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I can’t say that I slept particularly well what with the city traffic, Friday night revellers and jet lag, but I did stay in bed until 08h45. One look outside at the blue sky sparked me into action - and to define the day’s events.

A shower preceded a flick through 1001 Things to see and do in New Zealand after which it was clear that I should cross the harbour to the North Shore and the historic town of Devonport.

The name Devonport may immediately remind you of a Naval Base and, indeed, you’d not be wrong. This Devonport is a peaceful and salubrious town, with a naval history and only 15 minutes by ferry from the city. It is one of the oldest of Auckland’s suburbs and started life back in 1840 as a naval station. Soon merchants followed - with two families in particular responsible for some of the earliest examples of town planning. Anyway …

I made my way down to the ticket office and patiently waited behind six geriatric Australians who were trying to persuade the young lady in the ticket office that she really could sell them tickets for a tour of Auckland. I’m not quite sure what happened in the end but they ended up with one return ticket to Devonport between them! After they’d wandered off in a very confused state, it was my turn, and I purchased my ticket and made it to the catamaran just as the gang plank was being lifted. No prizes for guessing that I made my way to the chairs at the front and sat in the sun watching the approaching land.

As I’d not had breakfast, I headed to the centre of the town only stopping at the iSite in order to pick up a map and some information. Suitably armed, it was off for a strong coffee and healthy scone. (That’s 1 portion of fruit today) Oh, and as coffee is a bean, that’s also one portion of vegetable!

Setting of purposefully, I headed back towards the ferry terminal so that I could start my bijou trip-ette around the headland. The early sun had given way to cloud but it wasn’t cold and I was soon engrossed in this very historic place. Though not very photogenic, my start point was a place identified on the map as Flagstaff. It was on Flagstaff Terrace and, I probably should have guessed, was a flag staff. Clearly a sense of imagination was not a requirement amongst the early settlers. This marked the spot where the British Navy first came ashore in 1840. I don’t think they literally came ashore; they probably disembarked but you know what I mean.

Following the coast, I walked past some very impressive houses dating from the 1840s. There were two families involved in the early business life of Devonport, one to the left (up Victoria Road) and the other to my right (up Church Street). They vied for wealth between them and built all sorts for the community but eventually, others came in and settled between the two roads resulting in a fascinating mixture of Edwardian and Victorian meets Wild West!

It’s worth noting at this point that historically, the Auckland area was actively volcanic. By historic, I mean that the newest island in the bay is only 600 years old! The volcanic history played a part in the founding of Devonport as the three volcanic cones in the locality would prove very useful to the military. Walking along the beach, evidence of earlier volcanic activity was very evident, with black lava flows clearly visible at the tide line.

Moving further down the beach, I came to the Maori equivalent of the Flag Staff. Some 1500 years previously, the first Maori had landed at this same site, excited by the rich volcanic soil and the access to seafood (although the fish restaurant closed soon after) and started the first colonisation of Aotearoa. This memorial depicts a bird on an orb, a replica of the sacred bird image named Korotangi (Weeping Dove) which was brought on the Waka from the original Maori homeland of Hawaiiki. Maybe the British should have put up a depiction of a bloke in a barrel on a pole - but it doesn’t have the romantic appeal of the Weeping Dove.

By this time, the cloud had burned away and the sun was beginning to provide some heat. Off came the jumper and, good timing really, as I’d just reached North Head, a site used by the military for 150 years and only recently returned to the public. This volcanic cone was the middle-sized of the three in the area - using a geographical term I picked up during my school days!

Originally, North Head was of significance to the early Maori settlers who built their village (pa) on the summit of the volcano. Later, after the British arrived, the threat from Russia towards the end of the nineteenth century resulted in the military flattening the top of the cone and building defensive structures. These included amazing disappearing guns of which very few still exist anywhere in the world. This continued through both World Wars and culminated in a large number of underground chambers, tunnels and various other militaria. Thankfully, the Health and Safety Executive haven’t heard of this place and one is free to roam the tunnels with a torch (assuming you have one) without having the historic ambiance ruined by artificial lighting and wopping great information boards all over the place! I must admit, it was rather exciting heading towards traces of light and finding oneself on a balcony halfway up a cliff looking out to sea. Real Boys’ Own stuff!

I was rather fascinated by the entire history of North Head and walked around the cone three times (first, the summit, then the middle ground to look at the military history and finally around the coast). At last, finding no more excuses to wander around, I headed up the coast to find a bite to eat. I was advised that the first beach to which I’d come was extremely tidal and, at this time of day, would be sea-less. Not to be put off, I sat in the sun for a few minutes and watched a couple of dogs return the owner’s ball every time he tried to throw it away in the sea.

Heading over the rocks, I continued my search for something to eat. By now, it was some 6 hours since my “breakfast” and I knew there was no food at the first beach. Not to be put off, I strode out (to use a literary term to indicate purposefulness when in reality I sauntered) and eventually rounded the headland to the second beach. Known as Narrow Neck Beach (probably because it was discovered by someone sitting on the sand trying to work out how the ship got into a bottle), it was graced by barbeque pits, a sailing club and, what I was after, the only food emporium for several miles.

Having run out of almost every item on the menu, I was down to the last two options offered by The Beach Café - Vegetarian Pie or Beef and Cheese Pie. With hindsight, I suspect there were really three options as my Beef and Cheese Pie was distinctly lacking in cheese (thank goodness!).

Looking at the map, I now needed to workout how to get back to Devonport without retracing my steps. “Ah”. I thought, “this sounds interesting … A 20 minute walk through native bush on an estuary shoreline with native fern, lily and 51 native tree species, including 300 kauri”. That’ll hit the spot. Having set of and completed the walk, I’d suggest the following, more suitable description … “a 20 minute walk alongside a playing field and returning past evil smelling mud”.

Next, it was the other visible volcanic cone, Mount Victoria, which I reached by following the main road. Climbing steeply through the early settlers’ cemetery “reading like a Who’s Who of early Devonport”, I made it to the summit. This was also a Maori pa and even has a couple of terraces and pits still visible on the ascent. Now it houses a signals mast and offers superb views.

Thinking back, I looked around to see if I could locate the third volcanic cone. Mount Victoria was the highest (the Maori name means higher level and North Head was named after a Maori God. So where was the third cone (imaginatively called lower level possibly?) I could certainly see no sign of it. Using the universal male attribute of as a last resort, look in the book I came to discover that the third cone had been quarried away in the 1950s. It’s a shame there wasn’t a pub called the Mole Hill - at least it would have been made out of a mountain. Having reached the point of brain fade, all that was left was to have a drink and a look around the old town. I confess though that it took me longer to enjoy my drink than it did to see the old town - pretty shops - but shops nonetheless.

So that’s it - back to the ferry and back to the hotel just as a strange light descended - and the heaven’s opened!

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