Don’t leave home without it

Your wallet that it…

Here we are on the mainland, but I’ve left my wallet with all my bank cards and ID at home on the island. This is quite an interesting experience – one that makes you feel quite ‘naked’, particularly if you want to be able to buy anything or prove that you are actually you.

So I popped into the local bank branch to try and get a replacement ATM card. But to do this, you need ID. Drivers licence – back on the island. Other bank cards or credit cards – on the island. Birth certificate – on the island. Passport – on the island. Sorry they said, no replacement card can be issued.

Well this was going to be a cheap Christmas for me. Perhaps I could make the family presents out of old newspapers instead. Party hats anyone?

I then went off to the Police Station to get a replacement drivers licence so I would have some ID for the bank. They sent me to the AA office, which had just closed. Then I looked up how to get a licence on the Internet. But I’d need ID before they could issue me a licence. I only wanted the licence so I could have ID to get the ATM card. Bugger – a catch 22 situation!

So then I popped into the Business Banking Centre in Albany. Here they were a lot more helpful. “Power bill instead”?, they asked. “No”, I replied, “we generate our own power on the island, so there are no power bills”. Still, they believed my story and were all prepared to give me a new card. But the batch of temporary ATM cards they had in stock all had a fault with them and couldn’t be loaded with PIN numbers. So I would have to go to another branch. “But they won’t believe me if I don’t have ID” I cried. So they wrote me a lovely letter which introduced me as a ‘priority customer’ (I must frame this and hang it somewhere, or perhaps get it printed on a T shirt for my next visit to a mainland bank branch), and then they sent me on my way.

I managed to find a phone bill on my email, and armed with this and my letter of introduction, I headed back to the local branch to see if this time I could get a card. They queue was out the door when I arrived. Christmas rush. So I waited in line, and finally arrived at a teller, and then told her my story and gave her my letter. She muttered something about wishing she had just gone on her tea break. But despite her sudden desire to be anywhere else but dealing with my problem, she persevered and delivered me a shiny new temporary ATM card. Yay, I could now go shopping! I restrained myself from leaping across the counter and kissing the teller firmly on the lips. She looked relieved.

I then went off to the $2 shop to buy me a little bag to hold the gleaming ATM card and my cellphone. But one should never put a magnetised cellphone next to their ATM or credit cards should they. So what do you think happened next?

Birthdays, boats, and booze hags

It’s been a busy few weeks, hence why I’ve been a bit slack at updating this blog.

Firstly, we headed back to the mainland for Mummy’s 60th birthday. This gave us the opportunity to organise a hire truck to bring yet more ’stuff’ across to the island. We spent a good couple of weeks sorting through all the mess at Waiwera. Peter had been chopping up his vintage Volkswagen collection, and the six wrecks that lined the driveway at Waiwera had now been turned into two working rust-free wrecks, and many large piles of spare parts. The scrap metal yard had some earlier in the year with their trucks to take away the VWs that couldn’t be resuscitated, leaving Peter with his two prized ragtop ovals, each with different coloured bonnets and doors and sides given that there had been a mass VW organ and bodypart transplantation process happening in the driveway for the previous few months. So, yes I have buckled, and Peter is allowed to bring his VWs to the island, but only if they are in working condition. The collection has now been downsized from 14 specimens to a meazley 6 vehicles. Now we just have to build a large shed over here on the island in order to house the migrating collection.

On top of sorting out vehicles, we also had to sort out the years of rubbish we’d been hoarding down in the chalets and the shipping container at Waiwera. It took a truck and trailer load to the Hospice Shop, two trailer loads to the scrap metal yard, and three trailer loads to the dump before we could see some light. Then much of the remaining hoarded ‘precious items’ were then packed into the truck and three cars that we were taking across to the island on this voyage. Record collections, my new kitchen, VW models, boat models, outdoor furniture, our new worm farm, building materials, clothes – it was all packed in so that every square inch of space was filled. My worry was that we’d hit a judder bar driving along the road and the truck would split open, given it was so tightly packed!

