This morning I picked up the ‘book’ I had made up of our trip around the UK last March, and was reminded that it is a very long time since I updated this record of our travels here and there, those of a perennial gypsy. In fact checking this particular blog, the record of our travels about New Zealand as opposed to those further afield, I realised that I had been particularly lazy and for those who might have been checking out our activity, it seemed we had taken up roots in a caravan park in Whangarei since the end of July last year. Not so!
We
spent some time in August in South Auckland attending to property matters,
those which fed on to another stint we are currently involved with. Then on
down to Waihi Beach in early September where we spent two weeks living in our
daughter’s house, caring for two grandchildren and a loopy canine, in response
to a commitment made almost a year in advance and one which had not excited in
the interim. However it all worked out brilliantly; our out of practice housekeeping
and parenting skills, albeit antiquated in today’s more liberal society, kicked
in and we ran a most successful boot camp, with timely schedules, regular meals
and rules harping back to our own childhoods which were surprisingly accepted,
adhered to and made life wonderful for all of us, including Sirius who enjoyed
the regular daily walks. However in fairness to the modernity of our
grandchildren, they were happy to revert to their normal chaos once the
rightful householders returned from sunning themselves in Bali. 
Back to Whangarei and then another stint in South Auckland where we camped out at the NZMCA Ardmore Airport Park. Business kept us distracted from pleasure for some of the time, but we still managed to fit in a day trip up into the Hunua Regional Park, walking up into the ranges on part of the Massey Track, uphill through beautiful native bush, pushing the physical boundaries and delighting in the fact that one can do this within spitting distance of New Zealand’s largest city. The Falls themselves have often drawn us to this park over the past twenty years, but this time I as more determined to discover the many walking tracks; it should be noted that these are through mountain ranges, and as such not along flat surfaces. Duh!
We discovered too the wonders of the city’s expansion out beyond Botony Junction, the fact there is a delightful patch of bush to be wandered through, Murphy’s Bush; there the nikau palm groves particularly delighted.
One
day we drove out to the east coast via Brookby, Whitby on to Beachhaven where
we had at some past time picked our way along the rocky foreshore, and on to
the Omana Regional Park. Again we had been here before, but this time we parked
at the north west end and walked across a charming boardwalk, bridge and up
into the park, serenaded by tuis and across the grassy heights to the eastern
end of the park. In the past, we had stayed in the car park at the other end,
but this time we enjoyed an entirely different perspective of the park. The
views out across the Hauraki Gulf are just wonderful, and the whole area is
like a Big Secret to all but the locals or those like us who like to poke about
spots on the map.That same day we drove on south along the coast and pulled into Duder Regional Park, just beyond the charming bays of Maraetai and Umupuia. We walked the Farm Loop, a trail that took us an hour and a half, up over immaculate grazing land with spectacular views over the gulf and down the coast. This regional park is even a better kept secret, and probably not enhanced by the signs warning of thefts from cars left in the car park. Amputate the b……d’s hands and perhaps life will improve for the honest leisure seeker?
During
one of our times in Auckland, before settling in for the current stint, I spent
two part days familiarising myself with Newfoundland dogs; a bizarre activity
on the face of it, but not so when all is explained. Our youngest and his
family are seriously contemplating including a puppy of this breed into their
family toward the end of 2016. Wisely they are spending time with breeders and
fellow “Newfy’ owners, and one day I joined them on a trip down to Huntly to be
part of a dog show. Another morning, Chris and I drove out to Maraetai Beach
and watched many of these lovable giant fluff balls go through marine
challenges, for what they were originally bred. It was all very interesting and
one cannot help but be enamoured by the great beasts, but they are big, and big
dogs need to eat a lot, exercise a lot and need lots of love and attention.
Tactfully we will remain on the side-line.Knowing that we had the summer tied up with work, we decided to head off to New Plymouth once more to check out the Govett Brewster Gallery which had been closed on previous visits. We had a small window of opportunity and set off in mid – November for Taranaki. Alas the weather was not sympathetic to our needs but we were not to be deterred.
Since last spending time in Taranaki, we had discovered the existence of a new NZ MCA Park at the Huatoki Domain and it was there we headed. New Plymouth lies on the sea shore line of a number of streams and rivers that flow west and downward from the hills, meaning the city lies across a series of ridges, a fact that was made clearer this visit than on any other. The Huatoki River rises a kilometre outside the National Park boundary on the foothills of the Pouakai Trange, then flows on down through farmland to the outskirts of New Plymouth where it begins its meandering through bush gullies and past a number of historical sites, one of those the famous Marsland Hill.
