22 March 2018 - Whangarei Central Holiday Park, Northland

Soon after breakfast the next morning, dozens upon dozens of horses arrived, by trailer or truck, in the company of their riders, both young and old. It was clear that if we did not make a move, we would soon be hemmed in by the equestrian types who were clearly not amused to have even fellow Kiwi tourists clutter their space.

It had also been made clear over breakfast that The Chauffeur was keen to check out the NZMCA’s newest park over property so we headed north up the east coast, retracing routes travelled over the past few days, on up through the lovely rural land which fringes the Bay of Islands, through surprisingly vibrant Kaeo and on north skirting the Whangaroa Harbour, the road essentially passing over the estuary. Soon we arrived at Mangonui, Coopers Beach where we picked up some morning tea calories, then Cable Bay where we parked up to consume them with thermos coffee.

Tokerau Beach lies on the northern shore of Doubtless Bay, en route to lovely Maitai Bay, the DOC camp we stayed at last year (or was it the previous?). We had never actually checked out the residential areas of the settlement at Tokerau Beach, so it was a plus that our Tomtom took us via the scenic route to our next camp.

Rangiputa on the Rangaunu Harbour

Arriving at the cleared section, now fenced and grassed and apparently ready for we gypsy members, we were horrified to see the state of the entry and wondered whether we would become bogged down once through the gate. Fortunately no such thing happened and this was probably more to do with the fact that I stayed well away from the driving operation; hysterical wives have little positive to contribute. And as we parked up next to the motorhome along the fence, who should we find ourselves next to but the van we had been too cosy with on that boggy camp at Rainbow Falls out of Kerikeri. How they must have cursed our arrival!

Totara North on the Whangaroa Harbour

That night the van was rocked and rolled by the buffeting winds coming in from the south east, and it was those same winds, worsened by rain that turned us away from Maitai Bay at the end of the peninsula the next morning. I had been keen to do a walk out to the point, however neither of us was inspired as we peered through the windscreen on arrival, nor encouraged to park up in the camping ground for our next night. It would seem that our DOC Pass would not be  used at all and the cost would have to be written off (by us) as pure donation.

Instead we backtracked down the Karikari Peninsula and turned into Rangiputa which sits on the southern edge of the large but shallow Rangaunu Harbour, near its entrance. Despite being New Zealand’s fifth largest harbour, covering 115 square kilometres, Rangaunu is not a familiar name to the average kiwi. In fact I am not even sure how to pronounce it. Sheltered from the winds we lingered beyond the surprisingly built up settlement, reading and just soaking up the atmosphere. Had we continued on a little way, we would have found a more expansive reserve to park up. When we did walk on through to the small point, we found other motorhomes had had the same idea as us; to hole up for the morning out of the inclement conditions.

We travelled south again to Taipa and stayed at a private park over property near the one lane bridge which is in the process of being replaced. Our hosts, an elderly couple who offer their guests an A4 sheet of all that is on offer as well as clearly spelling out their charges for various services (electricity, water, laundry), left us to set up and wander down to the rather dingy Foodmarket where we bought carrots at an inflated price. On the way back up the road we spotted the fish’n chip shop and decided to shout ourselves greasies for dinner, thus making the expensive carrots temporarily superfluous.

Morning tea at Pia Pia Reserve

The next morning saw us again retracing our route, south through Cable Bay, Coopers Beach, detouring around through charming Mangonui, although not so charming in the wind swept drizzle.  Further south at the north end of the Whangaroa Harbour we turned east and drove out to Totara North, nowadays a very small settlement, a community hall, a bar and café, a derelict sawmill, a boat ramp and wharf, these latter two offering the most activity. There were two significant fishing vessels tied up here along with a large ocean-worn yacht which will be paying $30 a day for the privilege of sharing the wharf with the industrious.

Totara North is a small settlement on the northern side of Whangaroa Harbour. It is home to around two hundred close-knit residents and has a primary school with 38 pupils, a community hall and gardens, The Gum Store bar and cafe, a now derelict timber mill, a wharf, a shed for crayfish processing and a boat ramp.

Mature puriri at Waimate North

 The steep bush-clad hills of this northern side of the harbour tumble almost all the way into the sea and offer little flat land on which a town could grow, but prior to the 1990's when the last privately-owned kauri trees were milled, Totara North's proximity to the sea, the kauri trees and kauri gum fields, allowed it to exploit its nearby kauri forests and to become a thriving and prosperous community and a hub of commercial activity and enterprise in Northland.