Despite having moved about 10 full truck and trailer loads to the island over the past two years, the house at Waiwera remains fully furnished, as is the house on the island, so I’m not quite sure what we will do with everything when we finally sell Waiwera.

Peter's precious mismatched VWs on the ferry

The convoy of trucks, cars and VW bits made it safely to the island on the car ferry, and we were greeted by fantastic weather. Despite regular rainfalls at Waiwera, the island had been very dry and the locals were starting to worry if they were going to have enough water for summer. The summer weather had certainly arrived – scorching hot days and lovely calm seas. We walked up to the orchard, and the plum tree was in fruit, and fortunately the birds hadn’t noticed, so we’ve been enjoying beautifully sweet plums for the past week. The pohutukawa are starting to flower, and the peach and apricot trees are bursting with fruit that is about to ripen in the next week or so.

Our friend Andrew, the booze hag from Wellington (he is so going to slap me for saying that), came and joined us last week for a gorgefest on the island. Again there was beautiful weather, lots of BBQs, a spontaneous liquid fuelled jaunt to the local Irish pub, a trip up north to Port FitzRoy to get a hamburger, and lots of laying about doing very little. Then, as Andrew went to leave, the island retaliated, and the weather packed in, and all flights off the island were cancelled. So in a flurry of activity that resembled a bad Hudson and Halls episode (a TV cooking show from the 1980’s), the wood fired stove was fired up, and the kitchen turned into a food factory that produced lemon cheese cake, focaccia bread, delicious chocolate brownie, home-made brandy snaps (Andrew did quite well at these) and a gorgeous beef stroganoff. The next day Andrew managed to get a flight off the island, and I gave my liver and stomach the day off.

Let's see, is it Hudson, or Hall?

Delicious chocolate brownie (Jo Seager's recipe)

Andrew's brandy snaps

The cremated brandy snaps I forgot were still cooking in the oven

Peter’s sister Anne is currently over visiting us from Darwin, Australia. She was trying to fly in when Andrew was trying to fly out, so she got to see a lot more of Auckland Airport than she bargained for. To make matters worse, her flight to the island was delayed yesterday by two hours because some ‘goon’ had opened the emergency door on the plane as they hopped in, so they had to wait for a technician to come from the North Shore to reset the door.

Peter and his sister Anne from Darwin

Peter and his sister are off at the natural hot pools at Kaitoke today. Again the weather is beautiful. A large pod of dolphins came into the bay yesterday to show off their swimming and jumping skills. And my new vegetable garden seems to be flourishing despite the fact I don’t know what I am doing and I always forget to water it. Peter however, avidly checks it for caterpillars and snails and everything else that wants to eat the fruits of our labour before we get to eat them ourselves.

My vegetable garden (on the left). Well, one needs to start small, and build up slowly

Anne flies off tomorrow, then we might get stuck into finishing the kitchen ahead of Christmas. Lovely fresh flat-pack boxes of kitchen cabinets lay stacked up in the corner awaiting my attention. This will be the third kitchen I have put together in recent years, so it doesn’t feel daunting this time. Let’s hope all the correct bits are here – coz  I can’t just pop down to Placemakers for the rest of the bits, unlike on the mainland, if anything is missing. Maybe I’ll just substitute a VW spare part if something does seem to be missing – we certainly have enough of those lying around here at the moment!

Mummy’s 60th birthday

We’re back on the mainland for Mum’s 60th birthday. It was on Friday 13th (yes, black Friday, but apparently a lucky day if it falls on your birthday).

And what a lucky day it was. Mummy had a great time catching up with friends and family. Daddy did a beautiful musical tribute to Mummy. And we all ate and drank ourselves silly (well, I did!) at a delightful little venue in Hobsonville called The Brigham.

