing she’d ever done and was really happy. She was staying in the backpackers of the Tolaga Bay Inn, had initially meant to stay for 2 nights but was still there 2 and a half months later, but leaving the next day not knowing where! I felt she was a kindred spirit. She had no children, although told me she’d miscarried a girl when she was 19 and a boy when she was 42, and never married. She had bundles of energy and had been walking the landlord’s dog, Roxy, morning and evening and was going to miss her.

Maria told me about a nice walk at the end of the beach up onto the headland for views of the countryside on one side and the beach the other. It was clear that not many people went up that route judging by the rickety steps and leaf strewn, weedy path but it was worth it:

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Maria had also told me that there were exercise machines along a road, which looked rather out of place especially with the grass growing around them but I had a go:

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Later, back at the cabin, I met my hostess, Beatrice a French woman, who lived at the house next door with her Kiwi husband Hugh. She seemed very pleasant. However, unusually for an Airbnb there were instructions about cleaning the cabin before leaving and stripping the bed. After doing so in the morning (Wednesday) I popped next door to chat some more to Beatrice and met Hugh, both very nice people and I should have liked to have spent more time talking but on with the road trip! Later on, when I reviewed the Airbnb I mentioned how surprised I was to have to clean the whole cabin before I left. Beatrice said she would have to look at the instructions (lost in translation I think) as she didn’t mean that I cleaned the bathroom, just leave the kitchen free of dishes and empty bins, which I’d have done anyway.

Only a short drive today but there were a couple of things to do before leaving Tolaga Bay which has the longest wharf in the southern hemisphere (660m). Just as I arrived, 3 van loads of Maori school kids with their teachers (I haven’t mentioned that the whole East Cape area is very popular with the Maori people as this was where their descendants first settled) who went half way down the wharf jumping off into the sea and back up a ladder.

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The wharf was built in 1929 and commercially functional until 1968. It’s been restored after dedicated and expensive preservation efforts.

The other local thing of interest was a walk to Cooks Cove Walkway where he stopped in 1769. Lovely walk initially up some steps, across country then through some forest, down lots of steps (I was thinking about having to walk back up them on the return). I was accompanied for some of the way by a lovely young English couple in their mid 20s, Rose and James, I’d been chatting to at a lookout. They’d bought a camper van and had been working as cooks during the ski season at Mount Ruapeho but said the skiing was pretty awful, yet they had a great time cooking and socialising with the guests. They’d also done some kiwi fruit picking which had been hard but well paid. They’d been travelling/working since October 2018 and were going home next April after 3 weeks in Japan. I do so love these random chats with people. You can get a real connection pretty quickly, mainly because we all love travelling, yet know you’ll never see them again.

Down at the Cove in the sea were lots more school children – what a nice way to spend a school day I thought.

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On the way back, and up the steps, I got chatting to a man from Bolton. His wife went off ahead, preceded by their daughter who lives in NZ. He and his wife come to NZ for 6 months during UK winter each year. They’d hoped to be able to live permanently in NZ where both their children live but the country brought in a new rule preventing this. I got the impression he wasn’t too bothered but his wife was.

I had the next 2 nights booked in an Airbnb in Gisborne. After a quick stop in the town I paid a 45 minute visit, just before closing, to the Tairawhiti Museum & Art Gallery (best regional museum) which focuses on East Coast Maori and colonial history. There were excellent photographic displays also.

I went to the house I was staying at and met Catherine, my hostess. After a brief chat over tea I walked to the harbour for a nice (expensive) dinner then back to the house for a longer chat. Catherine’s husband Peter had died of prostate cancer 14 years ago, she told me he was 84 when he died. She’d been 24 when she married him and he was 47, and have a son, Romilly who lives in Gisborne, and daughter Cat(riona) who lives in Amsterdam. We had a very enjoyable conversation and she asked me to join her for dinner tomorrow night which I accepted and I think isn’t something she often does.

There is an interesting website about Peter Brown’s art with links to their children’s interests. Romilly is obsessed with board games and has started a little business making the pieces used in the games from polymer. Cat is a very good photographer: peterbrownartist.com I also came across an interesting article about an exhibition in 2015 of all the family’s art:

http://gisborneherald.co.nz/entertainment/1973772-135/family-affair-more-than-sum-of

Augustus John had noticed Peter Brown’s portraits when the latter was studying at the Slade School of Art in London and invited him to his studio. Catherine is a talented artist herself (mainly still life) and met her husband when she went to his art classes. The house is decorated with their artwork and I was given a private tour!

On Thursday morning I had breakfast with Catherine and another chat. She’s very easy to get on with and seems to enjoy my company. She’d told me last night about Titirangi Hill (the hill that dominates the town) and the Mt Everest challenge for people to walk up it 68 times within 2 months as it’s 130 meters high and that multiplied by 68 equals the height of Everest. Catherine had done this 3 years running but decided to double the 68 times then treble it, often walking up it twice or three times a day. She said it became an obsession.

http://gisborneherald.co.nz/localnews/4365181-135/conquering-everest

So I walked up it (just once) and took my time. It overlooks the town with its river, harbour and beach:

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Near the summit was a Pohutakawa Tree (known as NZ Christmas tree as it blooms before Christmas) which had been planted by Princess Diana in 1983:

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I walked back down and followed the Heritage Walk, all to do with the Maoris who first lived in the area and the landing of James Cook, who named the area Poverty Bay as he couldn’t get the supplies he required here. It was another very hot day today so I stopped off for a drink by the harbour and wrote a few Christmas cards. Then crossed the river to walk along the side of the town beach, then to a few Opp shops before they closed.

On the way back I stopped to chat to a man who’d blown up various inflatable Christmas figures in his garden (that yesterday were lying on the ground) and was busily putting up lights. I asked if I could take a picture as it seemed so strange to me having Christmas in the summer and asked when he’d switch the lights on. He said there would be a practice run tonight.

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Back at the house I sat outside with Catherine eating a nice salad dinner she’d prepared and strawberries with yoghurt chatting about so many things then, when it got dark, I suggested we walk to check out the Christmas lights at the man’s house. He had a few on but he’d deflated all the figures so not worth a photo. Catherine knew of another house that usually had lights up so we walked there and it was very impressive. Back to the house where we chatted until 11pm. I’ve enjoyed meeting and talking with Catherine, a lovely lady, and hope that we will meet up again either in NZ or should she pay a visit to England.

The next day, Friday 29th, after a leisurely breakfast I left Catherine’s at 10am for the drive to Napier. I had it in my mind that it was just along the coast but it was a 3 hour drive and 214km. I didn’t see the sea at all until arriving just before Gisborne as state highway 2 goes inland. It was another hot day. About halfway I stopped at Wairoa, a town on the Wairoa river, because it looked nice but it really wasn’t. Had a quick bite and continued on to Napier to Peter and Beth’s, the Airbnb where I’d stayed for 5 nights back in August. I’d arranged with Peter, when I met him in Whitianga, to pay him in cash rather than go via the website and he told me he’d blocked out 29th for me. On arrival, Beth seemed surprised to see me (she’d forgotten my name as had probably had 60 or so other guests since me) and Peter was asleep on the sofa. He’d forgotten I was coming and they were embarrassed as hadn’t made the bed from the previous guest.

I took a walk into town along the Esplanade and via the supermarket for some supplies. Back at the house, their son Tim (who I’d briefly met before) and his wife Ellie were there and I was invited to join them all. Ellie is an Israeli who met Tim via a Christian dating website. After emailing for a while Tim travelled to Israel to meet her, they got on well and married a few months later both coming to Napier to live where they’ve recently bought a house. They had also flown to NZ, and had in quarantine, a Labrador/Retriever called Dooby that Ellie had rescued and this cost them a total of $8000! Lucky dog!

We had some wine, they got a takeaway while I had some leftovers from yesterday’s salad meal, and I enjoyed the conversation. There was another Airbnb guest, an Argentinian girl called Lucia, a Nutritionist, who’d come to Napier for a day’s conference. We hardly saw her and she left early the next morning.

Another leisurely breakfast chatting mainly to Peter and I left at 1030am stopping off first at the Salvation Army Opp shop where I picked up some white cut offs (I’d given the other two pairs of cut offs, which were a bit tight, to Catherine in exchange for some nice shorts she gave me) and two nice tops then got on my way to the Park Hotel in Ruapeho. This was a lovely drive, circuitous as usual, and I really enjoyed looking at the scenery driving at 80kmph and not the 100kmph limit which meant having to pull in to let other cars go past.

The route was via Lake Taupo, travelling a long way round it. For at least 30km around the lake there were hundreds of cyclists, fortunately on the other side of the road, but as the roads are mainly single lanes it meant traffic on the other side encroached on my side as they overtook the cyclists. I guess closing off the route for the event would have caused too much of a problem as there aren’t many other roads to divert onto. A google search revealed that it was the annual Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge, one of NZ’s biggest annual sport participation events. It started in 1977 and had just 26 participants but has grown to around 7000 riders from all over NZ and 20 countries. There was a variety of riders, some wearing their club colours, the occasional child and some who clearly hadn’t done much training. They raise thousands of dollars for local charities and have 14 different event categories, one being the 160km ‘Round the Lake’ – one lap circumnavigation of Lake Taupo – which no doubt attracts the elite riders.

So that was interesting but I really think, for the safety of the riders, they could have closed the road for that one day. I might even email them to say how concerned I was, not just for the cyclists but also for the vehicles dodging each other as well. Soon after there was a lookout opportunity and chance for a quick picnic lunch. Lovely views:

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I was looking forward to the next 3 nights in the Park Hotel, Ruapeho, located in Tongariro National Park, used in the winter by skiers and mainly in the summer by people walking the Tongariro Crossing, my reason for coming. I wasn’t disappointed with the hotel and had a carb loading of pasta in the restaurant for dinner in anticipation of burning it all off the next day. A large group of Spanish speaking people arrived. In the dining room was a mix of people about to do the walk and others who’d just done it. It had started raining as I approached the area and continued on and off in the late afternoon/evening. Rain was forecast for the next day but not until the afternoon. Advice is to be prepared for all weathers as it’s alpine conditions. Mount Ruapeho still has snow on the top.

I didn’t sleep at all, no idea why, but got up at 6am as had booked the first shuttle bus at 7am to the start of the walk which is NZ’s best one day hike and is 19.4km long. I was feeling excited and positive about the walk. It starts at 1120m, climbing the Mangatepopo Valley to the saddle between Mount Tongariro and Mount Ngauruhoe, through South Crater before climbing again to Red Crater, the highest point on the crossing at 1886m. Tongariro National Park is the home of Mordor from the ‘Lord of the Rings’ film and Mount Ngauruhoe is Mount Doom.

The first climb was mainly up steps, with some short flat sections in between. I’d been dreading the ‘Devil’s Stairway’ but it really wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. The second section before the summit was mainly over rocks and stones. I had my walking poles which made these sections so much easier but there were lots of younger people who were finding it hard work without. Over the top there was a lot of sliding down scree rewarded with views of the Emerald Lakes and then one large lake called Blue Lake. These are considered sacred to the Maori people and the water is not to be touched nor stones thrown into it. The final descent seemed to go on for ever down steps and along board walks, winding round and down (a bit monotonous really but I still enjoyed it) until it ended up in forest and eventually led to the car park at Ketetahi Road. I’d jogged and walked fast through the forest section to try and make the 3pm shuttle bus (the next one being at 4.30pm) and just made it!

At a couple of points before the summit there were signs warning you that this was the point where things would get harder so you should turn back if you didn’t feel up to it. I noticed a few people did turn back although some had walked to the summit then retraced their steps.

During the walk I met a German woman who was travelling with her ex colleague as they’d both retired recently from teaching. Her colleague didn’t want to do the walk but had gone to visit a waterfall. It transpired that they’d been housesitting in Oz and NZ via Trusted Housesitters. I met another younger German woman called Beatie who was travelling for 6 months and had hired a car for 3 of those which she could sleep in. Also a nice Spanish couple (part of the group in my hotel) and had a brief conversation with them.

There were quite a few people doing the walk and I got the impression that should anyone have a problem someone would come to your aid, there seemed to be camaraderie as we were all there to achieve our goal of walking the walk!

The scenery was much better than I’d expected, in fact it was stunning with initially marshland, then volcanic matter, beautiful red coloured rock (the Red Crater) and the forest. Fantastic views for miles. The weather was pretty cold, in fact I wore 4 layers for most of the time, a hat and gloves. There was quite a wind blowing as well. I later learnt that Search and Rescue have the most call outs in NZ on this walk and specifically after the summit, presumably people being tired and missing their footing. The good thing was that the bus driver had our names for the initial pick up and if by the last bus anyone hadn’t returned by then a search would be initiated.

So many fabulous views on this walk:

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There’s a great video about the walk on YouTube by NZ Mountain Safety Council ‘The Tongariro Alpine Crossing: Alpine tramping (hiking) series/New Zealand which is worth a watch (problem is I don’t know how to embed the link here).

Monday morning I woke late, unusually, probably as a result of yesterday’s exertions. I did do some stretching exercises with an American woman on YouTube (Annie would be impressed) and that really helped my legs i.e. I could walk without difficulty. I faced about on my iPad and then took a drive out to Whakapapa village and to the ski area. You can ride a gondola to the top of Mt Ruapeho, which I’d been told was worth doing, however there was no one about and it clearly wasn’t going. The visibility was pretty poor so I presumed that was why. The ski village was certainly very different to the French/Swiss Alps but then it is a volcano. I stopped to take photos but had been rather spoilt for views yesterday. I marvelled at a man who was skateboarding down a section of the main road, not that there was much traffic but, even so, pretty extreme.

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I paid a visit to the I-site centre to discover that the Tongariro Crossing Walk wasn’t recommended today owing to the weather and is cancelled tomorrow, so was glad I managed to do it yesterday but a shame for those who can’t. However, there will always be some idiots who’ll disregard the advice although they would need transport each end which could be difficult to arrange.

My second port of call was the Chateau Tongariro (hotel), also recommended, built in 1929. I had looked into having high tea there but the amount of food and price put me off so I settled for earl grey tea and a scone instead in the lounge by one of the picture windows. The Lonely Planet guide to NZ describes the hotel’s grandeur as an touch faded’ and I thought it was pretty ugly, not resembling a chateau in the slightest:

I enjoyed a gin and tonic in the bar back at the hotel before a fish and chip dinner.

End of part 1 of 2 of this road trip.

I spent a couple of hours morning of 6th in the central library of Auckland before catching the 12.25pm bus to Thames, a place I’m now very familiar with, arriving at 2.30pm then waited an hour for the ‘shuttle’ bus to Whitianga. There were just four of us on the bus, two of whom got off before me. Loretta, houseowner of this housesit, was waiting for me when the bus arrived just before 5pm.

Loretta is an easy lady to get on with, similar age to me who has lived in her house for 12 years but has recently sold it and bought a house in
Picton on the South Island which she’ll move into on 6th December. I had also agreed to return to housesit for her mid December for a few days when she was going away again but with the house move she had to cancel that holiday, offering to pay for my accommodation which was very kind but not necessary. I told her that it was probably for the best as it meant I didn’t have to return to the same place but could see somewhere else.

My charges are a black miniature poodle called Poppy aged 12 who’s unfortunately going blind and a Birman cat called Chloe aged 13:

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The one-storey house is nice and compact with 3 bedrooms. Loretta apologised for the boxes of packing but she had hidden most of them away so that the areas I was to use retained a homely feel. She kindly gave me her bedroom which overlooks her small, neat garden.

As soon as we’d arrived a friend of Loretta’s, Brian aged 89 whose wife had recently died, rolled up and we sat on the covered deck chatting and drinking lager. He’d left England for NZ in his early 20s. After Brian left, Loretta introduced me to her lovely neighbours, located in the house right in front of Loretta’s, Toni and Wayne. They share the same drive and also have their house on the market. Loretta said her house had been on the market for 8 months before selling, one reason it took so long likely being because both properties are subject to a ‘cross lease’ meaning that if she wanted to do anything to the house Toni and Wayne would have to agree and vice versa.

Loretta then took me with Poppy on one of her regular walks. As I don’t have a car here I won’t be able to take Poppy out further afield. In any case she isn’t a great traveller, only usually managing about 30 minute walks, being elderly, and the weather getting warmer. On our return we had a meal and continued chatting. Loretta works 7 days per week, 5 days in admin at the local Marina and weekends cleaning holiday homes. She has done a lot of travelling and would love to go to Madagascar next.

Loretta was catching the 0745 bus to Thames on Thursday morning and from there the bus to Auckland (the reverse journey I’d made) where she was staying the night with friends then flying to Japan on Friday morning. She’s been several times to Japan where she has a few friends, most made when hosting them when they were attending the language school in Whitianga. Poppy was, understandably, not too sure of me initially but I knew she’d come round, the dogs always do. Chloe didn’t bat an eyelid! The rest of the day, apart from walking Poppy morning and evening and a supermarket shop, I pretty much stayed at ‘home’ so that the animals could get used to me. They were both to sleep on my bed for the duration and, surprisingly, this didn’t disturb me much at all as they barely moved.

Nothing much to report about Friday 8th, although I did manage to walk Poppy for an hour in the cool of the morning. It was another hot day spent mostly around the house.

I’d seen Wayne with a radio controlled yacht which he told me he’d made himself and meets others regularly to sail it. (Men with their toys eh?). He told me there was a competition on Saturday and that they would pop along to it, although he wasn’t participating as didn’t have the right class of yacht! They invited me to join them, so at 2pm we took a walk, along with a friend Carol who was staying for a few days, to Whitianga Waterways. This is a marine based urban development built by Hopper Developments, the unique feature being that boats can be berthed at private jetties in front of canal front homes. We passed the Hopper family’s house which was pretty ugly on the outside but no doubt amazing inside. Earlier I’d seen a small helicopter flying overhead which landed on the Hoppers’ estate and parked in a car port. How the other half live! Wayne assured me that Mr Hopper is a thoroughly nice man, which was good to hear.

We watched two races, the yachts having to sail twice around two buoys about 150 meters apart. It was interesting to watch and I learnt that all the yachts have to be registered, with numbers and names just like their full size equivalents.

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There was later a report in the free local newspaper, ‘The Mercury Bay Informer’ that the class of yacht was Electron and the competition was the Des Townson Memorial Regatta run by the Bucklands Beach Yacht Club of Auckland, with about 30 yachts, all wind-powered, representing a variety of different clubs taking part from as far afield as Rarotonga.

I’d heard on the local radio an announcement of a talk at Whitianga Museum for this evening, which turned out to be at the town hall. This is part of a project called ‘Mercury Rising’ commemorating one of the reasons for Captain Cook’s first voyage to New Zealand 250 years ago: on 9 November 1769 Lieutenant (as he was then) James Cook and astronomer Charles Green observed the transit of Mercury across the sun from Mercury Bay which Whitianga overlooks. The ‘Mercury Rising’ Project ‘provides a platform for the deep astronomical knowledge of Maori alongside the modern understanding of astrophysics, all within the context of Mercury’s transit as viewed from NZ’s shores’. The Otago Museum based in Dunedin (South Island), Tuia 250 (‘a commemorative programme of experiences for encouraging honest conversations about the past, the present and how we navigate our shared future together’ with many events, projects and an education programme currently happening in NZ) and Mercury Bay Museum (here in Whitianga) formed the project with activities spread over a week, this talk being one of them. The culmination of the activities is an all night party on Cooks Beach as people await the transit of Mercury set for sunrise on Tuesday 12th! At time of writing I’m wondering whether I should make my way there for 6am as up to 20 telescopes are being provided. Quite fortuitous I think to be in the right place at the right time!

I decided to go along to the talk although, looking at the calibre of speakers and the subjects, thought I wouldn’t understand very much at all, not having a scientific cell in my brain and reaching the age of 62 with very little interest in astronomy and space. Even man’s first moonwalk held little appeal for me……unbelievable I know! The talk was free and too good an opportunity to miss.
The speakers:

The event was introduced by the Director of the Otago Museum, Ian Griffin, who was quite entertaining. He told us that the Maori people were the first astronomers in NZ, using the stars to navigate across the Pacific and phases of the moon to hunt and fish. On 10/11/1769 Lieutenant James Cook and the astronomer, Charles Green, had left the ship ‘Endeavour’ with telescopes – the first ever to be used on land in NZ. They observed the transit of Mercury across the sun on Cooks Beach. They used the transit to determine the latitude and longitude of their location and their findings have since proved to be accurate. This transit happens about 13 times every 100 years. He said that it’s interesting that there’s one 250 years after Cook and Green saw it (well 12/11/19 so near as damn it) and on 10/11/2269 there will be another.

The transit of Mercury starts at midnight. Mercury is 200th the size of the sun so it can only be seen through a telescope, although the image has to be projected on a piece of card as obviously you can’t stare directly at the sun during the process. There is to be an all night party (although I imagine quite sedate with people standing about chatting with drinks, but who knows?!) on Cooks Beach from 10pm and all were invited. They will provide 20 telescopes so than from sunrise (approximately 6am) until 7am people who turn up can look at Mercury’s transit. Do I or don’t I go for the 6am spectacle?!

Karen Pollard was the first to speak about the secret lives of the stars. All I noted was that astronomers believe the Universe is 13.8 billion years old, something I just can’t comprehend. Emma Bruce told us that Mercury is 4876km across which is less than half the size of Earth.

