Before I started this I checked to see when I had last
posted on this blog, and was surprised to see it was way back in May when we
were still out camped on Jumbo. Of course I should not have been so because our
lives since then have revolved around restoring The Big House to our standard
of liveable, or re-let, because even
now, all balls remain in the air; such is our life.
Our tenant moved out, the process stretching out longer than
her intention, namely because she was intent on leaving it as clean as
possible, and this she did to her credit. The agent came to do the inspection
and we waved her away, still basking in the understanding we had had an
exemplary tenant for the past eight years. Even in the first days after we
parked our motorhome back up beside the house, our only gripe was the about the
missing garage door openers, which were subsequently replaced, the cost being
deducted from the tenant’s bond. But that was only the start of it all.
We knew the carpets were worn in places, but had no idea as
to the extent. Together with the threadbare state and stains that would not
come out, the carpet was in desperate need of replacement. We pulled it all up
and continued out work on bare floors for the ensuing months. The front door
lock functioned only intermittently and so what with that and the lack of
garage door openers, entry to the house became somewhat problematic. Window
catches were either missing or unusable, light bulbs were missing, the multi-bulb
light fittings reduced to one probably in an attempt to save power.
Lounge floors
sagged and were found to have rotted out from water damage. The cupboards in
the garage were waterlogged from on-going water ingress. Catches and hinges on
the kitchen cabinetry had worn out and not been attended to, rendering the doors
unable to close. The big trees in the back yard were in serious promise of
falling and the garden shed had undergone damage from adventurous children
clambering on the roof to climb those dodgy trees. Shower mixers were difficult
to use, and so the list went on… and on, and on. We were up for serious repairs!
And so we worked away for four months, and have continued on
but at a more reduced state, my poor able husband having worn himself out. My
own contributions have been more as dogsbody and errand “boy”, although I was
quite handy when it came to taking the carpet up and loading and unloading the
many trips to the tip as we disposed of old cabinetry and the like.
At the end of September we decided that after all our effort;
we absolutely could not face re-letting the house, notified the agency of our
decision and have since been shopping for new furniture, another costly and
confusing exercise.
Thus is my excuse for not having posted and for having
little to contribute in the way of travel reports. However we have taken a few
days out here and there, albeit so very minimally, giving the motorhome a bit
of a run to remind it that it is not just a residence for hard workers but
mobile accommodation for the travel minded.
One sunny day, and there have been few of them, we headed
out to Marsden Point on the southern point of the Whangarei Harbour. This is where New Zealand’s only oil refinery
is situated and it is this refinery that put Whangarei on the map. Certainly the city, declared as such in 1964,
had been Northland’s service centre since the latter part of the 19th
century, but when I moved here in 1983, it was still a quiet backwater with
about 40,000 inhabitants.
Construction of the refinery began in 1962 and it became operational
two years later. Nine years later, the government helped fund a $160 million
expansion. Then in 1981, during Prime Minister Muldoon’s Think Big years and
the subsequent spinoff, there was further expansion which included a 170
kilometre pipeline to Wiri in South Auckland.
The project was plagued with strikes, and then in 1985, the refinery
shut down for five months for maintenance of the old refinery. A year later
everything was ready to go again after a total cost of $1.84 billion. Many of
the people I first met and mixed with, including my brother-in-law, were
involved in that shutdown, so the refinery’s existence was certainly upper most
in my mind. I remember my young son being taken out onto the job one day with
his uncle; those were the days when health and safety regulations were more
relaxed.
Later, much more recently, the adjacent establishment of
Northland Port, mainly focused on timber exporting, was developed, and that and
the side industries were very much part of our clientele when I was still
working.
So this is a very significant part of our regional raison-d’etre,
and so it is worthy of checking out from time to time. Alas the little parking
spot at the end of the road, where self-contained motorhomes are most welcome
to stay overnight, is not level. I guess that if you were intent on staying,
you would use every levelling block in your store and possibly reach an acceptable horizontal, unless you are as we are, paranoid about upsetting the workings of
the gas fridge. 
However for us we reached an acceptable spot for a morning
tea spot, to consume the amazingly tasty and generous pastries we had purchased
at a ridiculously expensive price at the big Highway One crossroads, more specifically
the Italian Bakery. This excellent
bakery, (excellent if you have an Auckland price mentality) sells its wares
that are baked back down the road at Kaiwaka. Apparently in the latter months of
my father’s life, he and his son-in-law, used to pull in there for decadent
pies, refusing to acknowledge that such mega-calories are inappropriate for
morning snacks. I guess that for my father in the latter weeks of his
semi-mobile life, this was irrelevant; not so for my brother-in-law who spends
his life fighting his genetic makeup.
