Russell

We spent the morning at Tapotupotu, on the beach, looking out to sea, eating a fried egg sandwich. If we could see far enough, we would be able to make out the shapes of the islands of Melanesia. There was a beautiful sky with small clouds that were scudding their way through the clear blue.

Having packed up the van, we set out on the road back the way by by which we had arrived, as this is the only road in and out of the pointy end of the North Island. In fact, "road" might be stretching it a bit, as when we pulled off the highway, we were greeted by unsealed gravel paths in all directions. We took one of these for a brief diversion to Te Paki great sand dunes.

Te Paki dunes and 'toi toi'

The dunes were enormous and empty - devoid at this time of the usual tourists who end their trip along Ninety Mile Beach with a spill down the hills on sand boards. Our footprints were the only ones to be seen on the otherwise pristine, smooth surface of sand. A stream leads through to Ninety Mile Beach, where buses speed along in the shallow waters (the terms of our camper van rental contract strictly prohibit this). I find this aspect of tourism at odds with the threat of coastal erosion and the otherwise strong spirit of conservation in modern NZ.

We ran up and down the dunes until our thighs burned and we gasped for water. Even venturing only a short distance from the stream, we still managed to lose sight of the van. I cannot imagine struggling through a desert environment. From the top of the dunes, we could see over Ninety Mile Beach and out to Matapia island - "the one with the hole in it".

Having arrived back in Kaitaia, we made a brief rest stop for the obligatory cake and coffee to fuel the next leg of the journey down the east coast of Northland along the SH10.

A pleasant stop along Northland's east coast

The route took through compact one-horse towns such as Kaeo, which has all the things required of a town - church, police station, shop, Indian restaurant - and nothing more besides. Well, except the ubiquitous 'panel beaters' shop, which rather alarms me as to the state of New Zealanders' driving.

Branching from SH10 onto SH11, we soon reached Paihia, from which foot passengers can cross to Russell, and were directed on to  Opua, where a small car ferry took us the short distance across to the former capital of NZ.

Actually, having reached the far shore, the first place we passed was Otiako, which was originally known as Russell when it was briefly the capital between 1840-1841. This area is the first European settlement, but now Russell refers to the town 8km farther north, known to the Maoris as Kororāreka. A confusing history and no mistake.

We chose to overnight at Russells's Top 10 holiday park. Despite its exorbitant price, the showers were metered and charged, much to our general astonishment.

Kiwi could be heard in the vicinity from their unmistakable calls, but none was seen. However, pukeko wandered the lawn, their feathers a deep blue and a splash of red on top of their beaks.

White picket Russell

Having reached Russell by ferry, it was very tempting to think of it as an island. Indeed, it has the feeling of an island, with colonial-style houses, white picket fences and, on the harbour front "Strand", affluent people in tweed jackets sip white wine and eat the freshest catch of the day in boutique bistro. However, there is a distinctly Lynchian vibe to the picture-perfect village.

Corporal punishment for all the family to enjoy

The capital was moved to Auckland after Russell's one-year incumbency. The original name, Kororāreka, means 'beautiful penguin'. However, after European settlement the town quickly became known as the "hell hole of the Pacific" owing to the gambling, drinking and carousing of the seafarers lodged there. I certainly wouldn't be surprised to find a severed ear in amongst the grass even now.

I drink only the finest colonial liquor

Having wandered the few parallel streets that constitute the town centre, we climbed Flagstaff Hill to the lookout.

View of Russell from Flagstaff hill

The flagstaff was raised there by the settlers and initially flew the Union Flag. The flagstaff, like the town, has a tumultuous history and was chopped down several times by the Maori. The plaque on the flagstaff recounts this naively or disingenuously as a "misunderstanding". The history is complicated, as the arrival of Europeans was greeted with mixed feeling by the various Maori clans. There was even fighting between the clans, some of whom were distrustful of the British intentions, including Hone Heke, others of which allied with them or remained neutral. For the new arrivals, defences were high. The British attempted to fight, even shelling Russell from the water. After many battles, the result was stalemate with many casualties on both sides and no clear 'winner'. After several decades, the flagstaff was again erected as a gesture by the Maori.

Holy macaroni

We contemplated this complex narrative as we threw together a 'mostly vegan' pasta carbonara with broccoli and tofu, which we ate in the van.