 

The birthday girl

The last dance at the end of the night

 

Living on an island

I love living on an island – and particularly this island.

Peter flew back to the mainland today to sort out some landscaping contracts. I decided to stay here for a few more days before joining him. It’s my mum’s 60th birthday this Friday, so I need to be on the mainland for that of course, and we also have to pick up the rest of our new kitchen.

But I’m really enjoying living out here. I wake up every morning and look across the harbour and Colville channel to the Coromandel Peninsula which is about 20 kilometres away. Every morning the view is different. There is this fantastic feeling of space between us and the mainland. On a clear day we can see Rangitoto, although it doesn’t have it’s iconic shape when viewed from this side. With the curvature of the earth, we only see the top of it. And if we look really hard at night, we can catch a glimpse of the lights on the top of the Sky Tower, the largest building in the Southern Hemisphere (for you non-kiwi readers). So as much as everyone thinks we’re on an island in the middle of nowhere, we can still see the city (or at least one set of lights on top of the city’s tallest building!)

The big city is behind the little rock in the middle

The picture above shows Channel Island – a rocky outpost marking the beginning of the Colville Channel that separates the Coromandel Peninsula and the mainland from us here on the island. Each day the tides of the Hauraki Gulf ebb and flow through the narrow 19 kilometre gap making the channel a treacherous place to be on a rough day. But then a few hours later, the sea can calm right down and be as still as a millpond. Every day is different, and the view is always spectacular. I can stare at it for hours, surrounded by the birdsong and natural beauty of this place we now live in.

I was mildly worried that after such a busy career and home life that I’d easily be a candidate for ‘island fever’ – that condition where you simply have to get off the island or you’ll go stir crazy. But that hasn’t come yet. I didn’t go to the mainland with Peter last month, and I’d be quite happy staying here this month, but parties and kitchens beckon me. Still it’s quite nice to know that the novelty of island living hasn’t worn off.

Am I going mad? Becoming a recluse? Or simply smoking too much of the local leaf? None of the above. The locals are very social, and we have made lots of new friends (and the old ones still seem to be speaking to us). And I saw my first real cannabis leaf the other day – I didn’t even know what it was until it was pointed out to me – that’s how disinterested in the stuff that I am (P.S. it wasn’t on our property in case you are wondering).

No, I simply feel a lot more relaxed, and see the world through a different set of eyes. It’s nice to be able to just take life slowly for once. We haven’t stopped completely, and we still get things done. We built a fence and gates last week, and planted a vegetable garden. But I now appreciate my surroundings a lot more – watching the tide change on the beach, or the dolphins playing in the waves, or the blessed Kereru eating all the leaves off my peach trees.

I don’t get bored here. There’s plenty to do around the place, and plenty of people to catch up with when you need company. And then there’s my new addiction to Internet daytime TV. Luckily it seems I’m not the only one addicted to my favourite soap… (this is funny)

Labour weekend

What a fantastic labour weekend we have just had. Summer is certainly on it’s way.

Despite that we are still right in the middle of renovations, we decided to invite good friends Wendy, Andrew and Brian along for the long weekend. This forced us to clear a space in the lounge and dining room, and make the chalets habitable for our impending guests. Nothing like a deadline to get some progress on our project. Sadly American daytime TV would have to wait for a while.

A typical scene over the weekend (eating)

The lushes from the mainland arrived, and we began our gastronomical experience. We ate our way around the island, starting with the Labour Weekend Market Day at Claris where we scored lovely locally baked doughnuts and lamingtons. Then it was off to the Wild Rose Cafe for gourmet burgers, then to the Angsana Thai Restaurant for a fantastic Thai meal. Given that our kitchen was still in a state of disrepair, much of the cooking was diverted to the BBQ or other venues.

More eating

On Sunday, we made up a picnic hamper of club sandwiches, lamingtons, and other delectables, and headed with our beach umbrellas and blankets to Awana Beach on the other side of the island.

