Another Blenheim event we attended was a Dog’s Day Out organised by one of the local Vet practices. At least 40 dogs of all shapes, sizes and breeds gathered in a huge dog park which has a river flowing through it, surely the major attraction for at least half the dogs once they had finished their particular type of doggy meet and greet! 

The water may have been cold but when did that ever deter a determined dog?

I was struck by the number of small fluffy white dogs and medium sized boxer dogs (plus a few larger ones) but there were also 2 Great Danes, a German Pointer, a Boston Terrier, two elegant Italian Greyhounds, a number of Alsatians (one with the most beguiling blue eyes) and of course any number of Bitzers.

It was a lovely day for both the dogs and their humans, and especially good to see so many joyous dogs off lead and really enjoying themselves.

A third local event was a small Vintage Air show at the Omaka (Blenheim) airport. It was on a sunny but bitterly cold and windy day so of course many of the aircraft could not be flown or even brought out from their hangars. When we arrived the parking lot attendant seemed to be waving us straight into the hold of a huge Bristol Freighter – huge indeed at just over 68 ft long with wing span 108 ft. A sign showed that it had spent some 27,700 hours in the air and made over 33,330 landings.

Omaka Aero Club was a training ground for WW2 pilots, and was taken over by the NZ Air Force in 1939. Training was mainly in the Avro Anson Mark 1 maritime patrol and reconnaissance bomber. This plane is now very rare and only is one still flying anywhere in the world – right there at Omaka.

Restoration of other vintage planes is in progress ….. this one has a way to go.

Dave watched while the ground crew did an engine warmup of the Griffon engine in the Mk X!V Spitfire – 3 people were needed to hold down the tail in the strong wind.

Seeking coffee and a bit of warmth we went into the Museum foyer (we have been to the Museum before, definitely worth a prolonged visit) and this time I took photos of an intriguing display, a Russian WW1 plane with a grappling hook (!) The Museum describes it as “one of the most outrageous aerial combat experiments undertaken during the war” by Colonel Aleksandr Kozakov. At that time few aircraft carried any armament. Although the grappling hook method didn’t work, Kozakov did down a German aircraft when his anchor got caught in a German plane’s undercarriage and he decided to strike the upper surface of the enemy plane with his undercarriage, which folded up …. the German plane lost control and fell to earth like a sack but Kozakov’s plane miraculously disentangled and landed safely. 

Another foyer sign told of an Imperial Russian Air Force pilot named Vladimir Laskin, who “… flew many different aircraft types including one in which he was required to remove the carburettor in flight, clear the obstruction and then  refit it!”. What fun. The phrase “Those intrepid men in their flying machines” took on a new meaning.

The crafter in me was also attracted by another display, two shadow boxes full of mementoes carefully displayed in little pockets … the photos tell more than I can (unfortunately reflections in the glass made good photos difficult). I have a number of such mementoes belonging to my late father in law Squadron Leader Bill Hoffmann; now at last I have an idea as to what to do with them. But it will have to wait till our caravanning days are if not over at least not continuous and I can access my stored boxes of family history in Christchurch.

The first buds are finally appearing on the vines.It has been a rather cold Spring so far. This was taken beside the St. Clair restaurant where we had a farewell lunch with Robyn and her friend.

On one last drive before leaving Blenheim we visited the site of the Wairau Affray, just out of Blenheim on the way to Picton. Most people probably miss it. In 1843 there was a confrontation between early settlers and local maori, who objected to their land being surveyed without their permission. According to an official sign, 22 “Nelson men” were buried in a mass grave on the other side of the stream. Intriguingly there is also a small set of graves near the site of the confrontation, obviously tended by local people.

Time flashed by particularly quickly while we homesat in Blenheim. Apart from a couple of ‘events’ we enjoyed a very quiet, almost sluggish existence, ensconced in Robyn’s lovely warm house next to a vineyard and entertained by her garrulous little cat Kassia. Penny and Kassia have met on more than one previous occasion and had a guarded relationship, but this time Penny must have accidentally bowled over Kassia while chasing her ball and since then things have been more hostile but gradually thawing.

I’ve done lots of boring things like washing all the caravan curtains, doing some mending and having fun in the kitchen. In between visiting Robyn in hospital we did some not too serious house-and-land hunting, inspected various show homes and drove through endless kilometres of vineyards. Their geometrical precision never ceases to amaze me.

Intriguing too to see the number of workers tending the vines even though there are still barely any buds to be seen. Occasionally we spotted a cloudy UFO or two, the Blenheim skies seem particularly prone to producing them.

And we visited a chocolate factory, the smell so overpowering when you walk inside that it is ALMOST all you need to do to be in chocolate heaven – at least until they offer you a sample!

