On the open road

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I can see your puzzled faces now blog fans. "But Stewart" I hear you cry. "You said you were going to Wellington". Fear not devotees, I did indeed go to Wellington, whereupon I met up with Rob. You may remember Rob from such blog entries as "Rod Stewart, the famous singer from the 80's" and "Who spilt the salt". He put me up for the night, then being as he had an exam to be revising for, said I could borrow his car, and go off to explore some more of the North Island for a couple of days. So I did.

Wanganui

First stop for this adventure within an adventure was the town of Wanganui on the west coat of New Zealand. I came here, as Lonely Planet advertises the Wanganui River Road as being a fantastic bit of driving. It was indeed a cool drive, along the valley, and with some interesting place names along the way. In the space of an hour I passed through both London and Jerusalem. I never knew they were so close together. By the time I reached the end of the road, dark had fallen, so I made my way back into town. I'd forgotten how much I missed driving, so enjoyed the drive back along the gorge in the dark almost as much as I'd enjoyed the scenery earlier.

Wanaganu is a town reknowned for its gangland violence, so after I'd had a bite to eat and a cup of tea, I set off to find myself a piece of the action. Or perhaps I read a bit of my book. I'll leave it up to you to decide. Anyway, the next day, I drove up to the top of the Drury Hill elevator which overlooks the city, as apparently you can see the South Island from there sometimes. This wasn't one of those times, so I drove off.

The John Cleese rubbish dump

My next intended destination was Napier on the east coast, some 250km away. First though, I had a special stop to make. This stop involved me driving to Palmerston North, walking into the information site and asking "Which way to the rubbish dump?" You see, some time ago, John Cleese had visited this town, and declared that it would make anyone feeling suicidal have the courage to actually go through with it. In retalliation, the town named its rubbish dump after aforementioned celebrity. Which led me to visit it, with the highly confused woman at the tip insisting I wear a high vis jacket as I walked up to snap a photo.

Napier

More conventional tourism led me to Napier, save for a quick stop for a drive up Te Mata, for a lovely panoramic view over Hawke's Bay. I'd wanted to visit Napier after listening to TMS (Test Match Special for those unenlightened amongst you) a few years back when England last toured New Zealand. I can't remember exactly who was commentating, but they were saying very little about the cricket, and simply waxing lyrical about Napier itself, saying how it was one of the most wonderful places they'd ever seen. After visiting, I don't think I'll ever take travel advice from a 60 year old cricket commentator again.

Not that Napier isn't a nice place. It's just a little... dull. You see, back in 1931, this entire region was flattened by a devestating earthquake. When it came to rebuilding the town, Art Deco was the "in" style at the time, and thus the entire city has been rebuilt in this style. Now, before I came to Napier, I had no idea what Art Deco was, but the name made it sound quite exciting. Turns out it isn't really. And don't jump down my throat for being a philistine, different strokes for different folks hey? Still, at least because the buildings were all built at the same time, they fit together nicely. It could be worse, there could be a row of red brick houses sticking out like a sore thumb, like there is in a small Yorkshire village I know quite well (again, for the slower of you, I am of course referring to Holmbridge, my home village, here).

The longest place name in the world

From Napier, I swung south to go for a slightly uninspiring walk to Cape Kidnappers, before I headed back to Wellington. However, I took a bit of a detour to visit the longest place name in the world, Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateaturipukakapikimaungahoronukupokaiwhenuakitanatahu. My excitement as I reached the sign telling me that the sign for the place was only 500m away was palpaple, but upon arrival... no sign. I walked for about an hour thinking it might be hidden somewhere, but I had no joy. This was a sad, sad day. I've furnished you with a photo to prove it exists, but sadly I never saw it with my own eyes.

From there, it was a case of enjoying the drive back to Wellington, arriving back at Rob's just in time to be of no use whatsover to him and his flat in their local pub quiz. Ah well.

Stewart

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Photos

Made in 1932
This could apply to the whole city.