Having spent some time in recent years researching my great great grandfather’s foray in the Taranaki, his rather tragic effort to quell the Maori defence of their lands ending in a rather undignified bout of dysentery, I was particularly interested in the several and well explained history boards.
The Hill was a significant site long before its European military history; it was once the Maori Pukaka Pa, a conical copy of the Mount Egmont – Taranaki standing behind. The first Maori settlers levelled the top and dug terraces and kumara pits in the side. This was one of at least sixty pa or kainga scattered across what was once known at Ngamotu, and when the first surveyors for the New Plymouth Company began the survey of New Plymouth in 1841, Pukaka Pa had been long abandoned, and was now covered with a beautiful growth of karaka, rewarewa, rangiora, kohekohe and similar native trees.
According to historian and surveyor, S. Percy Smith, the pa was originally built by a section of the Taranaki tribe, the Nga-Potiki-taua, who had conquered the district from the original Te Atiawa owners in the 18th century. The latter tribe reclaimed the whole of the lost territory and expelled the Nga Potiki Taua later that century, all of which caused problems later when actual ownership and historical residence became an issue. Here I should note how I lament the lack of written history of this country’s pre-European years; chants, poems, waiatas are all very well – I want facts.
What is unarguable is the fact that the Hill was levelled in 1855 to produce a strategic site for the Imperial Militia during the Land Wars of the 1860s.
The path that follows the creek winds its way past the base of the hill and by the time one has walked from the Domain down this far, almost an hour from camp, one has little inclination to seek the track to the top to check the monuments out, from which there are apparently superb views across the city.
Soon after this point, one emerges onto the busy city street, and if you follow the now underground route of the river, you find yourself down in the centre of the city, surrounded by the ghosts of past industry and activity; the first commercial flour mill in Taranaki and the original rail line before it was moved to a more sensible posse, all mingling with modern cafes and bars, and before you know it, you are on the foreshore, beneath Len Lye’s Wind Wand on the Coastal Walkway. In fact one could walk and walk, and keep on walking in New Plymouth, but we came with other activities in mind.
In typical Clarke fashion, we undertook this expedition on a Tuesday, the one day the Govett Brewster remains shut; we were not entirely happy to discover this fact. We wandered about the city, called into the excellent Te Ariki museum, a second visit and no less enjoyable for all that, and then walked for about five kilometres north along the coastline to Fitzroy and back again, before finding our way home on the bus. The route took us directly to the Huatoki Domain in less than a fifth of the time it had taken us to walk into the city, so needless to say, we caught the bus the next time we attempted a visit to the gallery.
The weather forecast for the next few days was dodgy, so we decided to take advantage of slightly better weather the following day to sightsee rather than bury ourselves in the art gallery. We headed off to the Meeting of the Waters, an overnight spot that is apparently allowed for self-contained motor homes, a suggestion we would certainly discourage on investigation. It is however a charming spot to call in to and set off for a short walk, and this we did.
The little picnic spot is beside the Waiwhakaiho River, just three kilometres south of New Plymouth, and offers access to the Araheke Track, along the edge of the river, across a bridge over the tailrace waters of the Mangorei Hydro Station, past a big stand of old totara trees and an outdoor pursuits centre utilised by local schools, until one crosses a swing bridge over the Waiwhakaiho River to the thirty minute loop walk, through podacarp forest. The walk itself is wheelchair and pushchair friendly, however how you get there in the first place could be problematic.
Back in the camper, we lunched by the river keeping an eye on a trout fisherman who had more patience than us, but not enough to score a catch. Once fed, we headed off to the next destination, Tupara Gardens, managed by the Taranaki Regional Council. There are several gardens through the Taranaki region, all managed by the council, and we had had this one on our to-do list for some time, however not being a garden nut like so many women I know and am related to, I had a low expectation of the enjoyment factor. How wrong I was!
In 1932, recently wed Russell and Mary Matthews purchased eight acres of overgrown land beside the Waiwhakaiho River, just down river from the walk we had taken in the morning. They shacked up in a corrugated shed for eighteen months, then lived in their Tudor style architecturally designed house for the twelve years of its construction and all the years that followed, raising four children.
Russell Matthews was quite an enterprising business man, apart from being a fanatical gardener, a passion shared by his wife. Curious as to why this man should have been given the title “Sir” for his successful business enterprises, gardening and finally making his own paradise available for sale to the Council, I checked out his references in The Encyclopaedia of New Zealand and gleaned the following, much already learned from the wonderfully informative interpretative panels in the Information building at the gardens.
