It was a wonderful sensuous swirling mix of music, colours, smells, smiles and sunshine. On Brooklands Hill next to the New Plymouth racecourse, the entrance was a very steep downhill then an equally steep uphill walk with some sidetracking along the way to view various art installations and an infinite array of delights along the ridge. A total of 6 stages ranged from the enormous TSB Bowl at the bottom of the huge natural amphitheatre to the tiny little Te Paepae Maori stage. A shuttle service up and down the hill was provided for artists and disabled people. On the last evening we noticed some older people being given lifts too – wish we had asked earlier!

As we were representing the RV Lifestyle Travel magazine which had arranged for our free entry and camping tickets, we were issued with Media Passes. These meant that we could go right up to the stages at times, with certain restrictions, and also we had to supply some photos from each day to the Media Centre – or risk a hefty fine! Actually we never got near the stages for the big artists, the crowds were too great. Having the passes also meant that we were able to explore the whole area early on the first day (Friday) before the festival was officially open, which explains some of the “empty” photos below. It also meant that I slogged up and down that hill TWICE that first day. Sigh. Other days I limited myself to one visit but Dave was made of sterner stuff. Penny was happy to stay in the well-shaded and ventilated truck with food and water while we were both away but it did mean we could not spend all day at the festival unless at least one of us returned to give her a run and some TLC.

This shows the main bowl from near the top with the stage down at the bottom, pre-crowds and then when Sinead O’Connor was doing her stuff.

The main camping area was in the middle of the racecourse. We arrived early and set up close to the perimeter of the training track. Penny was happy with our choice of site as it meant she had room to play with her ball and the well behaved children from the next door caravan (“Can I have a look inside yours?”).

By early evening it was a sea of motorhomes, caravans and especially tents of all shapes and sizes (one looked just like a Combi van)……

….. over 4,000 people according to the local newspaper. We couldn’t have moved. The overflow next evening invaded all other available racecourse space, apart from a special area set up for the glampers (my spellcheck changed this to gallopers!) where the camping-challenged paid $1,215 for large circular fully furnished 2 person tents for 3 nights; tickets to the festival were extra. A private ablutions  block and cafe completed the glamping area.

There was something for all age groups. The number of parents pushing buggies and prams up and down those steep slopes accompanied by happy little painted faces tearing around was phenomenal. There was a special Kidzone with face painting, parade costume making, wall climbing and much more. Not always just for kids ….

Over-65s were in theory catered for by a number of mini grandstands offering elevated seating and wheelchair platforms; they were always packed. (The photos shows empty ones before the crowds arrived). Standing space on the ramps, if available, was useful for shorties like me for seeing over the heads of the crowd. Many people were well prepared with rugs or beach chairs, many more simply stood and swayed. The warm air crackled with good humour.

A few statistics: About 22,000 people watched 300 artists from 22 countries and ate food from almost as many. All 3 days were sold out for the first time since 2007, with a limit of 12,000 people per day. The queue waiting to go through the bag check on Saturday afternoon stretched from the bottom of the hill right up to the top.

WOMAD has had a Zero-Waste programme since 2008. Volunteers stood by the multiple-choice refuse bins to assist, and all drinks were sold in washable, reusable Globelets (initial cost $2) which were estimated to eliminate over 50,000 disposable drink cups. There were well-marked points where water bottles could be filled. We’ve since read in the newspaper that over 80% of rubbish from the 3 days has been recycled or turned into compost.  Shell NZ partnered with WOMAD to donate $1 for every kilo of recycling or compost at the festival to a local project to save the kokaho parrot. The recycling yielded 5,372 kilo.

It was difficult to choose which artists to see but we managed a reasonable number between us. Special mention goes to the fantastic drumming group TaikOZ from Australia, Flavia Coelho from Brazil (“a distinctive meld of samba, bossa nova and ragamuffin”), Fanfare Ciocarlia (24-legged brass band from Romania) and Toumani & Sidiki Diabate (kora players from Mali). Sinead O’Connor of course drew a huge crowd. The Maori legend of how the world came into being was told beautifully by two singing Maori using wooden puppets and a variety of background sound effects. As both Dave and I are hearing impaired we preferred music, dancing and body language to pure singing. There were signing sessions at a huge CD shop and some artists gave workshops in the afternoons.

The Peacock Ladies awed me not only with their gorgeous costumes but by walking down the steep hill on stilts during the final Parade, accompanied by children dressed in their own creations and playing home-made drums.

A trio from Tennessee played Appalachian folk music on dulcimers.

Osadia gave a “provocative exhibition of hair art” with some fantastic creations.

I told this guy I liked his kilt and got a hug in return. The T-shirt says “Touch not the cat but a glove” (should really be … bot a glove). The motto of the MacPhersons and Mackintoshes. I guess he really was one.

And the food! A huge mixed paella with mussels, calamari, chicken and chorizo, and the Hungarian bread puffs with tomatoes and feta were our favourites. Most food cost between $6 and $15.

We cast longing but sated eyes at the many enticing curries, wood-fired pizza and other foods, and watched exotic cooking demonstrations.