Beautiful Awana Beach

More eating, some napping, a beach to ourselves, and an attempt at swimming by some of the party made for a wonderful afternoon.

Life's a beach

But the guests weren’t getting off lightly. There was a cunning plan buried into their invitation to the island. Sitting out in the garage was our 300kg sandstone kitchen bench, and this needed lifting into the kitchen and onto the newly installed cabinetry. So with stomachs filled, a lifting plan was devised, and the bench was inched out of the garage using stools and loaded onto the quad bike and trailer. Then it was inched across the garden, and carefully lifted up the steps and into the kitchen. Half an hour of careful lifting, and the beast was in place. There is now some light at the end of the tunnel for our renovations.

Stop smiling and start lifting!

Yay, we finally have a kitchen bench again

Labour Day (Monday) came, and the guests were now in a state of induced unconsciousness, a result of the beach blobbing, heavy lifting, and the sherry trifle I’d made the day before. The Barrier forces you to relax. The sea was as calm as a millpond, so we decided to launch the boat and go fishing.

Wendy had never been fishing before. Each time the fish bit at the bait, she’d let out a shriek, scaring all the big snapper away. Sadly we only caught small fish, which all had to be thrown back. Then as we came ashore, others who had been out fishing just around the point delighted in telling us of the huge fish they’d been catching. So with no fresh fish for lunch, we had homemade BBQ pizzas instead.

No Wendy, we can't eat that!

Luke and Noah

I’m now addicted to American daytime soap TV – well, one show in particular – ‘As the World Turns’ and it’s story about Luke and Noah. I must have been hiding under a rock for the past couple of years (or on an island), to have missed the TV soap sensation that took place exactly on my birthday two years ago. It was the first ever gay kiss on American daytime TV, and it took the serial from the bottom of the ratings to third place under ‘Young and the Restless’ and ‘The Bold and the Beautiful.

Luke is a young gay man who has recently ‘come out’, and Noah is in a relationship with a woman named Maddie, however Noah and Luke develop feelings for each other and tension forms between the pair over a number of episodes. Luke doesn’t want to pursue Noah because Maddie (Noah’s girlfriend) is his friend too, and he doesn’t want to risk being rejected by Noah (a previous friend Kevin rejected Luke after he made advances on him). Noah wants to please his father and live a straight life with Maddie. The tension builds and spills over in the following scene, which is now one of the most viewed scenes in YouTube’s history. (I suspect that there would have been a significant increase in the number of 911 calls from rest homes across America reporting cardiac collapses and shortness-of-breath after this segment went to air!)

Gosh, when I saw this, it reminded me of when I was on an international exchange with the Ship for World Youth. I was actually at a conference in Tokyo, and the delegates had to dress in special clothing for a dinner ceremony. Mr Brazil came to help me sort my tie, and a scene like above took place, but without the kiss. The tension continued to build over the week, until a scene like above did occur. Sadly things did not progress – Mr Brazil had ‘Noah’ issues, and my Brazilian episode ended in pain (heartache, not a raw red hairless rash down below), which is probably a good thing otherwise I wouldn’t have met Peter, and this website would probably be called ‘my brazillian’ instead of ‘my island’.

I was up till 3am last night watching re-runs of ‘As the World Turns’ on YouTube. Tragic I know – but I was just amazed at the honesty and length the show goes to to outline the issues facing Noah and Luke, and basically gay couples all over the world. Finding love in the gay world is difficult – a smaller population, and huge issues around people hiding or dealing with their sexuality. And despite there being supposed mainstream acceptance, this was the first gay couple on daytime TV, and this was only back in 2007.

