11 November 2016 - Ngunguru Hall, Northland

We were up with the birds this morning and away immediately after breakfast. Chris was intent on returning to the Kaikohe auto electrician where we had had the pump switch replaced. I was keen to return to normality as far as the water supply was concerned, so did not voice my disappointment about leaving so soon.

As we retraced our route back down the Karikari Peninsula to the main road we were delighted to see a hawk rise up in front of us with a small dead rabbit in its talons. Better to be divvied up for the family off the road than risk becoming road kill itself. In fact there was a lot of road kill today, nearly all squashed possums in varying states of decay. 

Tutukaka horror

Now on State Highway 10, we came on down through the lovely seaside settlements of Taipa and Coopers Beach beside Doubtless Bay, then on through the scrubby swamp at the head of the Whangaroa Harbour, passing a sign that advertised “Septic Tank Cleaning: Steve’s Takeaways” which highly amused us, up river to Kaeo and on over the raised fertile lands about Kerikeri, passing olive groves, avocado and citrus orchards, finally turning onto a back road through to Ohaewai,  rejoining the main road west to Kaikohe, arriving about two hours from our overnight camp.

The technical whizz who had attended to our needs previously fiddled with the pump bits and reassured Chris that the new sounds were acceptable, and so we headed off again. Chris made noises about heading back toward Kerikeri, however I convinced him that there was little point in retracing our direction given the Northland Trip was rather ruined. Instead I suggested we continue south toward Whangarei but then detour around the coast road before reaching home.

Lunch stop at Sandy Bay

Coastal views frm near Tutukaka

So we followed State Highway One on down through Kawakawa where the Hunterwasser toilets are to be found, then on to Hikurangi which these days is home to so many of Whangarei’s commuting workers. Here we turned east and travelled up through rural country, more dead possums, gorgeous pheasants here wiser than their English counterparts and staying off the road, families of quail scurrying across the road, nikau palms reaching up to the heavens, ti-tree and totara, unhindered woolly nightshade.  The road, while all the while sealed, winds up and down out of narrow valleys, finally spitting the traveller out onto the sand lined shore at Sandy Bay. There we parked up and lunched while watching a couple of girls in wet suits try their hand at surfing. Alas the waves were less obliging and they finally gave up.

Further south we pulled into Tutukaka and found the waterfront double story apartment building now fully tenanted, the road level shops all busy and the residential units seemingly occupied. But we were shocked by the exterior colour change; some oddball has decided the building is more attractive looking like a fun palace, bold colours here and there bringing the tone down a notch or ten from the upmarket resort this is supposed to be. Tutukaka is all about the more well to-do folk who can afford the fancy launches and the life style that goes with it. Shocking pink, turquoise, and every other garish colour just doesn’t cut it!

Beside Ngunguru River

Ngunguru is just another hill away and we were soon checking out the two spots where NZMCA members’ self-contained motorhomes can stay, all for $5 paid to the local community. We elected to stay at the southern end of town and settled firstly behind the hall under the massive pohutukawa trees well screened from the road, however we soon found that the television reception was hopeless and relocated to a more exposed part of the parking area.

Once set up we went for a wander across the road and out and about Snell Point, a rocky outcrop which protrudes into the river. We poked around, scaled a couple of banks for views and generally messed about the shoreline, before heading back for a quiet afternoon. After nearly 250 kilometres, The Chauffeur deserved a relaxing afternoon, or at least until he was called upon to prepare dinner.

As I write this up, fireworks have started up, now a week after Guy Fawkes; this is the main gripe people have about fireworks; that it just goes on and on and on… There should be restrictions as to how long it can be played with. Maybe it is their tribute to Leonard Cohen who passed away today? 

Actually, I think these folk wouldn’t even know who he was!

10 November 2016 - Maitai Bay Recreation Reserve, Karikari Peninsula, Northland

We woke after an excellent night’s sleep, undisturbed by the good folk who live about at either Ngawha Springs or the all too close Ngawha Prison. I had heard a morepork through the night, and they seem only to haunt peaceful night skies. 

After breakfast we headed back into Kaikohe, firstly to the garage suggested last night where we found a chap who might have been able to help had he not already been committed to work afar, already running late. He suggested Birchall Auto Electric down the main street and sure enough they were happy to oblige, immediately replacing the worn out switch on the water pump. This does raise the question of how it has worn out after so little use; something else to sort out before we head off to the South Island for the summer.

