The Land of the Very Long Dark Cloud
Trip Start
Nov 08, 2003
1
46
74
Trip End
Oct 22, 2004
Where I stayed
Auckland and chunks of the North Island,
New Zealand
Wednesday, September 1, 2004
It was the first of the month but sadly our last few hours in Australia as a 7.30am shuttle bus took us to the airport in time for our early flight to Auckland. It was a short hop across The Ditch to The Land of the Long White Cloud, but one that was going to be delayed due to a late incoming flight.
Our 9.30am departure time was eventually put back to 10.45am and as we crossed the Tasman Sea in clear skies a bank of cloud could be seen in the distance ready to greet us as we entered Kiwi airspace. It was our first experience of Air New Zealand and was a pretty good one on the whole: nice new aircraft with no loose bolts, delicious hot breakfast with bucks fizz, polite middle-aged flight attendants and lots of legroom thanks to the brunette's persuasive powers in bagging us a couple of emergency exit seats. It was seventy degrees when we left Sydney but as we descended into Auckland we were hit by a breezy late fifties
Don raring to go
.We were being met at the airport by Soph's dad and his better half Norma who had somehow followed our tracks with the help of Interpol and found us on the other side of the world, and now they had hunted us down they were to spend three weeks in New Zealand themselves. They had already been waiting a couple of hours because of the delayed flight so we were eager to zip through customs with nothing to declare except our undying love for each other (sorry, red wine talking again), but on seeing the queues at passport control it was clear another hour's wait was on the cards. We'd never seen such a queue in all our travelling days as the line for non-Kiwis weaved its way back a good mile. Immigration officials cleverly impersonated hairdressers and wiled away their time having lovely chinwags with their foreign visitors before finally stamping their passports and after an hour queueing we were ready to blow, I mean, just let us all through please, you've only got 4 million people in your country as it is, another two hundred won't matter!
One hour and twenty minutes passed and we were finally allowed into the country after a quick rundown of the sights and an invitation to tea. The al-Qaeeda must have less trouble.
Hells Gate
Don and Norma were still there waiting to pounce on the fugitives as firstly Soph was enveloped in an inescapable daddy-bearhug while I tried to make a run for it but was spun around and put in a cuddly half-nelson by Norma, and before long tears of joy were flowing as Don and Norma realised their eight months of investigations had proved successful.
We'd pre-arranged a hire car and after a quick phonecall to Apex a van appeared at the terminal to take us to the depot and soon we were on our way in a rented Toyota Corolla through a wet Auckland evening to the Jet Inn Motel a five-minute drive from the airport.
The Jet Inn was a really nice $100 a night motel disguised as a 5-star hotel and after dumping our rucsacs in the room it was down to the bar to sample New Zealand brews, and after catching up on what we'd all been up to over the past months it was time for the best meal we've all ever had in a hotel restaurant, or any restaurant come to think of it, with steak, scallops, duck, fish accompanied by a superb South Island red to wash it all down with.
2/7
On waking up it was on with the TV just in time to see Greece score the winning goal against the Czech Republic in Euro
How Cool do we look?
. Greece couldn't possibly win it . . . could they? For people living on the other side of the world these kick-off times have proved ridiculous, didn't the organisers consider the 200 football fans living in Australasia? It's just plain bad organisation.After a nice cooked breakfast in the motel Soph and I had prearranged plans to drive to the Bay of Plenty to track down some more people, who like us, thought that they could get away from annoying relatives by hiding on the other side of the globe. How wrong they were as well.
While Don and Norma went off to explore Auckland we made tracks south along State Highway 1 under strangely pale blue skies (lack of ozone layer?) that soon clouded over to dump a monsoon onto us. Just as soon as the rain came the sun came back with a vengeance before the rain once more had the last say. It was all very odd and although it's said that English weather can be like four seasons in one day, well New Zealand was showing us four seasons in one hour.
When we had reached the town of Bombay it was time to hang a left onto State Highway 2, straightforward road names, that's what we like. We bypassed the city of Tauranga and after 240km we were entering 'the kiwifruit capital of the world', Te Puke (pronounced Tee Pookey), and it was refreshing that after looking at the map book we had travelled a sizeable chunk of New Zealand without breaking into a sweat unlike the country where we'd just come from where 240km would have equated to a trip to the corner shop while being tailgated by an Aussie in a day-glo pickup truck the whole way
On our way across the ditch
. Already it was clear that Kiwis were much more courteous drivers than their flip-flop wearing neighbours and none more so than the lorry drivers who weren't constantly auditioning as stunt doubles for the next Mad Max movie. From the world's worst lorry drivers to the best in the space of a three-hour flight.It had rained a lot today which explained the rolling hills of lush green countryside associated with the Bay of Plenty region and the whole area had a 'Yorkshire' feel to it, so finding a couple of ex-Yorkies in deepest Te Puke wasn't a surprise. Pete and Becky are our long-lost, once-removed, twice-reproduced, thrice-underdone step-relatives on Soph's good side of the family. Everything clear?