If you’re thinking of watching ‘As the World Turns’ be prepared that it is also trashy. Luke and Noah’s issues and chemistry obviously get the audience tuning in, but then soap TV mentality takes over, with Noah’s dad being a homophobic retired Army Colonel who tries to kill Luke on a fishing trip for leading his son astray (oh, dad also killed Noah’s birth mother a way back too). Luke is pushed down a bank, sustains a spinal injury, and is put in a wheelchair. However, many episodes later (up till 3am remember), the bond between Luke and Noah becomes so great that Luke is motivated to walk again, all because of Noah’s support. It was hard to know whether to grab the chunder bucket or the sniffle tissues at times.

Fortunately me and Peter have created our own soap opera on our little island on the Hauraki Gulf. Luke and Noah are simply a reminder of the difficult journey getting here, and the importance of relationships in one’s life. So go hug the significant other in your life if you have one. Life is short, so make the most of every day you have with your someone special. Even better, move to an island and start watching daytime soap operas in your spare time, and then you’ll start wondering where the day went!

The sun has got his hat on

This used to be one of my favourite songs as a kid: “The sun has got his hat on, hip hip hip hip hooray!”. My Uncle Dud used it play it on the record player he built himself. It took up one whole wall of his workshop, and had lots of valves as large as light bulbs that had to warm up before the copper needle the size of a pencil lead could pull the music off the old 78’s he had stashed in his shack. Us kids thought Uncle Dud’s gizmos were great. MOTAT would probably be interested in the contraption too if it still was in existence.

Today the sun certainly had his hat on. After what seems like weeks of rain and wind, it has been lovely to be greeted by two days of clear blue skies.

We’ve been up finishing the flashing on the roof of the two new chalets. Soon I’ll be able to start sorting out the insides of them.

Don't jump!

Yesterday we spent the day putting our solar water heating system back together. Soon Mr Sun, resplendent in his millinery, can sizzle up our water so that once again we have a cylinder full of the hot stuff. Because I’ve pulled out everything else sensible that worked, we are only able to heat water using gas at the moment. Not as green and eco-friendly as we are wanting to be.

Solar hot water system almost back together again

The Wharf 2 Wharf event was a tremendous success. We had 100 entries, which is big by Great Barrier standards, and everyone seemed to have lots of fun (which I still find confusing, as how can running, cycling, or walking 42 kilometres be fun). Our house became the Great Barrier Island Ambulance Station for the week, as I had an ambulance shipped over from the mainland for the event. Fortunately there were only a few minor injuries, and these were well concealed by thick layers of mud. The recent weeks of rain had turned the off-road sections of the course into a mud bath.

Spot the VW hidden in this picture

It was great to have been a part of this event, as it was fantastic way to network with the locals.

Our dear friend Stess providing race support in her racy supports

Yesterday the Spirit of New Zealand sailed into the harbour, as did a pod of 22 dolphins. It certainly feels like summer is on the way.

Ahoy Captain Cook, we've already been discovered!

Right in the thick of things

I’ve been helping out on the organising committee of the local Wharf 2 Wharf event. It is taking place this Saturday, and is a 42km run, walk, or cycle from the top end of the island to the bottom.

I thought I’d get involved to get to know some of the locals, help build local networks, and show an interest in my new community. Unfortunately my big mouth got me lumbered with lots to do. I started off just being the St John rep, then became the Safety rep, then one of the key organising committee members, then the glamorous person who gets to paint all the safety road signage in his spare time. You see we’re fundraising for one of the local schools, so we’re doing everything on a very strict budget (oh, and I had to write the budget too).

So 25 pages of the Safety Plan and Traffic Management Plan later, I’d planned for every contingency, and Auckland City Council were presented with a comprehensive plan in exchange for an event permit. The locals were horrified that council was insisting upon a permit this year – here on the Barrier, everyone believes we’re exempt from that sort of thing. The fact a herd of mainland Police and Vehicle Inspectors have just finished assessing and ticketing people for no WOF and registration has also caused some consternation over here. So when I suggested a comprehensive traffic management plan for this event, I was reduced to painting my own signs and making use of the handful of road cones the island possesses. But I managed to wear the committee down and they allowed me to go to the $2 shop on the mainland to buy some hi-viz vests. Yes, we splashed out.