In the 1870s a couple of boat builders set up shop here and turned out wooden boats and ships up to 350 tons for all over the southern hemisphere, using the local kauri and hardwood timbers. By the end of that century Lane & Brown employed about a hundred men and had built over seventy vessels. The enterprise obviously brought other business to the settlement; a school, boarding houses, stores, a bakery, a rope works, a brickworks and a post office.

These days the old mill belongs to Te Runanga o Whaingaroa, and until recently this Maori administrative body  used what remains of the shed to house carved waka, hardly a safe and secure spot for treasured craft.

 We wandered about for a while before setting out once more, but soon turned off Highway 10 onto a secondary road that further hugs the very beautiful but rugged coastline. This winding road is all sealed, and is certainly steeper than the more inland route, but offers splendid views, We stopped at Wainui, parking above the sea at the Pia Pia Reserve. From here the bay lay out before us, the waves washing into toward the rocky pohutakawa clad shore. What a glorious sight this must be in December when they are in full bloom! 

Quirky street furniture in Kawakawa

Further south we gave Matauri Bay a miss although we did pause for a photo opportunity on the road high above the bay. This is one of the jewels of the coastline, however we would rather remember it as it was the first time we drove in and stayed. Then the road was rougher, but did not take one past the hovels the locals live in and there were no signs restricting the tourist to parking areas from which no views can be enjoyed. Then too there was no residential development, if roadways and infrastructure without construction can be called “residential development”. All of this stalled several years ago, when there was strife between hapu members. Goodness knows the situation now, but from high on the hill it looked as if folk like us had all decided to leave the locals to it. There is still a sign indicating a motor camp down there, so I guess others might well discover a very different story if they bothered to venture down the steep access. And my comments here will be doing the locality no favours.

A rugged coastline

The weather was still dodgy, but we still had days free before another round of appointments and some new work required of which we learned as we came into cellphone contact again. After refuelling at Whakapapa near Kerikeri, we headed inland to the Bay of Islands P&I Showgrounds at Waimate North again; a tried and true refuge, with power, toilets, musical magpies, swooping hawks and swifts, and a herd of curious calves.

The next morning after a particularly peaceful night, we headed back to Kaikohe, on now all too familiar roads, this mid-North having become our temporary stamping ground. In the “metropolis” we stocked up at Countdown which offered fair prices and an inferior ambiance to the New World just up the street. But well satisfied with our shopping , we headed next to the dump where we spent a rather lengthy time chatting with a honey-mooning couple from Exeter, keen to learn the ins and outs of emptying a full toilet cassette. In the end, I suggested we leave them to the rest of their sanitation requirements because they had only five weeks (less the days it had taken to fill the aforesaid cassette) ahead of them to see the rest of New Zealand.

Lunchtime views at Bland Bay

We headed east again, this time to Kawakawa, home of the famous Hunterwasser toilets, which we took the opportunity to use. This visit I was more concerned about slipping on the wet tiles than enjoying the quirky and colourful architecture, however that said, one should never miss the opportunity to relieve oneself here if passing through. 

As we toured south onto Highway 11, which would normally take one back up to Paihia, we were accosted by several road workers whose sole occupation was to turn back such travellers. The road across the hill to Opua was temporarily closed by a slip which meant those heading through to Paihia would have to back track to Puketona and travel in from there. I can only hope that few touring foreigners have been discouraged from checking out that lovely area by the road closure.

Bounty of the sea awaiting the fillet knife

However we were intending otherwise, to head across to the coast east  of the Bay of Islands without relying on the Opua ferry. To do this one must travel on a very windy gravel road up across the edge of the Russell Forest, through the rather isolated Maori communities of Karetu and Waikere, each of these situated up marshy estuaries of the Bay. Once one reaches the sealed Russell Road, turns easterly and then south down the coast, the rewards are well worth this inferior connecting  road, although there are few spots to pull over and admire the views of the churning sea and the rugged and rocky coastline. We were keen to stop for lunch well before our day’s destination, but were not able to do so until we reached Bland Bay on the Whangaruru Peninsula, just kilometres short of our night’s camp. This is however a delightful spot and we dined with views out to the open sea beyond the small sheltered bay, and observed the oyster catchers and other tourists over lunch, both great entertainment.