We found a sign at the gates of their tiny seven-bedroom, three-bathroom, double-garaged bungalow that read "Haere Mai" which roughly translated as "Get Lost" but we put it behind us as we were greeted at the door by their son Lewis and their daughter Bethany who after just a couple of years on foreign soil had picked up the New Zealand accent perfectly and were now fluent in pronouncing their 'E's' as 'I's' and an enjoyable evening was had by all enjoying good home-cooking and South Island reds before relaxing in their three-acre lounge.
On the way to the stands
3/7
Behind rugby union, netball must be the biggest sport in determining the nation's mood, and after the Kiwi world champions had beaten the Aussies for the second time in a week live on prime-time TV last night the whole country woke up this morning in high spirits. So what better way to spend a Saturday morning than by going to watch grass-roots netball at Beth's local school.
About a hundred schoolgirls threw themselves around the tarmac courts looking for a pass as they tried to emulate Irene van Dyck (only been here three days and I already know the country's best player, sad) and Bethany had her eyes firmly on the ball which impressed her long-lost relatives as she gave girls twice her size the run around. By the end of the morning's games it was prize-giving and not surprisingly Beth had won the Player of the Day trophy in her team, and on return to the UK I'll be informing the English Netball Association that there's a certain little netball ace in Te Puke who's eligible to play for England one day. We can't have New Zealand having all the best netball players can we. Once we'd seen enough netball to last us a lifetime we were bidding farewell to the family of Anglo-Kiwis and we were on our way back to the Smoke.
Don and Norma were staying at a friend's apartment north of Auckland for a week so with the prospect of a week's free rent and a good base to explore the region we decided to join them. We drove north through Auckland and over a slightly less famous harbour bridge with views over to the SkyTower, the tallest building in the southern hemisphere, and after half an hour travelling north on SH1 we arrived at the retail outlet town of Silverdale which was our cue to turn right onto the Whangaparaoa Peninsula for the short drive to our swish lodgings for the week in Gulf Harbour
Pre Jet Boat
.Now, if I could have your attention for a second, the 'WH' order of letters is one that appears very often in the Maori language and is pronounced 'F', so Whangaparaoa is Fangaparaoa which leads to some unfortunate town names such as Whakapapa and Whakahoro. I'll leave it there, but don't whorget it.
We somehow found the fourth-floor apartment and were shown our room with ensuite bathroom by Don who was making himself at home with whisky in hand and slippers on feet. A large open plan lounge looked out over a marina, and beyond that was a view of Auckland in the distance. The place had all the mod-cons and a few old ones as well.
The evening was spent drinking barrels of wine until we were sloshed enough to discuss politics nonsensically until we all passed out.
4/7
Today we were driving towards the 'toes' of the country and the far north province of Northland
Straining under the weight
. The four of us headed north along State Highway 1 before hitting SH12 west through green and hilly English countryside and on to flat Dutch plains towards the Tasman Sea and the town of Dargaville. Dargaville was a big town and it was Sunday lunchtime which meant finding a nice atmospheric pub for a Sunday Roast. Easier said than done. Not one eatery was open except a quirky little café on the edge of town. It promised $12 (£4) roasts so in we marched looking for hot, crispy meat and three veg. What we received was cold pork and unidentifiable lukewarm veg, one of which we later identified as 'kumara', a stodgy sweet potato grown (too) excessively in these parts.
We ventured further north along the west coast towards the Waipoua Forest before turning back for home via a craggy windswept Baylys Beach. It had been a long day of 500km on the road so we stopped just north of home in the seaside town of Orewa for ultra-cheap curries and rice in the local Balti house.
5/7
Today we headed south through Auckland on the trusty State Highway 1 continuing south all the way to Hamilton and onwards through the quaint towns of Cambridge and Tirau where we turned off onto the 5 towards the hot and steamy town of Rotorua
Swing Low Sweet Chariot
.Rotorua is the North Island's most popular tourist destination with its lingering smell of rotten eggs (hydrogen sulphide) emanating from the town's thermal pools, the perfect excuse for my hyperactive bowels and as we approached the city we saw the 2,500-foot Mount Ngongotaha on our right, simply known to tourists as the location for Skyline Skyrides. A gondola (cable-car) ride takes you two-thirds of the way up for views across Rotorua and its lake. Ordinarily, a nice cable-car ride with a view would be enough but this one had the added benefit of a luge ride to boot, and once at the top we each bought a couple of tickets.
