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?