While still in relative civilisation, we topped up with fuel and water, the latter reserves having been depleted during the repair session. Then we headed north toward Kaitaia, past Lake Omapere which has had major problems with algae over the last decade. Today the surface glistened with good health in the bright sunshine, a fact we rejoiced in before passing on down into the lovely Waihou Valley, then up and over the prosperous farmland about Umawera, down again to Mangamuka Bridge, both valleys at the head of the Hokianga Harbour. At the Bridge we stopped to buy a newspaper; to check whether we were the one lucky party to have struck the $44 million Lotto win overnight and to read the comments and review of the astounding election result to have come out of the USA. (Note: we won nothing and will stay off wasting our money on such stupidity until the next Big One)

We had forgotten how long the ascent of the Mangamukas was, climbing up through dense native forest. The road passes over near the summit, a height of 395 metres ASL. The northern descent is just as steep but seems shorter; I guess the Victoria Valley into which one descends is still well above sea level. From here it is less than twenty kilometres to Kaitaia and we were reminded that the countryside, dotted with puriri and totara trees, is really quite attractive from a residential point of view; our opinion has been coloured over the years by the sins and crimes of a certain section of the population who live north of the Mangamukas.

Chris was keen to take a break, but I was not interested in stopping in Kaitaia today; we needed nothing and had checked it out nearly eighteen months ago. So we carried on north and stopped for lunch at Awanui, from where one would carry on northward to Cape Reinga. 

Instead we took the easterly turn back toward Doubtless Bay, on past dozens of abandoned farm house shells, all of which would be better off razed to the ground, turning again north to travel up the Karikari Peninsula. The isthmus is not very wide and is low enough to easily imagine it covered by the sea not too many millennium ago. Toward the end of the peninsula the land rises up, leaving the seaside baches and facilities, through country that obviously remains in the local tribal hands. There at the end of the road is Maitai Bay, a sand rimmed bay broken in two with its own little inner peninsula, the boat launching area on the eastern bay and the camp on the western. 

Maitai Bay

We were surprised how many motorhomes were already here amongst the pohutakawa trees, many looking well established, as if they are staying as long as their DOC Passes will allow. We have again purchased a Pass but will stay only the one, or maybe two nights. The water pump is not operating as it ought and we are keen to be back in Whangarei for another round of appointments lined up for early next week; the pump will be just one more thing to attend to.

But for now we are enjoying the bird song, the fantails, plovers and pukekos with their leggy checks, gulls and a host of other little birds busy in the bushes. Two visitors came by, one less welcome than the other; the first a Maori boy on a horse just checking us all out and the other a black cat with white feet and a white tip on its tail. So much for no domestic animals or pests being allowed in the park!

Tomorrow we will wander out to the heads, taking advantage of the good weather before the rain front arrives.

9 November 2016 - Kaikohe A&P Showgrounds, Northland

It turned out that Whangarei was not willing to see us gone, or at least not on our terms. The weather certainly turned nasty with heavy rain, thundery storms and unrelenting wind. However none of that deterred us from leaving the Holiday Park well before the exit hour on Monday. Chris had popped around to the garage (they have been fiddling unsuccessfully with one of the belts in our Isuzu, engine belt that is, not seat), and warned them we would be bringing the vehicle in again when we got back in about a week. The embarrassing scream of the slipping belt had returned just one day after the last replacement, and does need to be dealt with if only to facilitate any future disposal of the vehicle.

We took the car out to Parua Bay and left it on the section and after dumping and refuelling, set off toward Dargaville a little before 11 am. “On the road again!” I sang, albeit silently, setting off on another adventure, this time in familiar territory.

We left Whangarei where the pohutakawa trees are just starting to bloom, and travelled west, admiring the lush green countryside and the flowering cabbage trees, manuka and avocados, until suddenly the engine died and the old familiar warning lights came up on the dashboard. We cruised to the side of the highway, a most inconvenient spot, with logging trucks swishing by at speed. We phoned through to the Mercedes helpline and then waited an hour for the roadside rescue people to arrive. In the meantime I prepared lunch which we were halfway through when an auto-electrician turned up. He was unable to diagnose the problem, but rang through to the Mercedes technician, offering his thoughts which were apparently considered irrelevant. We were instructed to drive carefully back to Whangarei and to the Mercedes truck dealer where we had sat out a day three weeks ago.

The Seed

There we were offered coffee and comfort, and told that the problem was the same as the earlier fault, but this time on the other side. The repair promptly completed, but now too late to restart the day, we headed for the town basin and parked up for the night beside the Hatea River. We took the opportunity to walk along to our bank and on the return checked out The Seed of the Hunterwasser project completed a month or so ago. We also checked out the menu boards at the two restaurants under new management and decided the owners must have come up from Auckland, and were intent on catering to Auckland folk rather than the more penurious Whangarei types.

Late in the afternoon we received a call from my parents, stranded in their motorhome on the eastern side of the Kaimai Ranges. After a couple of hours their roadside help had turned up, first in a van far too small to tow a heavy vehicle, then a large tow truck which was setting up to take them back to Tauranga, and in the morning, on up to Whangarei. Dad wanted correct contact details for the outfit which had done extensive mechanical work some months ago on their vehicle. I duly obliged, offered whatever assistance they might want, and then sat over dinner lamenting the mechanical woes of the day, worse for the older couple than us. 