These weren't luges in the lying-down-flat Winter Olympics sense, but little plastic go karts with chopper handlebars and clever braking systems. The three of us queued for our ride looking ultra-cool in our crash helmets while Norma watched from the grandstand and soon we were heading down the 2km scenic route along a concrete pathway admiring the view. When I say all of us I mean all of us except Don who was roaring off down the slope against the clock with no intention of taking in the stunning vista. The only scenery Don had eyes for was the approach to the next bend and the person in front of him who was soon going to be engulfed in his displaced air as he pulled out of their slipstream and passed up the inside
The brunette at the gates of Hell
.We found Don in the pits at the bottom of the hill checking his lap time and sharpening his competitive edge and a chairlift took us back to the top of the hill where we decided to tackle the shorter, steeper intermediate course and once we were settled into our seats we turned around and Stirling Moss was off again. After a few hundred metres accompanying Soph I decided to set off in hot pursuit of the wily grey fox and by the final bend I'd closed the gap enough to see Don side-swiping a young girl nearly forcing her off the track at a good rate of knots. I swear I saw the devil in the face of my father-in-law as he turned around to see the startled girl just about regain control of her luge.
I then overtook the poor girl in the final straight as I pulled up behind Don who'd obviously enjoyed every second of it. At that point I was feeling really sorry for the girl who nearly flipped over but within a few seconds of stopping in the parc fermee the girl behind had failed to pull her handlebars back to brake and shunted into the back of me at full pelt. My concern for her vanished immediately.
Don was looking for a magnum of Champagne to spray over everyone once we'd finished but it was time for the return cable-car ride to the base and a search for a nice motel for the night
The future of English netball
. We drove through town and found a nice new place called the Ventura Motel on the main drag with the two main requisites, under $100 with Sky TV.After checking into the motel we ventured into town to sniff out one of the town's smelly sources, Kuirau Park. We wandered through a number of boiling mud pools, steam vents and small geysers before heading back to town for huge cheap platefuls of steak and chocolate fudge cake at a local Obesity-R-Us restaurant called 'Sizzler'.
6/7
After a nice continental breakfast we left the motel to head just down the road to Whakarewarewa Thermal Village for some Maori culture and bubbling pools. We joined the next tour and were shown around by a witty and informative Maori chap who led us by bathing pools, meeting houses, an over-ground cemetery and Pohutu geyser, which was erupting as we arrived. At the end of the tour we were shown to a small concert hall where we watched a very good cultural Maori sing-along and witnessed our first real-life 'Haka'.
Situated 10 miles north out of town we stopped at the worryingly titled Hell's Gate, a sizeable area which acts as the Earth's chimney it seemed. Drifting mists would part to reveal a thermal valley full of the country's biggest and best geothermal wonders including the Kakahi Falls, the largest hot waterfall in the southern hemisphere and a boiling whirlpool which was New Zealand's largest. We strolled around in relative isolation compared to Whakarewarewa which was surprising because this place proved a lot more interesting with it's mini mud volcanoes, sulphur baths and bubbling lakes and every now and again we'd dip our feet in to sample it's healing powers and left with visibly younger big toes
The line-ups
.We hit SH33 north towards the Bay of Plenty under increasingly cloudy skies, once more moseying on through kiwifruit country and on to Tauranga for a small diversion to Mount Maunganui. A 90-minute return trip takes you to the top of the Mount with views along its Ocean Beach so we settled on a 10-minute walk along the beach with views of the Mount.
It was time to make tracks back to Auckland taking a scenic route via the Coromandel Peninsula, one of the country's most picturesque areas, but soon it was dark and very wet and we were all wishing we hadn't taken the 'picturesque' option as the road winded through precarious mountain passes.
After what seemed hours on the road with windscreen wipers at top speed we eventually hit State Highway 1 and what was supposed to be the home straight through Auckland and back to Gulf Harbour, but funnily enough the whole Kiwi population had decided to venture out on a wet and windy Tuesday night to cross the Harbour Bridge. Auckland traffic was gridlocked as ten lanes tried to squeeze into a four-laned harbour bridge but after an eternity we made it home and to celebrate our good fortune we rewarded ourselves with a mammoth Chinese takeaway
Whara...Waka...Wrha...A Maori Village
.7/7
Today we all went our separate ways as Don and Norma went off to spend a day with the owner of the apartment we were staying in, which left me and the brunette to explore a bit of Auckland.
