Gisborne

---

New Zealand is certainly living up to its name; The Land of the Long White Cloud. It was raining when I went to bed, it rained all night and it rained most of today. So much so, that my schedule was shortened and I opted to assume that the weather would be better over the mountains in Gisborne rather than stop en route as originally planned.

It was a long night, the warmth made worse with me being kept awake by the rain hammering on the metal roof of my bed. There was also quite a wind blowing which caused the branches to scrape along the side of the van - none of this conducive to a good night’s sleep. To cap it all, there was a small earthquake; the second that day.

With the incessant rain, breakfast was an internal affair with the doors firmly shut. Rain was even coming through the overhead vent in the bathroom and in the bedroom. The latter was easy to fix (just close it) but the former was fixed, there was nothing I could do - apart from close the door and forget about it. Fortunately, my clothes and shoes from the previous day had dried out so it was straightforward to stow them away and, having done that, it was time to leave.

Heading out past Rotorua airport, I was pleased when the sulphurous smell finally disappeared. I’m told you do get used to it, but I’m not sure how you’d ever eat egg sandwiches knowing that the eggs were fresh.

As usual, the roads were deserted. I have no idea where the traffic disappears; it’s not busy in the towns but at the border, it all vanishes. I had the roads to myself again and therefore quite happily pootled along at between 80 and 90 kph. Unfortunately, with the cloud being so long, views of Rotorua and the mountains were somewhat hidden. Even when I reached Whakatane, I decided not to bother going into the town as the views to White Island (New Zealand’s most active volcano) would be limited. Instead, I took the “pretty way”, even though that was encased in grey mist.

Even in such terrain, it’s been possible to drive with the radio on but in this neck of the woods (and mountains), reception is so bad that the automatic tuner would just scroll round the frequencies for mile after mile until something came up. And what came up was Opotiki, a cute little town with very little going for it except to say that it’s the last place to get fuel and supplies for the next 200 miles. In fact, I’d decided, due to the weather, not to take the coastal route but to head across the mountains in the hope that the weather on the other side would be better.

Having topped up my fuel, I bade my farewell to the little church where Carl Völkner, the village priest, was hanged by the Maori in 1865, as a spy. Whatever the story, it was certainly exaggerated by the European settlers and the town eventually became a garrison. Peering into the cloud, I pointed my mobile bed into the mouth of the Waioeka Gorge and headed south.

In the sunshine, I suspect the views would have been spectacular as I slowly manoeuvred around hairpin after hairpin, following the course of the river. Occasionally, I’d see a summit or a little bit of blue but generally, it was rather tiring work. It was also very difficult to stop and take photos. By the time I’d actually seen something through the cloud, I’d driven past and there would be no stopping place! What did surprise me though was the number of logging trucks coming down the road from Gisborne.

Approaching midday, I began to look for a suitable spot to have a bite to eat. Rather fortuitously, it was at that time that I arrived in the tiny village of Matawi. A few houses clustered the side of the road at the top of the pass, together with an iron monger and the village store, which also advertised fish and chips. Needing no second bidding, I parked and entered, paid my $9 and sat down. I did notice a t-shirt on the wall (although I forgot to buy one) which had the following logo printed on the front - Where the hell is Matawi?. On the back, were the words Buggered if I know!.

Having demolished a rather pleasant plate of fish and chips and a strong coffee, I continued forward, now travelling down towards Gisborne and, as hoped, the weather was improving. The journey down was uneventful until I reached a set of traffic lights which remained on red for some considerable time. After waiting for approximately 5 minutes, the green showed and I continued - on to the railway line, across a river and valley for about a mile!

The final decent into Gisborne was rather stunning. By now, the sun had come out and the vineyards lazing in the plain were beautifully set off by the purple mountains behind. Again, there was little opportunity for photos but the names were very recognisable from the bottles sold in UK supermarkets.

Gisborne is known throughout the world as being the first city to greet the sun each morning. For modern New Zealand, it is the birthplace of the nation for it was here that a young ship’s boy first sighted land back in 1769 and here that Captain Cook first landed. Unfortunately, he didn’t get off to a good start with the local Maori and left rather hastily leaving behind the name of Poverty Bay. It’s also interesting to note that, at that time, the French had declared there to be only 10,000 plant varieties in the world. Cook’s voyages trounced that notion!

And so it was that I too came to Gisborne, not by ship and not to a remote shore, but by van and into the middle of the shopping district. Parking up, I headed off to the Cook Landing Site. Walking through working ship yards, I arrived at the memorial and thought how fitting that, 240 years later, this area was still associated with shipping. Climbing up into the Kaiti reserve, though the banks of sweet pea provided me with the good views of the city and south to Young Nick’s head - reputedly the headland he’d first sighted, but more probably it was the mountains behind Gisborne that had first been seen. Having worked my way up to the top and back down, I headed off to Cook’s memorial on the other side of the marina. Rather fittingly, a memorial to Young Nick is also close by.

Ignoring Auckland, Gisborne has been the liveliest and most interesting of the cities I’ve visited recently. I’m not sure whether this is down to its size, the fact that it does have a lot of history, the possibility that it is a working port or maybe just because there are lots of boards around showing photographs of the buildings as they were in the early 1900’s. Despite the fact that Cook first came here in 1769, the Europeans didn’t begin to settle until about 1908; Gisborne is therefore a very modern city.

It’s now getting dark and there’s a good sunset over the water. Off to take some photos - and, be one of the first in the world to celebrate Guy Fawkes Night!

Distance travelled: 271km / 169 miles

---

Photos

Sunset over Gisborne
... from my overnight campsite!