A large shady area nearly offered welcome seating, the tables kept cleared and spotless by volunteers who also roved the Festival grounds picking up every tiny scrap of waste. The local newspaper also provided some comfy sofas, coffee tables AND free newspapers.

The best mango yoghurt smoothie ever was served from a pretty little blue caravan.

Colourful stalls sold the usual clothing and jewellery; at other stalls you could get your hand or arm hennaed or endure a real maori tattooing or have your hair braided.

More unusual were the cigar-box guitars and nifty carrier bags made of recycled truck ‘curtains’.

Health and wellness was well catered for. You could “borrow” one of 16 human books for half an hour from an impressive living library designed to “promote dialogue, reduce discrimination, encourage understanding and widen views on life”.

The Festival continued util 11 pm each night. On the last evening the tail end of cyclone Pam arrived with high winds which resulted in many tents being packed up extra early next morning. Mt. Taranaki, previously so clear, was covered with cloud. The Festival was over.

A shortened form of the above is to be published in a future issue of RV Lifestyle magazine.

New Plymouth has many attractions quite apart from its extensive coastline with the usual fine black sand and Coastal Walkway. We admired Len Lye’s Wind Wand, swinging round gently against the bright blue sky. Lye’s kinetic sculptures are internationally recognised. The Wind Wand was erected posthumously to commemorate the Millennium. A tourist brochure declares “Almost every road that heads towards the coastline leads to a pristine uncrowded wave.”

It was too windy for us to hire a sort of phaeton-cum-bicycle to pedal gracefully along the Coastal Walkway while admiring the views, so we drove to various points instead. At East End beach a couple of windsurfers were making full use of the wind and waves.

Not far out of town is the beautiful Te Rewa Rewa Bridge, opened only 5 years ago. Yet another can’t-stop-taking-photos situation rapidly developed.

Another afternoon (we HAVE been lazy in the mornings!) we circumnavigated Mt. Egmont, aka Mt. Taranaki. The countryside to the west of the mountain is like a multitude of smallish green sandhills, very lumpy (for Lesley and other CPS field trippers, exactly like Chris N’s mud maps in real life) whereas as we discovered on the return route, the eastern side is more flat.

The area just north of Cape Egmont with its now-defunct lighthouse is now a boat harbour of sorts. A large clubhouse attests to its popularity, but on a weekday towards the end of summer it was deserted.

Further south was the current lighthouse, set well inland. We had a picnic lunch overlooking the roaring surf. Guineafowl strolled along beside the road. There was a shipwrecked anchor (do anchors as well as boats get shipwrecked?) a little further south but we missed it.

Opunake was a lovely little bay with an interesting history and lots of signs to inform us about it. Long used by the maori, the militia arrived in 1869. According to a sign a steep road from the beach to the cliff top and a 300 ft jetty were in place by 1882. It was washed away in a storm and another built in 1899, and used until 1924. The remains are in the photos.

Driving back to New Plymouth, Mt. Taranaki was playing hide and seek  .. as soon as I had my camera ready or Dave had stopped the ute, the peak disappeared.

We had reached the 7-night limit for the NZMCA camp so spent the last night before WOMAD at the Transport Museum’s POP site. This was actually ideal as power was available and we could charge up everything. The only other caravan had a cat on board but once introduced and soundly repulsed, Penny lost all interest. The cat had a cat flap not in the more usual position at the bottom of a door, but via one of the outward-opening lockers. I’m not sure what the arrangement was inside but it seemed to work.

Next stop – WOMAD!!

We had almost a week to wait for WOMAD (World Of Music, Arts and Dance) so settled down in the leafy new NZMHA park near Vogeltown, with its massive padlocked gates. There were similar gates at the new parks in Rotorua and Kerikeri and doubtless at several other new parks we are yet to visit. For $3 per person per night and usually with potable water available, these parks are extremely good value, compared to $6-$25 at POPs and $45 or more at commercial holiday parks.

The morning after our arrival we saw the Variety Bash off then returned to enjoy (?) heavy rain all afternoon. The local library provided a welcome refuge. It has a modern grand piano which anyone can play and I was delighted to see two young people doing so.

Fortunately the forecast for more heavy rain over the next few days did not eventuate, but i did a great deal of baking next morning as we waited for the rain to come. Being Sunday we checked out the visitor guide and noted which attractions were only open that day, so took off late afternoon and just managed to squeeze several in.

We paid a visit to the Aviation Transport and Technology Museum and I was enthralled by the Printing shop with a whole set of linotype machines (granddad Johnston was a newspaper reporter with the Sydney Morning Herald). There were extensive collections of everything from old phones, to dredge engines and even an old Harvard plane. Also the usual domestic items – Dave and I must be getting on as we both remembered quite a few of them. WE also noted that there is a NZMCA park in the grounds and may well use it for a day or so later on to recharge all our power appliances, batteries, etc.

We also visitedt the delightful little Hurworth Cottage, only open at weekends. The only survivor of a settlement of the same name established in the 1850s near New Plymouth by members of the Atkinson and Richmond families from England. This brochure tells more …

The cottage only had 3 rooms, one up some extremely steep stairs. But it was extended many times by subsequent generations. When the Historic Places Trust bought it in 1967 they slowly and carefully stripped away 100 years of additions, renovations and modernisations and restored the old features.