On the way into the city we stopped off at Kea Campervans to organise a mobile home for the remainder of our time in New Zealand. We arrived ready to barter our way to a bargain but before we could open our mouths the sales guy rattled off a list of deals he could give us, so we took them all. We were to spend 66 days on the road so we opted for a big 4-berth van with a price tag of $80 (£28) per day which he let us have for $57 instead with a further $10 slashed off the daily insurance cover. In order to get the van from the south to the north island we'd have to catch the InterIslander ferry which would have been quite a hefty extra bill to worry about but he was soon throwing in a complimentary ferry ticket as well. So all in all we'd secured a bargain that would be a fraction of the price of renting a car and staying in motels, which isn't as fun anyway.
While in the Kea Camper's office we were allowed to use their Internet terminal to organise a couple of things: firstly a flight down to Christchurch from Auckland which we booked for a bargain basement $86 each (£30); and secondly there was a big match on Saturday night at North Harbour stadium just down the road from us with the All Blacks taking on the Pacific Islanders. It was a long shot that there'd be any tickets left so we were pleased as punch when we were able to reserve four seats in the main stand right on the half-way line even if they did cost nearly as much as our flights to the South Island.
Once our business at Kea was finished we drove into the heart of the city and parked in a multi-storey before walking along Auckland's 'Golden Mile', Queen Street, the city's answer to Oxford Street. As we strolled along we expected to be jostled by six-foot tall, 20-stone Maoris and Polynesians but instead we were surrounded by five-foot tall, 10-stone Asians and we were sure we'd stumbled on Chinatown, but Auckland turned out to be one big Chinatown. Now don't get us wrong, you can never have too many Chinese Takeaways in a city but this was all at odds with what we expected.
Soon the afternoon rains that we were becoming accustomed to arrived so at Aotea Square at the end of Queen Street we dived into the Ticketek offices where we collected our rugby tickets. On emerging from Ticketek the rain had elevated into monsoon-mode but that didn't stop us from traipsing down to SkyTower to catch a high-speed lift to an observation deck 1,000 feet above the metropolis. Once at the top the weather had changed in an iota, and as quickly as the rains came, they were gone. On a clear day you can see 50 miles into the distance but today visibility was about 20 miles, and as we wandered around the circumference the best views were of the bridge and an enormous harbour crammed to the gills with floating toys for the rich and famous. The deck had all the usual fun and games with glass floors, binoculars, audio guides and touch-screen computers, and on our descent we couldn't resist taking the elevator with the see-through floor with a view all the way down to the bottom of the lift shaft.
Queen Street wasn't a great shopping street, so we were disappointed to come across a lovely little area called the High Street full of smart shops at 5.30pm just when they were shutting. We hung around and window-shopped nonetheless then found a nice little Italian restaurant for dinner, before fighting our way through the rush-hour traffic to head for home.
8/7
We were once more hitting the road with Don and Norma today with a trip further south still, to the lakeside town of Taupo.
The drive south-east proved to be our most scenic drive so far along Highway 1, through dense forests and mountainous scenic reserves that sadly seemed to be being gradually eaten away as we passed logging truck after logging truck, although they must plant one or two more for every one they chop down.
First impressions of Taupo were good. Helped by our first cloudless skies in New Zealand. The nice little compact town of 20,000 inhabitants sits on Lake Taupo funny enough, the country's largest lake, and beyond this are views to the three volcanic peaks that make up the Tongariro National Park. Being a warmish day we ate lunch outside a little cafe then found a nice centrally located motel on the lake, then it was off to our first adrenalin rush of the trip.
HukaJet has jet boats with high-speed romps along the Waikato River and we were lucky enough to get on the last trip of the day with the added benefit of being the only four in the boat. Over the next 30 minutes we sped along losing coats of paint on the surrounding rocks, skirting with submerged tree stumps, performing 360-degree spins and scaring the feathery lives out of groups of black swans. At one end of the course was a dam and hydro power station and at the other was the Huka Falls from which the boat company derived its name. It was all great fun and a very different experience to our jet boat ride in Sydney Harbour and safe to say Don was in his element as he is when he travels in anything with an engine larger than 1500cc. It wasn't cheap at $75 for half an hour but what's money when there's a chance of an adrenalin rush? Back in town that evening we visited a nice little restaurant called 'Soleil' for hearty helpings of beef and lamb.