An eagerly awaited local event was the Marlborough Ploughing Championships. Here’s a shortened form of what I’ve written for the RV Lifestyle magazine:

Enormous placid horses with feathery fetlocks always attract me and I suspect many others who would not otherwise consider themselves ‘horsey’. Watching ploughing may not be many people’s idea of fun but there is something satisfying seeing those wonderful straight and occasionally not-so-straight lines of newly-turned sod appearing before one’s eyes. Also watching magnificent Clydesdale horses producing them, a task which they’ve done virtually unchanged for many hundreds of years.

So mine were not the only anxious eyes scanning the rainy Blenheim skies for the week preceding the annual Marlborough Ploughing Championships in early Spring. Thankfully the skies cleared, and while gum boots were the only sensible footwear and the wind blew chillingly straight off the northern mountain range, the sight of 4 teams of horses pulling vintage ploughs, about ten vintage tractors doing their thing in the next paddock, and steaming hotdogs with onion and tomato sauce from a food tent threatening to blow away at any moment were enough to keep me entranced for much of the day.

There were two 4-horse and two pair ploughing teams. Although the basic premise is simple, I was surprised at the range of different ploughs starting with a simple one-disc walk-behind to an elaborate two-disc contraption operated by a system of brakes and levers with the ploughman sitting in a special seat.

Add to that the need to control the horses, partly by long reins held by either the ploughman or a ‘walker’, and also by voice commands (“Forward one step”, “Whoa”, etc) and the complexity of harness – chains, collars, leading reins – and one begins to realise it’s not just a simple process. How long does it take to harness the horses and hitch up the ploughs I wonder, especially with larger teams of 6 or even more horses.

The object at the Championships of course is to plough the straightest furrows at just the right depth. The first furrow takes the longest time to do, with regular stops for adjustments. The patient gentle Clydesdales seemed unperturbed at the long waits although the leader of one team seemed to be saying “Hurry up, when do we start?”

And how do they ‘turn’ at each end of a furrow? Those huge Clydesdales do some fancy footwork, crossing their front legs in unison to turn effortlessly in what seemed an amazingly small space. The plough they were pulling needed far more work to be hauled around!

But it wasn’t all horses. There were about 10 vintage tractors, most gleaming with fresh paint. One in particular, a John Deere 40 driven by a woman, has been in the same Blenheim family since the 1950s. The drivers seemed to spend more time looking behind than looking ahead.  And just like with the horses, frequent stops for adjustments were being made in the quest for perfection.

There was also an exhibition of sheep herding by an amazing dog named Shane, and for children the obligatory pen of new-born sheep, a young friendly sheepdog and a rather fat pig named Carol who we ‘met’ last year when she was a tiny piglet; mostly she seemed intent on copying the tractors and ‘ploughing’ her own special furrows.

The event was hosted by the Marlborough Ploughing Association and Tua Marina Vintage Traction and Machinery Club. Up to 23 qualifying events are hosted by individual Associations throughout NZ. Winners are selected to represent the district in the annual NZ Ploughing Championships held in April or May each year. It goes further – the World Ploughing contest will be in Thisted, Denmark in early October this year with 30 countries competing. Serious stuff.

Tony from Christchurch came up for a few days; we plied him with food and drink and took him to Rarangi Beach and then Port Underwood, where the catches of various seafood is strictly limited.

Everywhere the gorse blazed bright yellow. Back to Picton for lunch and to watch one of the inter- island vehicular ferries arrive. All too short a visit, but it was lovely to see a familiar face.

Back in Bowen from Yellow Belly it was all systems go to prepare for the Airlie Beach weekend market where Patrick sells his justifiably famous Bowen Mango Sorbet.

The one-hour drive south from Bowen at dawn was frustrating as the most glorious sunrise could be seen through the trees but we could not stop to take photos.   

We reached the markets in good time and helped Patrick set up his stall, then for the next 7 hours he churned out sorbet after sorbet as Dave handled the cash…….

…… and I wandered around trying to resist the amazing array of goods at one of the best markets I have seen.

I did buy a lovely gypsy necklace in turquoises and blues, and a bracelet to try and make my newish medicare bracelet look a little less horrible (it broke 2 days later), admired the intricate shell ‘curtains’ at one stall….

…..  the amazing dance a young Japanese girl did with a shiny orb which seemingly never touched her fingertips, the sand sculpture of a fire-breathing dragon, and of course sampled the food including that same Hungarian friend bread which was such a hit at the WOMAD festival in NZ a few months back.

The air next to us was full of bird calls as the vendor played endlessly on his wares, and further away a band played an eclectic mix of didgeridoo plus guitar  …

Camel rides on the beach were obviously popular.