A great find was a reminder of the early land wars – I refuse to call it graffiti.

The family went a little further than the usual locks of hair in Victorian mourning brooches…

The main room now contains Sir Harry’s parliamentary desk and a wonderful collection of old books in pristine condition. Indeed there whole cottage had a clean fresh airy feel to it. I was immediately envious of the family photos and a family tree above the wide fireplace.

There was some beautiful old crockery donated by various people and the caretaker/guide at the cottage told us the story of the families crockery being buried somewhere near when they fled to Wanganui when the land wars started and not recovered when the family returned as several of the cottages and the surrounding bush has been burned by the maoris who occupied the houses for a time. The crockery was found 70 years later:

The 150th anniversary of Hurworth  was celebrated by a re-enactment of the marriage of Amelia-Jane and Harry. What a wonderful idea!!

Leaving Hamilton we drove over one of the many bridges yet again, which reminded me of Dave’s wonderful story of when he was a school Army Cadet ….

When I went to Hamilton Tech we were put into the school cadets whether we wanted to be or not. Fortunately for me I was drafted into the REME (Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers) platoon so while all the other poor sods were out on the sports field square-bashing our platoon was squeezed into an Army 4 X 4  and a recovery vehicle and driven down to the then city dump on the banks of the Waikato River where we spent our days pushing an old Bren Gun carrier into the river and then working out how to recover it using the winches and blocks and tackle and ground anchors etc. And as soon as we had it back on dry land we would push it back in again. All under the relaxed supervision of a couple of regular army soldiers. Amazing fun on a beautiful summer’s day. Fortunately OSH hadn’t been invented back then!!!!!

Came ANZAC day and Dawn Parade. We were mustered at Garden Place and marched down the main street, left turned at Victoria Street and across the bridge. Large numbers of people marching in step can create extreme stresses which have been known to make bridges collapse in the past so just before we arrived at the bridge the NCO called “Break step!!!” So we all did a little shuffle and carried on…..   still in step!!!  About halfway across and the bridge was swaying alarmingly when a Regular NCO came racing up and screamed at us to “BREAK STEP!!!!!!  HALT!!!!!  NOW WALK!!! ONE RANK AT A TIME!!!! GO!!!” So we all shambled across the rest of the way and reformed ranks on the Riverside road for the rest of the Parade. My first ever Dawn Parade.

We were heading for Paeroa again but a phone call advising that a new seat cover would not be ready till the Friday caused us to divert to Tauranga, specifically the NZMCA camp at Tauriko on the outskirts where we have stayed before. It’s an ideal place from which to make sorties to various parts of Tauranga and points beyond without having to go through most of the city proper every time. Maximum length of stay 3 nights which suited us perfectly. On the way I admired yet again the contrast between the Kaimai mountain range and the Waitako plain, the latter covered with dairy cattle and cornfields. (And yet again there wasn’t time to go back to that wonderful Italian restaurant in Te Aroha!)

Along the way Dave suddenly said “fireworks ahead” which translates to a cop car with flashing lights – and a glass-laden lorry on its side in the ditch. The thought of the clean-up boggled me.

We went to Rotorua for the day so Dave could have lunch with his old boss from umpteen years ago. It was only 77 km through some diverse country, at first very hilly, all lumps and bumps and welcome patches of native forest plus the inevitable pine forests with the roadsides lined by waving toi-tois. I do love those native plants and the way the light shines through them. Then through Mangorewa Gorge, it must have been quite a feat cutting through all that rock and leaving serrated/ribbed patterns. Some especially steep faces are now covered with ferns peeping through the safety netting.

We stopped at a site which commemorated the building of the road. Signs told the story. Imagine a coach in 1873 with 4 horses, all the way from Napier to Rotorua then on to Tauranga. How long did it take? The first motorcar to use the Gorge road was a 6-seater Darracq in 1906. Then early in WW2 it was feared that the Japanese would invade NZ and the Home Guard built over 1200 road blocks to stop the move meant of tanks.

Mangopouri Gorge which followed was much less spectacular but with the same twisty road.

And so finally to the huge Lake that is Rotorua. I thought I could smell the characteristic sulphur smell immediately but it was probably just a passing truck. We had a lovely but far-too-much lunch at the lakeside, Dave and Harry never stopped talking. I left them to it and took Penny for a walk. It seems there’s more than one way to view the lake – from the shore, from a huge ferry serving lunch, from smaller boats, from a helicopter, or from a fixed-wing plane. All available from the same place too.

We also saw a part of Rotorua I did not see last time, with some interesting if rather tourist-trap old buildings and a very new one framed by a park entrance.

Back to Tauriko, a restful day, and finally contact with someone who had a large Clan Cochrane sign ready to deliver to us. At the Paeroa games we’d been approached by a past Tauranga Games committee member asking if we knew anyone who would want any of the old Clan signs. After contacting the NZ Clan Cochrane Commissioner I put in a claim for the Cochrane one. It is huge and needs some touching up but we are happy to transport it by degrees down to the Commissioner at Waikanae. When on the road it sits inside the caravan and is put outside at night – the Cochrane Cat?