“Born in New Plymouth in 1896, Russell Matthews was
the 10th and youngest child of Grace Marshall and her husband, Robert James
Matthews, a banker. He was raised in an environment in which business and
entrepreneurial skills were admired and encouraged. Educated at New Plymouth
Boys' High School, he began his working life as an assistant engineer for the
New Plymouth Borough Council.
In 1913 Matthews gained the council's permission to
lay a new surface on Currie Street, New Plymouth. He researched the use of
bitumen sealing, devised a heating system and spray unit, then mounted them on
a horse-drawn wagon, fitted with special pins to ensure quick release should it
catch fire. With bitumen imported from California, he began sealing the road.
However, he was not familiar with the required heat and the bitumen came out
'looking like worms' rather than as a liquid spray. This, the first stretch of
tar-sealing in New Zealand, received approximately three times the required
bitumen and lasted more than 15 years.
Initially turned down for service during the First
World War, Matthews was accepted in 1917 and served overseas for 10 months. He
was in England when the war ended, and stayed for three years to study road
construction at a London polytechnic. Arriving back in New Zealand in 1922, he
met Henry Isherwood and Bertie Bellam, who were laying bitumen roads in
Auckland. After working for them for a short time, Matthews became a partner
and then managing director of Isherwood Bellam and Company, which was soon the
country's largest roading firm.
In 1936 Matthews and a partner formed their own
roading company, Matthews and Kirkby Limited. Six years later he began
operating on his own account, under the name Russell Matthews and Company. This
firm grew to become New Zealand's largest roading contractor, sealing more than
1,800 miles of road from Whangarei to Invercargill. From 1959 it concentrated
on bitumen supplies. In addition to managing his own business, Matthews was a
founding director of the New Plymouth chemical company Ivon Watkins Limited,
serving on its board from 1944 to 1962. Over the following years he was
director of a wide range of roading and engineering companies, including
Kaikariki Sand and Gravel, Fitzroy Engineering and Fitzroy Quarries.
Outside of business management and roading,
Matthews had a lifelong interest in horticulture. Inspired by the stately
gardens of England, in the early 1930s Russell and Mary set about creating an
attractive garden, which they named Tupare (garland of flowers). It became
renowned for its specimen trees and was regularly opened to the public, the
proceeds being distributed to charity.
As Matthews's passion for horticulture grew, he
became a fellow of the Royal New Zealand Institute of Horticulture and a member
of the New Zealand Rhododendron Association. A founding member of the Pukeiti
Rhododendron Trust in 1951, he was one of the driving forces in the development
of its unique gardens on Carrington Road, near New Plymouth, where a wide range
of rhododendrons flourish in a native bush setting. Besides being a benefactor,
and patron of the trust from 1973 to 1987, Russell and his family spent most
weekends at Pukeiti, working on the gardens. He also travelled the country
showing films of rhododendrons, advertising and promoting Pukeiti, and
expanding the trust's membership.
A resourceful, charismatic and generous man,
Russell Matthews was single-minded and persuasive, qualities that did not
always make him popular but which helped him to achieve success in a range of
business and philanthropic pursuits. Rarely content with being a mere
figurehead, he was a life member of the Outward Bound Trust of New Zealand, the
Tatum Park Trust, the St John Ambulance Association and the New Zealand Society
for the Intellectually Handicapped, and patron of the New Plymouth Repertory
Society.
Matthews was made an OBE in 1971 for his services
to industry, horticulture and philanthropy, and became a knight bachelor 11
years later. Tupare was purchased by the Queen Elizabeth II National Trust in
1984 and opened daily to the public. Russell Matthews died in New Plymouth in 1987,
aged 91, survived by his wife and children.”
All so succinctly explained!
We walked the perimeter of the property, taking the steepest and longest
pathways, but then any visit to the property involves hills, and certainly any
real exploration of the well-established gardens cannot avoid the fact that the
property is on the banks of a significant and rather lovely river. We were
absolutely delighted we had called, had time to take time, and that the sun was
shining.
Another of our sightseeing trips took us to the recreational area near
Lake Rotomanu and on to the Te Rewa Rewa bridge, a pedestrian and cycleway
bridge across the now familiar Waiwhakaiho River, all part of the Coastal Walkway.
The design of the bridge was apparently inspired to “evoke a sense of
wind as a metaphor for the enduring spirit of the dead buried around the Rewa
Rewa Pa”. I am not sure whether it succeeds in this, but it is quite fabulous.