Our main objective on this Aussie trip was after all to search for a suitable caravan and tow vehicle, so reluctantly saying goodbye to Patrick and Sylvie and their incomparable French hospitality (and YES we did have a huge meal of king prawns on one occasion and plenty of mango sorbet!) we boarded a Greyhound bus for Townsville. The front seats being free, Dave had a good time sorting out the world’s problems with the driver while I was content to admire the scenery.

We had booked into a motel near the waterfront so did not have far to go to find some good food. Next morning we picked up a hired car, a very pretty little blue something, and for the next 2 days investigated caravan yards, finding several reasonable vehicles but not anything that really grabbed us. By this time I was feeling rather unwell and the heat was not helping, but we continued as planned, dropping off the hired car on the way to the airport and collecting another vehicle (a cute little red Kia) at the other end in Brisbane.

Our plan was to go straight down to Coffs Harbour and THAT caravan, but it seemed impossible to be in Brisbane and not do some visiting so visiting we did, and stayed overnight with some old friends and rewarded them with a dose of my developing cold. I feel so bad about that. Dave was also feeling a little unwell by this time.

But we accomplished the drive to Coffs Harbour, booked into the first motel we saw, had a lovely Indian dinner and next day finally saw THE caravan, a Jayco the same length but three year older than our NZ home. And very nice, too! I was immediately enamoured. The tow vehicle is a grunty black Jeep Cherokee in excellent condition. Some repairs to the caravan are currently being carried out and so it will not be available for about 2 months. Dave wants to wait till we have been to the Maryborough Motorhome and Caravan show next weekend before making a final decision.

Next day we made a quick trip to Port Macquarie to try and locate my errant brother Barry. We went to his last known address and were told he had left 6 years previously. But eventually we found him in a nursing home in nearby Wauchope. it was good to know he was being well cared for in pleasant surroundings.

Meantime I was developing a bad case of bronchitis coupled with a cold and not feeling very happy. Nor was Dave.

Dave writes …..

After spending an hour with Barry we returned to Coffs Harbour. A second night in the motel there and then on Saturday morning we left to head quietly back to Brisbane… but by the time we reached Brunswick Heads Nancy was coughing full time and I was feeling like I had been worked over by a heavyweight boxer so just before lunchtime we went in search of a motel to hole up in for a couple of nights, Nancy thinking she could shake off the coughing and me to overwhelm my bugs with a dose of alcohol. A very small “supermarket” just down the road from the motel provided essential sustenance so we turned the heater up high and settled in.

By Monday I was feeling fine but Nancy was definitely not so we headed off to the local medical centre for a consultation…  Bronchitis!!!  Not what we needed but because I was feeling good we drove on to Nic and Mick’s place as planned.

Then the lurgy struck again and I started coughing as almost as badly as Nancy, getting pretty frustrated with it all actually and the sooner I can shove it off the better.. Definitely wasn’t covered in our pre-winter flu shots. 

Nancy: so here we are still with Nic and Mick who are looking after us both well although they do follow us around with cans of antiseptic room freshener! After a few days of rest and sunshine in gorgeous bush surroundings I am feeling much better and have taken some photos of the magpies continually stalking the back lawn and a resident pair of parakeets, but Dave is still not 100% either so we have decided to forego to Caravan show at Maryborough and instead concentrate on getting better before catching the plane home on Wednesday. All plans for visiting Brisbane friends are off.

It was just over 32 years since I left Bowen. Arriving in mid-1977 on our boat “Cornelius”, pregnant and unused to the Queensland heat, it was a while before I started to feel part of the place. My first husband Geoff and I had bought a run-down slipway and were determined to make a successful venture of it. We lived on board “Cornelius” for the next six years and survived a near-cyclone while Geoff built it up to a thriving business, with a new and much stronger cradle capable of handling large fishing vessels and a concrete block winch-house designed for future expansion. Initially I was the winch operator – it was an old car engine I think! – and Geoff was the all-important cradle operator, responsible for correct placement of valuable yachts and fishing boats so that as they were hauled out, they remained upright and stable – not as easy as it sounds as the slipway rails were not level. So to start with Geoff had to place the boat just so and slightly heeled over to one side, then as it was hauled out I had to keep a critical eye on the angle and immediately put the boat back in the water – fast – if it started to heel over too far the other way! Fortunately that only happened once or twice. Most slipping was done at high tide which invariably meant at night, so communication was by torchlight and hand signals. We had plans for a secondary runway and cradle but they had not come to fruition before Geoff died in 1983.

On Geoff’s and my first evening in Bowen we wandered up the main street and decided to try out a little cafe which advertised pizza and garlic prawns. We were not expecting much in a small country town but those garlic prawns were so good Geoff had several helpings, and thus started a long friendship with Patrick and Sylvie which continues to this day.

Bowen the town was much changed, I only recognised a few of the older buildings, but Patrick and Sylvie’s lovely rustic French style home was still there and as welcoming as ever. The harbour was just as welcoming from a distance but unrecognisable close-up, with many new moorings and reclaimed areas.