My call to action came the other day when the Race Director suddenly had to leave the island for a funeral, and asked if I would run the Marshals briefing. Now, those St John readers amongst you will know that I relish in delivering a good briefing. Powerpoint displays, video footage, and lots of arm waving usually (one year I used a megaphone at the Big Day Out, but some sod removed the batteries ahead of the afternoon shift briefing, and the next year the megaphone went ‘missing’ just before the event, so I guessed I shouldn’t use a megaphone for this event).

Armed with copies of Safety Plans and maps (a small forest was cleared on the island to provide the paper needed for all the guff I gave the poor Marshals), the briefing was delivered to the packed lunchroom at the Claris Police Station, and those still awake at the end of it said I did quite well. My ‘opportunity to shine’ had come and passed just like that. The chocolate bikkies put out by the local constabulary were consumed with great haste by the locals (I think that was their highlight of the briefing), and then they all departed, leaving our poor cops with nothing to eat for morning tea for the rest of the week.

Tomorrow I have an ambulance being shipped over for the event (weather and seas permitting). Then on Friday I drive round putting up road signs, and on Saturday it’s a 5am start to save lives and dish out plasters. Our event of only 100 competitors is a far cry from the 10,000 runners who go to the Auckland Marathon, or the 80,000 who go to Round the Bays. But you have to start somewhere…

Tiling behind the wood stove

We have done some work on the house in between organising a race. The tiles could finally go on the wall now that we’ve finished all the demolition work. I kept wanting to tile so that I could get the stove working, but realised that I’d crack all the newly-laid tiles if I kept swinging the sledge hammer about the place.

Almost finished

We’ve finally got the stove back in place, and for the first time in several months, I got the wood stove going and cooked up a storm. Oven baked pork and potatoes, creamy rice pudding, and chocolate butterscotch slice all emerged from it’s cast iron belly. I’d missed having an oven, and was sick of having to cook everything on a single gas ring.

Stanley, the Irish-made wood fired stove, back in action

Another glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel: despite there being no walls in the pantry/Butler’s kitchen, I still managed to jam the dishwasher in it’s new spot and get it going. No more boiling up water on the gas ring to get the dishes done each day.

With this sudden cold snap, it’s great to have Stanley (the oven) back in action. Now we just need some fine weather so I can put the solar water heating system back together on it’s new perch.

Drama everywhere

It seems to be a week of disasters – whether it be the state of our kitchen renovation, planes falling from the sky, or tsunami alerts. And I have man ‘flu (well, a sore throat) so am feeling less interested in renovating at the moment.

Oops, please fasten your seatbelts

Yesterday one of the local planes failed to take off properly and crashed in the swamp at the end of the runway. That got the local bush telegraph working overtime.

Today we had the tsunami warning following the earthquake in Samoa. Again the bush telegraph had everyone moved to high ground. Luckily, our house is about 30 metres above sea level, so we just sat in the lounge eating breakfast, listening to the radio, and watching for the wave. Local boats had been moved off their moorings and were waiting in the middle of the harbour, which generated some interest for us to look at from our perch above the sea. And I sent texts to the world inciting widespread panic and general traffic chaos as I suggested all my dear friends and family should seek refuge at the top of the Sky Tower.

So the tsunami warning has passed, and it is raining, and I sit here reassured that the hole in the side of the house has been filled and the elements are being kept at bay. Which is good, because the last thing I want to be doing with my man ‘flu is mopping up water or nailing up tarpaulins.

And yes, it is still safe to fly to the island.

Demolition derby

Apologies loyal readers for the absence of regular updates. Life has been rather hectic since we got back to the island. So much for taking things quietly…

The kitchen renovation is turning out to be more complicated than we first imagined. I’ve also been tied up as part of the organising committee for the Great Barrier Island Wharf 2 Wharf event. And I’ve been pushing to set up an ambulance over here as we have no formal ambulance service on the island.

