Taranaki

After the long weekend, we finally bade a fond farewell to Papamoa and our hosts and exited, with a slight detour via Eighty Eight on The Mount to pick up some breakfast, out through Tauranga.

Spoiled for choice

We also stopped by Pak'n'Save to restock our larder and fuel up, which, coupled with the morning rush traffic, delayed our getting on the road proper. Once underway, we stopped briefly to scoff the enormous scones we had procured for breakfast, which were stuffed with peppers, spinach, and cream cheese, while surveying the Matamata valley.

The weather tempted us with warm sunshine and blue skies, so we made a stop to enjoy a coffee outside in Cambridge, where the Duke and Duchess of its namesake paid a visit to the town hall last year.

The other Cambridge town hall

Roadworks blighted our progress for much of the route, throwing newly surfaced 30km/h stretches at us with frustrating regularity, with the result that we faced getting to our destination - New Plymouth - too late to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine.

Rather than race through the countryside, as though reaching our destination were the only imperative, we broke the journey at Otorahanga after seeing signs for a 'kiwi house', which had been recommended to us.

Having been on a night walk through Trounson park and only hearing the bird's call, we were excited to one in the flesh (albeit in captivity), but I assumed it would be asleep during the day. Gratifyingly, inside a darkened area, constructed to mimic the forest floor, were several kiwi loping around. 'Loping' is the most apt word I can find to describe their peculiar gait. With poor sight, but am excellent sense of smell and hearing, the kiwi crashed around their small domain - each in their own section, as they don't get along well.

A kiwi that has ceased to be

Fortuitously, we arrived at feeding time and the female handler entered the cage with a mixture of ox heart, tofu, raisins, corn, peas and porridge in a long tube. The kiwi probed the concoction with its needle-long beak, which, uniquely among birds, has nostrils at the end for sniffing out grubs and worms in the soil. This causes them to sneeze, as the nostrils become clogged with dirt.

The handler announced that the female kiwi, owing to their close relationship, had chosen her as her lifelong mate. The kiwi hopped up into the handler's lap, but found it less agreeable than a male kiwi's embrace, and soon started biting and kicking the handler.

The remainder of the route along State Highway 3 wound through gorgeous rolling green hills, studded with rocks and peopled by cows, sheep and little else, before eventually popping out onto the coast. Flagging from the ambitious drive, I pulled off at a brown sign for 'Three Sisters', where we discovered low tide allowed us walking access across volcanic black sand to the eponymous rock formations.

Two of the three sisters

I had hoped we would pass Mike's Organic brewery, just outside of New Plymouth, in time to raid their on-site shop. Alas, we reached the doors at a few minutes past the closing time of five o'clock. Disappointed, I drove us the final sixty-some kilometres to the Fitzroy Beach holiday park, where we parked up for the night.

Sugar Loaf islands

In the dwindling light, we took a stroll in the rapidly cooling coastal air along the pathway east to the mouth of Waiwhakaiho River, enjoying fantastic views of the pleasingly conical Mount Taranaki.

The 'Naki

The mountain was ringed with cloud, which only served to accentuate its summit, protruding above the grey-white collar.

Bridge over the River Waiwhakaiho

After a long day in the driving seat, the last thing I wanted to do was put together dinner in yet another new kitchen. Fortunately, K took up the baton and assembled a simple dish of rice and salad with crunchy, fresh green beans picked from our Papamoan hosts' garden, fried up with garlic and red chilli, topped with a poached egg, and lime and coriander aioli - the latter a gift from our very generous hosts.

Everything's better witb aioli

Surf's Over

A banana sufficed for breakfast as we wanted to get out for the third and final day of surf. The weather was a complete contrast to yesterday's dull start and was beckoning us down to the beach. K took a pass, so it was just me and the pro. Sadly, when we got to "Shark Alley" (fortunately no sharks in evidence), the sea was largely flat with only a few half-foot tall waves languidly rolling in.

We backtracked further east up the coast, but conditions weren't great there either. However, after a reassessment, the pro decreed that we should go in "for a paddle". This turned out to be a foresighted decision, as the waves, though gentle, gradually picked up as the tide started to flow back in. With two days' experience on which to build, balancing on the board started to come a bit more naturally, and I even managed to catch a few unbroken waves and ride them standing up (in between eating the seabed). I hadn't imagined I would be able progress this far by the end of the weekend and owe everything to careful and patient instruction.