Sunday was pretty uneventful but it rained heavily in the night. The next morning on the dog walk I met a few other dog walkers. The first one knew Poppy. Her name was Lynn and she had a Westie called Mackie. She told me her daughter had bought Loretta’s house as a rental property, so it’s just as well I hadn’t mentioned anything about the next door neighbours before she told me! (Loretta had said one of her reasons for moving was the next door neighbours, with whom she’d had run ins, as he shouts so much). I might tease Loretta about this when she gets home, pretending I inadvertently told Lynn about the neighbours before she told me about her daughter buying the property! As we were walking along we bumped into a couple with a gorgeous dog called Olly, a Wheaten Terrier. Lynn could see I was going to chat to them for a while so took her leave. The couple had strong Northern accents and when I commented on them told me they were Mike and Ann, originally from Bolton and had come to NZ 46 years ago when their children were 7 and 11. They were Olly’s 3rd owners as he kept running away from the others as he hadn’t been trained, so they trained him and he had been fine ever since. They had first lived in South Auckland and Mike had worked at the airport as a sheet metal worker. Then they moved to Coromandel but found it too isolated (they had to travel to Thames for their big supermarket shop) so settled in Whitianga.

Then as I was walking with Poppy across a field we bumped into a man with a gorgeous little dog, cross Maltese and Shi Tzu or something like that, and Poppy and she had a run around while we chatted. I don’t know what his name was but he was pleasant and he told me that he and his ex wife had hoped to settle in the UK a few years before but the only visa they could get was a 3 year entrepreneurial visa. They found a b & b in Yorkshire that they wanted to buy and ran it for 3 months to see if they liked it. However there was no certainty that their visa would be extended so they were reluctant, understandably, to buy a property for 3 years and then sell it. They’d previously lived in Oz where his wife wanted to return to but he wanted to come back to NZ so they’d parted.

Needless to say on Tuesday morning I didn’t get up at 0430 to investigate if there was a ferry at that time to take me across the estuary (there wasn’t) to then walk for 50 minutes in the dark to Cooks Beach for the 0600 viewing of the transit of Mercury. Even if I’d had a car it would have been a 34km drive all the way round there, but I might have done that as I often wake at that time to go to the loo! So, having missed out on one of the 13 times this happens in 100 years I really felt like I should be doing something. The neighbours, Wayne and Toni, were going away until Friday taking Carol back to the North of the island where she lives.

I paid a visit to the cute ‘Mercury Bay Museum’ which overlooks the wharf where you catch the ferry across to access Cooks Beach and touristy boat trips. It occupies a historic site which was used by the local Maoris for more than 300 years until the mid 1870s as a cemetery. The Maori people removed many of the remains after looting by European curio hunters violated the sacred nature of the cemetery. By 1883 a timber mill had begun operating on the site and ran for 40 years. The current Art Deco building was built in 1934 as a dairy factory: the Mercury Bay Co-operative Dairy Co., winning many awards for its excellent butter and remained in operation until 1972. Cream was then sourced around the Mercury Bay area and butter taken to markets by boat. In 1974 the Whitianga Lions Club began fundraising to buy the building for use as a museum which was opened to the public in December 1979.

A lady in the museum told me, when I asked, that there had been quite a few people on Cooks beach to witness Mercury Rising that morning. The first part of the museum was taken up with the history of the first East Polynesian explorers from the Society Islands, southern Cook Islands and Austral Islands from about 1200-1300AD. NZ was the last habitable land mass to be discovered in the world. Then the story of Cook anchoring ‘Endeavour’ in Whitianga for 12 days in November 1769, his encounters with the Maori people and copies of pages from his ship’s log. There were details of the convict ship Buffalo that ran aground in Whitianga in 1840 giving a beach its name, with relics from the ship displayed. A small working model of the dairy factory, a reconstructed classroom and bird and fish displays.

It feel as if I’m on holiday here in Whitianga. That may sound odd as I’m on one very long holiday, so maybe a holiday within the big holiday! It feels as if time has stopped still here and I just love looking at the boats on the estuary, across to the other side and the typical Coromandel forest and hills in the distance. The water is as clear as crystal and as smooth as glass most of the time. The population here is about 5,000 but this quadruples over the Christmas (Summer) holidays. I can imagine it must be awful for the residents when this lovely tranquility is lost.

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On Wednesday morning I decided to walk Poppy as far as Buffalo Beach which Loretta said she liked. We both enjoyed it and, in the end, we walked for 90 minutes which Poppy didn’t seem to object to. I decided to do this walk with her every morning, as long as it doesn’t rain.

Buffalo beach:

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It rained throughout the night and heavily for much of Thursday morning so Poppy’s morning walk was delayed as a result. When we did go out she wasn’t that interested so it was just a short walk. I’d noticed that when I go to stroke her head she winces and mentioned this to Toni and Wayne who told me that the previous next door neighbours had children who would hit her on the head with sticks and stones. Poor thing! I spent most of the rest of the day reading and writing.

On Friday Toni & Wayne returned and I realised I’d missed them. They offered to watch Poppy as I fancied a walk into town to look at some of the shops. I’d been feeling a touch of cabin fever so took the opportunity. The shops aren’t that exciting but I enjoyed looking around one with some nice art and knick knacks and checked out the main charity shop, for St John’s, nearly buying a nice summer skirt but resisted as it was a bit tight. On the subject of charity shops here in NZ, some of them could do with a visit from Mary Portas as they seem to have very little idea how to display their wares attractively. The St John’s charity shop has everything for sale such as bras which had virtually no elastic and dirty trainers.

Nothing much to speak of on Saturday. I’ve taken to walking Poppy for her early evening walk along the estuary nearby when the tide’s usually out. I keep thinking I might find some Captain Cook treasure but none so far! I made a fish curry which will do for 3 evening meals.

Sunday was an interesting day. I managed to get up earlier than normal despite my sleep, as usual, being broken by the animals wanting to go out in the middle of the night. I walked Poppy to Buffalo beach and, as we arrived just before 9am, there was a couple waiting with their 20 month old dog who asked me if I was there for the dog walking group. I said no but waited with them and two more women turned up with their dogs. We joined them and Poppy seemed to enjoy it although, being a lot older than the others (the other two dogs were aged 3) she couldn’t quite keep up but gave it a good go. Unfortunately I didn’t have my phone on me to take pics. Poppy managed a longer walk than usual and a few dips to cool off. The couple I’d initially met were Ruth and Ray, and I chatted to Ray who told me he’d had cancer behind his eye and as a result had his eye removed but had been given the all clear.

I’d read in the local rag that the Mercury Bay Community Choir was giving a concert in the town hall at 2pm today followed by their ‘famous’ afternoon tea. I thought I’d go along and support them. I sat next to a lovely couple called Larissa and John. Larissa told me she belonged to another local choir called the ‘Golden Girls’ who sing at two different residential/nursing homes every month. John and some other men join the ‘girls’ for Christmas Carol concerts and he said he enjoyed it. Larissa said she enjoyed it for the social aspect as they go out for lunch and for drinks.

The Choir was made up of 21 people, 4 of them men led by a woman from Vancouver and they had two accompanists who took it in turns to play. The opening number, ‘Welcome to our world’ was certainly under rehearsed and I wasn’t at all convinced we were welcome to their world as they sang it with little conviction and quietly. Most of the songs were slow and I didn’t know them apart from ‘Anthem’ from the musical ‘Chess’. Other songs they sang were ‘There is a ship’, first published as a hymn 20 years after Cook set off for NZ and plucked from obscurity by Peter, Paul and Mary; ‘Crossing the bar’ a poem written by Alfred Lord Tennyson about preparing for death; ‘Nightfall’ music by Roger Emerson with lyrics from a Victorian poem; ‘Jazz Kyrie’ which was lovely; ‘Dreamland’, lyrics from a poem by Christina Rossetti; ‘Come Again’ a madrigal; ‘The Turtle Dove’ an English folk song associated with Ralph Vaughan Williams; ‘Prayer of the Children’; ‘You are the new day’; ‘Come in from the firefly darkness’; ‘The song of Ruth’; ‘Let the nations sing’.

The afternoon tea was a lovely spread that members of the choir had made. I got to talking to a few nice people, one of whom told me she was Sue and lived in Whanganui. I was surprised as realised that’s on the West coast so a fair distance from Whitianga, and I’d just booked two nights there before going to the concert as part of my next road trip. She thought that was an amazing coincidence and told me she had lots of beds and I’d be welcome to stay with her and we exchanged numbers. It would be nice to meet up with her as we were talking about our experiences of our respective piano teachers as children and I was encouraging her to join a choir as she said she hadn’t sung since school but would like to. Larissa told me to call on them as they’re not far from my housesit. She’d been telling me about their experiences of hosting on Airbnb.

I’d messaged (via Airbnb) Peter, my host in Napier to see if I could stay for one night on my road trip and thought we’d both save money by not booking via Airbnb. It turns out he’s in Whitianga so after messaging backwards and forwards we had a telephone conversation via Whatsapp and arranged to meet up for breakfast in the morning. He told me that their dog Leo, who I‘d videoed playing with a balloon, had died 2 weeks ago which is sad. He also told me that Airbnb monitor messages via the website and certain words such as ‘cash’ alert them as I’d suggested paying Peter with cash. Obviously they’re not happy about people booking direct with the hosts as they don’t then get their cut! Peter warned me of this as they can blacklist people.

On Monday morning, along with Poppy, I met up with Peter and his friend Ashley at 9am for breakfast at a lovely cafe called Espy which overlooks the Wharf area. Peter had come to Whitianga to help Ashley paint his Bach (pronounced ‘batch’ which is basically what NZ’ers call a holiday home). It was nice to see him and we spent a couple of hours chatting. I’ll see him and Beth again on 29th when I stay with them for one night. Peter was flying back to Napier from Auckland the next day.

On Tuesday morning I took Poppy for her morning walk along to ‘Lovers’ Rock’ an area that I hadn’t really investigated but by the estuary, turning right instead of our usual left. It was quite shady so perfect as it was starting to get warm and Poppy, who’s awaiting a haircut, can get quite hot. We saw Sandy, a friend of Loretta’s from the language school, who made a fuss of Poppy.

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At 11am I left for my first, and what will be my last trip on the ferry across the estuary to investigate the other side. Toni and Wayne said they would keep Poppy company, as they have been used to looking after her for Loretta at times but don’t walk her hence my housesitting. This was my first real opportunity to spend some time away from the house having not had a car and with no public transport here. The ferry cost $7 return and took just a few minutes across that narrow stretch of water. It’s for passengers, and bicycles, only so with a car it’s a 40km ride round.

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Soon after getting off the ferry I briefly paid a visit to a cemetery nearby which had some interesting sculptures and headstones:

The first beach I came across was Front Beach and it was deserted. Then a bit further along was Flaxmill Bay and nearby a cafe that had been recommended to me called ‘Eggsentric’. By this time it was midday and as I hadn’t had breakfast I sat outside and had poached eggs on toast, although there were far more interesting things on the menu but I wasn’t hungry enough. I later discovered that my Waihi Airbnb host, Julie, knew this place well. The floor of the loo was decorated with a collage and I thought of my friend Glenys who enjoys this craft:

From there I took a path up to Shakespeare Cliff’s lookout (which meant a few steps!) where there was a stone marking Cook’s first visit and which overlooked Lonely Bay and Cooks Beach.

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I walked along Cooks Beach which had, as so many of these beaches have, lots of beautiful shells and collected a few small ones. If I thought Whitianga was quiet then this area is like a morgue however it will be getting busy soon. One lovely thing to note is that there are never lines of hotels overlooking the beaches in NZ, as you’d see in the Mediterranean, just lovely homes, whether residential or baches. Let’s hope it stays that way as it makes such a difference.

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I walked back towards the ferry, stopping at Eggsentric for one of their homemade ice creams, ice cream being a rare indulgence for me, and took a route back to the ferry through a historic reserve (a wood) and as I was coming out of the wood got a great view of Whitianga:

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I’d been wearing a pair of shorts all day that I’d bought in an opp shop in Tauranga and realised the next day that there was a big split in the back! No idea how that happened, unless I’d snagged them in the wood, otherwise I was walking around all day proudly showing off my knickers – but then people may have thought this was a trend to match torn jeans!

Another adventure on Wednesday, my penultimate day at this housesit, was a 2 hour boat trip. There were a few to choose from but I’d been recommended either Ocean Leopard tours or the Glass Bottom boat. I’d seen the glass bottom boat and people seemed to be crammed in there, it dipped in the water at the back and went quite slowly so I opted for the Ocean Leopard. The boat was full and our ‘tour guide’ was a pleasant young Kiwi called Taz who told me he’d spent 10 years chasing winters everywhere (my plan is to do the opposite) working in ski resorts but then he realised he missed the sea, summer and his home of Whitianga.

This area is really quite breathtaking and we were taken past where I’d walked yesterday and to Cathedral Cove, Hahei beach where I’d walked on my earlier road trip and beyond. Taz told us part of ‘Prince Caspian’ (from the ‘Chronicles of Narnia’) was filmed at Cathedral Cove and that 700,000 people had visited it in one year when they counted (not sure which year) which is quite astounding. It was nice to see these areas from the sea having explored them on land. The area is fascinating from a geological point of view with fabulous rocks, blow holes and the second biggest sea cave in NZ (Orua Sea Cave) which is only accessible by boat. You could easily imagine how the lava had flowed by the lovely patterns it had made in the rocks.

9km of the coast was established in 1992 as a marine reserve and marked with sticks where, surprisingly, stocks of fish such as snapper have increased and the fish seem to know this is a safe area where commercial fishing isn’t allowed. In fact there’s a heavy fine should anyone fish there of $250,000, and seizure of the boat and boat trailer. A great area for exploring in a kayak too, just a pity I haven’t got round to that although I know, from past experience, that’s not part of my skill set. Taz was a nice guy and informative, evidently loving his job. He told us they had seen orca 3 days ago but we saw none today. He encouraged snapper fish to come to the surface by throwing some barley into the sea and we saw some beautiful blue fish called blue maomao which like living in the sea cave.

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As I left the boat I got talking to a nice American couple from Michigan who had recently retired and been travelling for a month but going back home on Sunday. They’d had quite a hectic tour with 3 days here, 2 days there, but that was the sort of thing I’ve done in the past and can’t imagine going back to.

Thursday was my last day and the return of Loretta. On Poppy’s walk we bumped into a lady I’d seen before but this time stopped for a chat. Her name was Jenny and she ran, with her husband, a nice b & b with a lovely front garden that I walked past most days. She knew Loretta also from her walking past with Poppy. Jenny was from England but had left years before. She’d gone to boarding school and to college in Rye.

Later I did some cleaning, minimal as it’s such a small house and Loretta had told me not to bother, and cooked a meal for us. Loretta arrived home just after 5pm having had the most awful flight back with severe turbulence most of the way. We sat and had a drink with Wayne and Toni before dinner. It was nice to see her again, it confused Poppy who was going from me to Loretta and clearly knew something was up (she’d seen me packing) but the animals slept that night on Loretta’s bed.

On Friday morning Loretta took me to get the 0745 shuttle bus to Thames to connect with the Inter City bus to Tauranga. As usual I shall miss the animals and have really loved this relaxing time in Whitianga. I really was felling like part of the community, getting to chat to a few people and supporting local initiatives. So it was another sad goodbye and on with the next adventure.

Kevin very kindly drove me into town 2 hours before my bus was due so, having left my luggage at the i-Site office (a service some of them offer) I waited out the time in the library. I did question, this morning, why I was going all the way to Auckland for 3 nights but had decided I’d go to the central library there to do some more family research. I’d emailed the library and received some really useful information from a librarian at another site but she’d said it might be an idea if I did more digging at the main Auckland library.

The bus left at 1240 with an amiable driver. I’ll be doing this exact same journey on 11th December for a night’s stay in Auckland prior to a trip to going to the Bay of Islands. The bus was a double decker and I was fortunate to get a seat upstairs in the front to enjoy the views along the way, passing through some of the places I’d stayed at. In Auckland I’d booked 3 nights in a reasonably cheap hotel called Econo Lodge which beat the Ibis Budget Hotel I’d stayed at twice before. I read the reviews again this morning and was a little dismayed to see that one person had said he’d have been better off staying in a hostel as the room wasn’t big enough to open his suitcase, but generally people were commenting on the friendliness of the staff which, for me, is very important. Anyway, you pay your money and you take your choice!

The room was certainly small but perfectly fine for 3 nights. I went on the lookout for somewhere to eat that didn’t sell burgers, chips or pizza and found it quite difficult! I remember thinking on my trip here 26 years ago how healthy the food in New Zealand was. Now it seems quite difficult to find good cheap food. So, after walking around and getting hungrier I ended up at a place I’d been to before which is apparently known for its beer. I ordered the same food as before….mushroom burger and kumara fries! I briefly chatted to a couple of chaps, one originally from West Sussex and the other from Oz.

On Monday morning I checked out TripAdvisor for a nice place to have breakfast as, disappointingly, the place I went to before had just closed in order to reopen as a vegetarian restaurant. ‘Odette’s’ had good reviews so I went there. It was lovely inside but, reading the menu, seemed quite pretentious.

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An American family, who seemed flush, sat nearby. I heard the man ask the waitress what halloumi and harissa were. They proceeded to order chips….now there’s a surprise although, from the menu, not just any old chips!

I decided, as the weather is so nice, I really should visit one of the islands near Auckland. The Hauraki Gulf has more than 15. I walked down to the ferry terminal and bought a ticket to go to Rangitoto tomorrow then walked to the Central Library. I told two librarians, Shona and Kim, about my adoptive family history, information gleaned thus far and the help provided by one of their colleagues based in another library. They assisted with research although didn’t get much more information but told me about some useful websites, particularly one for searching newspaper articles going back to the 1800s.

As I went down the escalator for lunch, on the next floor down I spotted a Citizen’s Advice area and a sign about immigration. Not that I’m pondering immigrating here but had been trying to find out about extending a second visit from 3 to 6 months on the South Island and at what stage to do that and how. I’d checked the Immigration NZ website back in England and discovered I could stay for 9 months in total within an 18 month period, made up of 2 separate visits of 6 months and 3 months, and could extend the second visit of 3 to 6 months allowing 12 months in NZ within a 24 months period. I’d been checking the website again as, since leaving the UK, new regulations have come into force – UK citizens, and other visitors from visa waiver countries, have to now apply for an ETA (Electronic Travel Authority) before entering NZ.

I spoke to CAB volunteer Patricia, who came to NZ from Derbyshire in the 1960s, and explained my query. As luck would have it she said they had a hotline to the Immigration Office which I wouldn’t have been able to access. The woman I spoke to didn’t know the answer but went off to seek advice from a colleague while I listened to music. When she returned she explained that indeed I could spend another 6 months in NZ and that the easiest way to sort out when to enter again was to work back 12 months from the date I expected to leave on that 2nd visit which couldn’t coincide with the first visit. i.e. as I leave NZ on 2/1/20 I would have to leave NZ after the second visit earliest 3/1/21 so to spend 6 months the earliest I could enter the 2nd time would be 3/7/21. I was so happy to finally get the correct information making it easier to plan ahead.

After popping out for lunch, I returned to the library until 1930 (it closed at 2000) and had an ok’ish Pad Thai for dinner at the ‘Sunflower Thai’ a vegetarian restaurant.

Next morning I got the first ferry with a crowd of people, 0915, out to Rangitoto Island via Devonport, a 25 minute journey. Before boarding we were asked to clean our shoes with the brushes provided (to prevent spreading any diseases on the island) and to check out pockets and bags for any insects or animals that might be lurking there! This is standard practice but it did occur to me that if someone had something undesireable in their shoes it would be spread to other people’s shoes by the brushes! It all seems a bit OTT. Rangitoto island is one of the most iconic landmarks in Auckland’s city skyline and one of the ‘must dos’. It erupted from the sea approximately 600 years ago making it the last and largest volcano to be formed in the Auckland volcanic field. It was active for several years before settling down,

I sat on deck, a popular place as already it was quite warm. There was a school group of teenagers some of whom, rather disconcertingly, started singing the ‘Titanic’ film theme. I’d heard one of their teachers, before boarding the ferry, tell them that they should all put their sun hats on (as if they were infant children) and they obligingly conformed. I think the rebellious streak in me would have ignored her!

Next to me on deck was a rather eccentric woman wearing very old clothes, long luminous yellow sleeves and a battered backpack. She asked me if I had sunblock on, which I did, and appeared critical that my arms were bare. She was from the US and when she heard where I was from commented on the similarities between Trump and Johnson although agreed that Trump was much worse. I decided to avoid her, if possible, on the island.

Walking to the summit was recommended and I figured this would be where most people would head first, which turned out to be correct, so I walked along the coastal track instead. There was just one other couple on this track, both English, he having moved to NZ 8 years previously and working in the film industry and she having recently come out to visit him after 2 months of travel in Oz. He was keen on birds and asked if I’d been to Tiritiri island, a bird sanctuary, which I had thought about but chose Rangitoto instead. He highly recommended it and to pay the extra $10 for a guide, so will have to try to fit that in just before leaving NZ.

Being volcanic, the track was like walking over large lumps of coal most of the time and at other times tree roots. The sign and map stated it would take a walker of average fitness 2 hrs 30 mins but, as is often the case, this was a big exaggeration as it took me one hour less, and that was with stopping to chat, take photos and walking much slower than the couple. There were some superb views across to adjoining Motutapu Island which can be reached by a causeway connecting the two islands but there wouldn’t have been time to walk to the summit of Rangitoto if I had. It was amazing to see how entirely different that island was, being mainly covered in grassland and grazed by sheep and cattle while Rangitoto just has birds. Apparently Motutapu is a very significant island archaeologically with traces of centuries of continuous human habitation etched into its landscape. Both islands were officially declared predator-free in 2011 after an extensive eradication programme. Endangered birds such as takahe and theme (saddleback) have been released and others such as kakariki and bellbirds have returned of their own accord.