Dave and I went down to the Slipway of course, now surrounded by a high corrugated iron fence. On asking permission for a wander around it was freely granted. It was good to see that the concrete block winch house is still being used, but the cradle rails have been straightened (!) and a new cradle is in place on the main slipway while what I was fairly certain was the cradle which Geoff designed and made in 1978 was still in use as the secondary cradle on the secondary runway which we had designed. I will need to check some old photos first to be certain.

During the 1978 near-cyclone the wind blew sand into every tiny crevice and joint; the moving parts of the cradle were seized up solid and Geoff had to melt the sand out later with a powerful blowtorch. It was impossible to face into that wind which of course reached its peak at night, coinciding with a high tide; we had left the spotlights on so the eerie scene was exhilarating and frightening at the same time –  howling wind, swirling sand, flickering lights, boats rocking madly (even with every possible bit of running rigging removed). We were triply fastened to two sturdy piles (those nearest the shore in the photo below, but there was no pontoon then) plus we had an anchor out into the harbour plus ropes to the mangroves ashore. There was concern that the high tide would lift the boat up and put it down on top of the piles. Some other boats forced their way as far up a mangrove creek as possible but others like us elected to stay in the harbour.

Over the years Patrick and Sylvie have developed a rustic retreat which they named Yellow Belly after a snake which they saw there the first time they discovered the area. Located about an hour’s drive through parched bushland and at a remote point on a cattle station…….

….. over the years it has become a focal point for the multitude of foreign visitors, mainly French, who seem drawn to Bowen and to P et S in particular, by magic.

I was there at the beginning, one of many willing hands conscripted on the promise of a feed afterwards. Memorable meals at a long rough-hewn table in the shape of the gum trees. Sylvie with a broken arm after one of the roof beams fell on her.

Some 10 of us would arrive in the morning with a motley collection of tools and materials, very rarely anything new. Slowly the outline of a hut took place. Over the years the plan was refined. There is now a workshop housing a generator, guest quarters, a cookhouse, an outdoor shower and of course a long drop complete with phone to the house if you run out of toilet paper.

There are lots of interesting quirky objects, like this ancient coffee pot brought out from France, which once belonged to Sylvie’s great great grandmother. What stories it could tell. Or the blue and orange enamelled dish.

A huge flood in 2008 almost reached the bottom steps. It can be seen from the second photo taken from the river bed just how far away the river is normally.

It was all new to Dave of course, but I think he enjoyed our stay there.

Our arrival in Queensland coincided with a bout of cool weather (of course we were blamed for bringing it over from NZ) and instead of T-shirts I found myself wearing light jumpers, even indoors. I was grateful for the wonderful wood burner which Nic and Mick have installed since our last visit, and enjoyed going out into the paddocks to collect more of their unlimited supply of timber. It was good to be back on the property which has had plenty of rain recently. The huge new dam was full, the horses were all looking sleek and well-fed, there were lots of roos around and the 2 dogs Pirate and Rascal were just as lunatic as ever (!).

It was fascinating to watch the dynamics between the horses. Who to put with whom and where – a never-ending juggling act.

Mick’s Richie was shifted to another paddock and the horses already there rushed over to check out the newcomer. There was immediate recognition between Ritchie and Nic’s retired Buddy.

We “helped’ wean spunky colt Aidan from his mother, not very complicated as it merely involved leading LJ the mare away to a far paddock. Mother and son called to each other intermittently over the next few days but both had other horses to keep them company. LJ did not know it but after producing at least six foals, the last 3 for Nic and Mick, she is now entering honourable retirement.

One day we all drove to Esk for lunch at an old wooden Queenslander full of quirky objets d’art and old photographs as well as great food. This is fast becoming a family tradition.

One of the objects of this Queensland visit is to search for a caravan and tow vehicle. We’d heard that they are often to be found in northern Queensland towns towards the end of winter, when southerners who have spent the winter in the tropics decide it is too much trouble to drive all the way back down south again. So we had planned to spend some time in the north. But the most suitable caravan rig we have heard about so far is in Coffs Harbour – on the NSW coast! So our plans may change.

On our last evening, as the sun went down and the sky changed colours, we met with Nic and Mick’s wonderful neighbours Pam and Mal for a champagne toast around the grave of N&M’s first brood mare Rosie who had to be put down some months earlier. Pam had planted it with a number of pink geraniums. (Next 3 photos by Dave).

All too soon it was time for the next stage of our caravan search “holiday” – the tilt train to Rockhampton. it was interesting to note that some of the movies on the small overhead TV screens were subtitled, but the frequent announcements re travel times, next station, etc were not. If I’d been travelling alone it would have been a bit of a worry as the train was half an hour late reaching Rockhampton.