Renovations, as mentioned, are taking up a lot of our time. We’ve become very good at the demolition aspect of renovations. I initially only wanted to do some small changes, but over time the trusty sledge hammer has been put to good use removing walls and plasterboard, and the project has grown bigger each day.

This was a bathroom...

Oops, naughty sledge hammer!

During the last renovation at Waiwera, I vowed that we’d never try to live in the same space that we were renovating. So when we moved to the Barrier, I was delighted to see that there was a separate sleepout that we could move to when we renovated. Unfortunately we started renovating the sleepout, then we had to fill it with everything we needed to renovate the house, so the sleepout became a storage area. So now we’re back to the same situation we had at Waiwera: camping in our own house!

I’ve seconded the BBQ table and dragged it into the kitchen to act as a kitchen bench. Unfortunately it also acts as a work bench. Dinner is cooked on a single gas burner as I pulled out both the gas stove, and the wood fired stove. Hot water for the dishes is also heated on this single gas ring as I pulled out the hot water cylinder. See how I said we were getting really good at demolition!

Look, a designer kitchen

So now that we’ve made a complete mess and devalued our piece of paradise significantly, I thought we should have a go at putting things back together again. So we built our first wall. A non-structural internal wall for my walk-in pantry – nothing too complicated, and nothing needing a building consent or registered master builder. Having demolished numerous walls over the years, I now have a fair idea of how they’re constructed. So we set to it, and after day one we had the framing in place; and by day two it was ‘gibbed’; and on day three, much to our delight, it was still standing. There is hope for us yet.

Up goes the framing...

...and on goes the gib

Then we thought we’d graduate to pulling out a window. Again no building consent is required if you don’t modify the existing lintel and framing. The window needed to go to make room for the gi-normous eye level gas wall oven that I scored off TradeMe. And we need somewhere to squeeze our double door fridge. So Peter got to a flying start with the sledge hammer, and one elusive framing nail later, and the glass window we wanted to save for another project was in pieces. Certainly one way of opening the window to get some fresh air.

Oops, just a little broken glass

The day was getting a little late, and after stopping for an extended afternoon tea with a visiting neighbour, we elected to fill in the hole the next day. Bad move.

The next day arrived with a vengeance. The heavens opened up, and only a slither of building paper separated the kitchen-cum-workshop from the elements. And the forecast for the week was for much of the same.

Fortunately we woke to sunshine this morning, so armed with the knowledge that two storm fronts were on the way, we made haste and filled and sealed the window gap just in the nick of time. Nothing like a deadline to get one motivated!

Building on the island is a pleasantly interesting experience. Sure, we’re a few miles (about 50 miles as the crow flies) from the nearest Bunnings or Mitre 10 Mega, but the local hardware stores  make up for things (yes, there are two on the island – both about 3 minutes drive away). The other day when we ordered the plasterboard for the walls, it was delivered by truck within 20 minutes! Now you try and get service like that on the mainland! And what you can’t buy locally, you can generally order in, or buy over the Internet. I’m busy buying the kitchen cabinets over the Internet. And we’ve learned how to secure wallboards and seal out the elements by downloading building and installation instructions from the Internet. Peter is complaining of tummy pain, so I’m just reading up on how to take out his appendix over the Internet (just joking).

It's just been work, work, work...

Okay, so we did get out in the boat for a bit too.

We’re back!

We’re back on the island, and we’re back on the air (well, Internet). Our myisland.co.nz link broke down over the weekend, abruptly ending transmission to you loyal readers. We could hear you all gasping as you searched in vain for our updates. But I see things are up and running again.