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Despite the harsh scoria slopes on Rangitoto there is a surprising amount of flora including the world’s largest pohutakawa forest.

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It took an hour to walk to the summit, first along a road passing a sign off to lava caves (a 30 minute side trip which I decided to miss as had forgotten to bring a torch as suggested) and then up steps…..more steps! Towards the top I had the company of a young Japanese chap who only had a total of one week in NZ, this mainly in Auckland although he hoped to go to Rotorua. He was pleased to practice his English and when I offered to take his photo he obligingly took mine. The 360 degree views of some of the other islands and Auckland were superb and it was certainly worth visiting the island for them.

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I walked back down from the summit and along a road which seemed to go on for ever (by this time it was very hot) occasionally slipping on the gravel. The last ferry was departing at 3.30 pm and while waiting for it I chatted to an elderly English couple (she with a hunched back and he with a stick) who had walked up to the summit and back down the same road as I had. They had been visiting friends in Nelson and Wellington, took the Northern Explorer train from there to Auckland and were due to go home in 2 days time. She said that she hadn’t really enjoyed that train journey, as I hadn’t much, so that made me feel less of a whinging Pom!

I felt quite exhausted having walked for over 5 hours barely stopping and my iPhone indicated I’d clocked up over 11 miles. I think the unsteady terrain had made the walk seem harder. Back to my room for a shower, flop on the bed and pot meal of cold pasta for dinner.

Tomorrow is the start of my 7th housesit in NZ which I’m looking forward to.

I left Waihi on Thursday 24th October for the hour drive to Tauranga. I dropped off my bags at Tamars b & b, where I was staying for 10 nights, before returning the hire car. From there I got a bus into the centre for a 1200 meeting I’d arranged with Nikki, event head of Tauranga Arts Festival, for a volunteering briefing. I’d only been given a couple of jobs and my first was tonight. As she was showing me round I bumped into Jenny, of the alpacas housesit, who’d earlier invited me to a barbecue on Monday, Labour Day and bank holiday in NZ.

Back on the bus to my new temporary ‘home’ to unpack. The owners of the b & b, Karen and Kevin, were originally from Essex, Southend in fact, and had moved to NZ with their daughter Anna (now aged 22) 15 years earlier. I liked them immediately and we chatted about Southend and I told them my paternal grandmother had lived there for over 40 years so it was close to my heart. We reminisced about the Kursaal, Peter Pan’s Playground and the pier, the world’s longest, which we used to walk along one way and ride the train back.

The b & b has 3 bedrooms and one shared bathroom with no separate toilet. Of course I’d have preferred an en-suite but that would have cost far more elsewhere. The reviews had been excellent and I felt it would feel like home. I was certainly pleased with my room, king size bed and door opening onto a sun room off the garden. After unpacking all my clothes, which I hadn’t done for a while, I had a relax on the bed as was feeling a bit weary again.

Apparently in 2017 Tauranga became NZ’s 5th biggest city, knocking Dunedin off that spot, and it has NZ’s busiest port. However, if you didn’t come here you wouldn’t be missing a great deal as a tourist but think it’s a nice place to live, indeed it’s popular with retirees and young families.

The first volunteering stint I had was tonight and I was asked to be at the Carrus Crystal Palace (CCP – a pop up Spiegeltent lookalike used by Cheltenham festivals & others back home) for 7.30pm. Getting into town was a bus ride or 50 minute walk and I noticed that the last bus back left at 8.05pm so expected to walk home. Before the gig I went to nearby ‘Our Place’ for a bite. I hadn’t noticed this on my previous visits but it’s a cool area of shipping containers from which vendors sell fast food and clothing. I selected the vegan container and had a delicious meal of fried cauliflower with avocado and slaw in tacos accompanied by a glass of wine from the bar container which sold all manner of beers and wines:

The event I was volunteering for was a female singer caller Reb (short for Rebecca?) Fountain with her band and my job was to collect the food orders from ‘Our Place’, descending two flights of stairs and then back up with the food. I only had to do this about 3 times so it wasn’t arduous, and could enjoy the gig. The singer had a lovely voice but the music was mainly slow. After helping clear away the glasses I cheekily asked if anyone was going my way and Conrad (a manager within the company that was the main sponsor of the festival) kindly offered to take me although I discovered later that it wasn’t on his way home.

The people in the other two rooms that night were a mature French couple and one of the b & b’s regulars who Karen and Kevin call ‘Chinese Kevin’. He was just leaving as I got to the breakfast table on Friday to join the French couple. I discovered my French now was virtually non existent but he spoke pretty good English. I steered clear of mentioning Brexit.

I walked into the centre and bought a bus card in the i-site centre. Bus fares around Tauranga are $3.40 per trip whether you ride one stop or the whole line. If you catch another bus within an hour of taking the first there’s no more to pay. A bus card, which can be topped up by paying the driver, reduces the fare to $2.72, so worth doing.

I spent some time in the library – another impressive space. All the customers were extremely quiet, it was the librarians who felt the need to speak loudly to each other. I remember the days when you were shushed by the librarians if you spoke which I didn’t appreciate at the time but would now. Later I had dinner of seafood chowder at the ‘ Crown and Badger’ pub and went to the CCP for ‘Shooglenifty’ which I had a ticket for. They’re a Scottish folk band based in Edinburgh and were brilliant, just my kind of music. I was sitting next to a nice couple Doug, a Kiwi, and his wife Sally, who was English having immigrated into NZ 40 years before. They insisted on taking me ‘home’, so another night when I didn’t have to walk back for 50 minutes.

Saturday was my second stint of volunteering, the morning being based at the art gallery. I’d not visited the art gallery before, saving it for this visit instead. As I got there early I wandered along the waterfront and had a look at the lovely sculpture of Hairy Maclary and 8 of his friends: Hercules Morse, Bottomley Potts, Muffin McLay, Bitzer Maloney, Schnitzell Von Krumm, Scarface Claw, Slinky Malinki and Zachary Quack:

Lynsey Dodd, the author of the Hairy Maclary books, had been a Tauranga resident for many years and is one of NZ’s best loved authors, now living in Rotorua.

The art gallery job was a doddle and in fact I was really surplus to requirements. However, I chatted to the women working in the gallery, one Canadian, another originally from Denmark and the other a Kiwi. The event I was there to assist with wasn’t my type of thing: too alternative! It was ‘A Call to Dance’ – a one-to-one participatory work lasting 40 minutes where an Australian choreographer and dancer, Amrita Hepi, guided each participant with conversation and movement. By the end of the session the individuals should have created a dance movement all about themselves. Amrita was to collect all the dances and perform a dance reflecting the people and character of Tauranga. It sounded more like therapy to me.

Anyway, all I had to do was greet the participants and ask them to read and sign a form. One of the participants was a 9 year old girl who came with her mum, Kathie. It turned out that Kathie used to live in Blyth Road, Bromley, Kent (well known to me) and then moved to Keston. Small world! We got on very well and she said I must go to her house for lunch, took my number and promised to contact me. She also said she’d be rowing in a canoe competition happening when I’m at Whitianga, so that would be fun.

Amrita and her assistant (who I’m sure could have done the job I was there to do) stopped at 1230 for a long lunch break and another volunteer had been assigned for the afternoon slot. At 1pm there was a talk in the foyer by an artist, Kelcy Taratoa, who had painted the three large abstract paintings there plus had an exhibition upstairs too. I helped put the chairs out for the audience and sat and listened. He was an excellent speaker and, although I tend not to appreciate abstract art, it was interesting to hear him explain why and how he created the paintings.

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I then took a bus and walked to the Historic Village where I’d agreed to help out for the afternoon. This is a vintage-inspired shopping complex made up of original and replica buildings from early Tauranga with cobblestone streets. To tie in with the arts festival they had fringe events here for the day and the place was bustling with people of all ages and was a great atmosphere. There was a programme of events from 10am – 7pm which included buskers, street performers, art, theatre, film, fashion shows, dancing and market stalls. I was asked to help on the gate, entry being by donation to go to the artists who were performing free. After doing that for a while (with a woman who drove me nuts as she kept interfering when I was talking to people) I then asked people leaving to complete a short survey as this was the first time the fringe day had been put on. Everyone appeared to have enjoyed it. I walked around briefly with a pleasant Canadian volunteer called Brenna who was on a year’s working visa in NZ with her partner. I left at 5pm to go back ‘home’ to change for later.

I had a ticket for ‘A Synthesised Universe’ and ate at ‘Our Place’ again before it started. I had a pink gin and tonic from the bar but couldn’t taste the gin. Kevin (at the b&b) later told me that NZ spirit measures are usually less than half a single UK measure so you have to buy a double, which then ends up being expensive.

The event was due to start at 8pm but began 15 minutes late, with no apology or explanation as to why it was late – I hate that! While waiting I got into conversation with a lovely Kiwi couple, Lesley and Andrew, who were advising me about places to go to on my next car tour. The event was performed by Anthonie Tonnon and described as ‘an immersive experience combining live music with custom animation, otherworldly video manipulations and a flight through the known universe’. Apparently Anthonie, a singer-songwriter (and he did have a great voice with a big range) originally developed the work for a planetarium. I can’t say it was my kind of music and there were quite a few NZ references which Andrew explained to me. After this they were showing the England – All Blacks rugby World Cup semi final match which, because the event was late starting meant we missed the first 15 minutes. Lesley and Andrew were going home to watch it on catch up and, although I thought they’d likely drop me off home, I didn’t ask them as they lived in Katikati, a 30 minute drive away. They took my email address and said they’d email some places I might like to visit, and Lesley suggested meeting for coffee which was nice but again, let’s wait and see if I hear back.

When the match was on I noticed a girl quietly cheering when England scored (the Kiwis were pretty quiet) so I went over and discovered she and her partner had arrived in NZ two weeks previously, moved into a rental property on Monday and were due to start jobs on Tuesday.

After the match the Kiwis were obviously disappointed with losing but agreed that England had played superbly and deserved to win. I later read that in the past 16 matches between them this was the first time England had beaten the All Blacks. So guess I’d better watch the final next Saturday. I walked home, arriving at midnight.

Sunday was a lovely day, forecast up to 23 degrees. I decided to get my legs out for the first time since being in NZ and wear the long shorts I’d bought recently. I briefly chatted to a nice couple, of about my age, at the breakfast table and their son Luke Baker, an actor, who had stayed the night after attending a family 21st birthday party.

I thought I’d walk to Mount Maunganui, a distance of 11km, and left just after 11am. I stopped at a pharmacy in the centre to buy some sun screen lotion as need protection now for more than my face and neck. Yet another nice conversation with an assistant and pharmacist. I must say, the walk once away from the promenade was not the nicest, despite the fact there was a shared walk/cycle path, it was crowded with traffic all the way to the Mount, passing the port and through the industrial estate, the air not the sweetest of perfumes. Another walk not to be repeated but good exercise nonetheless.

I found a nice small cafe overlooking the main beach, with a lovely breeze, and had a refreshing lager and delicious salad using their WiFi to write some of my blog. Just along from there was an ice cream parlour which was obviously good judging by the lengthy queue so joined it and had a delicious coconut ice cream.

The whole Mount area and beaches were thronging with people as it’s a bank holiday weekend and a beautiful day. The beaches looked a lot different to the last time I saw them in August. There were quite a few people swimming today, despite the fact the sea is really cold, and sunbathers. I had a pleasant hour lying on the beach people watching then got two buses back stopping at a supermarket in between to get some wine for tomorrow’s barbecue and supplies for myself. I spent the rest of the evening writing and reading in my room having enjoyed the day.

On Monday morning I thought I’d pay the art gallery a visit as hadn’t seen much of it on Saturday. There was an interesting virtual reality exhibition called ‘Terminus’ due to finish today which was the main draw for me. The artists were Jess Johnson and Simon Ward taking the visitor on a journey across 5 realms of virtual reality using state of the art technology. I’d managed to try one of the realms on Saturday but it had been too busy to try the rest. It was very clever with quite psychedelic geometrical shapes – hard to explain here, it had to be experienced. I have absolutely no idea how it’s done despite there being an explanation. Upstairs was the rest of the exhibition by Kelcy Taratoa called ‘Who Am I’ with large colourful works referencing comic book heroes, television serials and film. There was also a small exhibition of Maori artefacts and weaving.

I went to the Baycourt Theatre for the event I’d booked starting at 1pm ‘Cellfish’. This was a piece of theatre with just 2 actors, Jason Te Kare and Carrie Green. They told the story of Miss Lucy entering a prison to teach Shakespeare to inmates, some looking to improve their parole chances, others to kill time and one who wanted to kill. It started quite slow but got better and the actors worked hard to play all the characters. It was quite powerful in the end and clever how some of Shakespeare’s verses had been incorporated into the play, but I could tell the man next to me didn’t enjoy it one bit.

At 3.30pm I was picked up by Jenny, with daughters Ivy and Cora wearing Halloween masks just bought, to take me to their house for a barbecue. I was particularly looking forward to seeing the dogs I’d looked after there, Chewy and Lady, also the alpacas who’d been shorn on Wednesday. They were expecting an English couple to arrive later for 10 days of ‘Workaway’ (working 5 hours per day in 5 days in exchange for free accommodation and food) who were driving from Wellington.

At the house I assisted Jenny and Pete moving the baby alpacas from their field to a pen in order for Pete to inject them. Just as he finished the Workaway couple, Thomas and Katherine, arrived. After Pete had explained to them what he wanted them to do (sort out the compost and do some cementing!) we sat down to eat which turned out not to be a barbecue (probably because it had started pouring with rain) but Jenny’s homemade falafels in pitta pockets, followed by strawberries and ice cream.

Jenny kindly drove me back, which was an hour round trip for her. It had been lovely to see the family again and the dogs who I think did remember me.

I had a leisurely Tuesday morning and, having been the only one staying the night before, had the bathroom to myself for once. I later walked into town spending some time in the library, then a bite to eat before ‘Mr Red Light’ at the main Baycourt Theatre, which has been touring NZ. About Mr Red Light who failed to rob a bank ending up in a pie shop where he has 3 uncooperative hostages, with the offstage voice of the world’s worst police negotiator. It was quite funny, clever and slapstick at times with good acting and set.

Afterwards there was no one to cadge a lift from so I walked ‘home’. When I got back there were two new people, an Indian man called Varron and a Japanese girl called Irene. They both spoke good English and we sat talking with Karen and Kevin until nearly 11pm. Varron had arrived from India that day and had two days’ work at the Mount, Irene had come from Wellington, where she studied English for 3 months, to look for a flat share and job in a cafe, ultimately wanting to go to live in Canada and study law there. Karen had kindly given us all a box of chocolates as Irene became the 1000th guest they had hosted.

I had no events booked for Wednesday and decided to go and visit the Historic Village, where I’d been on Saturday afternoon, without all the entertainment. The main complex was built in 1977 and designed as a replica of the early shop fronts that formed The Strand (the main street opposite the bay) in Tauranga. Some of the buildings were built in the 1800s or 1900s and were either moved to this site or rebuilt in their original style. The buildings house shops, art galleries, social enterprises and businesses. It was a completely different atmosphere to Saturday – very quiet.

I was interested to see a ‘Men’s Shed’, charity that helps men get together by making things out of donated wood and other materials. I’d come across this a lot back home and had a nice chat with some of the men, telling them about the Cheltenham ‘Men in Sheds’ Sopwith Camel replica they made for its 100th anniversary and the work they did for the RDA at Cheltenham Racecourse. These men had a lovely display of wooden toys and useful articles made of wood which they were selling, and I was given a tour of the big shed where the tools (all donated) were very well organised. I took a few photos and told them I’d send them to my contact at Cheltenham’s shed:

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I had a chat with a lady originally from Aberdeenshire who runs a gallery with a nice variety of art, a Kiwi woman who taught herself to make stained glass and some lovely moulded coloured glass items and watched her working and a woman originally from Skipton manning the local art group’s exhibition which I thought was of an unusually high standard. I had perhaps the best scone ever outside the cafe with an earl grey cuppa, then walked to town and saw the film ‘Jojo Rabbit’.

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Unusually I got a bus back and while waiting for it sat on a bench where there was a beautiful young part Maori woman/girl. She struck up a conversation with me, telling me her dad was Maori but she had nothing to do with him and her mum was originally from Belfast. We had a very easy conversation and I thought how nice for a young person to enjoy talking to me. She asked if I had children, I said no but hopefully would in my next life and laughed saying she probably didn’t believe in that. She said she did as her brother had been killed in a car accident aged 18 and her mum had believed they would meet again. I said how sorry I was but she wasn’t seeking sympathy and said she was ok now. My bus came and I went to get on it and she appeared genuinely sad that I was leaving and called out asking my name. Her name was Eva. She hoped we’d meet again.

As the weather had started to warm up and I hadn’t got much by way of summer clothes, except tee shirts, I took a walk to Greerton where Karen said there were a lot of op shops. Another walk not to be repeated but good exercise. The first two shops I went in provided what I needed and all told cost $15. There was another lovely library which I visited for a while then walked into town, all the way along one road (about 3 miles) which wasn’t even the entire length of the road. On this subject, roads in the main towns here are on grid systems like in the US, so it can be pretty dull and a bus ride would really be far more sensible. However, I’m trying to do as much walking as possible.

In town I spent some time in the library then decided to sample the recommended ‘Bobby’s Fish and chips’ by the waterfront, sitting outside enjoying the best fish (in a light lemony batter) and chips I’ve had for some time and at only $7.20! The seagulls (or red billed gulls) started taking an interest but when a man sitting nearby threw a chip to them they surrounded him instead.

At 7pm in the small theatre I went to see ‘Still life with chickens’, which turned out to be my favourite piece of theatre at this festival. It was quite delightful, funny, poignant and heart-warming. Just 45 minutes long and set in the back yard of a Samoan home it was a snapshot of the life of a Samoan family and neighbours told from the point of view of Mama, a large Samoan lady. It began with her burying her cat in the garden which she cherished. While she had clearly loved the cat it had had its issues. Every now and then the voice of her husband called her (in Samoan) from offstage, and she criticised him for doing nothing. Then one day a chicken turned up (a puppet beautifully controlled by a young man who mimicked chicken sounds superbly) which started to eat her silver beet. After getting nowhere trying to find its owner she kept it but one day it disappeared and she was upset. Then two days later the chicken returned with 3 chicks in tow which brought the play to a close. The play was written by D.F. Mamea, an award-winning playwright, and Mama was played by Goretti Chadwick.

On Friday I walked into town and bought a box from the Post Office in order to post some winter clothes back home (well to Helen’s home to add to my collection there!). I had seen some lovely bamboo plates with birds painted on in the art gallery shop and couldn’t stop thinking about them so ended up buying three, as they just had three designs, which I could post in the box with the clothes. I had lunch of a toasted cheese scone and tea at my favourite cafe, sitting outside, then walked back via a supermarket picking up a microwave meal for dinner. I enjoyed eating with Karen and Kevin, having a chat and watching Australia’s ‘Masterchef’ with them. Karen had already, inadvertently, seen online who won.

Saturday, my last day in Tauranga, and a little strange as I’ve really felt quite at home here and I believe Karen and Kevin have enjoyed my company too. Late morning I walked into town to post my box of clothes and bamboo plates. It was a lovely day and I enjoyed another lunch at the cafe, then sat on a bench overlooking the waterfront reading until the only speakers’ event I’d booked started at 3pm. This turned out to be excellent and was entitled ‘Standing Up’ with 3 panel members who had all had the courage to be themselves in public life, sometimes at personal cost. They were Chloe Swarbrick, aged 25 and the second-youngest New Zealand MP ever to be elected (a very articulate and intelligent young woman); Richard O’Brien, creator of the ‘Rocky Horror Show’ who was quite glamorously dressed and sporting a pearl neckless (unbelievably aged 77); and Rachel Stewart, an award-winning NZ Herald columnist, environmental activist and former farmer whose forthright views bring her daily abuse. They had a terrific interviewer, Tracey Slaughter, a NZ writer and poet.

I had a small pizza and beer for early dinner at ‘The Barrel Room’ sitting outside listening to live music from a band of two, keyboard and double bass, playing easy listening pieces. I’d spotted the bassist in town earlier and we’d exchanged smiles.

At 7pm I went to my last event ‘Wild Dogs Under My Skirt’. The programme describes this: ‘Alive with the energy and rhythm of raw and lyrical performance poetry and oral traditions..it will challenge your perceptions of culture, life and love. Based on Tusiata Avia’s provocative and unapologetic poetry, this is a play that explores power, politics, racism, love, sex, abuse and life between cultures. It’s a celebration of island life, the femininity of a Samoan Oman and all its wonderful complexities. Vivid, passionate and compelling..it’s also flush with humour and pure entertainment’. Well, I’m afraid I didn’t enjoy it one bit and couldn’t understand why the 6 actresses were on the floor at the end snarling like wild dogs. There were a few people brought to tears, again not me as it went over my head. Perhaps it was the lack of Polynesian cultural knowledge on my part that NZ people grow up with. Don’t know but it’s being raved about on Twitter and, having toured NZ, is going to New York. I wonder what they’ll make of it there!

I managed to exit before the bows and get the last bus home to watch the Rugby World Cup Final match with Karen and Kevin which I found quite boring but a well deserved win for South Africa who played as formidably as England had in their semi final match against the All Blacks.