On a clear day, which we did not have on the occasion of our visit, the arch of
the bridge frames a view of Mt Egmont – Taranaki.
The structure was funded by the New Plymouth District Council and the Whitaker
family (who are apparently in the engineering business and very rich). I was
curious to know what it cost since I am sure a simpler affair would have
functioned as well, however would not have drawn tourists in the same way this
one does. A little research revealed that the Whitaker family stumped up
$325,000 of their own money; I suspect this would have been little more than a
token gesture, but still a gift is a gift and should not be dismissed.
The bridge is 70 metres long and two and a half wide, just wide enough
to take an ambulance should the need arise. The deck is 4.5 metres above normal
water level, a height considered appropriate to withstand both floods and
lahars from volcanic eruptions.
It was officially opened in 2010 and during the first full month of operation,
was used by 55,756 cyclists and pedestrians. (I am not sure how accurate those
numbers can be because I do know that children have lots of fun going back and
forward through or over people counters to confuse the statistics wombles – I have
seen this with my own eyes!)
It was an incredibly windy day that we made our way to this spot,
however the weather had not deterred the numerous local Maori folk who were
busy white-baiting. We chatted with some who explained the workings of the
boards and nets, and another lovely woman who confessed her passion for the
fishing process but not the harvest itself (she gave most away to friends,
whanau and the greater community).
We finally made it to the Govett Brewster gallery on our final day in
New Plymouth, expecting to take several hours to justify the trip south in the
first place. We had called at the gallery some years ago and thoroughly enjoyed
the experience. It was there I first saw an exhibition of Fiona Hall’s work,
which I did think a bit risqué at the time. In Australia I saw much more, of
hers and other more adventurous artists, but I shall always think of her when I
recall the Govett Brewster.
We were excited about the new Len Lye Centre, a permanent exhibition, as part of the revamped gallery, all of which
had been opened in July this year. The exterior of the building also looked
amazing, or at least in the pictures we had seen, so we went with great
expectations. One should never do this because there are only two outcomes;
disappointment or meeting of expectations, rather than the third, marvelling of
even greater outcomes.
In mid-November the main part of the gallery was holding an exhibition
titled “Our Hearts of Darkness”, from Joseph Conrad’s novel of the same name. Had
I read the novel which apparently uses the metaphor of the waters of the River Thames
running into various waterways of the world bringing violence with it, and so
here in the exhibition the theme is violence in our own culture expressed in
contemporary art, I might have lowered my expectations.
I did understand the curator’s take on it all, that facets of our
history, colonial, socialist, misogyny, racism, prejudice, war, and all the
other negatives of New Zealand society over the past two hundred years have
made us who we are and we should not forget.
The walls were all painted black, and within each cave like section of
the gallery were two or three morbid, dark or unattractive exhibits; Mccahon’s Parihaka Triptych was featured (I have
never been a fan of McCahon), Fiona Clarke’s Go Girl series charting the transgender community in New Zealand starring
the gawdy Carmen of Wellington, a model of the satellite station at Waihopi
near Blenheim that the three “peace” terrorists destroyed some years ago, and
so on.
I did not enjoy it one bit and when one of the gallery guides effusively
told us that we were “ so lucky to see this before it ends next week” and that “the
walls would all be painted white for the next exhibition”, we secretly rolled
our eyes and thought, “We timed that
badly then, didn’t we!”
The Len Lye Centre exhibition is fascinating, the kinetic sculptures
taking pride of place in the gallery. I especially loved “Grass”, “Universe”
and “Four Fountains”. I loved too that there was excellent information
regarding the first exhibition of these works together with audio headphones
where one could listen to the variety of music that was played to complement
each sculpture.
The artist was much more than this; he dabbled in film, photography,
writing, painting and there are samples and stories of all this, and the Centre
is home to the archives and studio collection of the Len Lye Foundation. It is
the first gallery in New Zealand to be dedicated to a single artist.
As such I guess it follows that the building to house all this should
make a statement, and it certainly does that!
Christchurch born Andrew Patterson designed the building, typical of
modern galleries, huge spaces with lots of it wasted, in my opinion. But it’s
the cladding that catches the eye; locally sourced stainless steel, the folded
surface reflecting and refracting its surroundings, changing its appearance
throughout the day with the changing light. Apparently it’s a very popular
backdrop for selfies, and of course we had to follow suit. It reminded me of the
crazy mirror like walls I had seen on the exterior of the MONA gallery in
Hobart.