We were met by a Darchy cousin ‘Darch’ and his wife Jan and driven to their retirement village at Yeppoon, about half an hour further north. The village is HUGE and attractive and has some unique lawnmowers – wild kangaroos which roam the streets freely. I was astonished to see so many in an urban area. Perhaps the lack of children and also dogs and cats makes it feel safe for them. Apparently they leave vegetable gardens alone and only occasionally feast on flowers.

We had a mini Darchy family reunion in Yeppoon when two other cousins and their wives arrived in their caravans – Jaycos of course. After an all-morning session at a cafe, we went to inspect the new Emu Park war memorial overlooking the Keppel Islands. Having explored those islands fairly extensively by boat in years past, it was quite strange to see them from quite another viewpoint.

From the Memorial a walkway led around a little beach to an imposing structure in the distance…. a memorial to Captain Cook’s arrival in the Keppels, designed by a woman artist. With a reasonable wind blowing, the structure ‘sings’.

Yeppoon was indeed a Cousin paradise for me. Apart from the Darchys (my mother’s father’s family) a Hunt cousin (mother’s mother’s family) also lives there. We spent a great day with Arthur and Laurel. First we were shown around the Yeppoon coastguard station and their latest addition to the small fleet of rescue boats by the Commodore (Arthur).

The Coastguard station is in the middle of the next photo which also shows part of Rosslyn Bay boat harbour. The bird was entertaining us while we had coffee at the yacht club.

We climbed the steep hill overlooking the port and admired the Fan Rocks….

The boat harbour is protected by a huge man-made wall, but during the February cyclone waves broke right over the wall.

This beautiful old yacht caught my attention: 

After a great lunch Arthur and Laurel lent us their car for the rest of the day to explore caravan possibilities in Rockhampton. We did find one we both liked but far too pricey at a dealer’s, and no tow vehicle. That dealer did say he had several buyers waiting to trade in older for new caravans, but they were all waiting to see what happens with the (Australian) budget. So we may have to wait too.

We attended a local Choral Society performance of ‘Cats’, produced and directed by Laurel, and that night the Darchy mini-reunion continued at a theatre restaurant . ‘Cats’ was most impressive for a small country town, and it was interesting to walk through the entire cast on the way out of the theatre and be able to admire their elaborate costumes and make-up. The Theatre Restaurant was small and involved audience participation, which usually makes me cringe. However, I was pointed out as the grandmother of a particularly glamorous young actress and everyone told she had got her good looks from me, so I wasn’t too unhappy! Dave escaped notice apart from being dobbed in as a New Zealander and Darch had the glamorous actress collapse in his lap. The other Darchy boys similarly attracted some ribald attention. Apparently the theatre people have experienced Darchys in the audience before.

Next stop is Bowen where I spent six years living on the boat “Cornelius” (see her story on another part of my website at nancyvada.me). My daughter Nicole was born in Townsville and we returned to ‘Cornelius’ a day later, just a week before a very hot and steamy Christmas.

All good things come to an end and so it was with our second winter 2015 homesit at a dairy farm near Rakaia. Our charges the dog Ally and cat Marvi were a joy; after some initial hesitation even Marvi was happy to accept Penny as another animal with which to share their home.

I took lots of photos of sunsets and snowy mountain ranges, both clearly visible from the homestead. It was lovely having a full-sized oven although it took me a little while to get used to it after my slightly temperamental smaller sized oven in the caravan – in fact it fought back, giving me a small burn and scorching a tea towel.

We had several visits from friends and relatives and made a couple of trips into Christchurch including one special one to inspect a brand new baby, and enjoyed exploring the countryside around. But more often we just relaxed  ….

The day the owners were due to return we shifted back to T5, where we were visited several times by Ally and Marvi who must have been a bit bewildered by this turn of events. I was sorry to leave them but I think Penny was happy to be the subject of our undivided attention again!

One thing marred our leaving, it seems a small mouse must have taken the opportunity when the front door was open to zip inside the nice warm house and into the bedroom nearest the door, or perhaps it was brought inside by the cat. At any rate the day after we left a peculiar smell started in that bedroom, and it was not till several days later that it was traced to one by then very dead mouse hidden in the bedclothes.

So now we are back in the chestnut orchard in north Christchurch where we will stay till it’s time to hop on a plane heading for a relatively warmer place – Brisbane. The orchard looks so different …. bare trees and a huge amount of leaf litter and soggy chestnut husks on the ground. Some of our old friends are still here and we were delighted to find a Photographic Society member here too.

A lone black alpaca romps around in a paddock at the back of the orchard and bounds over to say hello when Penny and I go for a walk.