At time of writing I haven’t heard back from Kathie, Lesley and Andrew.

As there have been no pictures of animals for a while I’ll be this post with pics of Karen and Kevin’s cats:

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After a leisurely Sunday morning and catching up with the family, Leanne drove me into town to catch my midday Intercity bus treating me to a cup of tea at the station. Although I’d only spent a brief period of time with the family I felt that, once again, I’d made some friends. What was particularly satisfying was swapping housesitting stories. Also, although I’d felt a bit of a fraud for having a housesit with no pets, Leanne told me they discovered from a local Facebook group that there had been some burglaries in the area while they were away so were glad I’d been in the house for security. That made me feel better even though the burglaries were probably during the day when I might have been out!

It was just a two hour bus ride to Tauranga which I enjoyed, especially when I spotted some reindeer grazing – no doubt getting ready for Christmas (haha!). On arrival I headed straight for the Strand Motel that I’d booked for the night. I’d purely come here in advance of picking up a hire car tomorrow to tour the Coromandel Peninsular for 10 days after which I return to Tauranga for a further 10 days.

Upon checking into the motel I had a less than warm reception from a woman who eyed me suspiciously asking if I was travelling around. Er, wasn’t it obvious, lugging a heavy case on wheels and a backpack?! Perhaps she’s not used to travellers staying the night at her motel and it’s used for other purposes during the day instead – I don’t know what I mean! She then mentioned that my room was up some stairs and my case looked heavy but that was what I had booked. I wasn’t aware that I had booked a room on the first floor and wasn’t too bothered but she didn’t offer to help with the case although did offer to give me a ground floor room instead. I decided I’d prove I was still capable of lugging a heavy suitcase up some steps, and then regretted my obstinacy. Not a great start and it made me feel a bit low.

Having been to Tauranga before, when at the housesit with the alpacas nearby, and been quite rude in my blog about the town I saw it in a slightly different light this time probably as a result of the lovely weather. I walked along the waterfront where some young chaps were jumping into the water having fun. An elderly lady was smiling as she watched them and leant on her walking stick. As I approached I asked if she was contemplating joining them. She laughed and we ended up having a long conversation during which she told me she was Helen, aged 90, that she had 4 children, 14 grandchildren and 18 great grandchildren but hardly sees any of them as they live all over the place. How sad I thought, but she was quite cheerful. Her husband had died, I know not when, and was a Geordie with such a lovely singing voice that people used to ask him if he was Welsh. Helen told me she had some Irish blood but had never managed to get to Ireland and was unlikely to now as she had some health issues, mainly heart-related. I was worried her legs might be seizing up while we were talking (well mine were) so took my leave, although I did think about offering to buy her a coffee to carry on chatting but decided not to in case she thought it odd. I then meandered through the town ending up watching ‘Maiden’ at the cinema, a wonderful documentary about the first women’s team in the Whitbread Sailing RTW competition skippered by Tracey Edwards in 1989. It was very emotional towards the end.

On Monday morning I came out of my room and bumped into the miserable woman who had checked me in. She had the same attitude as yesterday so I handed her the keys and left without saying anything. She didn’t even ask if everything was ok or if I’d slept well. I had checked the reviews again on TripAdvisor last night and most people had commented how friendly the staff were, so no idea why my experience was the opposite. I walked to the bus stop and got a no. 40 bus right to the car hire company. Soon after I arrived a really nice man called Rory came into the reception to collect his car and I commented on his tattoos, never having seen such amazing facial tattoos in NZ so far except in paintings of Maori chiefs in the Auckland Art Gallery. He told me he’s often asked for selfies and that the strangest place he was asked was in a men’s’ toilet in San Francisco. I thought I wouldn’t ask if I could take his photo, then changed my mind but declined a selfie with him when he offered. I didn’t ask if his tattoos covered the rest of his body but, in all likelihood, they do.

I couldn’t believe how cheap my car hire was: $280 (approx £140) for 10 days. Granted I hired the smallest car and didn’t take out their extra insurance, which would have bumped the cost up considerably, as was recommended an alternative insurer back in England, strangely based in Cheltenham, to cover the $2000 excess should it be necessary.

I drove through Te Puna where I’d dropped off Chewie at Jo’s doggy day care and then past the turning for his home with Lady and the alpacas. I briefly thought about popping up to see them but thought I might do that another day. I’m hoping to meet up with them later when I’m in Tauranga for the arts festival for 10 days anyway. I turned off at a brown sign for Omokoroa Beach but when I got there it was more of an estuary, looked a bit wild and the sky was grey. So on I drove along state highway 2 towards Katikati and another brown sign indicating Katikati Bird Gardens which I decided to investigate.

I was glad I stopped as it was quite lovely. I was greeted by a nice looking man, probably mid 50s. The gardens were created in 1976 by a local visionary, Chris Parker. He had botanical knowledge and with the site having fresh water springs, ponds and wetlands he transformed the once bare land. It was bought by the current owner and his wife 16 years ago. They improved the paths which meandered around ponds and the side of wetlands. There were some ducks, geese, hens and other birds wandering around the grassy areas which were very tame. There were several aviaries and lots of interesting plants and trees. I thought it had been done very well. An extra nice touch was that people with limited mobility could hire a golf cart to get around.

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After wandering round I decided it would be rude not to have tea and cake despite the fact it was midday. At that stage I was the only visitor and chatted to the owner, who I invited to sat join me, about Brexit, Trump and other depressing subjects. He told me his wife was in England with her mother (who lived in Bradford on Avon) as her partner had recently died suddenly. I could have chatted longer but decided to make my way to Karangahake Gorge, which was the main item on today’s itinerary.

On the way I passed through Waihi and decided to stop to see if Julie (my Airbnb host when I stayed in the town for 2 nights at the end of July) was in the estate agents where she works. I’d earlier asked if she’d be around to meet me for dinner tonight and she was so thought I’d pop in to arrange a time and place.

Although I’d been to Karangahake Gorge when I cycled through there from Waihi to Paeroa and back I hadn’t had time to do the Windows Walk which was recommended, so this was the reason for returning. This walk, while quite short, is interesting along a series of tunnels cut through the rock and various ‘windows’ along the way, presumably to let light in although a torch was still necessary. The tunnels are connected by a 500 meter tramway reached initially by walking over 2 suspension bridges and the area was where the richest ore for gold was found. When I came out the other end I continued walking along the lovely path in the gorge through the ferny bush for 30 minutes when I came to some small falls and another tunnel. The tunnel looked a bit dodgy and the walk went on for some way so I decided to return as it had started to rain. I returned to the car park on the path opposite the tunnels. I enjoyed this walk immensely and was glad I’d returned to the area for it.

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I drove straight to Paeroa where I’d booked one night in an Airbnb hosted by Glenys and Alan. I hardly spoke to Alan but had a lovely chat with Glenys who told me all about her family. She had a wonderful sepia picture of her grandfather as a toddler with his father, grandfather and great grandfather the latter who was the first to come to New Zealand aged 42 in the 1850s. Glenys’ great great grandfather had been a bootmaker and when the gold mining took off in Thames he moved there to make boots for the miners, which must have been quite lucrative.
Glenys told me the shop premises still stands in the main street, no longer bootmakers, and had a contemporary drawing of it on the wall. She also had a grandfather clock which had been made by her 4 times great grandfather which her 3 times great grandfather had brought over from England. It was one of 3, one having been sold in London and the other whose whereabouts she didn’t know.

I noticed a tambourine on a shelf and wondered if there was a Salvation Army connection. It turned out that there was as a female relative of Glenys had been one of the earliest Salvationists in NZ and it was her tambourine from 1906. Of course I had to have my picture taken with it in front of the grandfather clock, mainly for Margaret’s benefit which will make her laugh (private joke!):

I told Glenys about the research I’d been doing into family history and she showed me her family tree thus far on Ancestry.com which she’d signed up to for a year which was interesting. I then rushed off to meet Julie for dinner in town who told me she’d also signed up and showed me her family tree so far. It was lovely to see Julie again and have a catch up since we first met at the end of July. She’s looking forward to going to London in December to see her son and his girlfriend and told me again that she feels more English than NZ.

The weather forecast hadn’t been looking very good for that evening and it rained quite heavily during the night, with the wind really blowing and rain battering on the window. I woke to discover that someone had drowned near Auckland when their boat capsized and his wife was in hospital. I can’t understand why anyone would have been out in a boat in such weather. In the morning a siren sounded, rather like I imagine the sirens in the War to alert people to go to their local air raid shelter but Glenys told me it was to alert the volunteer firefighters to go to the station as their services were needed!

So, given the weather, it was a leisurely breakfast on Tuesday morning, Glenys telling me there was no need for me to rush off. We chatted again, mainly about ideas as to where I could go with the next gap I have between a housesit in Whitianga and Bay of Islands visit, which was really helpful. It will make sense for me to hire a car again, especially at the brilliant rate I got. We thought it unlikely that I’d be able to do my planned ‘Pinnacles’ walk tomorrow (a listed ‘must do’) as the road to the start would likely be flooded and the walk (quite long and steep) would be extremely muddy and slippery. I would have the option of doing it on Thursday if the weather improves so will see. But I shall be disappointed if I can’t as it’s the main reason I’m returning to Thames.

Glenys suggested I might enjoy a visit to Miranda Shorebird Centre before going to Thames so I headed there, accompanied by the rain. There were some hides but, given the poor weather, thought it wasn’t worth the effort – a shame as this is one of the most accessible spots for studying waders or shorebirds all year round. The vast mudflat teems with aquatic worms and crustaceans attracting thousands of arctic-nesting shorebirds over the winter. 43 species of wader have been spotted here.

So instead of bird watching (not one of my favourite pastimes anyway) I just had a read of the information in the centre and looked at the gift shop. I was particularly interested in the birds that can only be found in NZ: the NZ dotterel, variable oystercatcher, wrybill, South Island pied oystercatcher, shore plover and black stilt. There was one other couple looking around and I detected an Irish accent so asked the man if I was right. He (Gerry) said yes, that he was from near Dublin and his wife (Johanna, 15 years his junior) was German. We chatted (about Brexit again!) and, as they were also going to Thames tonight, arranged to meet up for dinner at the Grahamstown Bar & Diner or GBD as it’s known locally. That was one of the places I’d visited before and had a good meal and service.

I drove to Thames and spent a couple of hours in the library and was soon joined by some French travellers who got out all their chargers to charge up their phones and laptops. The library had a lovely stained glass window, a mural and exhibition of some of the artwork of the Thames Society of Arts:

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I’d arranged to be at the Airbnb I’d booked for 2 nights by 5pm. The house was right at the top of a hill, an area of Thames I hadn’t explored before and, like Tauranga on my second visit, I thought that Thames had more charm than I’d accorded it the first time.

My hosts weren’t in when I got there but arrived about 5 minutes later, my first impression of them not great as I got a curt “hello”, was told to move the car and no offer to help with my bags as they just walked into the house. I stood on the doorstep and asked for help with my suitcase and they looked at each other so I said never mind I’d do it myself which then prompted Anthony (Kiwi firefighter) to assist. There was then no offer of a cup of tea, which has usually been the first thing hosts do and is always welcome. When I asked Eva, my first impression of her being a German smiling assassin, if she needed to explain anything she said it was all in my room. When I read the notes it seemed to be quite unwelcoming as it was a list of things I shouldn’t do: the kitchen is out of bounds, the bath is not for your use, don’t eat in the bedroom (fair enough) and so on. I thought this should be fun (not) and soon after sorting my things out walked down into town to meet up with Johanna and Gerry in GBD. Seem to be having a spate of unfriendly hosts.

Fortunately Gerry had checked with GBD earlier and was advised to book a table. Just as well as the place was full for a quiz night and it was rather noisy. I mentioned to Johanna and Gerry that I’d booked to do the Coastal Walkway on Friday with a company called Coromandel Adventures but that it was unlikely to run as they needed more than one person. As luck would have it they had wanted to do this walk but thought they couldn’t as knew they couldn’t drive on the unsealed road there (not recommended and not allowed by my hire car company) and hadn’t heard of this tour so were keen. Later they texted to say they were going to book it for Saturday and their daughter Lotti, who’s studying for a PhD in Auckland, would join them. I contacted the company who swapped me to Saturday and offered to pay for the railway trip I’d booked for the Friday as a thank you for introducing them to the company and their bookings.

When I got back to the Airbnb Eva made conversation with me and the next morning (Wednesday) over breakfast she and Anthony joined me. We had a good chat so I decided they weren’t so bad after all, that maybe they’d had words the day before and realised they’d been unfriendly towards me so we’re making amends. Eva said they’d had over Airbnb 600 guests in the 2 years they’d been hosting, although I thought that might be an exaggeration. Their main room, kitchen/diner/lounge combined, had the most fabulous view of the estuary which is where the big Waikato River discharges. Eva has lived with Anthony for 3 years and travels back to Germany regularly as she misses her 2 daughters and grandson with another grandchild due. Anthony, who’s been married twice before, also has 2 daughters and a grandson. I guess this must cause problems as Eva would like to return permanently to Germany but with Anthony. Eva is extremely talkative and it was difficult to make my escape.

I decided to drive to the Kauaeranga Valley Visitor Centre (14km out of town) in the Coromandel Forest Park to see how likely it was I could do the Pinnacles Walk the next day. When I got about 2km from it the river was running across the road and I didn’t dare drive across so decided to try on Thursday when hopefully the water should have lessened. I had intended to move on from Thames the next morning but as the walk is supposed to be ‘not to be missed’ wanted to attempt it.

I paid a visit to the Thames Goldmine Experience which I hadn’t even noticed on my first visit, joining a small group of people led by the most wonderful guide, Peter, who was not only knowledgeable about the whole process of mining for gold, but about world history in general. With hard hats donned we were led into a tunnel where there were a couple of dummies, one pushing a trolley full of ore and another hammering into the rock. Peter told us that the first miners were from Cornwall as they had tin mining experience and brought to life the dangers that would have been faced in the early days. Then we went into the main building where we put on ear defenders while Peter turned on a stamper battery which had been used to crush the ore. Even with the ear defenders it was noisy but originally there would have been many more pounding away hitch would have reverberated around the whole town. There were two trays which sifted the small pieces of gold from the rubbish, this being the end of the process.

There was a short self guided walk around the grounds which even had a morgue. There were also some great old black and white photos of the mine in its heyday, miners, the town and an interesting dvd.

After lunch I went to the i-site office where a woman called the Kauaeranga Valley Visitor Centre for me so I could find out about prospects of the walk for the next day. They reckoned it would be fine and told me some people had driven across the road I’d avoided and were walking that day anyway, although understood why I hadn’t dared. I pottered around the town and drove up to a war memorial which overlooks the town:

I then walked the length of the shore walk (3.7km) and back which was rather bracing and returned to GBD, where I felt quite comfortable as the barman was very friendly, for a fish and chips dinner that I’d promised myself.

Back at the Airbnb, while Anthony was watching TV Eva was keen to talk to me, so we had another conversation and I requested breakfast for 7am the next day with the intention of leaving at 7.30am.

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Thursday morning came and, although I was ready in time, Eva didn’t stop talking so I didn’t make it out of the door until after 8am. I got to the Visitor Centre and spoke to a lovely woman called Donna about the walk. The walk generally takes 2-3 hours to a hut, where some people stop for the night before then walking the 45 minutes to the actual Pinnacles (rock formations) the next day. Although I’d have stayed in the hut years ago it now would have been my worst nightmare so I’d decided to walk it all in one go.

There was a 9km drive along an unsealed road to the car park at the start of the walk. Along the way were tracks to shorter walks and basic campsites. The Pinnacles walk follows an historic packhorse route used by kauri bushmen in the 1920s and is graded intermediate. The walk started along a gravelled path, then across a narrow swing bridge and up through the forest to a wider swing bridge and more uphill mainly on rocky steps. Fortunately the uphill sections were broken up by short flat sections in between so it wasn’t too arduous. The views were magnificent if obscured a little at times by cloud. I met about 5 people in all coming back down having either set off very early or stayed in the hut last night. I saw this rather interesting sign on the way but obviously ignored it to take a photo:

It took me two and a half hours to get to the hut where I stopped to have a quick snack. I looked into the hut and thought I’d definitely made the right decision not to stay. While it’s in a fantastic location, the facilities good and appeared to be well maintained, the bunk room reminded me of an upmarket concentration camp having two long platforms, one on top of the other, and single plastic covered mattresses for people to lay on side by side like sardines. My decision not to stay there overnight was reconfirmed when on my way back down later I passed hoards of youngsters walking up to spend the night there, some of whom were doing it as part of their ‘Outdoor Education’ for school.

From the hut, the actual ‘Pinnacles’ were said to be 45 minutes walk and this was mostly up hundreds of steps (man made) which on the way day I counted (540) so that was pretty tough. After the steps there were two vertical iron ladders to climb with rocks to negotiate in between, some iron rungs that had been attached to rocks, and more rock clambering. I couldn’t have done most of the walk without my walking poles although of course none of the youngsters had them. It took me an hour to get up to the viewing platform amidst the Pinnacles which afforded commanding views of the forest and Thames in the distance at a height above sea level of 759m. Soon after I got there, a couple arrived on the platform and decided they’d ignore the ‘Danger. Do not cross. Sheer drop’ sign and clamber up higher to look the other side of the rocks. They offered to help me up saying it was worth it but I declined!

I’d walked up via the Webb Creek Track and back the same way. There is an alternative way down (or up) via the Billygoat Track but Donna had advised me to steer clear of that as I’d be knee deep in mud after the recent rain. I was so glad I’d done the walk but when I got back down (all told the walk took me 6 hours) thought that if I’d known how hard it had been I would probably not have done it!

Some of the views going up to the Pinnacles and from the top:

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I got back to the Visitor Centre just as Donna was closing as wanted to see her before she left. I had signed into their visitor book thinking that being on my own and in the eventuality that I didn’t return, a search party would be sent looking for me. But this wasn’t the case. I’m sure, however, that if anything had happened another walker would have found me. I certainly couldn’t have got a signal to call emergency 111 should I, or anyone else, have been in trouble. There was a small helicopter landing pad along the route which was comforting. Donna was in no hurry to close and gave me a big hug which was sweet of her. I must mention, at this juncture, how genuinely kind and interested most of the Kiwis I’ve met have been.

I was feeling quite exhausted, red in the face and sweaty from all the exertion but was so happy to have managed the walk. I paid a visit to the Pak ‘n’ Save supermarket, topped up with petrol (someone had previously told me Thames was the last place for petrol before heading north which turned out not to be true!) and drove to Coromandel Town for my next stop, a distance of 54km which took an hour. This was a lovely journey which wound round and round the hillside hugging the shore for most of the way, rising steeply at one point for a great lookout stop, then back down to the shoreline.

Views en route to Coromandel Town:

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Some information about the Coromandel Peninsula. This area just into the Pacific, east of Auckland, forming the eastern boundary of the Hauraki Gulf. It has a dramatic mountainous spine which bisects it into two very distinct parts. The east coast has some of the North Island’s best white-sand beaches and is a favourite area for Aucklanders to head to for Christmas. The Maori tribes in this area were some of the first to be exposed to European traders. Kauri logging was big business and shipbuilding took off in 1832 but things got tough when kauri around the coast became scarce and loggers were forced to penetrate deeper into the bush for timber. By the 1930s virtually no kauri remained and the industry died.

My Airbnb host in Coromandel Town was Jeff, originally from Lancashire. He’d offered to cook dinner one night for $25 and suggested scallops which I accepted and had decided tonight would be a good night as I knew I’d be tired and wouldn’t have to think about where to eat. He’d messaged me earlier to say another lady guest would join us for dinner. The address was 162 Watt Street and the street seemed to start with no. 56, then there was no.68, 76 then a big gap before 162, although I drove along the street several times before I found it! When I eventually arrived at the house it seemed there was a small party going on with Jeff and three other women all drinking wine while they were waiting for me. When I asked why there were so many house numbers missing Jeff, who is stone deaf so lip reads, explained that the number of the houses are the distance in meters from the start of the road so his is no. 162 as it’s 162 meters along! I thought this rather bizarre.

I gratefully accepted a glass of wine and was glad that I’d bought a bottle to share too. The other women were Cynthia (other Airbnb guest) a Kiwi from Auckland who had decided she needed a short break from her very needy four grown up children, husband and family business. Despite the close proximity to Auckland she’d never been to Coromandel. She told me later in private that she’d thought it rather unusual when Jeff had offered to cook dinner. She’s a nice lady and easy to talk to. Another woman was Johanna aged 81 (although you’d never have known) who travelled to Australia as a £10 Pom in 1963 with a friend. She later met her future husband in Oz (also from the UK), married and moved to NZ buying a farm and having two children. They had moved to Coromandel Town after selling the farm two years previously but just a few weeks later her husband had a brain haemorrhage and died. She was quite matter of fact about it all and had met Jeff when they were both walking their dogs on the beach, purely a platonic relationship. The other female was a young German girl called Saskia who has been renting a converted shed from Jeff for two years and works at the Dawson Creek Railway on a soon to be opened zip wire.

Jeff told me that his father had been a violent alcoholic so he’d left home at the age of 16. He joined the SAS when he was 28, did lots of tours of duty and on one of them, when he was 38, an explosion had left him completely deaf and ripped open his head. It was quite hard work talking to him with this deafness and it made me think just how lonely it must be at times. He later told me he was quite content in his own little world. I’ve no idea how old he is but would guess early to mid 60s. He cooked a lovely risotto and scallops in a pesto sauce. Much wine was drunk, which possibly wasn’t a great idea after my walk, and it was an enjoyable evening. Jeff has two lovely Collie dogs, Laurel and Hardy, who are brothers aged two.

