Changes

Sunday, 05/08/2012 - 52 A.D.

It’s fun waking up in a forest.

Sure, you have to go and visit a tree upon rising, then you have to slap yourself about the face a bit and straighten your hair using bracken as a makeshift comb, but when you slowly start to come around and see that you’re slap-bang in the middle of nature...it feels good. And it looks great. Providing it isn’t raining.

I awoke sometime in the night to the sound of raindrops on the roof. The part of me that panics thought the wheels of The Chariot would get stuck in the boggy ground, but the part of me that doesn’t give a toss told the part of me that panics that the surface was perfectly stable, shut up, and go back to sleep.

Our mission today was to head for the Bay of Islands, famous for...yep, you guessed it. We wouldn’t be chartering boats out to any of these islands, just turning up and staring out at them for a while and generally seeing what the craic was. Tim and I are starting to get into a sense of routine in our little mobile home. We’ve almost unpacked everything out of our bags and the view that everything should have a designated place is underway. We could just do with a trailer in which to tow our dirty laundry.

The problem with going up the west side of Northland was that we used a lot of fuel to not get very far. Okay, we covered plenty of mileage, but so much of it was up hill and round tight corners, forcing the 2.4 litre engine to work more than normal. Heading south east, we found it a much smoother ride and had time for a few stop-offs, such as Lake Manuwai and the Opua-Kwawkawa Vintage Steam Train (great name, great locomotive). We may be roughing it in some ways, but stopping and parking up on a whim to enjoy a cuppa by a tranquil expanse of sunkissed water takes some beating.

But then the water came to us, from above. We were heading for the Haruru Falls near the town of Paihia when the first shower of the day arrived. It’s the north of New Zealand, it’s a tropical climate up here, so we expect it to pour down, that’s fine...just so long as it’s over and done with in an hour. By the time we reached the Falls it was coming down harder than ever, without looking like stopping. So we went out with golfing brolleys held high and attempted to keep our footing and take some pictures. By the way, to all those blokes who refuse to carry umbrellas (for whatever reason) you’d have trouble surviving here!

By the time we hit our next campsite at Northland’s metropolis of Whangerei, the rain hadn’t abated and didn’t look like it would for the rest of the day. And somehow we’d used up 40 litres of water in two days and had to refill our tank straight away – a funnel on the roof would be a good idea! I had myself a What Carcass Moment and strolled into town. Whangarei calls itself “the big smoke in the north” and although it’s the biggest place we’ve come to outside of Auckland, it has the feel of a small frontier town. Then again, I awoke this morning in the middle of a forest, maybe several miles from the next human being (excluding Tim), and now I was surrounded by civilisation of the Starbucks-Subway-Macdonalds kind. 

It continued raining well into the night, which put a dampener on things (pun intended!) Only about 10-ish did it cease. One thing you’ll already have picked up on is that we’re not meeting anywhere near as many people as before. The motorhoming community is very friendly towards each other, but they don’t tend to hang out together. It’s not like the sun sets on a campsite and everyone piles into the biggest vehicle for tea and scones. On this particular evening I’d noticed three ladies sitting outside the dining block in their waterproofs and smoking away – they were there every time I went to use the facilities or check on the laundry and I deduced from their chatter that they must be French. Eventually I decided to make my move and said in chirpy tones, “It’s good that it’s stopped raining, isn’t it?” After a pause I received a languid, “Yes,” the kind of monosyllabic response that indicates the conversation will go no further. Oh well, I tried! It might have had something to do with my trendy outfit – going-out shirt, oversized tracky bottoms and hiking boots (everything else was in the laundry!)          

Monday, 06/08/2012 - 53 A.D.

Cometh the dawn, cometh the sun.

See the size of some of those motorhomes? Converted buses in some cases, but nowhere near as cosy as The Chariot. Anyway, it was Monday morning and this particular dawning meant that a particular moment had finally arrived – HAIRCUT!!!!!!

Both the Grayboys were ready to get their locks trimmed in downtown Whangarei, for it was determined On High that this was to be the place where It would happen. We strolled nervously down the busy streets and kept an eye out for a suitable place. There turned out to be several likely candidates, but in the end we opted for “Bloke’s Barbers”, which happened to be staffed by two women. I took the seat to be snipped by a pregnant Maori lady. The conversation went something like this:

Me: [using carefully rehearsed line] Can I just have the basic style, but shorter.

Maori: What’s the “basic” style?

Me: You know, as it is – keep the parting, a bit of a quiff, etc. But shorter.

Maori: Do you have your sides cut or clipped?

Me: What?

Maori: Cut or clipped on the sides?

Me: Errr...cut?

[Pause.]

Me: Actually, this sounds strange, but back in England my mum cuts my hair. That’s why I don’t know about the sides. It’s free, you see.

Maori: And what does she do?

Me: She’s retired. She cuts it for a lot of the family.

Maori: Is that what she did? She cut hair before she retired?

Me: Umm, no.

[Not another word for the next 15 minutes. The sides get cut, not clipped.]

Now I’m no expert on Caucasian-Maori history, or whether there’s currently any tension between the two peoples, but if there was then I got the feeling this lady held me personally responsible. She was R-O-U-G-H! The hair was yanked here, there and everywhere, and at one point I almost filed a claim for whiplash. Plus the blunt end of the scissors went in my eye at one point and when she used that brush to clear the scalp I was sincerely relived that my USA sunburn had long departed. But to be fair to the woman, she did a pretty fine job and when she asked if it was short enough, I just thought what-the-hell, keep going! Tim had a similar experience, but with less pregnancy hormones at work.

BEFORE...

AFTER...

BEFORE...

AFTER...

Not sure why, but it felt a little chilly after that, despite the sunshine. We promptly went and bought a hot water bottle each. Then we drove to the north end of town to witness Whangarei Falls, supposedly the most photographed falls in all of New Zealand. Just look at these falls...

After lunch we headed down to Waipu Caves, which I hadn’t read much background on, but were told we needed decent footwear and a flashlight. The hiking boots I had, but my puny little AAA-battery torch couldn’t cope with the darkness of the cave and I had to turn back shortly after starting what would have been an hour’s walk. The hiking boots got very muddy getting back across the field to The Chariot. And yes, the caves – a major tourist attraction – were positioned at the end of a run-of-the-mill farmer’s field. There was no one else there but us (there rarely is). Maybe it’s because it’s still technically winter? Or maybe it’s because there’s that many natural attractions in New Zealand that the four million inhabitants can’t get to them all? Or maybe they’re all working hard at their jobs, just like you lot. Sorry, couldn’t resist that one ;-)  

After all that darkness we needed some blue skies and sunshine so we headed for nearby Uretiti Beach – a place where the guidebook said clothes are optional. Not surprisingly we did not see any nudists on the golden sands, but we did see plenty of mussels clinging to the rocks. This led to a debate on whether we could pluck them away, boil them on the hob, and get to eat something other than pasta `n` sauce. I was up for it in theory, but I’ve heard far too many tales of dodgy seafood stomachs to risk it in practice. What do you think...would you have the rocks for it?

And then it was back off towards Auckland again...the second time’s a charm...

The latest campsite was in the north east suburbs of the city and was probably the most equipped yet. Next door was an oriental restaurant where you can order a main meal with various single battered fish items on the side. For some reason I got flustered and ordered chicken and chips, along with a single calamari and a single mussel (though they were actually quite large, particularly the mussel). Tim’s tapeworm was hungry tonight and he ate a huge bowl of Singaore-style vermicelli noodles along with four wantons. I’m glad Im sleeping above him.