We have shifted to another site in the Orchard so we now have power and can run the small electric heater and use the electric toaster and microwave. As quite a number of other caravans/motorhomes have the same idea, it is necessary to limit ourselves to one appliance at a time or else the main fuse blows out – as happened several times on a very cold night!

We discovered a small leak in a water pipe in the bathroom, of course in a difficult place to access, but it was very lucky we did discover it or else we might have been returning from Australia to a caravan with a soggy mildewy carpet. Luckily Dave was able to replace the pipe without TOO much trouble. (Try lying on the cold wet muddy ground under a caravan).

We’ll be away in Queensland for a month and after a week with Nic and Mick intend to travel up the coast. At Yeppoon we hope to have a mini-reunion with several of my Darchy cousins plus a cousin from another family, then on to friends at Bowen and perhaps Townsville and Cairns. We will be looking for a suitable caravan and/or towing vehicle and by the end of our Australian trip we should have a better idea of what our future plans are (!). We also hope to fit in a Motorhome show at Maryborough just before we leave.

We left beautiful Rarangi with regret, it was a lovely interlude with the dogs in such an outstanding home and environment. Friend Robyn arrived home from overseas the day before so we met her at the St. Clair Winery and had a delicious platter featuring the best of Marlborough produce, washed down with a glass of pinot noir. I can’t wait to go back there again!

We were heading for a Jayco Caravan get-together at Geraldine, but rather than make the long haul in one day we stopped at the fairly new NZMCA site at Parnassus, just off SH1. That night there was a very severe frost and when Dave went to put the kettle on next morning discovered we had no water – all the pipes were frozen! Luckily there was just enough water in the hot water bottle for our morning coffee, and porridge made with all milk is delicious. As the day wore on the cold water started to flow again, but something had happened to the hot water system and we had no more hot water until the valve was replaced some days later. We took care to fill the kettle and also a saucepan with water that night.

We stopped at Christchurch just long enough to have lunch with Ray and catch up on all the news, then on to the Brewery Cafe about 11 km past Geraldine where there is a good POP site – but no other Jayco caravans. Where was everyone? It wasn’t till the next day that two others turned up.

We had a splendid breakfast next morning at the Brewery Cafe. That evening the entire Jayco contingent – 6 persons – enjoyed a beer tasting followed by a meal at the cafe.

Next morning the endless comparisons and ‘tours’ of the three caravans from both male and female perspectives flowed on and on. In summary it was a very fruitful and enjoyable gathering and even Penny had fun with the miniature schauzer from one of the other caravans. We also met the owners of the brewery and learned something of the history. 

From Geraldine, after a long stop at the Barkers’ shop in town (of course!), we went straight to our new homesit just north of the Rakaia Bridge of mixed memories.

Some years ago pre-T5 we were heading for Tekapo for a long weekend with our boat and just as we got onto the bridge one of the boat trailer tyres burst. We could not stop on that narrow bridge so continued, emitting the most alarming sparks and bursts of flame as the rim of the tyre bit into the roadway. The moment we got off the bridge we leapt out with a fire extinguisher, as did the man in the car behind us. Someone else had phoned the police and the local off-duty cop arrived soon after, not having stopped to change into his uniform. He was very helpful and soon after a local garage man arrived with some heavy duty tools and together he and Dave managed to bash the distorted wheel off and put another wheel on, which just lasted to the nearest garage where we left the trailer to be fixed. There was no fishing on Lake Tekapo that weekend. 

So now we’re halfway through our second winter homesit and the time has flown. I am really enjoying playing at being a farmer’s wife on a large dairy farm with a lovely warm kitchen-family room with big wood fire and full internet access at any time of the day – bliss! We have both been catching up on viewing all the videos we could not watch while in the caravan as they take up too much bandwidth. There are no cows around at present, they are dried out over winter. Our charges are Ally the friendly Jack Russell cross who fancies herself a biker’s moll, always going off for a ride with the farm hands, and Marvi a half-grown and always hungry, endearing little grey tabby. Ally and Penny seem happy to swap beds beside the fire.

A contented threesome – the eyes have it.The weather the last two weeks hasn’t been too bad either apart from some heavy rain. The homestead is very sheltered so we hardly notice it when it blows; for some reason we were also spared much of the snow and power outages that occurred all around us at Methven, Darfield, Hororata etc. – all within about 25 km. We can see the snow-clad mountains easily from the kitchen garden, and the first week there were some splendid sunsets.

We took a drive towards Methven; at that stage there was only a little snow on the mountains.

A few days later, the picture had changed. (Photos taken from close to the homestead, the mountains seem so much closer in clear air).

I’ve completed Volume 3 of the Circumforaneous Gibbs Book-of-the-Blog and am eagerly awaiting the arrival of the printed volume towards the end of the month. I’ve fixed it up so the whole book can also be downloaded as an eBook for $4 from blog.com.