Next day after a cuppa with Dave’s sister Bev and Bruce……

…… we headed back to Paeroa – again! – not a hardship though, I’m really getting to know the pretty Karangahake Gorge Road. One night at the RV park in Paeroa where dogs are welcome, a new cover for Dave’s seat (still under warranty and already been replaced once) and we set off about 3 pm for New Plymouth, arriving some 4 hrs later with a brief stop for the most awful carrot cake I’ve ever had at Te Kuiti (the coffee was OK though).

The highway from Te Kuiti to New Plymouth is exciting and exacting, not something you’d like to drive in heavy rain. Two tunnels are involved and as usual I did not have my camera ready for the first one and we could not stop … another wonderful photo that will remain in my mind’s eye.

We wanted to catch the start of the Variety Club’s annual Bash (see  <bashnz.co.nz> and Facebook  page ‘Variety Bash’) in New Plymouth.  Dave’s nephew Budgie was in it for the 20th year and up to his usual foamy fire-hose tricks…….

……. and Jacqui was the official photographer – which meant she had the privilege of being hoisted high above the assembled crowd at the official starting venue at the New Plymouth Surf Club.The hoist operator turned out to be an old acquaintance of hers (of course) … NZ being relatively small and RELATIVELY unpopulated I’m now used to Dave or others discovering old acquaintances or at least people who knew them, seemingly every couple of days.

We now have a week to wait until WOMAD, for which we are getting official press passes. I’ve been asked to write a story for the RV Travel magazine. Incidentally my little piece about the Vans & Vines at Martinborough has been published, with photos of Dave and Penny.

We arrived at Mystery Creek outside Hamilton in good time for the start of the Motorhomes & Caravans Show. There was plenty of free camping space for all vehicles if registered beforehand, so when we rolled up to the entry gate we had our rego details all printed out, and were waved on to our designated site which turned out to be conveniently close to both the events centre. There were also free showers some distance away. Apparently so many motorhomes and caravans turned up that they had to open another parking area.

Next day (Friday) the show started in earnest. We entered via a huge outdoor display of new and old caravans, the latter mostly of true vintage – sweet little boxes on wheels, mostly restored and some for sale, the best costing more than a second hand modern caravan! There has been a resurgence in this old style and brand new caravans are now being made to look just like the old ones, at least exteriorly. Me, I prefer more modern comforts but freely admit that the old ones have an ineluctable charm. I was so entranced by the interiors that I forgot to take proper photos of the exteriors!

There were seemingly hundreds of brand new motorhomes and caravans inside the main venue. Our T5’s Jayco brand showed several new models with lots more features than T5, features which we would love to have – an outside BBQ which slides into the body when not in use, a small front-loading washing machine which uses far less water than our top loader, newer suspension, lighter decorator colours and better fitted cushions. Oh Lotto where are our winning numbers?

Then there were rows and rows of – well, “things” – to make a life on the road more enjoyable. Stuff for the kitchen (kettles, fitted saucepans, ‘vapour cooking’ utensils, bag sealers, various gadgets), the bedroom (memory foam mattresses and cushions, bamboo cushions), laundry balls (no detergent needed), the mechanic-in-all-of-us helpful gadgets, the magic copper and precious metal arthritis-preventers, the magazines, the caravan Clubs…..

That evening Patrick and Sylvie from Bowen arrived back in town after their north island tour, and we had a scrumptious simple dinner of mussels in white wine, shallots and cream, cooked by Sylvie in T5. NOW I know how to do it properly. Later we took them to the bus station; hopefully we may see them once more in the south island.

One day at the Show was enough for us. But we stayed on site for four (free!) nights and did other things – an impromptu BBQ with Dave’s nephew Budgie, and the long-awaited Karekare Races.

Hamilton to Karekare is mostly an easy run, through Huntly with its perpetual smoke haze and early morning balloonists and past fields and fields of corn, then via the Waitakere  range to the west coast.

Karekare is a beach just south of the famous Piha. The usual soft black sand, rolling surf and tide rips all guarded by a rock fortress called the Watchman (Kaka Pa) and just out at sea Paratohi Island around which a swimming race is held each year. Every year now for 20 years there has been a Beach Race day to benefit the tiny Lone Kauri School and the Karekare Surf Life Saving Club. It is a brilliant community effort which attracts large crowds.

Quite apart from the eight official races which covered two separate distances and various classes such as thoroughbreds and faster horses, hacks, ponies and Kidz Kartz (miniature ponies with sulkies)……..

…… there was a final fun race called the Cauldron Scramble involving two riders, one horse, a barrel, two apples, a bucket, a T-shirt and a sack! Each race had from 5 to 8 contestants.

Betting was permitted – of a sort. In spite of that restraint Dave “won” every race!

After their races some of the horses and riders went for a swim.

Being a family event there was also a hat competition and various children’s activities, pony rides and extremely good food stalls (all home-made produce; the school’s pita, salad and peanut sauce in particular was wonderful). Representatives from various environmental groups were also present including a Maui dolphin stall aimed at educating children about this threatened species.

One horse in particular attracted much attention. Johnny Depp was a handsome grey pony ….. so now I can say with complete truth that I have got up very close to Johnny Depp (!).