I had booked to go on ‘Driving Creek Railway’ on Friday, a recommendation from someone. Jeff presented me with a lovely breakfast of his home made muesli, wholemeal toast with a variety of jams and marmalade, and cakes. He owns a tourist attraction called Waterworks, just out of town, which is apparently fun.

The railway was along Driving Creek Road, hence the name, not very far out of town. I’d booked for 1130 and was one of 16 with a driver called Russell. This was an amazing narrow gauge railway which had been built over a period of 30 years by one man called Barry Bickell, a potter. He had arrived in Coromandel from Auckland in 1961 and became NZ’s first kiwi-born full-time handcraft potter. Having bought the land he originally built the railway for himself in order to access some clay up the hill for his pots. People became interested in it and he realised it could be a viable tourist attraction first opening to the public in 1990 after which he continued extending the track. He died 3 years ago aged 80 of cancer and was buried up the hill by the railway, permission for which meant he’d had to jump through some bureaucratic hoops. He left the railway in a Trust before he died.

The whole journey was an hour long and climbed up by means of switchbacks on about 5 occasions. It was quite some feat and to think Barry had built the whole thing completely on his own. He’d also planted thousands of native trees including Kouri, Rimu and Rewarewa since 1973 in the area. The train went to the Eyefull Tower (pun but also because you get an ‘eyefull’ of views) with a viewing platform. Along the way were various terracotta sculptures and a large wood carving.

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Building the railway from scratch had required the daunting task of surveying a route through the very rough countryside. Trial surveys were made with a hand slasher and home-made surveying instruments, a process which had to be repeated until a suitably graded route could be found. Most of the track was built by hand by Barry and local contractors brought in to help with major earthworks. There are bridges/viaducts, three short tunnels, two spirals and five reversing points to gain elevation to EyeFull Tower. There are studios and accommodation for resident and visiting potters from NZ and all over the world. Currently zip wires are being finished and will open shortly so people can have the choice of going up by train and return by zip wire. They’re also in the process of establishing a NZ Ceramic Heritage Museum.

After this lovely trip I drove a short distance along the coast road to Long Bay where I had a picnic lunch and then into town to wander around the few shops. There were some lovely arty pieces but I can merely view and not buy, unfortunately or maybe it’s fortunate. It was a lovely warm day but by this time I was feeling extremely weary and decided to go back to the house for a cup of tea and afternoon nap. I just snacked for dinner as couldn’t be bothered to go out to eat.

I met up with Gerry, Johanna and their 24 year old daughter Lotti at 9am for our trip to the Coastal Walkway in the north of the Coromandel Peninsula and discovered they’d been staying in their camper van at Long Bay. It was good to see them again also to meet Lotti who has been studying for a PhD at Auckland University for the past 2 years, researching a cure for Motor Neurone Disease, her first degree having been in Neuroscience.

Our driver and guide was David, who was very proud of his Maori heritage. He told us he also had French blood. He was extremely enthusiastic right from the off. We were driven in a minibus with seats for 9 passengers so could spread ourselves out. We travelled along the west coast from Coromandel Town and he pointed out a beach whose Maori name meant ‘chucking away the flesh’ because the tribe that had lived in the area would eat their enemies and chuck away the flesh they didn’t want onto the beach! Another beach was called Papa Aroha, meaning ‘Beach of Love’. We stopped at Colville, a very small town whose original name meant ‘Cabbage Bay’, which I’d heard was a bit alternative. We visited their only store which had all manner of goods, not just food but also souvenirs, tools, items for cyclists and motorists – it was quite an Aladdin’s Cave but I left without buying anything.

We passed an area called Freeman’s Bay which David told us was owned by the lead singer of Fine Young Cannibals, then he pointed out an area where there was a commune. The commune couldn’t be seen from the road and I thought how much I’d hate a) living in a commune and b) being so far from civilisation! David had told us that for years he’s worked in the bush, conserving the environment. He currently works for a private company called the Moehau Environment Group (meg.org.nz) and stopped at a sign overlooking thick forest, just part of the area that he works in, giving information about their work. Part of David’s work is to clear paths and set traps to catch stoats, rats and possums, all predators of the Kiwi which had been losing lots of numbers although their work means they’re slowly increasing.

The journey from then on was on unsealed road which I certainly wouldn’t have wanted to drive a car on but the minibus took it in its stride. David stopped at a very upmarket hotel, the Tangiaro Kiwi Retreat, which people sometimes helicopter in to from Auckland and use as a venue for weddings. It was certainly in the middle of nowhere.

A lot of the land we passed through had been owned by families ever since the first colonials arrived, such as families Ward and Evans. David said that they commanded a lot of respect. He did touch on the Maori current grievances for land that they felt they should be paid for that was taken from them in the 19th century. He also pointed out a couple of leaves that were used for remedies such as the Kowa Kowa, a heart shaped leaf, which when made into a tea is good for blood cleansing and when used as a steam bath clears the nasal passages. He promised us a taste.

By 1130 we had arrived at the drop off point for the start of our coastal walk, Stony Bay past Port Charles. David told us the walk north west to Fletcher Bay generally takes 3-3 1/2 hours but he gave us 4, arranging to meet him at 1530. Before we set off he recited the Lord’s Prayer in Maori (although he’d previously told us he didn’t know a lot of the language) which is apparently a tradition before an event – it was very moving and we all remained quite still and solemn.

The walk certainly wasn’t as hard as the Pinnacles, although my legs still hadn’t recovered from that, but there were a few steep sections. We went through forest initially, opening up to an amazing lookout where the sun burst through the clouds, the journey having started off a bit drizzly. We stopped at another lovely viewpoint for our packed lunches and a bit later on when the walk went across fields. We ended up arriving at Fletcher Bay, where David was patiently waiting, at 4pm. I’d enjoyed chatting to the family who are all very easy to get along with and was glad I’d had their company again.

David then drove us a bit further along so we could walk to Muriwai Beach, quite steeply uphill, along a ridge, down a lot of steps then across the beach taking us 50 minutes. When we met up with David again he made us normal tea and also passed around some Kowa Kowa tea which was quite minty and not unpleasant.

Back in the minibus along an unsealed road down the west coast, with a couple of stops for photos, and back to Coromandel arriving at 7.30pm. Before leaving us David said another prayer in Maori.

By this time we were all quite hungry and selected a restaurant which looked mediocre from the outside but turned up some excellent food. I had the most delicious bowl of chilli seafood with stir fried vegetables. I said goodbye to the family feeling that I’d made some new friends with whom I would love to meet up again either in Southern Ireland where they live or in England but probably never will.

A few pics from today’s lovely coastal walk (not sure why 3 have turned sideways!):

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Sunday was another lovely day. I had an early breakfast, partly joined by a young couple who’d stayed for 2 nights – she a Scottish Doctor and he an English town planner who’d been working in Wellington for nearly 2 years and were looking forward to going home for good in December.

I left at 0930 saying goodbye to Jeff and Cynthia and decided to do a driving tour stopping off as I fancied en route to my next stay. The driving is just fabulous, winding round and round, of course the locals bomb along far too fast, I think, especially as the road is narrow with rarely a barrier on the drop side. Not surprisingly the Coromandel Peninsula is a favourite area for motor cyclists to ride. I stopped first of all not too far from Coromandel Town at a lookout point and took a picture:

I then drove to Whangapoua from where it was a short walk to New Chums Beach, a recommended place and seemingly voted one of the world’s top 10 beaches and 60th of the 101 Must Dos for kiwis. It is a protected beach with no buildings or infrastructure. Accessing the beach means crossing a stream which, from watching other people, was knee deep and then a 30-40 minute walk around the headland. I decided not to bother as was worried about slipping and dropping my camera!!! I checked out the pictures of it online afterwards though! Here’s one:

I stopped at a place called Kuaotunu and had lunch at cafe ‘Luke’s Kitchen’ which was busy with some people having pizza outside enjoying the sunshine. On I drove, stopping again and was beckoned by a cyclist who pointed out a pod of dolphins. By the time I got my camera out they’d virtually gone, sadly, but it was a wonderful sight and hopefully there will be more such sightings with camera at the ready.

I drove to Whitianga mainly because I’d been told a replica of the Endeavour was there as it’s 250 years since James Cook first landed in NZ and along this east side of the Coromandel. I hadn’t wanted to stop originally because I’ve a housesit coming up there in November so wanted to save looking round for then. However, I walked to the ferry point and while there were two sailing boats they weren’t the Endeavour. Someone then told me that it could be seen from Simpsons Bay, which I had passed, but was anchored off shore. So I drove there and it was a lovely sight. I liked to imagine it was the real thing and having recently read the first book of a historical fiction trilogy about James Cook (by Graeme Lay) it wasn’t difficult:

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From there it was a 40 km drive to my next stop for 2 nights in Tairua, the Tairua Shores Motel, where I was greeted by a very nice young Asian man called Steven. I have to say I was very impressed with my room. It was nearly 4 pm, I felt quite weary again from the accumulation of exercise I’d done and just laid on the bed not bothering to go out for dinner.

I felt quite refreshed on Monday but didn’t rush out. The room had a microwave and stove top so I made myself some porridge for breakfast and drove to Hahei, halfway back from where I’d driven yesterday on the SH25 then a turn off right. Hahei beach is quite small but lovely, in the South Pacific, which sounds so exotic.

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I wandered the length of the beach and decided to walk up Te Pare Point on the Hereheratura Peninsula, the hill at the southern end of the beach known locally as the Pa (Maori word for hillfort), as I could see a path meandering up. (See map above). It was well worth it for the stunning views over Hahei beach. Near the top I was surprised to see a heron.

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At the top I climbed onto some rocks and got a fabulous view over the other side:

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I thought it was a shame there was no one to share these gorgeous views with but then the weather changed and it started to drizzle. I was just putting my fleece on when I turned to see an Adonis walking towards me, unfortunately with his girlfriend behind. He had long swimming trunks on and a tanned, flat stomach. He looked over the edge and thought he might be able to clamber down to swim to the hole in the rock but his girlfriend told him in no uncertain terms that he wouldn’t be doing that!

I then walked back along the beach and to the handful of shops in the little village. I had a nice chat to a man in a gift shop next door to a cafe where I’d hoped to get lunch but is closed on Mondays. I got a tea from a van turning down their menu of burgers and chips etc and walked back to the northern end of the beach to take the path to Cathedral Cove, a well known spot where boats sail to from Whitianga. I thought it would be nice to walk to it and later, during the housesit, take a boat trip there. The walk took about an hour with brief side trips down lots of steps (and back up) to Gemstone Bay (one of the best places to snorkel locally) and Stingray Bay. Just before getting to Cathedral Cove, while passing an area of forest planted in memory of those who lost their lives at Gallipoli, I bumped into Gerry, Johanna, Lotti and her Italian boyfriend Nicolas who’d joined them after our dinner on Saturday night. They were staying in campervan and tent at Hahei campsite. And there was me thinking I’d never see them again!

Some views along the walk from Hahei Beach to Cathedral Cove:

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At Cathedral Cove there were quite a few people and I was very impressed with the beach and cove, it was stunning. Some kayakers I’d seen at Hahei beach were there. I was amused by a young woman who kept taking selfies, throwing back her hair and smiling into her iPhone. She must have taken at least 50 and then posed for a few more with her boyfriend who clearly had the patience of a saint.

Cathedral Cove:

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On the way back I chatted to a German woman whose English, unusually, wasn’t good and as I speak no German it was difficult but we got by.

I was in desperate need of a shower before going out for dinner at Manaia, the only restaurant that seemed to be open. I had the most lovely waiter, the food was delicious and the lady owner very friendly. The perfect end to another excellent day in the Coromandel.

It had rained a lot during the night and on Tuesday morning was pretty windy yet sunny and warm. I was moving on and staying the next 2 nights in Waihi, with previous Airbnb host Julie. I was once again feeling weary after a good walk the day before but thought I should stop along the way.

Mount Paku dominates Tairua and walking to the summit is another ‘must do’. I certainly didn’t fancy more uphill walking but drove around the estuary to it and up as far as I could and parked the car. Other people were walking from the bottom but there was no way I was doing that. From the car park it was just a steep 10-15 minute walk (for me) mainly up steps and it was so worth it. At the top a woman was coming down and we chatted. She said she had joined a 10 day challenge to walk from the bottom to the top and back down for 10 consecutive days and had to take a photo at the top each time to prove it. This was her 3rd day and she told me she was getting faster. Fair play to her because she was overweight but was enjoying the challenge which was then to be followed by a 5km then 10km run/walk. She said her name was Tia Logan, a 44 year old single mum of an 18 year old son. She’d moved to Tairua from Auckland 6 months previously as met her partner, a fisherman. She was interested in hearing about my travels and yearned to do some travelling herself now that her son could look after himself although her partner had teenagers so it might be a while before they could travel together.

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I then drove to Pauanui, where foot passengers can get to from Tairua in the summer by ferry as it’s just a short distance across the harbour but by road a distance of 25km. I’d been told by Leanne that it’s rather upmarket which was why she’d suggested Tairua would be the better place to stay. Pauanui is a purpose built holiday community and certainly some of the houses I passed were spectacular, especially those overlooking the South Pacific Ocean.

I parked the car and walked along the beach, which was pretty deserted save for a couple of variable oystercatchers and my first sighting of the rare and endangered northern NZ dotterel which I managed to sneak up on with my camera. The back of the beach was in fact a nesting area for them although I couldn’t see any others.

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The next stop was Whangamata and Leanne had recommended a walk nearby but I was feeling a little weary. I had a wander along the main street and bought some long shorts as I’ve got no summer trousers just tee shirts. Then I drove to Waihi where I’d booked to stay again with Julie for 2 nights. We had our separate dinners together, for me a salad as I’d got a shock in the shop at how much weight I’d put on when I tried on a swimming costume. Not a pretty sight 😳

It rained in the night and the wind was howling. In the morning (Tuesday 22nd) it wasn’t much better. I had planned to go to Waihi Beach but decided instead to have a quiet day at Julie’s house while she was at work. I felt very lazy but probably needed a bit of a slow down after all the touring round and walking.

Here endeth this post. On with the next adventure!

Harriet very kindly dropped me off in town for my Inter City bus departing at 9.10am due to arrive in Hamilton at 6.15pm so quite a journey. We went through some of the places I’d been before, of course, stopping at the same cafe where Murray had recommended the burger, and in Taupo where I thought it would have been nice to quickly say hi to Gary and Sandra, but each stop was just 40 minutes. We went across the desert road again but had a bad view of the 3 mountains due to intermittent rain and poor visibility. We didn’t get the same fun commentary that we had before with Murray, this driver was a bit more serious.

On the journey I had the company of two different elderly ladies. The first, Jan, who was travelling with her husband and sister, and the second whose name I didn’t get as she didn’t stop talking long enough for me to ask, and was clearly only interested in telling me all about herself not asking me anything. I got on very well with Jan and we had a good conversation. She told me that she had taken up running in her late 40s, had run several marathons her slowest time being the same time I’d run my one and only marathon in when she was 75! Her husband had competed in many triathlons and Ironman events but sadly has cancer although at the moment was in remission. They had been travelling for 2 weeks in the South Island visiting various friends and family and were now on their way home in Taupo. In fact we drove right past their home, which she pointed out to me, a modern home they’d had built and invited me to knock on the door should I find myself in Taupo again. She was a very lively and interesting lady of 83 years young.

When we got to Hamilton the houseowners of my sit, Derek (a Scot) and Leanne (a Kiwi) were there to collect me. They picked up some fish and chips and took me to their home where I had a guided tour and met their very nice children Callum, aged 15, and Annabelle, aged 13. All the children I’ve met so far at the housesits have been perfectly behaved and personable, Callum and Annabelle being no exception. Derek is a geologist although now works for his wife, a midwife, based at home doing her accounts and bookings. Callum has been an Air Cadet for 3 years aspiring to be a commercial airline pilot and was a very confident and articulate young man. The whole family travelled mainly in the UK housesitting for 18 months when the children were younger and were homeschooled along the way. The difference for me with this housesit is that there are no pets although they do have the occasional visit from a neighbourhood cat called Frankie, who showed up while we were eating, who seems only to come round for the treats they give him, although he will accept a brief stroke. The family was going to Airlie Beach and Hamilton Island (in the Whitsundays) in Oz as it’s the school half term holidays, and they left at 0330 am!

I did nothing very much on Tuesday other than go to the supermarket as the weather was pretty poor so decided to go out on Wednesday, the weather not being much better. On the subject of supermarkets they actually have trolleys here (or ‘trundlers’ as they call them) that move in the directions you want them to move, so how come we don’t have them in the UK? And on the subject of weather I had been using the BBC Weather app but soon realised it wasn’t quite accurate for NZ’s weather so have been using metservice.com. It’s brilliant because not only does it seem to be accurate it also tells you how many layers to wear and whether or not you need a wind proof jacket!

I really hadn’t got my bearings as to where the house was in relation to the centre of town so decided to walk despite having a Suzuki Swift to use. I walked for a rather boring 30 minutes beside the road but then came to the river path (shared as usual by cyclists although I didn’t see a single one) and walked for 90 minutes. I guess the local council has a lot of money as it was beautifully paved with small paving stones all the way along which must have taken months to do. In places there were short board walk bits, which I always like, occasionally going through bush, and all the way along the bank was lined with nice houses. I didn’t take pics as the weather didn’t lend itself to photography.

It’s quite obvious that Hamilton hasn’t got the appeal of Wellington but I’ll make the most of its offerings nonetheless. Also, there are some interesting places to visit further afield. As usual, I popped into the i-Site office in a building housing a small art gallery, local crafts, postcards and souvenirs. I booked a tour for Hobbiton on Friday, which looked reasonable weather-wise.

I then went to the adjacent Waikato Museum which was lovely. There was more art than artefacts and an excellent interactive area for children where they could learn about scientific matters in fun ways. As it’s the children’s half term holidays this week and next there were a few. There was also a large display of ‘All Blacks’ sports photography by Peter Bush, who I discovered was NZ’s leading sports photographer born in 1931 who had also worked as a war correspondent.

I rather liked the gallery of paintings by Melvin Norman Day, who I’d never heard of, born in Hamilton in 1923 relocating with his family to Auckland when he developed breathing problems as a child. His art gained exposure in the UK and in 1963 he became the first NZ student at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London and established a studio to paint. He left most of his paintings to the gallery on his death. I love the style and colours in these paintings in particular:

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The I-Site office and museum are both located in Victoria Street, one of the main streets in the centre of Hamilton full of shops, cafes and restaurants. Supposedly there are some very nice restaurants in Hamilton although I’m unlikely to sample them as prefer to do my own cooking when I’ve the opportunity in a housesit and thereby saving money. There was a life size statue in the street of ‘Rocky Horror Picture Show’ writer, Richard O’Brien, on the site of the former Embassy Theatre where he worked as a hairdresser. I took a bus back ‘home’.

On Friday morning I drove to Matamata where I was to pick up a bus to ‘Hobbiton’ – the main film location. Even the I-Site centre, where I exchanged my voucher for a ticket, was a Hobbit-like building:

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The bus took about 15 minutes and on the way there were some short videos shown. As I’ve only ever seen the first of the trilogy of films (which I found rather scary!) and of the books only read ‘The Hobbit’ as a child, which I didn’t much like not being a lover of fantasy, it may seem a strange tour to go on. However I’d had so many recommendations so thought I should, and am glad I did.

It’s certainly a huge money spinner and a lot of work has gone into the creation of a realistic Hobbit town or Hobbiton. When we arrived we were allocated a tour guide called Patrick from Chicago and, yet again, another American who was brilliant at this type of work.

When scouting for a location for the films they were flying in a helicopter, saw the Alexander family’s farm and knew it was perfect. Fortunately for everyone involved the family agreed. After the films, although the location was thought to be secret, word got out and people kept turning up. So Peter Jackson thought it would be a great idea to build Hobbiton properly, and negotiated with Mr Alexander who has no doubt made a killing – good luck to him – but still has enough additional land to continue with a dairy farm.

Patrick told us there are 44 Hobbit homes which have all been made out of real materials, those used for the film had doors made of polystyrene. Each home is different and there are different items in the windows and outside pertaining to the particular character who ‘lives’ there, although you can only go in one of the homes which didn’t have much in it anyway. There are gardeners employed to tend the Hobbit gardens and a team of maintenance men. There’s even smoke coming out of some of the chimneys, a pond and the Green Dragon Inn where we were offered an inclusive drink of stout, lager, ginger beer (all specially made for Hobbiton) or coffee. I thought it was all delightful especially as it’s located in such beautiful countryside, and it has inspired me to watch all the films when I get the opportunity, but maybe not read the books! Did I say that before?

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We were bussed back to Matamata and I drove from there to Cambridge, which was en route to Hamilton. It is nothing like Cambridge, England but has a lovely, tranquil feel to it. The I-Site lady gave me a heritage walk leaflet and I spent a good hour walking around the sites, one of which was the lovely St Andrews Anglican Church built in 1881 containing a stained glass WWI memorial window showing NZ soldiers climbing the walls of Le Quesnoy in eastern France during the last week of the war. Cambridge is twinned with Le Quesnoy and the window was made in England:

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There’s a village green where cricket is played and tree-lined avenues. The town is famous for the breeding and training of thoroughbred horses with mosaics in the pavement all along the main Victoria Street of past winners, a lovely statue of a mare and foal and some Art Deco buildings:

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I’d picked up a leaflet in Wellington about the 18th Latin America & Spain Film Festival which was in various NZ towns during September and October and, as luck would have it, in Hamilton this week. From Cambridge I drove to Waikato University (Hamilton’s Uni) and was just in time for a Mexican film ‘Ella es Ramona’ which was a comedy from and very good. It was shown in a small lecture theatre and, for some reason, every 2-3 minutes the lights went on and off. Despite that I enjoyed the film and it was free. The Uni campus looked nice although Massey in Palmerston North has the edge.