Rakaia township is our nearest shopping point, only about 5 minutes’ drive away over the river. At the moment the river is running high following the heavy rain on the west coast which flooded Hokitika.

I’ve passed through Rakaia innumerable times but this is the first time I’ve really got to know the township. It began on the northern bank of the river in the 1850s. In 1856 William Dunford acquired a ferry licence and over the next few years an accommodation house and stables were built. At times travellers had to wait for days with their horses, coaches, stock, bullock teams and drays until the river was passable. River drownings were not uncommon. In the 1860s Dunford had two specially-designed punts made, replacing the original punt,  to carry passengers and possessions. Cobb & Co. built stables at the south end in1864, and by 1872 when the new road and rail bridge was built most business enterprises were based on the south bank.

Apart from the well-known huge salmon sign ….

… and visitor centre and a large modern farmers’ centre, Rakaia has TWO 4-square mini-marts almost back-to-back (why?), 2 old pubs, a medical centre, tiny pharmacy, old wooden church and masonic hall (now a private home?) still awaiting earthquake repairs, and not much else apart from the usual country town homes and some marvellous old buildings surely worthy of heritage status but sadly neglected. 

Near the leaping salmon sign are two nondescript huts, but look closer and one has two peculiar doors, one with a spyhole. Signs tell the story ….     

Our first homesit for Winter 2015 is drawing to a close. 2 weeks in a beautiful warm sunny home right on the beach at Rarangi, 10 minutes’ drive NE of Blenheim.  

I never tire of the view from the back deck …. (That is a bit of tree stump, not a person!)

That’s the bottom of the North island in the distance.

Our charges this time are Nonny (a Swedish Valhund) and Dudley (a standard Schnauzer). Both readily accepted Penny – and us – as an addition to their household so now Dave and I are shadowed around the house and garden by 3 dogs and cannot sit down without at least one wanting to plop on our feet if not in our lap.

Dave has been the chief dog walker while I took over the awesome kitchen with its super fast touch-controlled ceramic stove top which can boil a kettle in just a minute. This house has more glass than walls, a beautiful cork tiled floor throughout, and huge cupboards with space for most things so the house has a clean minimalist look with just a few quality pieces of art on the walls. Doubtless due to the looming mountain range to the north it is colder here at the beach than in Blenheim and washing takes longer to dry; we are glad of the wonderful wood-burner fire in the evenings.

One weekend Dave’s niece Viv came to stay and we took her for a long drive up to Port Underwood and round the top to Picton and then home. We’d done much of that drive before but could never tire of the glorious scenery.

Before starting up the hill we had a look at Monkey Bay at the end of Rarangi Beach Road.. Definitely not a place to go swimming. A cave leads right through the rock and water can be seen swirling around at the other end.

This is the view looking back towards Rarangi and then Blenheim. All the vineyards are masses of golden yellow as autumn colours deepen.

There were numerous little bays along the gravel road.

At Ocean Bay an old whale blubber pot marks the spot where whale trading commenced in 1830. Sheep and cattle farming were also attempted in the area.

Robin Hood Bay provided some pretty scenery.

At one bay there was an Outward Bound camp, and some hardy youths braving the chilly water.

Finally we reached Port Underwood, where some fishing vessels are still based.

Rather than continue straight on to Picton we took what amounted to a very long side road which led us right around the large bay at the end of Port Underwood. Retracing our route finally we reached Picton in time for a very welcome late lunch at about 3 pm!

The Blenheim Farmers’ Market on Sunday was delightful. Lots of wonderful enticing food, coffee and produce …. no rubbishy items which blight so many markets these days. Morning tea was served on tables with lacy tablecloths. A special stall raised money for the Nepalese earthquake victims – huge delicious spicy Nepalese dumplings.

A visit to the Wairau River bar on a DFO day (dull, flat and ‘orrible in photographers’ parlance) still resulted in some great photos. High tide was several hours earlier so the river had got up quite a run, producing some wonderful swirly patterns as it met the gentle waves of the ocean. On a stormy day it must really be quite a sight.

Mostly we stayed in the house or on the beach, but we did make several forays into town to investigate the housing market, with a possible view to shifting up here where it is warmer once we have got most of the wanderlust-in-a-caravan out of our systems.

It’s now a month since we arrived back in Christchurch and settled in at the chestnut orchard again. Some of the old crowd have moved on but some remain. Less dogs (one prefers our ‘doorstep’ to his own) but slightly more people. It’s quite a little community, the men even have a Men’s Shed get-together every Thursday when they tinker around with their vintage cars.

Some of the long-stay women (one has quite a garden going) earn pin money (is that term understood by the younger generation I wonder) collecting chestnuts by ingenious means (think a badminton bat and a dustpan attached to a long handle, for example) while trying to avoid the prickly outer husks. The orchard owner sells them at a local Market. Everyone seems to have a slightly different method of cooking them. “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire” has taken on a new meaning to me.