At the end of the road, we thus dined decadently with our cups
of instant coffee, then walked out toward the jetties that serve the ships
refilling their fuel tanks. The wild flowers along the way were absolutely
delightful, particularly the fragrant freesias which I picked and subsequent
forgot, leaving in the camper sink.
This part of the harbour is now subject to a rahui established last year to protect
all shellfish species, although fishing and surfcasting sit outside this cultural
tapu. It also discourages vehicles
from being driven on the beach in the area as it impacts on the rejuvenation of
the shellfish and destroys habitat. (A rahui,
a Maori concept is a form of tapu
restricting access to, or use of, an area or restrict by the kaitiakitanga of the area.) This is a
most effective conservational measure without passing police-able laws.
As for us who were not interested in gathering shellfish,
running our toy-dog through the habitat of shorebirds, or any other such
destructive behaviour, the restriction had no impact. As we walked westward along the
edge of the Whangarei Harbour, we were more taken with the mass of gulls who
were gathering in an area inside the security fenced refinery area. I have never seen such an intense gathering
apart from perhaps the gannet colony at Muriwai.
From here on looms directly across the harbour to Reotahi,
where an old friend of mine lives and still to this day, I believe, commutes
across the harbour in his small fishing boat to salvage logs inadvertently lost
over the side of ships as they are loaded for export to far off lands. And
above Reotahi, stands the impressive craggy heights of Mount Aubrey, as imposing
although not as high as Mount Manaia and Bream Head a little further east.
From here we travelled up the harbour a little to Marsden
Cove Marina, an on-going work in progress by Hopper Development since a date
they don’t advertise on their website because the massive delays are no doubt
nothing to celebrate. Despite the delay in the extensive locked canal system
and the residential development, there is a world class 23 berth Marina capable
of accommodating vessels up to thirty five metres in length, 80
tonnes and multihulls up to a 12 metres beam, complete with customers’ services,
fuel dock, retail facilities (most importantly the café) and a public boat
ramp. It is worth checking out on a short detour from the main road north, as
is the Refinery Information Centre if you are not familiar with the workings of
such operations.
At the Marina, we set off for a walk along the footpath
above the marina berth, a pastime my husband absolutely loves, given that he
would probably be happier on a boat than in a motorhome with his marine-averse
wife, but the wind was unpleasant and we soon returned to our refuge.
And so ended our days outing to the other side of the
harbour.
More exciting was our short trip sown to the annual Hamilton
Motorhome Show at Mystery Creek. Neither of us had ever attended any event at
Mystery Creek, and so the attraction was double edged. The most well-known event here is the annual
Agricultural Fielddays for which it was originally established. The 114 hectares property
was setup to cater for industry leading events, namely agriculture, but more
recently the annual motorhome show.
The Field Days event was set up in 1968, and the first event held at the
Te Rapa Racecourse in Hamilton. The site was purchased in 1970 and has become a
nationwide recognised even ever since, although I have to say that when I was
living the wild days of my first-independence in Hamilton in the early 1970s, I
was not aware of its existence, despite having come from a farming background;
obviously more important things on my mind.
This year was our first, and we were astounded at the turnout, not only
of the visitors, both daily and multi-day, but more those who chose to stay at
the venue, for the modest fee of $5 for the entire show. Obviously our show
entry was on top of that.
My husband loves such shows, and I do too, for the first day. He can
spend day after day after day, combing through every exhibit and then all over again;
me not so much. However our main objective was to check out electric bikes and
gather all the information any would be buyers should have before making such a
massive investment, because they are seriously expensive.
The first day we encountered an excellent salesman, who had us trial out
a series of e-bikes, an exercise more important than any of you can imagine, given
my terror of riding a bike. I did fall off at one point but was otherwise captivated.
Apart from that I was simply (or not-so-simply) bamboozled by all the
information and conflicting advice we were given. I was very glad we came away
with the purchase of e-bikes still a futuristic thought bubble.
However we did come away with an appointment to call on motorhome battery
and solar power experts at Silverdale.
So we did call upon them on our way north, coming away with much needed new and
upgraded batteries. Leaving their workshop after bleeding our bank account, we
came north via the Wenderholme Regional Park and lunched in one of our favourite en
route spots. It’s a lovely spot to stay and play, and equally just to pop into for
a break from the road and refuel the body, before heading north on the road
back to Whangarei.