 We left the ute in friend Jacqui’s driveway and walked down to the beach. “Only about 10 minutes’ sez Dave. More like half an hour of very steep road. Round a bend, finally, a glimpse of the distant beach. But it was still another km or so it seemed from the car park, wading across a tidal stream and then on and on to the designated area, awash with colourful bunting, tents and people.

It was perfect weather for all but dogs and bare feet. The black sand was hot hot hot. Like others we had to carry Penny over seeming kilometres, especially when she wanted to spend a penny but insisted it be over a bit of grass. At the end of the day Dave bravely walked all the way back up the hill while Jacqui, Penny and I rested our feet in the carpark. 

Next time I will wear more covered footwear and also take a small chair! 

Paeroa’s annual Battle of the Streets was set for Sunday 22 February so we decided to hang around for another week. Not that it was difficult – so much to do and see and also hopefully a little relaxation time. T5 had some important work done on its brakes and the ute went in for a service. The Blog was brought up to date and work done on the Book of the Blog Volume 3 (ultimately to be available from the Blurb website, plus volumes 1 & 2).

From the informative website http://www.battleofthestreets.co.nz/history.html  I learned that the Battle of the Streets started in 1991 and has been held every year since. Although motorcycle racing is far from my favourite sport (I certainly can’t speak for Dave though!!) I was quite looking forward to it, the smells and thunder and spectacular overtaking and jostling of the bikes.

The evening before, there was an air of expectation in the town. Barriers were already being erected down the main road, rolls of deer fencing and buffers (huge wool sacks filled with, I think, waste paper) were placed next to every lamppost and street sign ready to be tied into place, and hay bales were also being delivered and stacked up in places. Some of the shops had special displays.

From the website: “Two church congregations within the closed circuit area combine their Sunday worship with other churches elsewhere in the town. Residents who live inside the circuit and wish to leave have security for their properties provided. And for the cats, dogs and other pets within the area, accommodation is provided for them away from the noise. Businesses that provide a seven-day-a-week service make alternative arrangements, the medical centre changes surgery times and have an emergency service in place; temporary bus and taxi stands are provided and arrangements are in place for those local residents who wish to go to their local dairy or supermarket on race day. “

“Over 350 volunteers were involved, including a team of over 100 on Paeroa’s central streets from 5 am on race day….”  In other words everything was ready to run like a well-oiled machine.

The evening before, it rained.

The early morning work still went ahead. But about 9.30 am the decision was made to cancel the meeting altogether, as more rain was confidently expected (of course it never eventuated). The road would have been too slippery and rider safety was paramount.

We were unaware of this decision as we breakfasted in the sunshine, planning to make a late arrival around 11 am to catch the start of the racing. But by the time we arrived, everything was already half dismantled. Sections of deer fencing turned the streets into a maze. Bikes were being loaded onto trailers. Leather-clad people wandered around disconsolately. Hay bales were being collected and a street sweeper was vainly trying to keep up with the mess they left behind. About 5 ambulances were seen departing. Cars were still being rerouted through the back streets. It was so SAD.

I couldn’t stop thinking of the immense efforts of the organisers and volunteers, and all for nought. And the cost. And the disappointment. And the traffic disruption – normally all traffic goes right down the main street.

By that afternoon the town looked like nothing had happened. Only a few wisps of straw remained in the gutters to remind me that less than 24 hrs ago the town wore a very different face.

It never ceases to amaze me, an Australian used to long country distances, that in our 15 months’ travels we have often crossed our earlier tracks particularly in the north island. Sometimes when approaching a town or place from an entirely new direction it takes a little time for recognition to set in. So it has been with Waihi and the Karangahake Gorge, both of which have become much more familiar in recent days, given Paeroa’s prime position at the junction of several highways.

We did a day trip to Tauranga to visit Dave’s sister and other family members (and managed not to leave Penny’s lead behind, thanks for the reminder Bev!), and another up to Thames and the unremarkable mouth of the Waihou River, which latter I see with new eyes now I understand its importance in the Hauraki Plains drainage system. Captain Cook journeyed up this river, the most inland he ever travelled and charted in NZ. His “…. enthusiastic description of the Thames white pine trees (Kahikatea) brought other ships in there in droves” searching for mast timber.

Here’s an old photo of Paeroa; the map below shows its position in the river system  and many of the places we have visited previously.

We called in at what was then a brand new POP at the top of the road leading down to Waihi Beach and admired the way the liquidamber trees lining the driveway have grown since our last visit.

And we investigated the Karangahake Gorge and did one of the shorter walks, 20 minutes along a narrow but well formed track which skirted the gorge on one side, with traffic thundering along on the other side and the river tumbling below. Plus two swing bridges (wheeee!).

We went as far as a tunnel which goes across the river and under the roadway, but as we did not have torches we decided to retrace our steps rather than take the longer route back.

As I mentioned in an earlier blog the area is full of old gold mining batteries. Mining started in 1882 but most mines had closed by the 1920s. In 1907 the mining town of Karangahake had a population of approximately 2000.

The blog is up to date! Tomorrow we head for Hamilton for the Motorhomes & Caravans show.