I seem to have picked up some sort of virus, probably from the Wellington household, but don’t have a cold so it’s not stopping me doing stuff, just might not be too energetic for a few days. On Sunday, lovely weather, so I drove to Hamilton Gardens which is perhaps the most famous tourist destination in Hamilton and located alongside the Waikato River. Hard to believe now but the central section of the gardens was once the city’s main rubbish dump. There’s a nice video on this link: https://hamiltongardens.co.nz/

There are open gardens, some glasshouses and enclosed gardens in various different styles and from different countries and eras. They are still developing the gardens and will be introducing more styles. There was a model railway exhibition going on which attracted a few people and the cafe was nicely sited overlooking a lake. I spent a pleasant 3 hours walking around and it was, amazingly, free to enter although donations were appreciated.

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My day was then complete with a visit to the lovely Lido Cinema for an afternoon showing of ‘Downton Abbey’ – a delight!

On Tuesday 8th I went for a lovely drive west of Hamilton to places recommended by Derek. It really was wonderful with the road twisting and turning having been carved out through glorious countryside which, by now, I’m rather taking for granted. I travelled mainly on State Highways 39 and 23, the latter being particularly scenic, which are their equivalent of our motorways although generally single lane with a speed limit of 100km! Ridiculous speed limits here and not surprisingly there are a lot of accidents. I pulled in a couple of times to let tailgaters overtake so I could enjoy the scenery at a slower speed and stop to take photos:

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The first stop was the wonderfully named Bridal Veil Falls reached via a short walking track then down 261 steps to the bottom of the waterfall, although there were viewpoints at the top and midway. It was pretty spectacular. The falls follow the Pakoha River and drop 55m:

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Then it was just a short drive to Raglan. There was an estuary with a few people kayaking but I didn’t think that could have been the beach Derek had mentioned, so just along from there I came to Ngarunui Beach which was more like it. Despite the chill and drizzle, which hadn’t been forecast, there were a fair few people surfing and getting initial instruction on the beach.

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I walked along the beach for a short distance, the weather appearing to close in, and wished yet again that I had a dog and was envious of the surfers, although if I could surf I wouldn’t have been doing so then. It also occurred to me that if I did try to learn to surf I wouldn’t be able to get up off my knees let alone balance. Just as I was leaving the beach the sun came out and the view was quite different:

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The little town of Raglan was completely geared towards surfing with most shops selling surf clothing, renting boards and offering lessons. I had a quick look around the museum which was in the I-Site building which contained some interesting Maori tools, some European (or Pakeha = non Maori) pipes, a small and tired looking surfing exhibition and details of local war veterans. I thought it would be a super place to stay if you were a keen surfer or eager to learn, with a backpackers’ hostel and lovely hotel. I also liked the old church:

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Wednesday 9th turned out to be a lovely day, in fact as the day went on it seemed like a very warm summer’s day – almost too warm, but who’s complaining? I had decided to walk along the river path again with my camera this time. Somehow, although I thought I was ambling along, I seemed to get to town quicker than before so decided to walk further. I marvelled once again at some of the houses overlooking the river but thought that the area wasn’t as scenic as along the same river in Palmerston North.

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I headed for the library to get away from the heat for a while and do some research. When I returned from my trip to NZ and Oz 26 years ago I visited my paternal (adoptive) grandmother who was in a home at that stage. I’d brought back a toy koala bear for her which prompted her to tell me that her mother had been born in Auckland. I was flabbergasted as neither she nor my dad had ever mentioned this! I thought it would be interesting to look into it while in NZ and emailed my Uncle (my dad’s only sibling) now aged 83, for information. He sent me his grandmother’s name and told me that her father was a Sergeant in the British Army, served with them in NZ from 1860-1868 before going to Melbourne for 2 years then back home to Yorkshire.

The library is signed up to Ancestry.com but unfortunately I found no trace of my grandmother’s mother nor her father in New Zealand. I did find them on the census back in England and started working back, which was interesting. As I was leaving, a librarian, who I’d given details to, said that if I returned the next day between 10 and 12 there would be volunteers who could help with genealogy. I took the bus home and mowed the lawn, the only job that had been requested of me by Derek and Leanne, and used a petrol mower for the first time.

I took the bus to town the next day and went to the library where there was just one genealogy volunteer, a retired man called Mark who said he was getting over a cold as he coughed and spluttered. He told me that his family had come to NZ in the 1860s from Germany, family name Muller, but that it had changed to Miller, probably during the First World War understandably. While he didn’t get me much further than I’d got we did find the regiment of my grandmother’s grandfather and he gave me a couple of pointers to check. He did say that NZ had been pretty useless in the past at recording births etc which is probably why I couldn’t find that information. After he’d left I carried on with a bit more digging but into the Walpole side.

I spent part of Friday and most of Saturday cleaning and cooking for the return of the family, thinking it would be nice for them not to have to worry about food on Sunday. They returned after midnight on Saturday night.

I wheeled my heavy case for 30 minutes to the railway station arriving rather hot and bothered, not surprisingly, at 0715 to check in to the Northern Explorer train for the 0745 departure. I found that I had a seat facing backwards at a table opposite a mature couple who I could immediately tell were ‘loved up’. I tried to initiate a conversation but it was clear they didn’t want to engage either with me or anyone else. Later, fortunately, a couple sat on the other side from me also facing backwards who were friendly although, before they got on the train, I’d decided to sit in the cafe and stand up in the open carriage to get better views and avoid having to listen to the other couple’s conversation and ignoring of me.

We were provided with headsets as there was a commentary along the way. Each time the commentary was about to start a rather annoying loud bell was sounded although it wasn’t until we were half way through the 11 hour journey that I realised what the bell signified. I had planned to take notes but I found the commentary rather dull and gave up listening after a while.

The Northern Explorer is New Zealand’s longest running passenger service with a few stops along the way, including Hamilton and Palmerston North. The scenery was lovely, some of which I’d seen on bus journeys. A highlight mentioned was the Raurimu Spiral – an engineering masterpiece. During construction of the central section of the railway a major obstacle was faced – how to negotiate a 139 meter escarpment between the Volcanic plateau to the east and the valleys and gorges of the Whanganui River to the west. The problem was solved in 1898 when surveyor Robert Holmes designed a single track railway spiral which includes one horseshoe curve, two 90 degree curves, two tunnels and one full circle crossing over the longer tunnel. This was a highlight of the journey although I was told by another passenger that it was more interesting from outside the train!

I’m sorry to say that I didn’t enjoy the train journey as much as I was expecting to and was glad when we finally reached Wellington at 6.30 pm.

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I’d booked an Airbnb for 7 nights in Wellington and was met at the station by Harriet. The family home is a little way out from the centre in an area called Karori but there are regular buses into town from the end of their road. At the house I met Harriet’s husband James and 3 of their 4 children, Allegra (18), Paloma (16) and Henry (8). Their eldest, Essie (26) is at Auckland University doing a PhD in chemistry. I soon realised the children are extremely bright. Harriet was a Solicitor but had given it up when she had the children, although later tried going back to studying law but found it too stressful. James is in IT. I had expected to go out for dinner but there was nowhere nearby and the family very kindly gave me some of their equivalent ‘Hello Fresh’ dinner and some wine. I felt instantly at ease with them all.

On Tuesday I walked into town, taking about an hour. It was steeply downhill so decided I’d be getting the bus back. As usual my first stop was the i-Site office where I was approached by Rosemary, originally from Belfast. She was really helpful and knowledgeable and we had a lengthy chat. I wondered if she might have known my friend Cherrill, but she didn’t. However she told me that Karen Keating (Gloria Hunniford’s daughter who sadly died of cancer) had gone to her school when I told her Gloria had gone to Cherrill’s school. Rosemary had had a very interesting working life and played French Horn in Wellington’s Orchestra, her husband playing violin.

From there I made my way east of the city along Cuba Street, where Rosemary had told me there were lots of reasonably priced restaurants, to Mount Victoria – at the top of which (at 196m high) is Wellington’s most impressive viewpoint. There are a variety of walking and mountain biking paths, and it’s a super place for dog walking. I enjoyed the steep walk to the lookout. On the way I passed one of the film locations for ‘Lord of the Rings’, the Hobbit Hideaway:

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I thought that Wellington really wouldn’t be very suitable for the elderly because it’s so incredibly steep everywhere. I discussed this with a man out walking his dog who told me that a lot of older people, including his parents, live further along the coast at a town that’s flatter.

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I came down from Mount Victoria to Oriental Terrace as Rosemary had suggested it was worth seeing St Gerard’s Monastery there. It didn’t appear to be open and there were roadworks going on outside it. This little street led to Oriental Parade, the eastern end of the harbour. I walked along there for a bit but was accompanied by the traffic so retraced my steps and stopped for tea and a ginormous cheese scone (saving half for later, all the cakes and scones in NZ are substantial portions) at a bar/cafe on a boat. I continued walking to the harbour area passing the main museum here, Te Papa, which I had visited back in 1999 (it having first opened in February 1998) on a brief stop in Wellington en route to Rarotonga. Just along from there was a small museum (Wellington Museum) which Rosemary had advised I shouldn’t miss, and I spent an interesting hour in there before it closed, mainly about social and maritime history. I learnt that in 1968 the ‘Wahine’, an Inter island ferry, had sunk in the harbour with the loss of 51 lives. Unfortunately I couldn’t watch the film about it as there was a group of children using the area for rehearsing of a play.

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Following Rosemary’s advice I checked out the restaurants in Cuba Street and plumped for a vegetarian one called ‘Herbivore’ where I enjoyed a lovely vegetable tagine and glass of red. I got the number 2 bus back and noticed that I’d walked 10 miles.

Just around the corner from the house is Karori cemetery, part of which I can see from my room which faces the street. Harriet had told me it’s very interesting and has the graves of some early settlers so on Wednesday I headed there first. It’s huge, in fact it’s NZ’s second largest cemetery established in 1891 covering 40 hectares with over 83,000 people buried there. It includes areas set aside specifically for people of the various denominations outlined on a map at the entrance:

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Of interest to me particularly were the soldiers’ graves, mainly of those who were killed during the 1st & 2nd World Wars and those who had died later having served. It was very moving:

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From there I walked to the Botanic Garden which I remembered visiting briefly (every stop being brief) on the Contiki tour 26 years ago. It was established in 1868 and covers 25 hectares with protected native forest, exotic trees, plant collections and seasonal displays of bulbs and annual plants. It’s a Garden of National Significance and was the first public garden to be classified as a historic area by the NZ Historic Places Trust.

Again, it’s very steep up and down and at this time of year (Spring) just starting to get colour which was mainly a large area in the seasonal flower beds of tulips. Sadly the Lady Norwood Rose Garden (named after the wife of a former Mayor of Wellington) was minus roses but there are more than 300 varieties which can be seen from November – May. There are a lot of paths and you could certainly spend a whole day walking them all.

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Of course I had to sample the cafe, which was by the rose garden, then walked along part of the sculpture trail path, which included a Henry Moore, leading uphill to the Cable Car Museum and Cable Car itself where this amazing tree was:

The museum is located in the original winding house for the cable car that operated from 1902 – 1978 when new technology took over. The building stood vacant until it was opened as a museum in 2000. The original cable car was an engineering feat and gave access to the steep hills above the town centre for new homes and farmland. It was enormously popular from the day it opened and understandably more peopled travelled uphill than downhill, so they were charged twopence to go up and a penny down.

The Botanical Garden and cable car are my main memory of my visit to Wellington 26 years ago. I also remember the buildings overlooking the harbour being painted in all shades of pastel colours, however they no longer are. When I mentioned this to Harriet she told me a lot had changed in 26 years!

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I took the cable car down to Lambton Quay, a main shopping street, and walked along to the Beehive and Parliament Buildings. As luck would have it I was just in time for a free tour starting at 3pm and was taken round by a rather impatient guide who rolled her eyes when one particular man (French from the US with a young Philippino wife and baby son) asked questions she’d already given the answers to. Well, she was quietly spoken and English not his first language. At the end of the tour I sat in the gallery for a while to listen to the goings on in the chamber, but there were only a handful of MPs and it was pretty dull having gone into the middle of a particular debate. What is an interesting difference between them and us is that they spend 6 months going through the various stages of debating new laws and invite members of the public in to give their opinions, which are actually listened to!

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I briefly checked out Wellington’s Main Library which was soon to shut thinking I’d go back there and see it properly another day (I never did unfortunately, I like exploring libraries as much as cemeteries!) and then walked to Katherine Mansfield’s birthplace to check it out for a possible visit but it is currently closed for refurbishments. I walked along Thorndon Quay and took the no.2 bus back ‘home’ with the commuters.

Despite Thursday being a lovely day I decided to go to the Te Papa Museum, little realising I’d spend all day in there. I had briefly stopped off in Wellington when I was travelling in 1999 mainly to see this museum, which opened in February 1998, which was well worth seeing and had enjoyed it then. It’s located on the harbour, has 5 floors including Maori stories and artefacts, a fabulous nature exhibition and art plus changing exhibitions.

I had heard from several quarters that their Gallipoli exhibition was worth visiting so went to that first. It was extremely well done and included giant figures (made by the people who made Lord of the Rings props/masks etc amongst many other films, at the Weta workshop -more later) of real people who had served at Gallipoli and their biographies, and a very good telling of the sequence of events with models, videos and timelines. New Zealanders are justifiably proud of and moved by the events at Gallipoli as they lost so many New Zealanders who served there with Australians (ANZACs) along with Great Britain and her other allies.

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I went off in search of an early dinner and settled for The Crab Shack, which had a nice vibe, although I didn’t have crab but grilled fish. Then made my way to the TSB Arena for the opening night of WOW (World of Wearable Art) which is an internationally renowned competition attracting entries from over 40 countries and I’d been told to try to go. I managed to get the second cheapest of the seats ($99) which was near the front and to one side of the stage. It was quite an extravaganza, preceded by a very good jazz band, with amazing lighting, music, choreography and even some acrobats and singers who came down from the ceiling on ropes. Needless to say the costumes were nothing if not extravagant and I really enjoyed the event. I kept thinking how much my friend Caroline (who did a Textiles degree) would have enjoyed it too. There were small revolving circles set all around the stage and the models moved about so everyone was able to see, not just those in the posh seats with champagne dinners. Unfortunately photography wasn’t allowed but there were some costumes from previous years on show outside the venue:

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I was seated next to a lady called Pam who was with 8 other women, all from Nelson, who had flown over especially for the show. Pat told me that they all meet for lunch on a Friday and occasionally have jollies like this one. WOW actually began in Nelson 30 years ago but became too big for the town so moved to Wellington. There were 4 designers exhibiting from GB: Anna Von Hartizsch, Jack Irving, Louise Buford and Louise Dyhrfort.

Another suggestion from Rosemary from the i-Site office had been to take a ferry to Eastbourne, stopping at Somes Island (Matiu – Maori name), in the middle of Wellington harbour, en route. I made the 10am ferry by the skin of my teeth receiving some dirty looks from passengers as I ran on. Harriet had undersold the island to me when I told her I was going but was glad I didn’t listen! It was a glorious day. It was just a short ride to the island with some great views of Wellington:

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The island had been occupied for centuries by successive Maori tribes but, in more recent times, it has served as a human (leprosy) and animal quarantine station, an internment camp during World War I & II and a military defence position. In 1995 it opened to the public as a scientific and historic reserve. There are several walking tracks, lookouts, a lighthouse, a somewhat sad visitor centre and accommodation for overnight stays. There was also a box from which, when you turned the handle, you could hear stories told by an elderly woman who had been a Wren during the last war and stationed on the island (degaussing station) to warn allied ships where mines were placed.

A few pics from the island:

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I picked up the next ferry that stopped at the island, after just under 2 hrs there, and went to Days Bay, the drop off point for Eastbourne.

There was a large cafe just opposite the ferry drop off and, as it was lunchtime, I figured there would be a crowd so walked along to Eastbourne. Now this Eastbourne bears no resemblance to ours. It is a really small town, very quiet with just a few cafes and shops. It’s apparently been a favourite local escape for generations. After lunch in a French cafe I walked about 2 miles along to a large rock, Lions Rock, which did look like a British Lion. On the beach was an enormous amount of driftwood, with protected areas for nesting little blue penguins and dotterels, although I couldn’t see any – I think it was slightly too early.

There was a memorial (the foremast of the ferry) to the 51 people who died when the inter island ferry, the Wahine, foundered and sank on 10 April 1968 during the worst storm in local memory as I’d learnt at Te Papa:

On Saturday, I decided I’d have a slower day as felt as if I’d been rushing everywhere but wanted to make the most of Wellington as there’s so much to do. I offered to take Nora out for a walk – the family’s 3 year old Goldendoodle (golden retriever crossed with poodle) although Harriet calls her a Retradoodle. She’s a lovely dog. Harriet explained one of the regular walks she does and I hadn’t realised what amazing walking could be accessed at the other end of their road. There was a steep and winding forest path up onto a ridge which was quite moorlandish with fabulous views. I met a lovely lady called Veronica who came up behind me and assumed she’d been running, but she was just walking quickly. She told me she and her husband left Surrey over 30 years ago and have lived in Wellington all the time where their children were born. Sadly, her husband has a form of leukaemia and had recently had a stem cell transplant which was his only hope of survival. He’d been in hospital for quite a few weeks and so she does this walk Most days to clear her head before going to the hospital. I had a bit of a chat but could tell she wanted to be on her own after a while and wished her well. It does seem such a shame to occasionally connect with people who I’d possibly form friendships with if I wasn’t moving on, never to see again in this lifetime.

It was then downhill, passing signs for other walks such as the Skyline Walk, and I wished I had longer in Wellington so I could do that. There was a path leading into Karori cemetery so I was able to explore more of it. It’s absolutely huge and of course I had trouble finding my way out and Nora must have wondered why I was walking back where we’d already been. As usual following my nose didn’t work.

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I came across a memorial to the victims of a railway accident when the Wellington-Auckland overnight express train plunged into the flooded Whangaehu River at Tangiwai on Christmas Eve 1953 killing 151 of the 285 passengers. There was a picture of Prince Philip attending the state funeral for the victims as he and the Queen had recently been touring NZ. There was also a large memorial to Peter Fraser (Prime Minister of NZ from 1940-1949) and his wife Janet:

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Sunday was my last day. At the last moment, just as I was about to leave for a bus, Harriet decided to drive James, Henry and I plus Nora the dog to Seatoun, an eastern suburb of Wellington, to show it to me and also let Nora have a run on the beach. We stopped first in Gipsy Kitchen, a nice little cafe (which Harriet said was the best in Wellington) for a quick bite to eat and I got something for tomorrow’s journey. The only thing that spoilt the cafe was the very loud pop music which seemed rather inappropriate for a Sunday morning – call me old fashioned! We then had a brief walk along the desolate, rocky and sand duney beach which Nora had a good run along and then they dropped me off at the Weta workshop based in Miramar (apparently quite an exclusive part of Wellington near the airport) where I’d booked into an hour’s tour starting at 12.00.

Although I’d never heard of the Weta Workshop before it’s where props and effects are designed and created for films, most famously for ‘The Lord of the Rings’. It was started in 1987 by a couple, Richard and Tania, from their one bedroom flat. Although the first film they worked on wasn’t a great success things improved and when Peter Jackson heard about their work and later James Cameron thing really took off.

We were guided by an American man who was very good at his job as most Americans in this line of work are. The tour started with a short video welcome from Tania and Richard, who seemed very down to earth, then our guide told us a potted history of the films they’d worked on. There were no artists working, although we were shown one of the workrooms, and we saw some of the props and full size models that had been made. It was quite interesting and it made me think I should look up a few of the films in the future, even watch ‘The Lord of the Rings’ trilogy the first of which I didn’t much care for, not being a lover of fantasy, as I found it rather scary so didn’t watch the others.

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At the end of the tour we ended up in the shop where there were souvenirs at the normal vastly inflated prices, none of which interested me. Outside a young Chinese woman asked me to video her beside one of the models and handed me her iPhone. I explained it would be a boring video if she just stood beside the model but she started talking in Mandarin. When I handed back the phone I asked what she had said and she explained that it was the 70th birthday of the Republic of Chinese and she was wishing happy birthday to people back home. I asked if that was good, she looked a little startled and said that it was. So sad….

I had arranged to meet Ellie, the daughter of my friend Angie, who got engaged, married, emigrated to NZ and had a baby all very quickly. She and her husband have been living in Miramar, he (Peter) teaches at the University and Ellie has just started back working part time as a nurse in a hospice in a teaching capacity. Their son, Isaac, is 11 months old absolutely gorgeous and happy. I had met Ellie very briefly once before in Wales and this time we met at the lovely retro cinema, Roxy, which was nearly demolished but saved by Peter Jackson. We had some lunch there and she then drove me to their house which can be reached by over 120 steps down, not easy going back up! It was lovely to have this link back with home even though I probably won’t see them again.