From the path to Picnic Bay

As we came down the steep hill into DOC’s Puriri Bay camp, we were astounded at the number of camping parties there, given that we are at the end of summer. The camp is now a well-manicured, sculptured  and managed arrangement, where the guests come after having reserved their ‘pods’ on-line and we were lucky to secure a spot just one row back from the beach, without following normal procedure. Rules and regulations and regimes rather spoil what was a fabulous wild camping spot, but then it was 2005 whan we were last here.

This is a “scenic” camp which means there are on-site managers, toilets, cold showers, rubbish and recycling facilities, and of course, beautiful scenery. Most of those set up along the shore line were NZMCA members with DOC passes, maximising their 14 day allowance, well set up with kayaks and fishing gear, and sharp filleting knives to prepare their healthy evening dinner. We were delighted to be presented with a bag of filleted fresh snapper from one fisherman, surplus to their storage facilities and better on our table than flung back into the sea. But apart from watching the fishing activities of these frugal folk, the kayaking antics of a group of school girls and the coming and going of campers and wildlife, the rabbits and stray dogs, and the views across the sheltered harbour, we did little during our two day stay. 

Views down to DOC's Puriri Bay Camp

One morning we walked across to Picnic Bay, then climbed up to a couple of vantage points to take photos, and to pretend to be “active”, but most of our time was spent reading and relaxing. This was after all supposed to be a little holiday, although in truth the greater part of our life is one long holiday.

This morning we broke camp before 8 am and headed back to Whangarei, accompanied for a while by the Whangaruru school bus, around the head of the harbour, past the turnoff to Oakura, on past Mokau and Helena Bay, then up the problematic Helena Bay Hill, a nightmare for those whose job it is to keep roads open through the winter months. Soon we were back out on Highway One, heading south. We called into Waro Lake at Hikurangi, which has become a popular spot for whizz-bang camper types to overnight.  

The lake and surrounding land is a refashioned limestone quarry, which over the past few years has become a most attractive reserve offering walks and a peaceful layby.  Once before we used the clean waters of the lake to wash off the road grime, and then ended up with lime residue all over the van surface. I did remind The Chauffeur of this, however he preferred to deal with the aftermath rather than drive the motorhome into the city in its filthy state. And that is how we came to arrive looking so clean and shiny after having travelled many kilometres on gravel road.

Waro Lake

So here we are back in Whangarei to deal with those pesky issues that have managed to catch up with us even on the road, to dine with friends who we have so long neglected and sadly to attend a funeral , albeit of an aged and ill relative by marriage. On a happier note we will attend our youngest granddaughter’s afternoon tea tomorrow; it will be delightful to catch up with Aurelia, her little friends and of course her family.

16 March 2018 - Kaikohe A&P Showgrounds, Northland

Another month has passed with little to interest a traveller. We have spent the intervening weeks settled into life with fellow gypsies at the Whangarei Central Holiday Park, dealing further with property maintenance issues which further raises the question as to whether ‘tis better to be poor and investment free, relying solely on the goodwill of the government’s charity. My mother’s health issues have improved only marginally, although I am at this point in time more comfortable with the fact that we are heading off shore again for a lengthy absence within the next two months.  

We did venture south for a long weekend to visit our daughter and her family in Waihi Beach, again making use of the hospitality of the RSA Club perched on the hill above the village. My husband spent the greater part of the two days assisting with landscape work, while I attended to the more mundane chores of kitchen and laundry, all finishing our evenings with over-full bellies and heads that were less clear than they should have been. 

On our return north on the Monday we caught up with our youngest son in Takapuna, where he descended from his high-rise office to lunch with us in our humble home-on-wheels and share his life’s ups and downs in a more frank manner than he could when he was younger. This is one of the bonuses of having adult children; they eventually realise that nothing they do can shock the parents because they, the parents have experienced it all before too. They start to understand that the “words of wisdom” imparted during those formative years were wise after all.

Ex-cyclone Hola passed down the eastern side of the North Island, with less force than prophesied, but then one should never dismiss the warnings of the weather geeks. We did spend a whole day holed up in our motorhome, peering out at those less fortunate than ourselves but none requiring our assistance. However we were still able to head off as originally planned on our short sojourn around the north of the province. 

Walking through Trounson Kauri Park

After dropping our car off at my parents, a trial run for the six months storage they have offered while we are away in the UK, we headed westward toward Dargaville, lunching beside the Wairoa River before heading north thirty kilometres or more to Trounsen Park. The Chauffeur had expressed a desire to stay at the DOC Camp and I was happy to go along with that, although I had been thinking it would be nice to detour to Kai-iwi Lakes and swim in the shallow waters, hopefully warmed by the many months of summer. However when push came to shove, and when we charged past the turnoff and he asked if I still wanted to go, I could see that the idea was one sided and the skies were still dim with the residue of the ex-cyclone, and did I really want to swim?