9/7
We had seen the Huka Falls from river-level the previous day so today we all decided to embark on a semi-strenuous 3km trek along the Waikato River to view the falls from above.
A morning mist over the river gave the walk a nice adventurous feel and the undulating pathway provided superb views both at elevated and river-levels. 45 minutes later and we'd arrived at the falls and what it lacks in height (36 foot), they more than make up for in action as ten Olympic-sized swimming pools hurtle through a narrow rock chute in one second thus forming a foaming cauldron at the base (Huka meaning foam in Maori).
We resisted the urge to call a taxi and trudged the 3km back to the car park to begin another scenic drive (you can't NOT have a scenic drive in this country it seems) to the southern tip of the lake and the town of Turangi where we had lunch at the Mustard Seed cafe.
After our second night away from our base in Auckland is was time to head home north via the Waitomo Caves, famous for their glow-worms, on the off-chance we might make the last tour, but at 5pm we were too late so we carried on north for Auckland where the traffic was strangely non-existent compared to a couple of nights earlier.
Large pizzas, crates of beer, gallons of wine and the odd whisky were the order of the night after a long day on the road. By 'eck, we supped some stuff that night.
10/7
Our morning was spent organising.
We organised to keep the car for another day and we organised a hotel for Don and Norma for their final night. With organisation organised we headed for Orewa for some good old hangover-curing grub in an Olde English style pub in the shape of Beef and Guinness pies, plates of chips and thick broths.
After a long night on the falling-down-juice we decided to head home for an afternoon of snoozing in preparation for our night watching the All Blacks trying to play good rugby (isn't it great being World Champions - you gotta make the most of it haven't you?)
At 5.30pm we were out the door and heading 30 minutes south to Albany, home of the North Harbour stadium. The AB's were playing the Pacific Islanders, a new team that comprises the best players from Fiji, Western Samoa and Tonga so we were sure to see a few big hits tonight.
Our expensive seats gained us admission to the expensive members-only Fuji Lounge for some pre-match Steinlagers and by 6.30 we had taken our expensive seats in this, how can I put it? Not very expensive stadium. Three sides remained uncovered and the seating arrangements behind the posts were blankets on a sloping grass bank. Still, the AB's had and were visiting Dunedin, Christchurch and Wellington in their other early-season matches so it was good of them to include this Auckland backwater in their plans to give everyone a chance to see them in all their muscular flesh.
Pre-match entertainment consisted of barefoot school kids playing touch-rugby followed by a Polynesian music and dance extravaganza including Hakas from each set of performers (we could watch Hakas til the cows come home) and all this was followed by a sudden burst of fireworks which nearly caused us to spill our Steinlagers, perish the thought.
Then it was time for the main event at the odd kick-off time of 7.35pm to be precise. The PI's were led out onto the pitch by a grass-skirt wearing, spear-clutching, flowery necklace adorned native while the AB's jogged out menacingly in their customary strips. Anthems were followed by yet more Hakas as the AB's captain Carlos Spencer began the preliminary vocal-booms to gee up his troops, which led to his 14 team-mates striking the wide-footed pose. The scoreboard showed close-up images of the Maori and Polynesian members of the team perfecting the posturing and tongue-poking to suitably scary standards while the fairer-skinned nancy-boys of the team did their best to look ridiculous.
It was now time for kick-off and before we could get comfortable after the anthems an up 'n under was sailing down into the grateful clutches of one Joe Rocockoko for his hundredth try in twenty tests or thereabouts. Cue All Blacks demolition? Wrong. Cue Pacific Islanders comeback and over the next 79 minutes they gave as good as they got and matched the home team try for try in an end-to-end feast of running rugby and hard hits.
The crowd were obviously enjoying it as a Mexican Wave got up a head of steam around the stadium but as we were in the expensive seats (have I told you that already?) we declined to lift our wealthy butts off our plastic seats until we were justifiably booed. We joined in on the second circuit. The wave had added wave-value as the crowd threw their empty plastic Steinlager bottles into the air as they stood up and it was as if the crowd was letting off little green fireworks.
Somehow by the end of the game the AB's had finished a flattering 41-26 ahead when a draw would have been a fairer result. Somehow methinks on that performance the AB's will finish last in the Tri-Nations (and I'm not just saying that in hindsight).
Tomorrow Don and Norma were heading off for a whirlwind tour of the South Island while we explored the North a little longer and in 13 days time we'd meet again to compare notes . . .
The Fugitives
xx
PS. Sorry for the longer then usual TravelPod but Don and Norma were full-on, unrelenting, hyperactive, sightseeing-junkies, so there was quite a bit to report.