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I took a bus back and packed my bags. I’m very sad to have to leave Wellington as there are still lots of things I’d like to see and lots of walking still to do. Well, I figure, it’s always a good idea to leave things to do just in case I should return. Also sad to leave the house and family where I had very much felt included. But, as ever, there are more adventures and experiences to come which is what spurs me on.

Sandra, houseowner, was waiting for me at the bus stop in Taupo which, strangely, is usually pronounce ‘toe paw’ here. I’m always getting the pronunciation of words wrong as I obviously pronounce them as we would in England! I’d FaceTimed Gary, Sandra’s husband, a few months ago and thought we’d get on and we did, immediately. Sandra has grey hair like me although hers is longer and a slightly different shade plus she’s 12 years younger than me. Like me, she decided to let her hair go grey as she got fed up with visits to the hairdresser for highlights.

Gary returned home an hour later. They are from the same part of Glasgow and emigrated nearly 20 years ago. They originally spent 10 years in Nelson (on NZ’s South Island), then moved to Albany, Western Australia as Gary got a job staying for 8 years but he finally left as was constantly being bullied by the management. They came to Taupo a year ago when an opportunity came up to buy a flooring business called ‘Flooring First’. They’ve worked exceptionally hard in that year and greatly increased sales.

Before dinner, Gary took me for a short walk with the dogs – their normal morning walk through a local reserve which Gary does at 5am but not expected of me, thank God! The dogs are both 10 years old: an Australian Selkie called Pepper and cross Lab/Scottie called Brodie who, to me, looks a bit wolf/deerhoundy. Brodie has lymphoma but at the moment seems to be in remission.

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We had dinner and Gary and I shared a nice bottle of red wine (Sandra doesn’t really drink) then a glass of Ned Pinot Gris. Gary showed me how to work the tv and we started watching the first episode of Mr Mercedes, but Sandra and I chatted while Gary, not surprisingly given his very early start, fell asleep.

On Thursday morning, Gary and Sandra left for work at 0730 telling me the day was my own. I did a walk into town (about 20 minutes from their house) to orientate myself and check out local activities in the I-site office. I was amused by the town’s McDonald’s alternative restaurant, chosen from over 34,000 as the World’s Coolest McDonald’s which I couldn’t argue with:

I also checked out the lake front, deciding to do a longer walk around part of the lake another day, and was also amused by the ‘Hole in One’ challenge into the lake, and a man who’d been diving to collect the golf balls:

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At 5pm Gary drove Sandra and me in one of their two Toyota Prado Land Cruisers to Taupo’s little airport and I drove it back, which is mine to use. As it’s got ‘Flooring First’ all over it I wondered if I might get stopped by any disgruntled customers or if I might even make some sales! I took the dogs in the car to one of their evening walk venues and let them have a run. These dogs are not going to tire me as they only generally have 30 minutes’ walk morning and evening as I was told if Brodie has longer he’ll be stiff and struggle to stand.

I’d seen a sign for a walk to Huka Falls, 6km each way, so as Friday’s forecast was reasonable thought I’d do it. It was 20 minutes to the start and near where I’d walked the dogs last night. I passed the following sign on the way, which I think is rather amusing:

The walk is along the banks of the Waikato River, NZ’s longest, with shared walking/cycling tracks and separate cycling tracks each side. Further up the river is Aratiatia Power Station, the first hydroelectric power station built on the river of 9, with 8 dams, one of the country’s major electricity-producing rivers producing about 15% of NZ’s power (although I later heard that figure was 23% so maybe the sign was out of date). I thought I’d walk along one side to the falls, cross the bridge there and walk back along the other side of the river. The views weren’t always the best as it drizzled and was quite misty at times but the water in the river was crystal clear.

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Just before arriving at Huka Falls, which seemed a lot further than 6kms, I passed a bungy jump platform and watched two people get their 2 second thrill. I was reminded of when I watched my travelling companions on the Contiki tour, 26 years ago, bungy jump near Queenstown. I wasn’t brave enough to participate then, just looked after everyone’s bags and took photos for them. It’s also a very expensive 2 second thrill. Just past the bungy jump were some natural hot pools where a few youngsters were bathing, the only free hot pools in the area.

I could hear Huka Falls a while before arriving and when I did arrive there were a fair few people, most of whom had obviously just parked at the adjoining car park to see the sight, which was pretty impressive. As always when in the presence of water I marvelled at its power with over 220,000 litres of water per second flowing over an 11 meter high waterfall, enough to fill 5 Olympic swimming pools every minute:

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Some brave (or stupid) people have tried kayaking down through the falls mostly coming a cropper (interesting idiom that, must check out how it originated). It’s illegal to do so and there’s a heavy fine for anyone attempting, although people have been successful.

As I couldn’t find any tracks the other side of the river (although there were some according to a map) to return I ended up walking along the road, which was disappointing. A car driver kindly stopped to offer me a lift but I turned it down as wanted the extra exercise. By the time I got home the app on my iPhone showed I’d walked 9.5 miles, but then they’re not that accurate. It was a good walk for sure and I enjoyed it.

Just around the corner from ‘home’ is a Maori cemetery and I stopped to have a proper look. There was a young man in a car with his baby. He told me the grave he was parked by was his mother’s who had died of pancreatic cancer aged 46 when he was 18, 3 years ago which I thought was sad. He said he goes there every day. Most of the graves had a picture of the deceased and were adorned with plastic flowers and some had plastic toy beach windmills. Gary told me that at night it’s all lit up.

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On Sunday 15th I decided to walk to the little museum in town. It’s really small with interesting local history, mostly about volcanoes and timber mills, a room with some art – mostly textiles and a small courtyard with a reconstructed garden – Ora Garden of Wellbeing – that was exhibited at the Chelsea Show in 2004 winning a gold medal. All the plants are native, some endangered or of significance to this region. I think the pink in the background is meant to be water:

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Taupo is one of the world’s best examples of a caldera lake (collapsed crater) caldera meaning cauldron, and one of the most active rhyolite volcanoes in the world. It’s the biggest lake in NZ covering 238 square miles which is roughly the size of Singapore.

I noticed on the map that there was an ‘Old Military and Early Settlers’ Cemetery’ so, as I enjoy checking out cemeteries, I visited it. There were just 12 graves, not exactly well tended but the white picket fence surrounding them was:

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On Tuesday evening I went to the Great Lake Centre (a theatre and exhibition hall) in the town centre to see ‘A Taste of Ireland’, an Irish dancing show following in the footsteps of Michael Flatley’s shows but not quite the same staging or scale. I really enjoyed it. There were just two live musicians (some of the music was prerecorded) who were outstanding and a male singer who also joined in with some dancing. The small theatre wasn’t quite full but it was an appreciative audience.

Wednesday turned out to be a lovely day so I decided it was time to walk along the walkway/cycle way from the centre around some of the lake. En route I passed some black swans (later counting at least 18 in one area) and a woman on her scooter being pulled along by her husky (huskies need lots of exercise and are very strong so I thought that was a great idea, although not exactly ‘mushing’). I spoke to her on her return and she told me she does it every day (5 miles each way) and her dog, whom she had rescued, was called Winter. On the subject of scooters, in Auckland they have electric scooters which people pick up like the Boris bikes in London. People were whizzing about on them on pavements and roads and were quite a nuisance at times.

Black swans:

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There were some very nice lakeside pads and small hot water pools in an area called Hot Water Beach with warning signs, so I didn’t attempt to test the water:

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The visibility was great and I could clearly see the three mountains, all snow covered, Mounts Ngauruhoe, Ruapehu and Tongariro in Tongariro National Park in the distance – quite dazzling:

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I enjoyed watching some black ducks with blue beaks, my research telling me they’re New Zealand Scaups. They didn’t have a quack but made quite a lovely peep. I spotted one duck who kept opening its mouth to try to attract its sleeping parent but no sound would come out:

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I had hoped to walk to 5 mile bay which, as it’s name suggests, is 5 miles from the centre after 2 mile, 3 mile and 4 mile bays. However, having started a bit later than planned and needing to get back to the dogs for their afternoon walk, I retraced my steps just before 4 mile bay.

Lake views:

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Gary had mentioned that 5 mile bay was one of the places he takes the dogs so I drove out there with them so Brodie could enjoy a dip in the lake. There were plenty of people free camping (called ‘freedom camping’ here) well motorhoming, often available in NZ. I noticed a lot of pumice on the beach, a type of extrusive volcanic rock produced when lava with a very high content of water and gases is discharged from a volcano. As the gas bubbles escape, the lava becomes frothy. When this lava cools and hardens, the result is a very light rock material filled with tiny bubbles of gas. I picked a piece up thinking it might come in useful. The sky started to turn pink and people sat on the beach waiting for sunset. I chatted to a gent sitting in a chair whose dog took some interest in Pepper – she didn’t complain. He proudly told me he was 76 and would be skiing on Mount Ruapeho at the weekend.

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Thursday turned out nice too and I went on a 2 hour boat trip which Sandra suggested was worth doing. I had a choice of a Catamaran, yacht or replica steam boat and I chose the latter, the Ernest Kemp named after an early settler. The boat is a replica of a 1920s steam boat built from native Kauri timber. The steering wheel was originally one of two winding reels mounted on a horse-drawn hose-reel used by the NZ fire brigade and the steam whistle originally from a NZ bush steam locomotive in the central North island. This boat seemed the most popular of the choices, the yacht used its motor anyway, the sails put up for show.

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The main destination of the 2-hour trip was to some Maori rock carvings. On the way we passed by Acacia Bay, so called because of the acacia trees planted in the area, not particularly attractive trees but apparently their bark can be used to tan leather. Then Jerusalem bay and then to the rock carvings in Mine Bay, only accessible by boat. The main carving is of Ngatorirangi, a great and powerful high priest and ancestor of the artist Matahi Whakataka Brightwell (27th generation) whose grandmother asked him to create a likeness of their ancestor. She had asked him to create it on a Totara tree to create a permanent connection for her family with the land but he found no tree to carve so went onto the lake for inspiration and spotted the rock alcove. The main carving is surrounded by smaller sculptures e.g. lizards, depicting ancestors and guardians. It was carved in the late 1970s and scaffolding was used and string with weights for plumblines.

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On the return journey, Mount Tauhara (a dormant lava dome volcano) was pointed out as looking like a pregnant woman laid down, and it really does. Also in the distances were some white rocks (like a mini white cliffs of Dover) which is pumice stone, found all over the shoreline.

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Another lovely day on Friday. As the cleaners come on Friday (I love the housesits that have cleaners!) I wanted to be out of the way. I decided to walk up Mount Tauhara as it would really be my last chance. When I got to the car park I nearly talked myself out of it, but fortunately I didn’t. It’s 1088m above sea level (Taupo being 360m above seal level) with the start at 600m and the walk 2.8km to the top.

The start of the walk was through farmland, pretty steep, with fence markers and a couple of stiles and then continuing uphill through thick forest, with only a few openings for views of the Lake and surrounding area. I’d packed my walking poles and was really glad as they were necessary, particularly when there were high steps (the steps mainly being tree roots with only the odd bit of human interference) to propel me up. My knees just won’t get me up without help any more. I noticed that nobody else I passed had poles but they were all a lot younger. I chatted briefly to a Dutch female doctor who was about to start a 6 month posting in Hawkes’ bay and a nice Belgian man who was travelling around NZ for 6 weeks. I found myself apologising to them both for being English and for the Brexit chaos!

It took me 2 hours to get to the top and it was well worth it, with 360 degree views and excellent visibility. I had a spot of lunch at the top then made my way back down, obviously a lot quicker but still dodgy in places. I felt a real sense of achievement and was glad I hadn’t chickened out.

Views on the way up Mount Tauhara and at the top:

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Every evening, apart from Tuesday, I’d been gorging on Lightbox’s ‘Mr Mercedes’ and watched series 2 & 3 of ‘Handmaid’s Tale’!

On Saturday morning I took the dogs for an earlier than usual walk and went to pick up Gary and Sandra from Taupo airport at 9 am. I had been looking forward to seeing them again and some conversation. After a short chat I decided to leave them in peace for the day.

It was an even more beautiful day and I popped down to the Saturday market which I’d missed last Saturday as the weather had been poor. It was a bit larger than the Feilding market but I got round it pretty quickly. It was nice to see families there.

I spent the rest of the day ambling around the lake. I stopped to watch people not getting a hole in one although one man did keep getting his balls to hit the platform but they then bounced into the lake. For hitting the platform it was a free ball each time. I decided that it would be pretty unlikely to get a hole in one as the platform wasn’t lined with grass so balls did just bounce off. However the sign indicated that up to date there had been 1047 holes in one with an average of one each fortnight. I calculate that, if that is correct, then the ‘hole in one’ challenge would have been going for 40 years which somehow I doubt. Anyway, it was a bit of fun for the participants and audience but it would have been nice to witness someone win the prize of $10,000.

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I sat and read my book on a bench and watched activity on the water: a noisy jet ski boat, a water skier and the Ernest Kemp on its return from the carvings. A few hardy children were swimming and having fun. I checked on the ducks and swans and had a cheeky Passionfruit & lime cider (not as nice as straight cider, too sweet) outside a bar overlooking the lake. I got back to the house just in time for Gary and Sandra to take the dogs out.

I’d prepared a meal for us all the day before but unfortunately Sandra didn’t like it as it was too spicy (she doesn’t like a lot of things, fish being one) so Gary ate her portion as well as his. Gary plied me with wine – I’m just so easily persuaded- and we watched the All Blacks vs Springboks Rugby World Cup match, well Gary zoned into it while Sandra and I chatted in the background.

I was sorry to leave and really hope that I’ll meet them again as felt as if we really connected. They plan to leave NZ in 5 years and travel around Europe in a motor home while they decide where to live. They’ll be in their mid 50s then. They dropped me off at the bus stop in town for my bus to Auckland which left at 1020 arriving at 1545.

I checked into the Budget Ibis hotel I’d stayed at before and went to check out the walk to the railway station in advance of tomorrow’s early start. Just as well I did as the route I took was up a steep hill and then down some steep steps. I returned a different way which will be a lot easier while dragging my heavy case. I suppose it would be sensible to take a taxi but I like a challenge and will save a few dollars. I went through Albert Park and spotted another photo opportunity of the Sky Tower:

I found a nice little bar for a veggie burger and kumara fries washed down with lager and caught up with this travel blog!

The Intercity bus taking me to Turangi (its final destination being Tauranga) left Palmy on Monday 9th at 1.30 pm on a cloudy and chilly 9th September. The driver, Murray, was very amiable as most of the drivers have been, cracking corny jokes and clearly enjoying his job. I asked him at one point what it was he enjoyed about his job and he said “The people, pure and simple”.

I quietly took interest in some of the people on the bus. Behind me was an elderly lady with a young relative aged 20. I couldn’t help but listen to the conversation and gathered that the lady had just met up with the girl after some time, a relative I think, from what I could gather her great niece or maybe even her granddaughter. ‘Grandma’ lived in Levin (a town not far from Palmy) and the girl in Oz. They were going to Turangi where the girl’s parents were picking them up. What amused me was that ‘Grandma’ kept asking the girl questions about her childhood, if she remembered this and that, and giving a running commentary on the scenery and towns we went through. The girl usually answered in a monotone and eventually asked ‘Grandma’ if she’d mind if she listened to her music through headphones. So then poor ‘Grandma’ spent a while in silence until headphones must have been removed and she could chat again. It made me feel a little sorry for her.

After an hour we stopped for a 30 minute lunch break, which I’d already eaten while waiting for the bus. This was taken at a cafe at which the driver more than once recommended the lamb burgers, clearly savouring his portion. I briefly chatted to a young English chap, who’d been sitting at the front of the bus behind Murray who acknowledged him on more than one occasion as “a visitor” travelling alone on his way to work on a farm near Taupo having completed a degree in Agriculture. He was a nice young chap and I decided he would undoubtedly make his way in the world. I had a cup of tea and, all too quickly especially for those who’d ordered the requisite lamb burger and chips, we were back on the bus. Murray welcomed us back as if we’d been away for a few hours and hoped we’d enjoyed our lunch.

Sometimes I get the impression that New Zealanders, especially Intercity bus drivers, make something out of nothing probably because they haven’t much history to speak of. Reading that back again it seems rather mean-spirited of me as they’re clearly very proud of New Zealand, which is certainly a stunningly beautiful country, and wish to entertain the travellers with snippets of lesser known facts and detailing places of interest. These included the Royal NZ Air Force Base and museum and the town of Taihape (pronounced Tie happy) where every year there’s a gumboot-throwing competition with the town exhibiting a huge sculpture of a gumboot just in case you thought you were in the wrong place. I wondered if an incoming Scot had started this.

Also on the bus was an elderly man sitting in front of me who seemed to have all kinds of foodstuff that he gradually worked his way through but didn’t share with anyone, especially as Murray noticed and remarked upon it. Opposite him was a father with his toddler child who I thought was a girl but turned out to be a boy. He mentioned that he’d taken his son from the very south of the North island and was making his way to the far north, Cape Reinga, for no particular reason it seemed. The child was quite delightful, but even more delightful was when his father sang to him in the most beautiful voice. Where was he when his talent was needed at the Country Music Finals, I wondered?

We travelled all the way on state highway 1 and when not going through towns passed through the gloriously green and undulating countryside that I’ve become familiar with and love, as it’s quite different to home. Murray explained that we would be going along, what’s known as, the desert road, so called because it’s pretty desolate not because it’s sandy; then that the road would start winding and finally become even more twisty and known by the drivers as ‘Seven Sisters’. It was patently obvious when we reached the desert road as the green changed to brown, quite moorland-like. Snow-capped mountains could be seen in the distance: Mounts Ngauruhoe, Ruapehu and Tongariro. As the road started to bend ‘Grandma’ asked the girl whether she suffered from travel sickness and I crossed my fingers that she didn’t as I was directly in the firing line of the remnants of her lamb burger I’d earlier seen her eating.

It was then just a short drive into Turangi, my chosen place for two nights prior to my 5th housesit in NZ. On arrival at the bus stop ‘Grandma’ and girl were greeted by the girl’s parents which must have been quite a lovely moment for all.

I’d booked ‘Settlers Motel’ via the website booking.com which was just across the main road from the bus stop. In the reception I was greeted by Donna, who leases and manages the site. She’s like a tiny bird, nothing of her, and she was sitting behind the desk wearing a thick cardigan and woolly hat. When I’d told a lady in Palmy who asked me where I was going she’d responded “It’s freezing in Turangi” which had unnerved me somewhat. Donna told me that her only employee had recently left without notice so it had fallen to her to clean the 8 units and cover the reception, open from 0700 – 2100! I was hoping that I might be able to do the local one day walk, Tongariro Crossing, which takes 8 hrs and is 19km long but she told me that during winter/early spring it’s best to walk with a guide as the markers are covered by snow and crampons have to be used as it can be icy. She gave me a leaflet with the contact details of a company, Adrift. She also told me that she ran across it, although hadn’t done for some time, which impressed me as she’s nearly 60.

The weather wasn’t looking great for the next day, the only possible day I could do it, but I contacted the company by email which appeared to still be open at 6pm. I then went to the Turangi Tavern, forgetting my phone, for dinner. On returning to my unit I realised I’d slightly messed up the email address of Adrift and got a response from some beach accommodation. So I tried again, although the company was shut by then.

Turangi is famous for trout fishing and allegedly the ‘Trout Fishing Capital of the World’, located just south of Lake Taupo set on the Tongariro River. (Note that in NZ they don’t say River Waikato or River Tongariro but Waikato River, Tongariro River. Interesting….well, not a lot!). Other than the fishing people are attracted here by white-water rafting and skiing and tramping in the nearby Tongariro National Park.

No rush to get up on Tuesday as the weather was drizzly and quite cold, cold enough for me to wear my woolly hat and gloves. Having received no response from the correct ‘Adrift’ company I went into town, which seemed a rather sad, lonely place with no real ‘heart and soul’ and a few degenerates were hanging about. It no doubt serves people well who stop for supplies for their mountain walking and trout fishing. Another activity is walking along the Tongariro river trail and the forecast for the next day looked great so decided I’d do that before getting the 4.30 pm bus to Taupo. I’m ashamed to say that I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in my unit reading and writing rather than facing the cold weather and exercising. Still, I’ve done rather a lot of exercise recently so figured it wouldn’t hurt and it was nice to have a day off from the long daily walks and veg out! At 2.30 pm I got a response from Adrift offering to take me on the walk the next day for $195! I declined as would have missed the bus and may well come back at the start of summer to walk it by myself before the crowds descend upon it (or should that be ‘ascend’?) as it is supposed to be quite spectacular.

So on Wednesday morning I set off for the trail, not far from the motel, having dropped my main luggage at the I-Site office for safe-keeping. I thought I’d take in the National Trout centre, not because I’m particularly interested in trout or fishing, but because it’s a local attraction given the importance of trout in the area. Donna suggested that I turn right at the rive, cross over via a suspension bridge then continue on the trail on the other side until I got to another bridge called Red Hut Bridge then return to Turangi popping into the Trout Centre en route.

It looked to be straightforward and I set off quite happily, passing a lone fisherman before crossing the suspension bridge to the opposite side.

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On the other side I met a South African man who asked me if I’d seen a blue duck as I was reading a sign about the Blue Duck Project where trap boxes had been placed along the river to trap the blue ducks’ predators such as stoats and rats. I said I hadn’t (and had only just read about them anyway) and asked if he had. He told me he had in 1967, so I thought I was very unlikely to see one! The sign also asked dog walkers to keep dogs on a lead and suggesting they might like to put their dogs on an ‘avian avoidance course’. I had a bit of a chat with him and he told me he lives in Pretoria back home but comes regularly to NZ and Oz as he has a child in each country. He told me how lovely it was to be able to walk alone along the riverside, not something he’d be able to contemplate in SA!