So we carried on north up through the Kaihu Valley turning off toward the 450 hectare Trounson Kauri Park, which had been cordoned off to the public when we had last passed through. When we did drive into the camping ground, sporting our NZMCA / DOC Pass and considered that we would pay the difference between the non-electric and the electric, just $3 per person, we thought we had better read through our Pass conditions once more. The small print revealed that this park was excluded all year rather than just the peak summer holiday period, which meant we would be up for $36 for one night (with power). Looking at the facilities (or the lack thereof) we decided that this was a total rip-off and drove around to the day visitor park instead.

One of the dying giants

From here we walked about the forest circuit, now a single route, allowing for no deviation. The kauri die-back disease, more correctly the pathogen named phytophthora agathidicida, has been slowly attacking New Zealand’s giant trees. It was only discovered in 2009 and it must have been soon after that we first saw reports of it on DOC signs about the country. It affects the roots of the tree and for that reason, the custodians of the forests, the DOC and Regional Park wombles, would prefer to exclude the public from the forests entirely. The compromise is to limit the number of public tracks through the vulnerable areas, and have those walkers who do persist with their activities, to wash and brush their boots with special cleaning products. 

While I have sat outside the growing commentary making scoffing comments of my own, our wander through the Trounson Forest brought home to us how serious the problem really is and it was with great sadness we observed the number of dead and dying kauri within view of the path.

Views up the Hokianga Harbour

The walk through Trounson is quite lovely and I realised too that it was many years since we had actually come through here. There is a huge variety of flora throughout but I was most aware of the kauri, of course, the kiekie, the nikau and pungas. Fantails flitted about and tuis and bellbirds called from high up in the canopy.

A quiet night at the Kaikohe Showgrounds

Back on the road, we continued north through Donnelly’s Crossing on gravel road, emerging at the southern edge of the Waipoua Forest, and followed the Twin Coast highway through the same, navigating the twists and turns of the slow sealed road from where we could see more of those grand trees denuded of their vegetation, skeletons awaiting the next violent storm for their last hurrah.

We did not stop to see Tane Mahuta, the largest kauri tree in the country; it seemed there were plenty of other tourists to ooh and aah as we have done so often in the past. On we went until we came up over Pakia Hill from where one has marvellous views over the Hokianga Harbour and across to the expansive sand dunes. Just below the summit we turned toward the coast on a short road out to Arai – Te – Uru Recreation Reserve, site of an old Signal Station over the harbour entrance. A short walk out to an elevated point offers even better views than those from the top of Pakia Hill and I was glad we had made the detour.

Rainbow Falls

We returned to the main highway, if “highway” it can be called, and continued eastwards along the southern reaches of the Hokianga, past numerous Maori settlements, as close to one another as English villages are, and most of these here watched over by little white steepled wooden churches, their porches at one end and roofs so red as to suggest regular maintenance.

We spent the first night of this little trip parked up on power at the Kaikohe A&P Grounds, an excellent posse made available to financial members of the NZMCA all for the modest fee of $10 per night. We found ourselves alone, which for some travellers in this area, especially those familiar with the crime and dependency so pervasive in this part of the north, might be a problem. We reckoned the proximity to Ngwha Prison was probably a deterrent to would be mischief makers.

Wharepoke Falls below the Kerikeri River

Our following days turned into a history pilgrimage, following the advent of Christianity in New Zealand and the lives and times of the Maori who were subjected to this. I have been to the Bay of Islands many times over my life, and to many of the historical sites we visited this time round. I have also read both fiction and non-fiction about these times, but perhaps it is only now that I no longer have to retain so much extra in my head to provide a living, that I am able to collate and understand better the history of my own country.

Kerikeri Basin

Over three days we visited the Stone Store and Kemp House in Kerikeri, Pompallier House in Russell and Te Waimate Mission at Waimate North. There are two other places that should be included in such a task: Mangungu Mission on the Hokianga open only through the summer months and Rangihoua Heritage Park where Samuel Marsden’s first missionary onslaught began and ended soon after, now a series of information signs on a wide expanse of bare land.

