Wanganui

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As I went to sleep, I could see storm clouds brewing over the mountains and yet, I slept soundly all night. Not a peep from me or the clouds. I awoke to a clear blue sky and, having eaten breakfast, opted for a brisk walk along the beach.

Waitarere seemed to comprise maybe a dozen houses, and it appeared that all the occupants were on the beach that morning. I counted 5 of them! And so it was that I headed south along the beach in the fresh morning sunshine. The beach stretched for miles in each direction, in a dead straight line. How a sailing ship could be wrecked on such a beach is a little beyond me, but wrecked she was. The Hydrabad ran aground in 1879 and, because it couldn’t be salvaged, was stripped of, well, everything really. Today, all that remains is the ironwork jutting from the sand - a rather interesting landmark for an early morning walk.

Returning to the van, I continued my journey north only stopping at Foxton to collect some bananas I’d had on order (I hadn’t really, but it all adds to the excitement of the narrative!). The old style shop facades and the wide streets give Foxton the image of a frontier town. And the windmill is out of place too. It’s the exact replica of a 17th century Dutch flourmill and was built by a Dutch immigrant. The plans and the machinery were imported from The Netherlands and the mill produces flour for the New Zealand market.

Having collected my bananas, I wanted to be in Wanganui for lunch. So, without sparing the horses (you can only drive at 100kph) I headed north and arrived in the city late morning. Knowing how the councils like to charge for parking in towns, I’d already identified a suitable spot in the suburbs and consequently, found myself at Durie Hill. On the opposite side of the river to the city, Durie Hill boasts the only public underground lift in New Zealand, one of only two in the world. So, being stripped of $1, I entered this fine Edwardian work of art and descended the 216’ in the comfort wooden box, with suitable green padded seating for the ladies. Walking through a 200yd tunnel, I came out into the sunlight and I wasn’t even out of breath, despite changing from metric to imperial units!

Wanganui is a charming city of about 40,000 and has a wealth of charming heritage buildings, all of them beautifully preserved. In the early days of the city, there were some misunderstandings between the local Maori and the European settlers who thought they’d paid to buy land, but that the Maori took to be an exchange of gifts. It wasn’t until some 20 years later that the problems were resolved and Wanganui was finally born (after having been initially called Peter). I must admit, it is a very pleasant town, and, after a cheap lunch at a 1960’s café run by an elderly lady called Jean (and her mother), I headed off for the main event of the day.

The Whanganui (yes, that’s got a wh) River is the longest navigable waterway in New Zealand and Wanganui (yes, that’s not got a wh) is one of the oldest cities simply due to its coastal links and its links with the interior. In the early part of the 20th century, the port rivalled that of Wellington, but of the 12 river steamers plying these waters, only one remains. I say remains; what I mean is, the Waimariewas decommissioned in the 1950’s, sank at her moorings and was rescued in the 1990’s to be relaunched on 1st January, 2000. She was built in London in 1899, put into a box labelled “This Way Up”, shipped to New Zealand and, using only an Allen Key and some pictures on a piece of paper, was reassembled.

So, I paid $33 to have a two hour trip upstream on New Zealand’s only surviving, coal-fired paddle steamer. Upon boarding, and being sad, I’d studied the wind direction and was the only person to be sitting in the sun in the aft section of the upper deck. My fellow passengers had all opted to in astern in the sun. With a bit of bumping and quite a bit of splashing, we made steam, the paddles turned, the dark, sooty steam belched forth, we slipped our moorings and I was joined by half of the passengers, covered in smuts.

It was a very pleasant, relaxing journey up river. The commentary was interesting, comprising European history, Maori history and geology. In fact, there was one particular railway bridge that in the 1930’s needed replacing due to the larger locomotives taking passengers from New Plymouth to Wellington. Being a vital link, the entire railway bridge was demolished and rebuilt in iron over a weekend! I can only assuming that it must have been over-engineered as there was no time at all for stress-testing, etc.

My river trip over, I headed for camp, did my washing, watched a woman in a Beetle (with a tiny caravan attached) drive round and round the grass area trying to get the caravan straight and settled in for the night.

Distance travelled: 108km / 67 miles

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Photos

Waitaere Beach
I woke up to this view - isn't life unfair!

The Hydrabad
... well, all that remains of her

Foxton
Why would a Dutch guy build a windmill in New Zealand - and use it to make flour?

Wangahui
The Waimarie is moored in the river

Wanganui
Seasonal Greetings!

The Waimarie
Getting a head of steam ...