There were some lovely views of the mountains in the distance and soon the trail passed by fields before then going into the ‘bush’. I really enjoyed it but didn’t find the Red Hut Bridge. I decided, reluctantly, to retrace my steps and bumped into an Australian mother and daughter who were also wondering where the bridge was. We walked together for a bit but didn’t find it so I decided to walk back the same route as didn’t want to risk getting lost and missing the bus. So I missed the trout centre after all but think I can live without seeing it!

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While waiting later at the bus stop, Murray arrived in another bus with ‘Skip’ on the side. Apparently this is a kind of off shoot of Inter City, cheaper but quicker although doesn’t do that many destinations. We had a chat and he had remembered by name which rather surprised me. The journey to Taupo was just under an hour and the driver made no attempt to entertain us. The journey was mainly around the west side of Lake Taupo, which looked lovely:

I arrived in Palmerston North (aka Palmy) by Inter City bus on time at 4.30 pm on 21st August and houseowner, Margo, was waiting with her dog Zippy. The last part of the journey had been particularly lovely as the driver announced we would be travelling along Saddle Road because the normal route via Manawatu Gorge Road was closed, and appears to have been for some time. We climbed up and over the Ruahine range passing a wind farm. It was a very winding road which made me think a little of driving across the French Alps in the summer, but on a much smaller scale. The Ruahine range is the largest of several mountain ranges in the North Island which forms a ridge running parallel with the East coast between East Cape and Wellington.

Before going to the house that would be my home for over 2 weeks, Margo showed me one of Zippy’s regular walks, along the wide river Manawatu beyond which the Ruahine range runs, which is about a 10 minute walk from the house. We walked for 40 minutes, which is all Zippy gets each day during the week, with me interrogating Margo all the while. Zippy is a New Zealand Heading dog, not a breed I’d ever heard of before, similar to a Border Collie because they are in fact bred from Border Collies, likewise a working and herding dog used to control sheep.

A lot of New Zealanders diss Palmy saying there’s not much to do so I’d assumed that my longest NZ housesit booked to date was going to be the least interesting. To add to my unease I read that John Cleese said “If you wish to kill yourself but lack the courage to, I think a visit to Palmerston North will do the trick”! The town exacted revenge by naming a rubbish dump after him! Maybe his comments spurred the council into action because my initial feeling about the place was a good one, and this was only going to improve. My bus had stopped in The Square, allegedly Palmy’s ‘heart and soul’ with a clock tower, duck pond, giant chess set, Maori carvings, statues and a variety of trees. Also, another good example of NZ’s great information centres, or I-Sites as they’re called, is located here.

Back at the house in Ruahine Street I met Aaron, Margo’s husband. Margo had moved to NZ from South Africa with her family when she was aged 7, Aaron was born in Wellington. They had met at a pub quiz and continue to go to pub quizzes. I was shown Zippy’s routine plus a few tricks she does, which included playing dead, and the various workings of the house and enjoyed conversation over dinner before we all went to bed at 9.30pm.

Margo and Aaron were off to Barcelona, Athens and Crete starting with a friend’s 50th birthday celebration. It seemed a packed itinerary to me for just over 2 weeks but they’ve travelled to Europe a lot so are used to it. Aaron drove us all in his Mazda car to the airport (a 10 minute drive away) for their flight to Auckland to connect with their international flight just before 9am on 22nd and I drove it back as it was being lent to me for the duration of my housesit. Originally they had offered me the car to use, then messaged to say they’d changed their mind as a previous housesitter had pranged it, but then came back to me to offer it again as I’d been promised it. So I was feeling a little under pressure driving it in case I pranged it too, however I was told the previous housesitter, a Canadian woman, had damaged it while she tried to turn it round out of the garage (an impossible manoeuvre in a narrow gap with the house one side and brick wall the other) to save reversing it down their narrow driveway with fencing each side.

My first walk with Zippy was an orientation walk into and around town and back. I picked up a few leaflets from the I-Site office and was recommended to go to a town called Feilding one Friday, which I planned to do the following week.

On 23rd I checked out 6 gyms and plumped for the first, and furthest gym called Gravitate 24 as they were not only the friendliest but also offered me the best deal – a free 7 day pass then just $5 per visit as long as I went 3 times in the second week. So that works out at less than £8 for 2 weeks’ membership. I then took Zippy for a longer than 40 minutes walk on the Manawatu River Walk/cycleway. This really is a nice place for dogwalking, jogging and cycling and is nearly 10km long with fabulous views of the Ruahine mountain range. The colours are magnificent, a variety of different green shades and brown hues, and I really wished I had an ounce of the artist within me as it would have translated wonderfully in watercolour paints. That evening I went for a cultural fix – a fabulous amateur production of ‘Les Miserables’ at the Regent on Broadway Theatre by local Abbey Musical Theatre. It was hard to believe they weren’t professionals as the staging, singing and acting were all exceptional. The rules for putting on such shows are clearly different in NZ as amateur societies in the UK wouldn’t have been allowed to put on ‘Les Mis’ as it’s still being performed in the West End.

Saturday 24th was a sunny day. I first went to the gym for a morning Boxfit class which I enjoyed and found the other participants very friendly. I took Zippy on the river walk again but went much further this time, going across to the North of the river via Fitzherbert bridge, then East to cross back over a new bridge into Victoria Esplanade, a lovely park with bush walks and a miniature scenic railway running through. I stopped for tea and a bite to eat at the cafe. Zippy, by the way, is off lead along this river path which has wide areas of grass and trees that she runs around the bottom of barking at birds which is the only time she barks. She might sometimes go out of sight but as soon as I call her she’ll come back, usually some distance ahead and often wet from either dunking herself in the river or a muddy puddle, Such a shame when dogs have to walk on a lead when they can have so much more fun off it!

Some views along the Manawatu River Walkway:

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Sunday 25th was also a lovely day so I decided to take Zippy for a drive and check out some of the beaches along the West coast. She’s a good traveller, once harnessed in the back seat she can have the back window right down which she loves sticking her head out of. I thought I might be able to see quite a few beaches but there isn’t a road running along the coast connecting them all. Instead, it meant having to drive to one beach from the state highway, then drive back along the same route then off left for some kilometres to the next beach.

The first beach we stopped at was Otaki, a distance of 74 km southwest of Palmy. It’s a long sandy beach and Zippy enjoyed me throwing sticks for her, which she didn’t always bring back. There were also horse riders, a not uncommon sight on some of the beaches:

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Next was Waitarere Beach which had a river running through it and a lot of men fishing. I asked one of them what they were fishing for and was told whitebait at the moment but, in other seasons, they fish for other fish including flounder. Zippy enjoyed a dip in the river:

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On Monday 26th I took Zippy for a walk into town as had a couple of errands to do, one of which was to go to the cinema to buy tickets for the film festival. I was very pleased to discover the films that were being shown in Auckland when I was there are now being shown here as I’d missed out before.

Tuesday 27th started off with my second visit to the gym for a Pilates class, which I also enjoyed however, I later felt some aches and pains on top of the aches acquired from Boxfit on Saturday. The problem is that I think I’m still capable of doing the kind of exercise I did in my 20s & 30s but now take longer to recover. This is very hard to accept! Afterwards, as the weather was lovely contrary to the forecast, I decided to go to another beach, a bit nearer this time, Himatangi, just a 30 minute drive. This was another wide and long sandy beach with huge pieces of driftwood and lovely sand dunes and a river, and again Zippy had a lot of fun sniffing the driftwood and running after sticks.

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In the early evening I left Zippy home alone for a couple of hours while I went to my first Film Festival event: New Zealand’s 6 best short films of 2019 which were selected from a shortlist of 12 by director Jane Campion. The films were ‘Nancy From Now On’; ‘Krystal’; ‘Egg Cup Requiem’; ‘Golden Boy’ (which I didn’t get at all); ‘Our Father’ and ‘Hinekura’.

The next morning I saw the brilliant film ‘Mrs Lowry and Son’, also part of the Film Festival and not released in the UK until Friday 30th. It starred Vanessa Redgrave as Lowry’s mother and Timothy Spall as the artist. They both played their parts superbly and should undoubtedly be nominated for BAFTAs or even Oscars. Despite really enjoying the film I did, however, come away a little depressed – something to do with the way Mrs Lowry treated her son. Later, another 2 hour river walk for Zippy, ending up as a circular walk by coming back via the streets.

Thursday 29th saw me doing a class at the gym called Movement4 described as a ‘low-impact class based on cardio, toning, balance and oxygen. Perfect for mind, body and spirit whilst improving coordination, movement and balance’. The class consisted of lots of women mainly of a certain age (oh that’ll be me too then!) and a token man. It was just the thing my body needed as it was, indeed, low impact (probably too low for me normally) and fun as we exercised to disco music from the 70/80s. Afterwards, yet another river walk for Zippy, who doesn’t seem to mind. Unfortunately when his owners return he’ll be back to being left outside all day (he does have a kennel in case of rain) and then his normal daily 30-40 minute walk in the week. I’m spoiling him rather, just like all the other dogs so far.

On Friday 30th I went to Feilding, which had been recommended to me when I visited the I-Site office. It’s won NZ’s ‘Most Beautiful Town’ award 16 times. I was told Friday was the day to go as there’s a very good Farmers Market and Saleyard tours – cattle auction. I was advised it gets very busy on Fridays as a result and that I might find it difficult to park so a bus would be best. It’s just 18 km from Palmy. The bus stop was outside the hospital, a 30 minute walk from ‘home’ and I hated leaving Zippy outside, although knew I wouldn’t be away for the normal 9 hours she’s left by her owners.

I got chatting at the bus stop to a young woman called Miriam who is English (from Guildford) and has lived in NZ for 17 years, originally coming over because of a man, which didn’t last. She works at Massey University (it seems virtually everyone I meet works or has worked there, rather like GCHQ in Cheltenham) as a writer in the IT department and she recognised Margo’s name when I told her what I was doing. We sat together on the bus and she laughed when I told her I’d been advised not to drive as would find it difficult to park. I keep forgetting that this is New Zealand and there aren’t the amount of people and cars outside of Auckland!

Feilding seemed a very tranquil place (plenty of parking spaces!) and the market was set up in the square – Manchester Square to be precise. I had expected it to be rather substantial but it was disappointingly small yet quaint. Before investigating it, however, I went to the I-Site office to buy a ticket for the Saleyard Tour, to be told that as it’s Daffodil Day (cancer charity) I could have a complimentary ticket (normally $10) and that I was one of 3 now booked for the 11am tour.

I went back to the market which took all of 5 minutes to walk around, bought some sourdough bread, a vegetable pie and marvelled at two elderly men who were busking, and ruining, quite a few songs but I thought they were sweet. I was approached by an elderly man called John, with a flower stall, who gave me his card and suggested I look at the videos on his website. He told me he exhibits at the Chelsea Flower Show, which seemed odd to me! Having checked out his (awful) website it seems he has a passion for visiting the world’s flower shows, so I probably misheard him!

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I’d been told to get to the Saleyard just before 11am and that Adrian would be my tour guide. A Belgian girl arrived and an Austrian woman. Adrian, a nice elderly man, didn’t quite have the attributes I’d expect of a tour guide (Graham has no competition in that regard) and started off trying to read from a torn piece of paper and was quite unintelligible to me. I learned more later from an information board outside. The first sale was conducted on 24 May 1880 when 100 head of cattle were sold. There are sales on Mondays and Fridays.

There are now 350 sheep pens, 140 cattle pens and 45 deer pens with around 50,000 cattle and 450,000 sheep sold annually. Each pen is numbered and contains the animals from a particular farm and are all auctioned as one lot. An auctioneer went around the sheep pens in order and the final price agreed was per sheep, which seemed to average about $120, which would then be multiplied by the number of sheep in the respective pen. It was difficult to see who was bidding, but then I did notice a man very slightly nod his head. I learnt from Adrian, who used to have a farm, that a one year old sheep is called a hogget, which might come in useful one day for University challenge!

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We then went into a building, the cattle rostrum, where the cows were auctioned. They were herded into a pen, just 5 or 6 at a time, and the auctioneer bellowed through a microphone and the price per head (here averaging about $1200) and number in the pen was lit up on a board. Again, it was difficult to spot the bidders and I tried not to move a muscle not knowing where I’d put 5 cows should I have been mistaken for a bidder. After a while I’d had enough of the noise and took my leave.

I had planned to go to the Coach House Museum which I’d been told was a lot of fun but decided to get the bus straight back. Coincidentally, Miriam got the same bus so we continued our chat and agreed to meet up for a coffee some time. She told me that there is a sort of Palmy divide, the area around the University known as ‘gown’ and the rest ‘town’, which tickled me. She also told me that she would normally cycle everywhere but she’s doing an assignment for a Creative Writing MA she’s currently studying which was to take a bus somewhere. It seems I may well feature although she’ll change my name and probably call it ‘The Girl on the Bus’ – now what does that remind me of?!

I’d been given contact details of a friend of Heather, fellow volunteer at the Red Cross bookshop, who is local to Palmerston North. I got in touch with him, John, and he suggested I might like to drive over to his place in Pohangina, just off the scenic drive that I had planned to do before leaving. So I arrived, as suggested, at 10am on Saturday.

John works at Massey and I discovered he knows Miriam very well but didn’t recognise Margo’s name. He has a very interesting job there, Business Manager being one of his titles, and he told me his favourite part is getting the foreign students all together once a year. His wife, Allie, is a Kiwi and is a vet. They have two children Sam and Grace, both studying at Wellington University. In fact his wife is currently working in Wellington and is there during the week, usually returning to Pohangina on Friday but she was returning later this afternoon with Sam so I didn’t get to meet her.

I sat chatting with John for 3 hours while Zippy investigated the house and garden, turning her nose up at John’s poodle, Mojo, and fortunately leaving the cat alone. As I left John said he felt as if he knew me as we had talked about a lot of things, particularly about our respective families. He spotted that the front offside tyre of my car was a bit flat and kindly pumped it up. I thought it must be a slow puncture so decided to go straight back ‘home’ and get it checked on Monday.

As Zippy hadn’t had a walk we did a long walk along the river path, over the bridges again and stopping at the cafe in Victoria Esplanade. The lovely miniature ‘scenic railway’ which goes quite a long way around the park was in full flow, given the lovely weather, and is just $3 – I must try and do it before leaving, as long as Zippy can too!

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Sunday was a lovely day, but I’d booked to see the finals of the Aotearoa (New Zealand) Country Music Awards 2019 from 1-5pm which I thought would be something different. I like country music because there’s always a story and the music is usually pleasant. After another riverside walk with Zippy, and bumping into Miriam on her bicycle there, I got to Palmy’s other theatre, the Globe, in time. I had thought it would be a huge affair but the small theatre wasn’t full. They’d had auditions all day the day before so there were two finalists in each category. The first category was Junior Country, two young girls, neither of whom I could understand what they were singing about. Then, intermediates – likewise. Adults, these were better, a man and woman coincidentally singing the same song. Then veterans, the first of whom was an elderly man dressed to the nines in his country music garb, who sang an Elvis Presley song (‘Can’t help falling in love’). Then a woman came on who had quite an unpleasant voice and pulled faces during the higher notes. I found out later she won her category. They went back to the juniors with a country gospel category, but after them I decided I’d had enough and left. If these were the best then I dread to think what the others were like! But I had to laugh and later considered that there are not many people in NZ, so even fewer fans of country music and even fewer who would sing country music.

After getting the tyre checked on Monday morning and assured it wasn’t a slow puncture, I took Zippy on a different walk in the north of Palmy, Linklater Reserve. It was quite a large park with a fabulous playground, zip wires and even a new agility area for dogs. Zippy got the hang of most of it except the weave.

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At 6pm I had my third event at the film festival, this time Maori Pasifika short films 2019 which I enjoyed more than the NZ short films. They were ‘Our Atoll Speaks’ (a meditation on sustainability from the remote Pukapuka atoll in the Cook Islands), ‘Ani’, ‘Liliu’ (set in Samoa during George VI’s reign), ‘Ways to See’ (this was quite disturbing), ‘Ru’ (also disturbing) and ‘Yellow Roses’ which was quite lovely.

Tuesday started off with a Pilates class at the gym, paying $5 now – such a bargain! The teacher is very good and it’s a shame I can’t put her in my pocket and travel with her. Then I decided to take Zippy on the Manawatu Scenic Route, 95km all the way round. I left at 12 and really enjoyed the drive as I hardly saw another car, the road twisted and turned passing vast rolling farmland and ancient native forests. It was lovely to finally get up close to the Ruahine range that I’d been ogling for the last 2 weeks.

I stopped first at the start of the scenic route in Ashurst at a lookout point onto one of the wind farms, Te Apiti, which also gave me a chance to give Zippy a bit of a walk off lead.

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I’d been recommended the Fern Walk in Totara Reserve, about 20km from Ashurst. The reserve is nestled in the Pohangina Valley and is one of the best and most accessible remaining examples of the ancient forest that once covered much of the region. As the name of the walk suggests, there were a lot of different ferns along the route with names such as Shining Spleenwort, Hound’s Tongue and Sickle Spleenwort all common in New Zealand and Australia.

Unfortunately I had to keep Zippy on her lead for the entire walk as there had been poison laid for possums, a real menace in New Zealand. She didn’t seem to mind too much and we both enjoyed the walk, which took us up high at one point and two hours in time. A short sidetrack led us to a giant tree called a Northern Rata and Zippy kindly posed beside it for a photo:

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By the time we finished the walk it was 3.30pm so I doubted we would be able to do the whole scenic drive of 95km. I had underestimated the distance taking a lot longer on the twisty country lanes. In fact it lends itself to a few days as there are so many places to stop along the route and do long or short walks. The scenery was wonderful and at one point we were stopped by sheep in the road, being moved along by men on tractors but also a couple of Herding dogs like Zippy:

I eventually got to a T junction where you could either turn right to continue on the scenic route and get back home in the dark, or turn left and go back to Palmy. I chose the latter option travelling through the small towns of Apiti, Kimbolton, Cheltenham (!) and then through Feilding. An enjoyable day.

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The weather for Wednesday 4th hadn’t looked too promising so after taking Zippy on a bit of a boring walk, compared to her usual, around the streets I decided to go to the museums first stop being the Rugby Museum. Surprisingly, not being a particular fan of rugby (although preferable to football) I enjoyed it and thought it was very well presented. Apparently a Palmy resident, Charles Monro, brought rugby to New Zealand having been initiated into the game as a boy whilst studying at Christ’s College, Finchley, London. When he returned to NZ in 1870 he organised the first recognised game of rugby between Nelson Football Club and Nelson College. By 1879 there were over 80 rugby clubs across the country.

The first tour to the Antipodes by a British team occurred in 1888 and paved the way for future tours by the team eventually known as the British Lions. The museum went through the ages with some interesting old photos, clothing and videos. I was surprised that I enjoyed it so much. I then went to the history museum, quite small, which had a few Maori objects and some interesting social history and the art gallery which had just a few exhibits. I popped into the main library which, as always here in NZ, was well stocked.

On Thursday I gave Zippy a long walk by the river off lead as she’d been on lead the last 2 days, and later drove to meet Miriam at a cafe on the Massey University campus for afternoon tea which was nice. She hasn’t written her piece yet but promised to send it to me when she has. Before leaving I popped into the University library which took me back to my student days.

It rained all day Friday which I started off by doing a ‘Power’ class (like our Body Pump) at the gym with just 4 others. I found some muscles that had hardly been used and enjoyed it. Another good instructor.

Back for a quick breakfast before walking to the cinema for a film festival documentary on Helen Kelly called ‘Together’. She was a huge mover and shaker for social justice, this film portraying her role in helping get justice for people killed at work in particular miners and loggers. She died of cancer in October 2016 but not before flag bearing for a change in the law around the use of cannabis for medical purposes (which helped her) which helped lead to a referendum on the issue due in 2020.

Later I took Zippy to a different park by the river, Ahimate Reserve which, despite the rain, she enjoyed. There was some dog agility stuff here too.

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I went to my 5th film festival event on Saturday 7th. Another interesting and well made documentary by Shirley Horrocks about Peter Peryer ‘The Art of Seeing’ one of NZ’s most important photographers, who I’d never heard of. This was a really fascinating insight, especially as I’m interested in photography although still haven’t done much in order to improve my knowledge. Having watched this I think in future I’ll look at certain photographs, that I might normally not find appealing, in a different light. His subject matter is broad: portraits, flowers, every day objects even a doll and meccano truck set up to look life size. This was a very enjoyable biopic much of which was filmed at his home in Taranaki. Sadly he died very soon after the last interview in the film in which he said he wasn’t ready to depart this planet yet as had lots of photographs he still wanted to take. Interesting that he was using his iPhone’s camera a lot towards the end.

Sunday 8th was my last full day in Palmerston North and it was a wet and cold one but Zippy still got her 2 hour walk after I’d done some cleaning. Later I went to the cinema for my last film festival event which was a French film with subtitles about historic abuse by a Catholic priest called ‘By The Grace of God’, based on a true and still-developing story of a victim-led campaign to seek justice against the priest and the people within the Church who did nothing about it.

I enjoyed my last walk with Zippy along the river on Friday morning, earlier than usual, and got a taxi at 1230 to the bus stop leaving Zippy, as instructed, outside. It broke my heart as she looked quite sadly through the bars of the gate, as I waited with my bags, and tried to get underneath. Oh how I’m going to miss her!