The wheels on our house go round and round ... New Zealand update

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This blog is a retrospective look at the rest of our travels in North island, New Zealand. A blog about South Island travels will follow soon. I am writing this prior to arriving in Christchurch, our final destination where we return our trusty campervan following 26 consecutive nights on the road. The van has been very reliable and practical- never letting us down once. When we said that we were getting a ‘posher’ campervan we were right, but I feel that it would be deceitful to let you imagine that we have been cruising around in some rockstar-style mega Winnebago. Instead, think of a white Fiat Ducato joiner’s van with its innards replaced by those of a 1970s Sprite touring caravan. Despite our lack of space, we have enjoyed the modern luxuries of a TV, a DVD player, a fridge-freezer, a 4 ring hob and grill, and a shower and toilet. In fact, enough mod cons to live completely self-sufficiently in the wilderness for several days before needing to collect more water or hook up for electricity. One luxury that I personally would have liked was a bed slightly longer than 6 feet. When we get to Australia I plan to get a massage than might squeeze me back out to my full 6’4” height.
We set off from Auckland in early October and have driven around most of both the North and South islands of New Zealand since. During this time we have stayed on beaches, by lakes, by rivers, and in city centres but have also spent a couple of nights a week in the absolute middle of nowhere. We have demonstrated a picture of modern gender equality on this trip. We have both driven the van. I have clocked up well over 3,500km at the wheel but have been ably supported by Karen’s snoring and feet up on the dashboard as we sped cross country. Karen managed once round the campsite in Hamilton and 5km in the hills of Nelson before deciding that it was too scary. I have done all the cooking. Karen has done all the eating. She fills up the toilet. I empty it. I have been considering putting name banners on our windscreen with Parker and Miss Penelope. Only kidding, Karen, please don’t sack the support staff for your world tour.
Our first stop after Auckland was in the Coromandel. We pulled up in a lakeside car park and had dinner as the sun set across the water before settling down with a DVD. As we were a few yards from a busy road we felt a little vulnerable so moved on late at night to find a better site. All local parks were rejected as they felt a bit chav-like. We drove several miles up a deserted valley to find that the local campsite was closed. No problem. As it was late we just parked in their driveway and left early in the morning. We visited a nice wee town called Thames the next day. It had been established in the late 1800s when there was a gold rush. We were struck by how much the architecture resembled a wild west town from the cowboy films- wooden structures with ornate porches overhanging the pavement. I suppose the timing and social situations would have been very similar, just the other side of the world. Very little appeared to have changed since. A long, straight street with few side roads added. At least the streets were now tarmac and there were no horses tied up outside the saloons. I ventured into a barbers and came out shorn like a young sheep but grateful that I didn’t get head physiotherapy like in Vietnam. We have noticed since that most areas in NZ have gold rush origins and that most small towns have developed in a similar fashion, or barely changed at all. We couldn’t leave the area without actually going down a goldmine. We found one by chance in the middle of the countryside and had a 3-4 hours walk up the Karangahake valley. This included passages along dark tunnels several hundred metres long, barely large enough to fit through. I thought of how my poor claustrophobic mother would have turned tail at the mere sight of the tunnel entrances. We persevered on despite our torch malfunction and several resultant head traumas against the irregular tunnel roof. I think these were more of a challenge to pass through than the Vietnamese war tunnels.
After the Coromandel, we moved southeast to the Bay of Plenty. Our visit was preceded by the arrival of the oil tanker Rena which had passed just a little too close to the coral reef and was now stricken just off the coast and was spewing out its cargo onto the beautiful local beaches. We arrived about 3 or 4 days after this happened and found that a clean-up operation was already in full swing in the town of Papamoa. We stayed in a campsite overlooking the ocean and were barred from entry to the beach. The water and the sand actually looked clear although there was a faint stench of oil. I suppose it looked like the Costa del Sol but smelt like Middlesbrough. We made enquiries to see whether we could volunteer to help with the beach cleaning but were informed that there had already been an oversubscription of volunteers from the local community. We decided that our best role was therefore to stand at a discreet distance and photograph all the hard work going on (see photos), only for public awareness of course. We have tracked the progress of the Rena clear up since and hope that it isn’t going to be as disastrous on the environment as first predicted. We spent 3 happy nights in Papamoa and thoroughly recommend Bay of Plenty as a holiday resort. We enjoyed eating apples bought directly from the orchard, sausages bought directly from the farmer and wine directly from the vineyard. Our food miles must have been the lowest ever for that few days. I think the Dunfermline analogy with low food miles would have to be chips made from from Fife tatties and a pint of Caledonian 80/- from Fountainbridge!
From the Bay of Plenty, we moved south to Rotorua, the self-proclaimed home of geothermal activity in New Zealand. Whilst stopping for a break in a roadside layby on the way to Rotorua, we were pleasantly accosted by a charming 75-year old lady campervanner with a mighty zest for life and a wicked sense of humour. She very kindly lent us her copy of the listing of all the NZ campsites which we promised to mail back to her when we leave. Peg, we thank you for your generosity and hope you can read this blog.
Rotorua is an interesting place. You can literally smell it before you see it. I was initially concerned that Karen’s digestive tract was complaining about the mussels from the previous night but was soon put straight that the sulphurous odour was originating from outside our van. Vast clouds of white steam were visibly belching out of the ground at numerous random sites around the town and the strong stench of rotten eggs confirmed this whenever we were downwind from these areas. The volcanic activity seemed ubiquitous in all areas of Rotorua and was only surpassed by the tourist activity surrounding it. It was a little over-commercialised for my liking but the spectacle was undeniable. We attended a couple of parks where geysers and boiling pools of mud and water were met by ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ by hordes of Japanese tourists each time they erupted. They really were quite amazing and ‘otherworldly’ and, despite my slight cynicism regarding the tourist traps that have sprung up around them, really have to be seen. We stayed in a campsite out of town next to a beautiful lake (Blue Lake) run by a chatty, spherical, wee Englishman with whom we watched the All Blacks hammer Australia in the RWC semi-final. A middle-aged Norwegian couple also took in the spectacle that night but were quite bemused by our enthusiasm and the apparent lack of rules in this violent game. The fact that the whole country was besotted with the game had not escaped them. On one of the nights in Rotorua, Karen attended a Maori experience where she was subjected to lots of half-naked men shouting at her and sticking their tongues out and then was then given food that they dug out of the ground. Despite this, she thoroughly enjoyed the Haka and the ‘hangi’ (food cooked by geothermal heat) but was disappointed that Sonny Bill Williams and Dan Carter were not members of the dance troupe. As you can see from the photos, I don’t think the guys were quite match fit.