Finally Saturday 14 February rolled around – the eagerly awaited Paeroa Highland Games and Tattoo. Tartan, tartan everywhere in all sorts of guises including small girls’ frilly dresses and thankfully very few red hearts considering the date.

After finding a parking spot with some difficulty and seeming miles away from the event, we were just in time to join Clan Johnston for the Clan March. Which wasn’t really very far, just out of the grounds and across the main street (always a thrill to hold up all the traffic!) to a small park, a few speeches, a pipe band rendition of whatever then a slow walk back. But fun!

Clan Johnston only had a few representatives, as did most of the 14 other Clans present. As we have now ‘done’ several Highland Games over the past 15 months we now know this to be the norm, much seems to depend on where the main Clan officials are located. Our other Clans – Cochrane and Lamont for me, Menzies and Buchanan for Dave – were not there alas, although I did take a Cochrane sash just in case. Later we discovered that the Committee President was a Buchanan. Dave wore his Bruce tartan kilt, it’s not one of his clans but some years ago he was offered an excellent deal for a full outfit right down to formal jacket, shoe buckles, silver coat buttons and lace sleeve insets, so didn’t hesitate.

Clan Johnston gained four new members that day. I spent part of the time sitting at the back of the tent with Penny as it was so hot, and every few minutes a new person would wander by and start asking questions and examining all the books and other things on display. Dave had a wonderful conversation with a man who in days gone by would have been a bitter enemy – a Maxwell! (He disappeared just before I took this photo).

Neither of us were feeling 100%, while I think our natural immunity has been boosted by all the travelling and people we have met, our French friends passed on an Aussie cold which must have been a new variation! So I gave many of the traditional Scottish events a miss, and also the Tattoo that night although Dave did go for a time. 

Some more photos:

Apart from all the traditional Highland Games events such as tossing the caber, hammer and wheat sheaf, piping contests, axemen, Highland Dancing etc there were several innovative events. A Junior Highland Games was held for the third time, also a fashion show “Tartan in the Park”, the latter judged by local resident and Silver Fern Maria Tutaia. There were Highland cattle, a Highland Bar which served the Paeroa Fling (Drambuie over ice, a dash of lemon and L&P!) and various Scottish shops.

There were several special guests: ’Twisty Willow’ (a Kiwi couple with a love of Celtic music), an awesome Scottish tribal music group Clan Celtica which sent shivers up my spine (such enthusiastic drumming!), and Alec Calderwood who read the poems of Robbie Burns in what I was told was a lovely Scottish accent. 

The Waikato/Bay of Plenty Scottish Country Dancing group gave an exhibition which had me longing to join them. I miss our Christchurch dancing group, which has kept going despite a drop in attendance following the earthquakes.

The Games programme notes that “Originally highland dancing, piping, drumming and the tests of strength were performed by adult males. However all over the world in recent years have seen younger people including females dominating the Scottish Highland Dancing scene, becoming active participants in piping, drumming and taking part in the athletic events such as caber tossing, hammer hurling, tug of war and racing. In Scotland, Junior Highland Games are becoming more common with all the equipment downsized accordingly.”  We have noticed these things before but I have not put them into words. Scottish traditions will never die in countries far away from Scotland, and particularly in NZ with its huge number of early Scottish immigrants and fourth or fifth generation descendants.

Heading north again for Hamilton via Wanganui, National Park and Taumarunui, we decided to stop for the night at a POP about half way up the Paraparas. This turned out to be a YMCA adventure camp with a flat camping ground, power and water and even a dump. It was also very pricey so we only stayed one night.

Incidentally the drive north from Wanganui is interesting, with ever-changing scenery. We were unable to drive this road when last in Wanganui as it was impassable in places following heavy rain. As usual because we were towing T5 all the best photographs remained in my mind’s eye … there were very few places to stop on that twisty road.

 The road wound through immrense chalky cliffs (photo taken through windscreen).

On again next day after a quick stop to admire the small but interesting Raukawa Falls……

….. we made good time to Taumarunui, inviting ourselves for a cuppa (and some lovely Scottish pikelets) with David and Marion who looked after Penny for 3 weeks when we were in Australia for my daughter Nic’s wedding last April. Penny knew exactly where she was as evidenced by knowing exactly how to get outside via the side door and deck to retrieve her ball when it was tossed out a window!

Thus fortified we continued on to Hamilton and a new POP on the western outskirts of town. This was a lifestyle block with only one flat space close to the gate and quite a bit of manoeuvring was needed to get T5 into position. The grass had been seeded with pennyroyal or a similar plant and delicious minty smells wafted around us whenever we moved. It reminded me strongly of my flat in Brisbane where I planted the entire little courtyard with Pennyroyal. (All went well until it started to flower and needed mowing). We were welcomed by a large friendly alsatian with marked hip dysplasia, which didn’t seem to slow him down very much!

