Auckland - Whananaki North

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After the very heavy rain of last night, Sunday wasn’t to disappoint - it was still raining. It was also the day when I was to check out of the hotel and move into a new home. After a shower, I quickly packed and, grabbing my phone numbers, went into Auckland for breakfast. Walking back to the hotel, I called the rental company and arranged my transfer.

Within 30 minutes or so, I’d checked out and was waiting in hotel reception for my taxi. It soon arrived, driven by a Chinese gentleman going by the very oriental name of Billy. Billy was so in tune with both his job and his car that there appeared to be a direct correlation between the speed he was driving and the volume and rate of conversation - I don’t think I’ve ever been so pleased to see a red light!

Billy dropped me at the rental offices close to Auckland Airport and left me looking for the entrance to the office amongst the selection of vehicles for hire - ranging from the little vans sleeping one to those more suitable for the All Blacks. I was greeted by a very pleasant Maori lady who, over the course of the next 45 minutes, taught me everything I needed to know about the vehicle that was to be my home for the next 3 weeks. How much I actually remembered will become evident over the next few weeks.

For the technical, I’d acquired a long wheelbase Ford Transit, complete with shower and toilet, kitchenette, double bed (with single), fridge, air conditioning and sofa. There was no rubbish bin and the vehicle did 0 to 60.

I loaded my possessions as best I could and, placing a Yorkie on the dashboard, departed into areas unknown. Now, New Zealand is known for many things, but traffic signs are not always the world’s most accurate and within a few minutes I was driving along side the motorway into Auckland! With hindsight, that was a relief as this bed on wheels turned out to be an automatic transmission with, according to the handbook, a lag between accelerator and the power going to the wheels. Consequently, I was happy for the ability to practice climbing the hills on ordinary roads although I wasn’t the most popular person crossing the (steep) Auckland Bridge!

Heading north, I was soon into the rolling hills that would be my companion for the remainder of the day. Ever mindful that I had an empty larder, I was both admiring the scenery and looking out for a supermarket. Ever hopeful, I stopped at the first site that was large enough to accommodate my charabanc. Stepping inside the Hallowed Halls of Utopia, I was bowled over by the plethora of delights presented; not being able to understanding how such culinary offerings had been denied to mere mortals for so long. Suitably stocked with biscuits, tea bags, fresh coffee, milk and a few other less essential items, I opted to ensure an emergency supply and added two boxes of cup-a-soup.

The weather hadn’t improved at all as I continued north and, as it had taken me some time to acquire my wheely bed, I was glad of the cloud. Wind swept bays crawled past me, hills passed below and sheep ran past. Never have I seen so many sheep in one place, all chewing away at replicas of Hobbiton.

Cities with names to inspire heroic tales were soon being ticked off - Orewa (“you can’t beat a stroll along the Millennium Walkway”), Warkworth (“a city with a population of 2800”) - my imagination was running riot - which unfortunately was something that had not happened to the road builders who, for some reason, decided to abandon several miles of tarmac at intervals to gravel presumably to ensure a supply of clients for the local windscreen suppliers.

The scenery was stunning and my journey northwards was punctuated by the occasional photo opportunity in between the showers. As the day continued, I realised I’d not eaten at all and opted to head for “a subtropical city by the edge of a beautiful harbour”. With a population of 45,000, I was sure to get a meal. I followed the signs for the Town Basin, where I’d find “cafés, restaurants and a variety of appealing shops” … for truckers … so I headed for the city Centre instead. Then, I realised that it was Sunday and prepared myself for the delights of a cup-a-soup!

Throwing the guide book into the nearest bin, I arrived at the first night’s bivouac and gingerly and ever so carefully edged my van through the thronging masses avoiding the only tent and parked up. Stepping out in the carnival atmosphere, I hooked up to the power, grabbed my camera and headed for the beach. Typically, the tide was out and the sun was in.

Parakeets were swooping around me as David, who’d been reading a paper, glanced up and greeted me in the traditional New Zealand fashion. “I say. Good show, what?” Something in his voice suggested he wasn’t from around these parts, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. However, not one to waste an opportunity, I enquired about the local amenities - was there a bar … a restaurant … residents … anything? Apparently, he and I had doubled the population of Whananaki (a slight exaggeration - but only slight - there’s actually a population of around 200!).

With the sun sinking, I was resigned to a gourmet meal of beef cup-a-soup and fresh coffee. Having found that the electric kettle didn’t work, I had to make use of the precious gas supply. Later, once he’d put his son to bed, David came across and we spent a pleasant evening chatting, regaling stories of our travels and killing mosquitoes.

Distance travelled: 288 km / 180 miles

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Photos

Whananaki North
The first night's stop