Kemp House

At Kerikeri, we stayed at the NZMCA’s own park over property and found it busy with fellow members, all lightly packed into one small corner of the large area. The ground was boggy and ready to entrap foolish vanners. As a result we spent the night parked up far too close to our neighbour than I like.

But from this wonderful camp adjacent to the Rainbow Falls, we walked the four and a half kilometres down to the Kerikeri Basin where we were then able to enjoy New Zealand Heritage’s treasures, all freely accessible to us when we waved our English Heritage membership cards. The guide and the museum were wonderful and it was well on in the afternoon that we extracted ourselves and headed back up the river to camp. As a result we arrived late home and ate our own versions of BLATs for dinner, washed down with a good bottle of red. 

Sailing from Paihia

At Paihia we caught the ferry to Russell; lunch packed in the backpack, in training for our imminent return to the UK, and joined a midday tour of Pompellier House. We were too early, so climbed up the hill through the lovely gardens and sat eating our sandwiches with superb views out over the bay. 

After yet another excellent history lesson, we made our way through Russell and found ourselves in the thick of the BDO Tour of Northland, a cycle race made up of four stages making up a north-west-south-east circuit of about 250 kilometres from Whangarei to Whangarei. We watched as many of the almost three hundred contestants came in over the finish line, each contestant with their name and age group spelled out on a “bum-bag” arrangement, confirming the entrants to be aged from fit youth to fit young over-70 year olds. As we sat eating our ice-creams, nursing our gout and dodgy backs, we considered ourselves decidedly inferior specimens of the human race.

Peaceful Russell

The ferry back was laden down with tourists and cycling contestants, and piles of bikes both fore and aft.  Paihia would be busy that night even if the revelry might end earlier and less drunkenly than with other like-minded crowds. We decided not to stay in town, even though the car park of the RSA probably would have been available to us. Instead we headed out to Waimate North, west of Paihia and backtracking some of the morning’s route. We set up camp at the Bay of Islands Pastoral & Industrial Showground, amid expanses of green and a multitude of mature trees.  As with the Kaikohe Showground we paid the modest fee of $10 for the privilege of peace and power. Here it was the magpies that woke us in the morning with their melodious song, although never as melodious as their Australian cousins.

We found the Georgian Mission house just up the road, most impressive; Chris particularly taken with the smoothness of the pit sawn kauri interior walls. In fact he wandered about the whole place, including the cellar, amazed at the workmanship. It was interesting to learn that Charles Darwin spent the Christmas of 1835 at this model farm and mission station in the heart of this Ngapuhi land. However he would not have found it to be as attractive ten years later when the retreating British forces came through and caused mayhem and desecration.

Pompallier House

Off-loading cycles and cyslists

Over those educational days we learnt more about how the position the missionaries, both Anglican and Catholic, was considered by the “natives” who were more interested in learning about the world beyond these South Pacific shores and how quickly they could stock pile firearms in return for sacks of potatoes, with a view to blowing the heads off their enemies. That latter statement actually demeans the grasp of the written language and of English the Maori were so motivated to master, and master they did. That crop of New Zealanders, albeit a bloodthirsty lot, were a whole lot smarter and ambitious than those that may or may not have completed the census a couple of weeks ago.

Did I mention the census? Probably not. Earlier this month we had both the obligation and opportunity to complete the countries five yearly census, and this time we were here to take part. (last time we were part of the grey nomads drifting about Australia). Of course the census is very important, not least of all to keen genealogists such as myself who use past documents to understand those that came before. It is also a tool here (and no doubt in most countries) to ascertain the health and other social services required to cater for the aging and growing population. This year there has been a push for the census to be completed on-line, easy enough for us and even my parents who are fast approaching ninety. But for many languishing in the remote corners of Northland, who choose to spend their welfare surpluses on dope and other mind numbing substances, instead of joining the modern digital age, they will not be counted and we will be short changed on hospital beds. We will cry out in frustration when our day arrives, forgetting it was all our own fault.

Waimate Mission House

And continuing on a note of lament, news of the Syrian War continues. It was seven years ago when I started my travelling blogs and made mention of this and still nothing has changed! Is it any wonder we tend to shut off from the horrors of the world? But this has also been the week that Stephan Hawkins and Ken Dodd died. What a strange and various world we live in.

But back to our own gypsy life, we are once more back at the Kaikohe Showgrounds, this time in the company of five other vans; safety in numbers so they say. The weather forecast for the next week is not great but we do not need to be back in Whangarei for another six days. I guess we will decide which ways to steer the motorhome wheels over breakfast tomorrow morning.