Patrick and Sylvie arrived next day. Last seen 25 years ago in northern Queensland, they were an important part of my early life with first husband Geoff and baby Nicole in Bowen and on our boat ‘Cornelius’. (Incidentally there is a story about Cornelius on my website nancyvada.me). They sailed with us on the first stage of our circumnavigation of Australia in 1980-81 and were very supportive when Geoff died in 1983. They pitched their tent next to T5 and we had a wonderful evening and next morning reminiscencing. Before parting we all had lunch at the aptly named Three Frogs restaurant in Hamilton. We hope to meet up with them probably in the south island in early April.

The Paeroa Highland Games was beckoning so off we set again to arrive in Paeroa and discover an unusual RV Centre, not as first thought a business with a small hard standing yard behind it as in some other places, but a huge landscaped area managed by a local cooperative of RV owners, with both grassed and hard standing, power if wanted, showers, toilets and washing machines plus a well stocked exchange library. Some inhabitants have been calling this home for over 5 years. We settled into a lovely elevated  spot.

Paeroa is not just the home of the 7m high Big Bottle of L&P, the NZ soft drink originally made from lemons and the local spa water. L&P is of course available everywhere, even in the form of ice-cream! But Paeroa is also known as the Antique Capital of NZ, possibly because of its situation at the junction of 3 highways and surrounded by farmland. Certainly there are a huge number of Antique, Retro and plain Junk shops. One shop in particular was packed to the brim. No matter what you wanted – dolls’ prams, china, crystal, telephones, retro clothing, furs, hats … it was there. Another had a collection of Disney dwarves. The owner of one shop told me she spent hours scraping the paint off the beautiful leadlight windows.

Paeroa was originally a thriving port and has “always had a boating heart”, hence a little maritime museum on the banks of what is now only a little stream although it can still be traversed by small launch. The little launch still takes day trippers.

Anyone know what this is?

On the way to Paeroa I spotted a blueberry farm so one day we drove off to find it again. We didn’t pick our own but did purchase a huge pottle plus some absolutely delicious blueberry icecream, far far better than the over-sweet commercial variety. Even Penny liked it…..

Also spotted on the highway, this sign which someone with a shotgun obviously didn’t agree with.

Returning via the little town of Ngatea we stopped to look at a signboard and were rewarded with an interesting history of the Piako River Scheme, a major flood control project designed to protect the low-lying mostly peat swamp Hauraki Plains and upper Piako. Water is controlled by stopbanks along the river and across the sea foreshore, and ponding areas upstream. There are many floodgate outlets and pump stations including at Ngatea (photo below). The Scheme was built between 1962 and 1979 at a cost of about $76 million in today’s terms.

The Piako River scheme was not the first huge undertaking on the Hauraki Plains..…

Ngatea was originally known as “Orchard” due to many cherry, peach and apple trees, and was a very busy waterway as it was the only highway for the settlers – everything had to be transported by river even the drinking water.  This little town celebrated the start of the new Millenium in a unique way …

Next blog: the Games!

The weather or rather just the wind became progressively worse each day. Caravans and motorhomes rocked and rolled. People started leaving earlier than planned. Some went to Lake Ferry – just as bad there! – others continued all the way back to Lake Reserve at South Featherston so they could visit the Fell museum, which we saw early in our ramblings. A few went directly to Martinborough and the site of the Vans & Vines festivities which were to mark the end of the safari.

W braved one more night at Ngawi with only a few other vans for company …

We too left Ngawi a day early and drove along the shore of wind-whipped Palliser Bay, past eroding cliffs where signs warned us not to stop, then up through the mountains, past the wind farm, and on to the gentler Wairarapa plains. 

We spent two nights at Lake Featherston where we wisely chose to set up away from the shore,  nearer some sheltering trees. We were looking forward to collecting our mail and getting some washing done.

While travelling we use a mail redirection service based in Wellington; it holds all Vour mail until Dave orders it sent to a convenient post office. This has worked very well. The redirection service lets us know when mail arrives at their office and if it sounds urgent we can ask them to open, scan and email. Knowing we would be in the vicinity of Greytown Dave ordered our mail sent there to arrive a day or so previous to our arrival. We rolled up to the small PO – part of a new supermarket complex actually – to be told (very rudely) “WE DON’T DO COURIER DELIVERIES SO IF WE GET SOMETHING WE SEND IT STRAIGHT BACK!”  What?!

Back at the camp Dave spoke to a couple of other NZMCA members and learned that certain POs do not handle anything except stamps and are listed on the PO website (which of course we had not thought to consult). But when Dave checked he discovered that the Greytown PO did NOT have such a restriction according to their webpage. Grrrrrr.

Faced with the option of reordering the mail to be sent to a future destination and not getting it for about 2 weeks, we decided to drive down to Wellington for the day. 42 km as the crow flies but some 72 km over the Rimutakas. This turned out to be a surprisingly good decision. Not only did we collect the mail but we were able to get some chemicals for the caravan toilet, get our internet service sorted out with Vodafone (a surprisingly good deal, we just happened to be in the right place at the right time), and get some much-needed haircuts. Regarding the latter I hate going to strange hairdressers, never knowing if they will be choppers or proper stylists (never mind what they claim) ….. this time Lady Luck was with me and I found a really great one in Upper Hutt. Dave found a barber close by and there was also a cafe where we liked the little gourmet pies so much we bought some more for our dinner. Amazing really as we were heading for ‘home’ again when we decided to turn off at Upper Hutt.