To celebrate this fleeting success, we lunched at Provodores "Urban Food Store". It was rather a grand title for a café, but the food was delicious and, especially after a couple of hours in the sea, most welcome. Both K and I chose the vegetarian brunch of poached eggs, slow-roasted tomato, mushrooms, and halloumi on toast.

The cakes in the café looked divine, but I had been generously bought an even better ttreat in the form of a giant Lamington - a typically NZ/Australian cube of sponge whose outside has been infused with a thin chocolate syrup and coated in dessicated coconut.

Lamington

We accompanied our host on a trip into neighbouring Tauranga - whose correct pronunciation I have signally failed to master. While she ran a few errands, K and I walked the "Strand" on the waterfront in the sunshine. Sadly 'Brew' - home of Rotorua's Croucher brewing - was closed.

We whiled away our last evening in Papamoa with our hosts around some good New Zealand wine, kumara chips - made from the starchy sweet potato brought by the Maori from Polynesia - and some more veggie sausages.

Papamoan Life

This morning our hosts made us a homemade 'energiser' breakfast of poached eggs on Vogel's - a dense, grain-packed bread created by a Swiss man - cheese, pesto, hummus, and tomato chutney. We needed the energy as we were about to consolidate what we had learned yesterday with another session of surfing.

Energiser

Sadly, the weather wasn't as fair as yesterday and a grey drizzle set in as we made the short trip to Papamoa beach. The surf wasn't (according to the expert's eye) as consistent or as powerful as yesterday. Nevertheless, we resolved to get some practice and donned our wetsuits. The rain, we reasoned, wouldn't matter once we were in the water.

I narrowly avoided becoming the next viral YouTube hit, "Man hit in face by surfboard", and managed to catch a couple of waves, but my success at standing on the board was limited. The surf was described as "poor" by the expert, so I will use that as my excuse.

The fickle nature of the North Island autumn weather conspired to deliver a beautiful blue-skied and warm afternoon after this morning's drizzle. We took advantage of the clear skies and relaxed in the garden.

Papamoan sunset

In the afternoon, our hosts ventured to show us that it isn't only Australians that can throw some sausages on the barbecue. For dinner, we tucked into a feta salad, potato salad, and grilled tofu sausages (roast red onion and parmesan, sundried tomato and kalamata olive) with New Zealand white wine. Perfect fare for the weather.

At the last moment, we decided to take a post-prandial trip to Fernland hot baths. By now it was night, and the baths were surrounded by natural ferns, lit up by coloured lights, and framed the clear dark night sky and the constellations of stars.

Surf's Up

A day of activity awaited us today, so we fuelled up at one of the Mount's charming little cafés with an 'Energizer' vegetarian breakfast: avocado, salsa, hummus, pesto mushroom, tomato and poached egg on toast. Plus a flat white, eh.

First bite with the eyes

Our first activity was to scale Mount Maunganui that gives the name to area. Actually, the peak, stuck out at the end of a peninsula, is better known as Mauao, and is a modest 232m high. As such, it appears that all of Tauranga make it their mission to march up and down its slopes before breakfast. Alternatively, it could be the current Everest Challenge, which asks people to raise money by climbing Mauao enough times to match the 8,848m of the Himalayan summit (38 times, it turns out).

"The Mount" Maunganui

It was an easy walk to the top and provided a good view along the coast of The Mount to Papamoa.

Beach life

A beach stretches all the way along the coast from The Mount, through Papamoa, as far as Maketu, and the sea crashing onto its sand is often populated with surfers catching a wave. As luck would have it, one of our hosts is an award-winning surfer, and was keen to introduce us to the sport.

"You're a natural", he said to me. Sadly, he wasn't referring to my innate ability to ride a wave, but the stance I would favour on the board - left foot forward. The opposite stance, with right foot leading, is apparently known as 'goofy'.

Board meeting

We struggled into our "wetties" - the temperature of the sea was somewhere between the warm bath water of Bali and the frozen depths of Cornwall. The neoprene took the initial chill off and gave us some protection while on the board, which was studded with surf wax, increasing the coefficient of friction of the board's surface and threatening to take off the unwary rider's skin.