The chestnuts had almost finished falling and leaves everywhere were turning yellow as I wrote this at the end of April. We were there for a few more days, then we headed for Rarangi Beach near Blenheim and a 2 week homesit.

The first week in Christchurch was very busy with appointments – Doctors, Dentist (2 new fillings each), Optometrist (new glasses for me), Eye Specialist, Cochlear Implant Clinic. After that we could relax more, visited or were visited by various friends, tried to arrange another homesit for the next few months and inspected our home in Templeton which has been kept spick and span by the tenants, although the garden did show signs of butchering rather than TLC by the hired gardener.

During the latter part of our stay we moved onto a powered site which meant I could use my little washing machine and also the microwave and food blender and we could make toast in a pop-up toaster for a change. For a week or so we had a black hen and some other chooks scrabbling around nearby, then discovered she had a nest with at least 12 eggs. Alas, none of them hatched.

We also saw Dave’s sister Alison’s new home for the first time and tried out her new washing machine with some heavy loads (much appreciated); and Dave sorted out her TV while I did my best to retrieve many of her missing photos from her computer. My own computer has now had a major update which included a complete revamp of the photo storage section and I too am now in need of some photo recovery! Also Alison, proof-reader par excellence, has been proofing the Book of the Blog, Volume 3 for me; it’s almost ready for publication.

We planned to go to the Open Night of our Scottish dancing group but one of my knees dictated otherwise and indeed four days later it had to be taken to hospital where 40 ml fluid was aspirated and I was instructed keep the knee up for a week. Ha. It has been slowly recovering.

The weekend before we were due to leave Christchurch we drove down to Dunedin for the wedding of my third cousin once removed Brenda and her long-term partner. It was a lovely wedding with an unusual theme – steampunk! The bride and quite a few of the female guests wore outrageous costumes but Dave and I opted for more sedate attire. Any excuse for Dave to wear his kilt, of course!

We left T5 in the orchard and stayed overnight at a Dunedin motel, which meant it was much easier for us to stop anywhere we liked on the way back to Christchurch. After an indifferent late breakfast at the train station cafe in Palmerston, just before Oamaru a sign for Totara Estate, a NZ Heritage site, caught our eye. Up the long driveway we went to discover several restored farm buildings in lovely mellow Oamaru stone. But it turned out to be so much more than just that. Admission is free to NZ Heritage members, for others it is $10.

Described as a “….unique and significant heritage site … the birthplace of the NZ meat industry, the Estate once covered almost 15,000 acres. It was here in 1882 that the country’s first shipment of meat to the other side of the world was prepared for export. Against considerable odds that bold experiment has today resulted in one of NZ’s greatest industries.”

We were accompanied by a guide for a short time but then left to our own devices to explore the site and read the numerous informative signs. We started with the men’s quarters and Cookhouse, now set up mainly set up as a display room …..

Outside the Cookhouse were several sheep pens with early sheep breeds including this Border Leicester with the patrician nose. I used to spend school holidays helping with this breed of sheep, among others, on my schoolfriend’s parents’ property.

The stables and harness room were interesting, including the flooring of old river stone. There were once 120 working horses on the Estate.

To the l;eft below is a recreation of NZ’s first export slaughterhouse floor, where in 1882 6 butchers and their attendants dressed 50-60 sheep per day. Blood and offal were swept down the gutter and out to the yard area where 200 pigs provided ‘waste disposal’. Elsewhere was a pig breeding facility.

Next door is a recreation of  the carcass shed with some interesting signs. Carcasses were hung in this cooling room for 24 hrs, then at 4 am each day taken by spring cart to the nearby railway siding and then by steam train to Port Chalmers (Dunedin) and were frozen on board the “Dunedin”  in a steam-powered freezing chamber. It took almost 1 month of daily loading then 3 months ‘sailing before the ship reached London where the meat was in high demand.

Outside there are beautiful views of corn and wheat fields stretching off in the distance. On top of nearby Sebastopol Hill is the Brydone monument erected in 1907 as a tribute to one of the NZ meat pioneers.

Closer to Christchurch we called in at a dairy farm at Bankside where we hope to homesit in July. We must have made a good impression as it is now confirmed – we will care for their lovely warm home, dog and young cat for 4 weeks. To my regret the horses will be taken elsewhere. The horses’ owner was at Hastings’ Horse of the Year which we attended not long ago.

I’ve received word that four of my articles are in the newest issue of the RV Lifestyle magazine. The articles are about WOMAD, Hastings’ Horse of the Year, the Paeroa Highland Games and the Paeroa street racing. Most have already appeared in slightly different form in this Blog.