My parents motorhome in limp mode

We hung about the town the next day, first driving out to my sister’s to collect my parents Suzuki, then waiting for the tow truck to arrive. Late afternoon, we watched the sad sight of their lovely motorhome piggy-backing on the tow trailer while my parents rode upfront with the driver. Once commiserations had been shared, we left them to sort their van out and we returned to our own for a second night by the river.

So this morning, after dumping and refuelling, we set off toward Dargaville a little before 11 am. “On the road again!” I sang, again, albeit silently, setting off on yet another adventure, still in familiar territory. We left Whangarei where the pohutakawa blooms are now two days more advanced, and travelled west,  admiring the lush green countryside and the flowering cabbage trees, manuka and avocados, a sense of déjà vu but today under bright sunny skies. We noted the spot we had reached on Monday and travelled beyond, holding our breath in case our life was in some state of replay.

Reaching Dargaville, we parked by the bridge over the Wairoa River and lunched, listening to updates of the US elections on the radio. We shopped at the local Countdown then headed north on the kauri coastal highway, a road hardly warranting the title “highway”. We travelled up the Kaihu valley, between hills recently denuded of pines and looking very different from the last time we travelled this way. We turned north east off this road following a more minor sealed road toward the Trounson Kauri Park, our destination for the day. Eighteen months ago we had come by with the intention of staying at the DOC camp here but realised too late that it is closed between Easter and Labour Weekend. Then we kicked ourselves for not having read the detail in our travel directory, but today it was a different story altogether. The gates to the camp were firmly closed with a sign explaining there was currently remedial work going on, except for a brief interlude over Labour Weekend, now past. We were not welcome.

We decided to park up in the car park from where walkers set off into this lovely patch of kauri forest, but found that too was barricaded off with similar signs. Even as we turned to leave, we encountered a Maui hired camper experiencing the same disappointment, and then as we exited the area via the gravel road up through Donnelley’s Crossing, two more campervans; more foreign tourists hoping to explore this part of the kauri coast. Arriving back on the main road, we noted the signs directing the travellers off the main route to Trounson Park which did not warn that business was not as usual. Shame on the Department of Conservation!

So on we drove, north though the Waipoua Forest, up and down the winding steep roads, past Tane Mahuta, but not stopping today. Then down into the lovely Waimamaku valley, then up and over the last ridge before the descent to Omapere and Opononi on the southern shore of the Hokianga Harbour. We stopped at the Omapere Foodmarket and bought decadent ice-creams from the Indian couple sitting calmly behind the counter waiting for customers to arrive. They looked as if they would have been more comfortable sitting behind a desk in a medical practice or standing over an operating table. Alas there are so many immigrants in this country, over qualified for the tasks they do on a daily basis, their qualifications not recognised here in New Zealand.

Just days ago we had downloaded the NZMCA app and today we played about with it finding a small camping spot just beyond these two holiday settlements, four kilometres off the main road which takes the traveller east toward Highway One. Years ago we had checked out the loop road around past Koutu Point although Chris had no memory of this. Today we were both delighted to find this well mown grassy area on a small peninsula jutting out into the harbour  across from the extensive sand dunes, which offer adventurous folk tobogganing, and where we were welcome to stay for $10 per van. 

Our view at Koutu Point, had we stayed

Comments on the app-site suggested that the host was a pot-head, that the long drop toilet was beyond the pale and that the tariff was exorbitant for such a complete lack of facilities. We arrived with nil-expectations and were pleasantly surprised. The one toilet was acceptable, however the camp is best suited for self-contained vehicles. There is no water except all that in the sea, easily accessible. The host was nowhere to be seen, but there was a notice asking we place our money in the hole in the wall of the container on site. We learned from a couple of women sitting in a car listening to music while enjoying their surroundings, that the land is family owned and I personally salute them for making their land available to campers. Always exhibiting efficiency and honesty, I promptly placed the required fee in an envelope with our name, date and registration and “posted” it in the wall.

We settled into out spot, turned the television off and caught up with the CNN news, horrified at the election results unfolding before us and the rest of the world. Chris started to prepare dinner and suddenly found we had no water. Actually we had full water tanks but the pump mechanism had given up. We pulled contents out of cupboards looking for fuse boxes, but found no quick fix. We would have to move to a fully serviced motorcamp; back to Opononi?