The final day of the Wairarapa Safari was marked by the Van & Vines charity rally sponsored by RV Lifestyle Magazine publishers and some local businesses. Very well organised, it was held in the Martinborough Rugby Club grounds, where dogs are not normally permitted. However with special permission all dogs (and their humans and homes) were in a special section at the end of the park. (A huge number of vans can be seen in the far distance). 

I was asked by the editor of RV Lifestyle to write a short piece about the weekend. Here it is. At this point in time I don’t know if it is actually going to be published.

We were literally blown into the Vans and Vines event at the end of a wonderful Wairarapa Safari which took us from Castlepoint to Cape Palliser and various places in between. (photos?) After rocking and rolling the previous few nights a more sheltered site was appreciated. We knew we were heading for the Dog House – just joking – and appreciated the persistence of RV Travel Lifestyle in negotiating with the Martinborough Council to allow dogs into Coronation Park. This involved a temporary amendment to the dog control bylaw and placement of a temporary fence to separate us dog lovers from all the other event participants. 

Not that we or the dogs minded. There was plenty of space for doggy walks, doggy meet-and-greets and other doggy doings. It meant we were considerably closer to the Fair if not to the Van & Vines event centre. During Happy Hour all the dogs seemed happy guarding their respective vans while in eyesight of each other while their owners were happy elsewhere. 

We were very well fed over the weekend. First the Friday night complimentary dinner sponsored by Premier Beehive, Fresh Choice Greytown and Tui; then Saturday night’s Junior Rugby Club fundraiser. Then to top it off Sunday morning’s breakfast of wonderful paua fritters, bacon and more chorizo sausages. So many sausages were given out as raffle prizes and other hand-outs, I wonder if there was a single caravan/motorhome without some.  

Not having to cook perhaps made people extra generous, the array of donated food for Cancer research was awesome. (Everyone was asked to pose behind the mountain of food for a group photo which will be in the magazine). 

Saturday morning the Fair was in full swing when we arrived, Penny the foxie in tow. We humans were impressed by the number and diversity of stalls and other humans, Penny much less so. Particularly when she was trodden on. Not really a place for small dogs but she did manage to meet a few others nonetheless. She did enjoy the wonderful smells at the dog food and bedding stall.

There was a bewildering variety of stalls – clothing, crafts, food. I bought some earrings and Dave couldn’t resist the sight of the Twisted Chips. One potato made for a great many ‘chips’ which we all enjoyed, Penny included. We did not try out the curry goat – maybe next time! 

After Sunday’s paua fritter and chorizo breakfast we packed up and took off heading north towards Hamilton with no fixed stop in mind apart from a whistle stop with David and Marion Johnston, Penny’s “other parents”. David took a photo which is now on the Clan Johnston webpage. We planned to meet my old friends from Bowen Queensland on the Tuesday.

After 3 nights at windswept Tora it was back to Martinborough for supplies and then to Ngawi, a tiny fishing village at the south eastern corner of Palliser Bay right down at the southern tip of the north island.

We were all camped in an open paddock close to the beach and the wind was so strong for the whole of our stay that most caravans/motorhomes left a day early.

We did not attempt to climb the steps to Cape Palliser Lighthouse, we would’ve been blown away……

……. but we did visit the nearby large seal colony twice. It was wonderful to be able to get so close and I could have spent hours sitting there watching the young seals playing unconcernedly although the adult seals were aware of our presence.

A mob of surfie seals were riding the waves, waiting for the big one …. 

At other times of the year penguins are a road hazard.

Ngawi is an extraordinary place with a large number of rusting bulldozers all lined up along one side of the main street which is also the beach front. It’s said there are more bulldozers per head of population than anywhere else.

Apparently there is no more fishing this season, the quota for paua, crayfish and cod has been reached. Anyone want to buy a fishing boat, bulldozer and boat cradle? Elsewhere we have seen old tractors being used, but at Ngawi ithas to be bulldozers apparently, as there is no wharf and the beach can be very rough as well as steep.

The dark grey shaley sand was very clean apart from multi-coloured seaweed. The reds and greens of the sea lettuce were such an enticing and realistic green.

Ngawi has also had its share of shipwrecks. The best known is probably the 1116 ton iron-hulled Zuleika which foundered on Good Friday April 16 1897. Eight of the drowned crew were buried in a single grave now marked by a memorial which also notes the deaths of another 4. Of the 21 men on board 10 including the Captain survived. There is an excellent newspaper article about the wreck in the Evening Post of 21 April 1897, which can be found at www.paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/

Another notable wreck was the Ben Avon which ran aground on 11 November 1903. She sailed straight in during the night in thick weather. The pilot died (from shock?) but the Captain and crew managed to get into a lifeboat and landed seven miles away from the wreck.  On the 13th November the Ben Avon was still upright, sails flapping idly in the wind, her holds full of water. She broke up soon after. (http://www.divenewzealand.com/index.asp?s1=diving&s2=lower%20north%20island&id=76)  The Captain was severely castigated in a court of enquiry – he should not have put all trust in the pilot – but was allowed to keep his certificate.

This is the cove where it happened.