After some instruction and a few practice attempts on the deceptively stable sand, we tried to transfer theory into practice on the waves. The waves were coming with a 5-6 second period, which gave little time to prepare ourselves. Nevertheless, I caught the first wave with a cue to get on the board and begin paddling. I rode it, lying down, all the way into the beach, which is not advisable, as too much pressure will snap the stabilising fins on the bottom of the board and end the day's fun. The second wave I caught unaided and even managed to get partially to my feet. It was exhilarating and buoyed up my confidence.

A strong current kept dragging us along the coast and meant we had to work hard to stay in one place. Despite this, I went out again and again, even after the others had returned to spectating, practising the split-second timing required to position my body on the board, catch a wave, get to a standing position, and remain balanced for the rest of the ride. By the end of the session, I had not yet perfected the swift motions, but had made good progress, riding a few small waves before losing momentum and 'wiping out' with my head buried under the foaming surf.

Break time

To celebrate our initial successes, we ate some Korean stuffed pancakes from a van parked up along the beach front. Stuffed with chocolate, I paired the pancake with 'L&P' - a lemon-flavoured soda drink from Paeroa - for an energy boost. Having recuperated from the morning's exertions, we took a walk along Rabbit island.

We rested our weary bodies after the day's exertions and fizzed in the effervescent jacuzzi pool of Mt Maunganui hot thermal baths. Situated at the base of the mount, with a suitably impressive view, water is pumped in at 36° and cooled or heated to different temperatures in a selection of pools.

Mad Hatters at work

To round out the day, we had dinner at a quirky restaurant called The Pizza Library. We were greeted by a sing-song on a piano outside the restaurant, while inside all the chefs wear Mad Hatter top hats, briefcases are glued to the ceiling, large portraits cover the walls, and books decorate every other inch of available space.

As though the eyes follow me around the room

Sat on old train seats, complete with arm rests, we enjoyed a Pumpkin Jack and a Jungle Book pizza from the wide vegetarian selection with a bottle of Two Fingers' Joan of Arc - a surprisingly malty and lightly smoked Pilsener. Delicious nonsense.

Jungle Book pizza

Tiki Touring

After the past week's speed tour of Auckland, Northland, and Coromandel peninsula, we shifted down a gear or two today in Papamoa. Our host took us on a 'tiki tour' of the area, while running a few errands.

A tiki tour is a peculiarly NZ thing, in which one takes in some sightseeing with no particular aim in mind. On the tour, we passed through Te Puke, which I discovered means "the hill", although no hill was in evidence. In fact, Te Puke styles itself as the kiwi fruit capital of NZ, and every shop was keen to use the town's name in its signage, despite the connotations of the English word.

But what do they fill the rolls with?

We dropped into the Comvita visitor centre to check out the bee colonies and the famed manuka honey, produced from the acres of the eponymous trees in the region. After this, we swung by the Funky Lizard Café for a flat white (natch) and to observe the wildlife demolish the leftovers of the cake left behind by foolish customers.

For the birds

Returning home, we chilled in the garden with a sandwich and the hot hot sun. To cool off, we took a walk on Papamoa beach, when some welcome clouds rolled in.

A mount in the distance

In the evening, our hosts had kindly sought out some excellent spots in nearby 'The Mount' for sampling craft beers. A tasting of Mount Brewing Co.'s offerings revealed a decent bitter and malty "amber" Certified Shaggy Ale.

Ale. In a jar

Crossing the road on trendy Mount Maunganui Road (so named after the volcanic protuberance at the end of the peninsula), brought us to Mac's 'Astrolabe' restaurant, showcasing the output from the Mac's brewery.

Astrlabe

The kumara and chickpea burger was a flavourful patty in a bun stuffed with accompaniments, and the Mac's Green Beret complemented it well.

Hopping On

The pace of our journey through New Zealand since we arrived just under a week ago has been nothing short of breakneck. Despite very much enjoying the places we have visited, we have not stopped at any for longer than one night. Today we moved on yet again from the excellent Seabreeze at Hot Water beach to Papamoa, where we will be spending a long weekend staying with a friend and former colleague of K's, who returned to her native New Zealand from the UK a few years ago. I am looking forward to the break.