From Rotorua we then headed west to Hamilton. I had lost my credit cards in Singapore and arranged to pick up my new ones from the post office in Hamilton after my parents kindly sent them over. Hamilton was nicer than its Scottish namesake but had few frills. We didn’t hang around or do too much. The nice lady at the campsite did give us a discount voucher for Waitomo Glowworm Caves, somewhere which was definitely on our ‘to do’ list. After our Vietnam travels, I felt that I had seen enough caves to last a lifetime. These caves were not different from their predecessors in any way until the lights were turned off. As our eyes adjusted, complete darkness was replaced by a huge cavern lit from the ceiling by millions of tiny blue-green glow worms like the clearest, brightest night sky, each a miniature LED light with fine thread-like spindles. I passed serenely under this in silence on a boat whilst Karen, clad from head to toe in rubber, crashed down into the cavern via an underground waterfall and on an inflated inner tube. Each to their own. Karen reports this as her favourite activity in NZ and says she sang “Swing low sweet chariot” to her guide. He was unable to answer questions as his ears were bleeding. The glow worms also seemed to collectively flinch.
Next on our travels was Wellington at the southern tip of the north island. It coincided with my celebrations of completing another year on this planet. I will confess now to being 26. We really didn’t spend enough time in Wellington and were really impressed by what we saw. After driving straight into the ferry port, we booked a ferry to the south island early the following morning then drove a few hundred yards into the city centre harbour where some enterprising company had converted a small section of an NCP car park into a camper van park. It was absolutely in the centre of town, a few metres from the water and completely overlooked by offices and shops. We couldn’t have found a better place to explore the city from. Karen kindly purchased a lovely new rucksack for me to replace my previous one which had lost a small part on each of the flights of this trip. A small selection of bars were visited where several local beers and a large bowl of huge mussels were consumed before returning to our compact and bijou city centre crash pad and a ferry trip to the south island in the morning.
So, that’s us with our North Island update. We had a ball. South Island blog awaits and we promise to update you soon …
PS
- Congrats to Siobhan and Fraser on the safe arrival of Niamh Marie Thompson. Looking forward to a cuddle when I get home xx
- Happy Wedding Anniversary to Mum and Dad Gillender for 9 November – love you both xx

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Photos

Ritchie- our kiwi mascot
Ritchie sits on the dashboard and leads the way

Free camping in Coromandel
View from our van...

Comments

[Keith & Janet]

Sulphurland
Now thats a part of the world that we are familiar with.Samuel,Rachel's eldest was born in Tau Po which is just down the road & you may have passed thru on the way to Wellington.Hope you get time to pop & see Rachel,14 Nayland St Sumner.We are probably going out in January.Oh our kickers let us down, we deserved a place in the final.Karen the English RFU are tearing themselves apart back home.Enjoy South Island you will find it even more deserted.Have(continue)a super time,love K&J xx