But for all the flamboyancy and “wow!”, does it fit in New Plymouth? We
thought not, especially given that New Plymouth seems to be embracing its part
in New Zealand’s early European history and this seems so out of place. Still,
if nothing else, it will draw the tourists even if only to make the same
observation. After all, does MONA fit into Hobart?
Despite the wordy description of our visit, we did not stay very long,
or at least for us who can spend a whole say absorbing an art gallery (see
earlier and other blogs if you don’t believe me!), and we caught a midday bus
back to the Huatoki Domain, ate our packed lunch and headed off north toward
the areas we call “home” these days.
On another weekend to distract our attention from mundane business
matters in October, we spent a couple of days in Waihi Beach; one day we walked
across to Orokawa Bay at the north end of Waihi Beach, a walk we had not done
for maybe ten years. The sun was shining and it was simply delightful and far more beautiful than the plainness of the
surf beach to the south, although far more hazardous. Full of the joys of
spring we spent our second day there at the Te Puna Quarry gardens, over half
an hour by car toward Tauranga.
The thirty two hectare Te Puna Quarry park started life as a Rock Quarry in the early 1900s, through until 1979. Ten years later, the council planted some pine trees, and the Te Puna Quarry Park Society was formed in 1993, beginning work on the park three years later. I recall wandering about the lower slopes of this when my oldest son, now thirty six plus was just a tot; the intervening years have seen big changes!
This year we walked up through the centre of the parks,
around the ponds and waterfalls, up through exotic gardens, looked out over the
Tauranga Harbour from superb lookout spots, and on up to the top of the quarry
from where we could see the wonderful variety of gardens open to the public. It
certainly is a wonderful asset to the region.
We have been “resident” in South Auckland since the last week in
November, repairing and refreshing a rental property held for decades. Despite
positive letting agents inspection reports over the years, we found the vacated
property in a terrible state; rotten holes in walls, floors and ceilings, twisted
and swollen joinery, leaking plumbing, rickety stairway entries. Anyone reading
this would say what ghastly landlords we must have been. But how can you know
these things unless you are told?
We have pulled out the kitchen, the bathroom and laundry cabinetry,
rotten and broken fences, and so it goes on. While my talented and persevering
husband does most of the work, I fetch and carry and hold, and we brainstorm
together. Christmas, New Year and all the days about have been no different
except for the fact we had to make sure we had enough nails and timber and
paint when the hardware stores were closed. But it’s coming together and
looking almost as good as it did when we purchased it over twenty years ago. I
am sure it will be a fine home for the next occupant.
Two of our children and their families have called to offer their own expertise, advice and
support, as well as my parents as they travelled south and then back through
Auckland again. Only they in their own motorhome were able to stay over with us,
since our motorhome is big enough to cater lunch and visitors but nothing more.
Before the end of term, I would wave to the little children walking on
their way to school, all neatly clad in their red uniforms, any white face an anomaly.
They would sing out greeting to this old lady scrubbing fences and weeding
gardens, but otherwise shy as is their ilk. This part of the city is very cosmopolitan,
as is obvious by those who stand on the road side waiting for the regular
buses, or those I shop with in the local centre; large Polynesian folk, often
wearing bright sarongs and flowers in their hair, Indians always immaculately turned
out, Muslims well wrapped against the infidels. I am very aware of my anaemic freckled
fairness.
Dogs bark to herald the day, and again through the night to mark the odd
night time troller, a uniformed man comes by on a scooter most mornings picking
up litter with a litter-picker-up on a pole, followed by the graffiti-paint-over
man as required. A van pulling a long trailer comes around at least twice a
week to collect abandoned supermarket trolleys. The hardworking, and some not
so hard working, folk of this neighbourhood have been stockpiling their
fireworks purchased in the days before Guy Fawkes, and have been eking them out
over the past ten days, with special emphasis on New Year’s eve. That people
would spend their hard earned money on such frivolity beats me! But then
perhaps it beats spending hard earned money at Bunnings and Mitre 10!
And who are we to complain about fireworks displays and racket every
night when we have been hammering and sawing and drilling day after day, when
people would rather enjoy their days off work in the peace and quiet of their
homes?
We may not be currently travelling but we are certainly seeing a different
part of the world this summer. This also brings to mind the fact that the price
of diesel is currently very low and we are not taking advantage of this, much
to my husband’s chagrin! Plan A was that we would now be in the South Island!
Such is life; I do not complain.