Apparently this is what people say here

With less of a long drive ahead of us than previous days, we took a leisurely breakfast (the now typical camper van fare of muesli and banana) and set off for a southerly meander along the east coast of the Coromandel peninsula. A chilly and damp morning soon brightened into a warm and pleasant day, and, as we passed into Tairua, we noticed an increasing concentration of immaculately presented vintage cars.

Going to the hop

At the centre of town, a queue of brightly coloured, waxed and polished, chrome-laden 'automobiles' processed towards us in the opposite lane. Petrol heads spilled over the pavements and roads appreciating the row of pristine Caddies, Chevvies, Mustangs, and other hot rods,  incongruously interspersed with the odd modern Toyota or Hyundai.

Chrome

The cavalcade continued out of town, as more and more car enthusiasts wended their way up the highway. We followed the trail in the reverse direction to its source, Whangamata, where we discovered that this was in aid of the Beach Hop. Approximately 1800 cars and their owners are expected to hop from one beach to the other, culminating in a big show and rock-and-roll festival on Onemana beach.

With the sun out, we took the opportunity to join the onlookers lining the pavement cafés of Whangamata high street. Our conversation over a cup of coffee was intermittently punctuated by the throaty roar of a vintage US car rumbling by.

So, we decided to upgrade our van...

A few kilometres farther down the highway we diverted briefly for a walk through Wentworth valley to the waterfalls. A light drizzle set in as we finished the walk back at the van and ventured on to Waihi beach.

The rain persistently followed us, so we sheltered in Flat White beachside café and indulged in a slice of cake and a cup of the eponymous coffee. I'm not entirely sure what the difference is between this frothy caffeinated drink and a cappuccino, but it's very popular with New Zealanders.

Flat. White.

The rain eased and the sky brightened sufficiently for us to take a short stroll along the wide, flat beach of Waihi. Despite the weather, hardened surfers were out with their body boards.

Body boardin', we be body boardin'

We continued our journey down state highway 2, stopping briefly to take a look at the murals (street art) of Katikati and the stones there that have been engraved with haiku poems. Both of these have been created in recent years in order to draw in tourists.

Road trip!!

On the way out of Katikati, we paased some genuine, on the vine kiwi fruit. Having had no idea how kiwi grew, I first thought that it was a field of grape vines.

Large, hairy grapes

Our day's travel finished in Papamoa, just a few kilometres along the coast from Tauranga. Parking up at our new home for the next few nights, we greeted our hosts and were plied immediately with wine, nibbles, and pizza. We sat chatting, exchanging travelling stories, until late in the evening.

Coromandel

Morning was a bright sky, followed quickly by the rising of a pale sun, and the arrival of men taking their boats out into the Firth of Thames in the new light.

Good morning, New Zealand

After a simple breakfast of muesli and banana, we journeyed onward to the eponymous town of Thames and started the trail around the Coromandel peninsula.

Following the SH25 took us along the west coast of the peninsula, hugging the coast tightly with many tight bends that saw K squirm in the passenger seat as she saw nothing below her but the sea.

The views were spectacular, and we stopped many times to drink in the splendid sights.

Firth of Thames

Our route soon brought us into Coromandel town, where it turned sharply in land and up a steep hill. This vertical trend continued and the van struggled up to the top, affording us further views into the distance.

Spectacular Coromandel

The journey was a feast for the eyes as well as a fun drive. We took a break at Whitianga (remember the 'wh' makes an 'f' sound) to feast our palates on ice cream by the seaside. The weather was obligingly clear and warm for the whole day - a contrast to the recent schizophrenic showers.

East coast peninsula

Our day's journey ended at Seabreeze campsite near "Hot Water Beach". After checking in, we went to discover what lies behind this unusual name. On the way, we took a round-trip walk along the stunning coastline to Cathedral Cove. The cove itself is nothing special, but the views out to sea are breathtaking.

Gem coast

This section of the coast also provided us with the first opportunity to watch New Zealanders take to the waves.

Surfing is my church

At Hot Water Beach, naturally geothermally heated water lies just beneath the sandy surface. However, at low tide, the sea recedes just enough to allow those willing and able to dig a small bath, which will fill with the 65°C water. This is too hot to bathe in, and so must be mixed with cooler sea water.