On the same little magic app, I found the Kaikohe A&P Showgrounds has recently opened its arms to members of the NZMCA, offering water and toilets. Forty kilometres further seemed little after all the extra mileage we had travelled today as our destination had been amended over and over. So we came on, driving through the township of Kaikohe and on to these showgrounds, finding our parking space immaculate although still a work in progress. Showers will be on offer at some time in the future but for now we are just so happy to be able to have water to fill our jerry cans. We called a member who lives in the region for suggestions of a fix here locally; we will see if we can have the problem repaired here and so be able to continue on our little trip up north, rather than giving up and returning to Whangarei.

I did send my mother a text this evening, lamenting the fact that the gods obviously had it in for us, them and us, as evidenced by all these little obstacles being placed in our way. This coupled with the triumph of Donald Trump surely is a sign? The approaching apocalypse?

6 November 2016 - Whangarei Central Holiday Park, Whangarei, Northland

We have been back from our wonderful travels around the UK for just over three weeks now. The first was spent just getting back on our feet, or more correctly, our wheels. The motorhome’s COF had expired and the Isuzu which our friends had so kindly stored under a cover in the corner of their garden, needed attention. 

Travelling north from the Waikato where our motorhome had been stored to our official place of residence, we encountered electronic problems with our very smart Mercedes base vehicle which prompted us to overnight (in the futile hope the problem would disappear in the interim) at the Wenderholme Regional Park. There is a silver lining to most clouds and this was no exception. We had often stayed  here en route north or south, but this time we found it less busy than usual, possibly because of the residual flooding all about, however the bellbirds and tuis were as wonderfully vocal at dawn, the pukekos as comical as ever and the canopy of pohutakawas as old friends waiting to be dressed in the summer crimson finery. We nursed the vehicle all the way back to Whangarei where the dealers soon had the problem sorted. I say “soon” but actually the fix did require us to sit about their very smart waiting area drinking expressos, eating grapes and bananas, whiling the time away chatting with other motorhomers who were in for the very same reason.

We caught up with our three children and their families, albeit so very briefly, and then in a more leisurely manner, my parents whose lives are far less frantic than those of their grandchildren. 

I was lucky, or unlucky enough, depending on your view, to have my name drawn from the ballot box to serve on the jury, not just that which requires you to gather with eighty others on a stated day, but part of the narrowed down elite. Jury duty is something most of us would prefer to avoid, and while the case I sat on was as harrowing and hideous as any other, we had the satisfaction of arriving at a verdict that met with the judge’s approval.

Back in the capital of this northern province, we spent several days out at Parua Bay, perched on the hillside overlooking the bay, surrounded by the tui-populated totara trees. While our mower man had kept the grassed area in check, the weeds had crept in on the edges and needed to be attacked. The cabbage tree leaves had spread their woven mat over inconvenient areas so we were kept busy for several days restoring complete order. Bizarrely, in all the years our mower man has attended to the grassy expanse, we had never actually met him in person. He turned up one day while we were there, and I was rather horrified to find that he was not much younger than us, if at all. We now have the added concern that he will want to retire from the task sometime soon and we will have to find a replacement. We were better off not knowing! 

My civic duty and our personal maintenance requirements were better met by relocating to the city so we settled into this camping ground a couple of weeks ago, greeting the hosts, the regulars and the permanents like old friends. Here there are those past retirement age assisting with the ground maintenance or pursuing part-time careers as drivers off site. The young back packer types arrive either with their tents or their cars or their whizz-bank vans, thankfully here rather than the side of the road where they have apparently been fouling New Zealand’s clean green environment (hence Christchurch’s very recent bylaw change to regulate against “freedom campers”). This is an excellent camping ground in that it is reasonably priced and so centrally located, just walking distance from large supermarkets and the city centre, such as there is here in Whangarei.

Hair has been coloured, teeth scraped and cleaned and welded, bodily functions tested and medications adjusted, to name but a few of the more tedious tasks. New clothes have been bought, just because, even though there was really no need to jam the limited storage space of our mobile home with even more. Suitcases were unpacked and returned to their rightful owners, and souvenirs stowed under our house, our storage stash. Our tenant was alerted to the fact that we intended to head off again next year for the northern summer and they could count on a rollover of their lease.

And while all this business was being attended to, we took time to renew our acquaintance with the excellent library we have in Whangarei, admire the wonderful waterfront and just last night, patronise the public fire works with our Whangarei granddaughters and their parents. The pyrotechnics were as wonderful as the last time we attended, if not better, the local band that played in the build-up were excellent, although we were more attentive to our family and those that joined us, spreading their picnic rugs next to ours and sharing the picnic dinner.

But now all these little tasks and entertainments are complete, our feet are itchy once more. 

Tomorrow we are off again, up north to check out some of the lovely places we rediscovered eighteen months ago, although we have decided not to travel all the way to the top. I had been keen to walk part of that most northern track across the tip of the island in better climatic conditions, but from here it seems so very far away, and our real summer destination is to the south. This will only be an interlude.