29 January 2017 - Tapawera Area School, Tasman District

The Expressoship

Another front came over the South Island overnight; the edge of the West Coast’s bad weather drifted across Golden Bay during the morning. The sea was quite rough, the waves crashing onto the shore audible from our motorhome. We watched as a small yacht headed out through the entrance of the boat harbour, only to turn and run for shelter; obviously a weather-wary captain on board. Later when we walked around to the wharf where the fishing boats were tied up, we chatted with a commercial fisherman who remarked on the state of the weather. He had not been out for a while however explained that the larger service boats we had seen in operation the previous evening and earlier this morning were those attending to the mussel farms around the corner. When I expressed surprise that there were such operations in Golden Bay, assuming that these were restricted to the Marlborough Sounds, he soon put me right. Golden Bay’s operations are outstripping the efforts to the north east.

Rather worn sailing ship

On this same wharf we found an old Bermuda rigged sloop which on close scrutiny was in very poor condition. Three old salts sat up in the bow area righting the world, unconcerned about the state of the vessel. Close by was another small ship, once part of Jacque Cousteau’s fleet if the signage was to be believed. The Expressoship is very tired looking indeed but has gained headlines in the past; in 2014 the owner was reportedly feeding stingrays. The vessel and the business are now for sale and the owner, if it was he who poked his head above board, looks as if he has had enough of waiting for tourists to swing by. 

Late morning we headed north up the eastern side of the bay, passing through Ligar Bay, Tata Beach and onto Wainui Bay. This is the road through to Totaranui, the very popular DOC camp at the end of the Abel Tasman Track unless you want to continue right around to Wainui. The seal ends here and we had already decided we would leave a second visit to Totaranui for later in the summer, next year perhaps. But we were lured by the sign to the Wainui Falls and turned up a narrow drive to go explore. The parking area was already packed full, we had trouble turning and then gave this a miss too, deciding we would put it in our memory banks for next time.

So we headed back toward Takaka, stopping at Pohaka for the day’s newspaper, then searched for a spot to have lunch. Pohara Beach proved too hard, again too many people already parked in the car parks, however we found a peaceful spot beside an inlet on the seaside of Clifton.

Once fed we headed for our next to-do, a walk about the Grove Scenic Reserve. We had done this before and had fond memories of this charming little spot which our guide book describes as “a mystical place in grey-green that could have been transplanted straight from the Lord of the Rings novels or Arthurian legend, where massive rata trees sprout from deformed limestone outcrops.” I could not argue that description but I could complain about the pathetic little car park space which does not allow for anything larger than a small car, and these were all taken anyway. The touring crowds were conspiring against us!

Swimming holes at Payne's Ford

We set the Tomtom for Motueka and headed back toward the highway via rural back roads, emerging close to our next walking destination; Payne’s Ford. The big draw card here are the cliffs for climbing and abseiling, and the swimming holes in the river, none of which we actually planned to do. But it is a lovely little spot to wander along and watch others taking part in these activities. Again parking proved a problem but we did find an acceptable spot up on the main road. Whilst there we encountered a couple with their one year old baby who are biking about the country. We had noted the amazing bike at Mapua, a large assembly with a baby seat and luggage loaded up. The bike was a more solid machine than one normally finds and we had stood and admired it for some time then. Today we spent longer chatting with this couple who had just cycled over Takaka Hill, a feat we found gobsmacking particularly as they had a baby strapped into the contraption. They are from Oxford, England and have another month to go of their time in New Zealand. Hopefully they have managed to avoid the worst of the weather we have endured. Hopefully they will stay safe on these mad roads!

We continued on, crossing over the Takaka Hill ourselves and came down to our now tried and true campsite beside the Riwaka River, arriving earlier than we normally settle in but with time to wash out a jersey and give the van a pit of a lick and a polish with water fetched from the river. By now the weather had cleared and we were once more enjoying sunshine and warmth.

Yesterday morning we were away promptly and dealt with all our chores in Motueka: dumping, refuelling, filling with water, grocery shopping and a haircut for Chris. Alas my own grooming needs must wait until I return to Whangarei where I have appointments already lined up and must in the meantime remain unkempt.

The drive up through the Motueka Valley, a distance of less than 50 kilometres was as delightful as ever, the river glistening in the bright sunshine, and the extensive crops of hops intriguing. There were farms advertising goats cheese and goats milk, others offering crafts. Old abandoned oust houses dotted the landscape adding to the charm.  The valley is an extension of the alternative people who populate this part of the country.

As we came through the village, we were astounded at the crowds of people, obviously motorhomers walking about, hopefully filling the pockets of the locals with their out-of-town dollars. Greater was the surprise of the school grounds and neighbouring paddocks just chocker with motorhomes, all neatly lined up with the regulation here metres spaces in between. We were directed to our place at the far end of a paddock, having arrived late in comparison to most, but were soon surrounded by others, whose occupants we met later over our own little Happy Hour.

During the early afternoon we sat with our fellow club members, the lucky ones in the shade of the numerous pagodas set up and others out in the hot sunshine, entertained by an assortment of “walk-up” singers, members who wished to share their talent. Some were excellent, some not so good, but all had to be given credit for guts.

After dinner we all congregated once more in front of the stage with our own deckchairs to be entertained by the once great Frankie Stevens (brother of John Rowles and eight other siblings). Frankie has made appearances back down in New Zealand over the past couple of decades appearing on shows like New Zealand’s Got Talent as judge, but most of his career has been spent overseas among the rich and famous. Like so many aging singers, there comes a time when they should retire gracefully and leave us with brilliant memories, rather than the sadness that they are no longer at their best. But no one could take his professionalism away, and it was all credit to the organisers of the event “Music in the Mountains” that he was here at all. He shared the stage with his daughter and another woman, who together make up the Diamond Divas, and they certainly were en forme. In fact we enjoyed their part of the show more than Frankie’s own headline act. But we did not wait until the end; the night was turning cold and the Williams sisters were already to start their epic final in Melbourne. Sport waits for no man (or woman).