Ironically, we didn't have to wait long for the cooler sea water to arrive, as the water's edge had ebbed only slightly. Every tenth wave or so rushed onto the sliver of beach, simultaneously filling all the painstakingly dug holes and demolishing the surrounding sand barricades built to protect them from just such an event. It was a sisyphean exercise in futility.

Everyone had come armed with a spade or shovel and was digging frantically in search of hot water before the arrival of the next deluge. There was an air of mania, similar, I imagine, to the frenzied times of the gold rush in Australia. Every now and then, the following exchange between 'prospectors' could be heard: "Is it warm there?", "No", would come the dejected response. We tried several locations, occasionally feeling the scalding water tantalisingly beneath our feet, but eventually gave up trying to corral it into a pool. There appeared to be a section of only a square metre or so in which the water was close enough to the surface to create a functioning bath. Once this had been discovered, the pool was expanded into a communal bath.

The haves and the have-nots

Back at the campsite, we roasted up the entire contents of the cool box (or 'chilly bin' as it is known here) on the ubiquitous barbecue facilities provided in New Zealand. Owing to the hot water prospecting, we returned later than anticipated, and so barbecued largely by darkness and the fleeting flash of torchlight. We mixed the roasted vegetables into a warm rice salad and enjoyed it in the comfort of the van.

I'm amazed it turned out as well as it did

Fortunately, our search for the next precious liquid met with greater success.

Cold beer at zhot water Brewing Co.

The Seabreeze distinguishes itself by having a brewery on site. The Hot Water Brewery brews a pale ale, a porter, and a steam ale as standard. When we arrived, there were two other additions of an IPA (amusingly named "About Time"), and a barley wine (apparently unnamed). We sampled these two as well as Walkers Porter and all were far better than we had any right to expect from such a small, out-of-the-way operation and compared favourably to craft beer we have tried from other world-renowned NZ establishments.

The Best Things in Life are Free

A long day in the car awaited us this morning as it was planned to drive from Russell all the way past Auckland and pull up just short of the Coromandel peninsula.

Firstly, though, we took advantage of our location and had breakfast on Long Beach, just a short walk from our campsite. Fortunately, despite an overnight downpour, the sun rose into a relatively clear sky and shone warmly on us as we ate a simple breakfast of boiled egg, and peanut butter sandwiches. Ironically the stretch of sand at Long Beach is relatively short.

Sunrise on Russell's Long Beach

Pausing briefly to visit the original site of the capital (Otiako or "Old Russell"), of which only a well remains surrounded by houses, we boarded the ferry again by 9pm to deliver us back to Opua. From there, we broke the back of the journey along the east coast of Northland through Whangarei (the 'wh' is pronounced as a light 'f') and Warkworth (pronounced as you would imagine), stopping at the former for a coffee at the i-Site visitor centre. The latter is now home to the new 8 Wired brewery, its founder having made the move from Blenheim on the South island. Sadly, the brewery is too new to have a tap room or shop (and licences are tricky to come by in an ongoing atmosphere of temperance), so we scoured the shops for NZ craft beer, picking up a selection from Tuatara, Moa, and Epic.

Behold! Beer with flavour

The drive took us through beautiful farmland and along the east coast of Northland. I tired of the drive as we came through Auckland, as the number of cars visible on the road rose from single to triple digits. Mercifully, we turned off onto SH25 and, for all appearances, out into the boondocks.

It was here that we reached our destination, Kaiaua, and flung ourselves on the generosity of the local boat club, which owns a space overlooking the Firth of Thames and out to the Coromandel Peninsula. They very magnanimously allow campers to park up there for the night. Facilities are basic (a public toilet block), but the price is unarguably reasonable (free).

'Free' as in 'free beer' (the beer was not free)

The weather, which had swung dramatically between sunshine and showers for the entire lengthy of the journey, obliged once again with some late afternoon rays. We popped the back of the van and relaxed in the warmth with a cup of tea - and later a magnificently resinous Tuatara Nui American pale ale - as the shadows lengthened into the sea.

Fortuitously, nearby lay a "famous" chip shop and, eager to try the NZ import of the British seaside favourite, we procured some to take away and ate in the van. Sadly, the chips, while nice, failed to live up to our expectations of 'chip shop' chips, tasting more like the oven-cooked crinkle-cut variety. This had us hankering for the 'real McCoy', which neither of us has eaten for years.

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.