Here on Fantasy Island we decided to go exploring today and climbed to the top of our 13 acres. Yes, we’ve owned this piece of dirt for nearly two years, and have only been using about an acre of it! Today we climbed up to the top of the hill at the back of the property, through an amazing glade of native forest with aged nikau and kauri, and emerged at the peak to stunning views across the whole of Tryphena Harbour and across to Coromandel. I’d include a photo, but sadly we didn’t take the camera. So it looks like we’ll have to climb the ruddy hill all over again tomorrow.

Off to the mountain

Our dynamic duo bring their current motorhome touring escapade to a close and arrive at their final destination: Mt Ruapehu

Majestic Mt Ruapehu

A quick call to friend Trish earlier in the week meant that we had a skiing buddy sorted for the weekend. The only problem was finding accommodation. No problems for Peter and I in the motorhome, but a big problem for Trish wanting a single bed during a winter peak-ski-season weekend.

After we exhausted Ohakune, the next option was Raetihi (pronouned Rye-tee-hee not Raa-ta-heeeeee as a learned friend once politely informed me).

Side street in downtown Raetihi

Poor Raetihi was once a bustling town right in the centre of all the action. It houses the oldest cinema in the southern hemisphere, and the main street has a collection of storefronts that wouldlook more appropriate in MoTaT (a musuem in Auckland). Sadly most of the stores were empty and derelict, and Raetihi on a Sunday looked like a ghost town – a miserable picture given the town’s former glory.

I remembered staying in a lodge behind the Raetihi pub about 20 years ago. It was great stuff. Basic bed and basin, hearty cooked breakfast served next to the fire in a room wreaking of 1970’s pub decor. Just right for Trish I thought.

Unfortunately the pub had closed down several years ago (“had got a bit rough” the locals said). But the motels still existed and were now part of the holiday park, and they had a spare bed for Trish.

After a spending a pleasant evening dining at Margarita’s in Ohakune, we woke the next day and headed for the Turoa skifields. Alas, Motor Nature intervened again, and 80km/h winds prevented the skifield from opening. So it was back down the mountain, around State Highway 4 to National Park and then back up the other side of the mountain to the Whakapapa Skifield. Unfortunately everyone else had the same plan, so the roads, carparks, and ski sloped were packed.

Busy, busy, busy at Whakapapa

I haven’t skied in 10 years, so was a little apprehensive about tackling the slopes, particularly in high winds and heavy traffic. And those wretched snow-boarders who used to be the minority and are now the majority! But within minutes I’d found my feet, and we all had a great afternoon skiing (Peter hired a taboggen as he doesn’t like skiing).

Skiing Ruapehu (Mt Ngaruahoe in background)

To celebrate a glorious day on the mountain, we retired to the Chateau Tongariro for a mulled wine. Fabulous.

Mt Ngaruahoe from the Chateau Tongariro

Gentle Annie

The ‘Gentle Annie’ is the name of the high-country road that tracks it’s way through the valleys and headwalls of the mighty Ruahine Ranges. It connects Napier to Taihape along a 130 kilometre long route (of which 46 kilometres is unsealed) over mountainous hills and through steep ravines.

Local lore reveals that it was the Maori hunter Patea who first crossed this range in the early 15^th century. Apparently he often took to the hills on hunting expeditions and to avoid his nagging wife. One day, the poor henpecked husband returned home after a lengthy expedition to another earbashing after he’d failed to bring home the bacon, so on the next trip he invited his wife along. Somehow on this next trip Patea’s wife ‘fell’ off a cliff never to be seen again, and rather than return home to face her relatives, Patea strove over the saddle of the Gentle Annie and into the interior that has been known as inland Patea ever since.

By the 1870s, the interior became a centre of merino wool production, with the only way to market being Patea’s route back to the Port of Napier. In its heyday, it was the longest and busiest trail in New Zealand, and remained so until the main trunk line opened in 1908.

Over the course of history, hundred have lost their lives on this route. It was not uncommon for packhorses, laden with wool, to lose their footing and plunge hundreds of metres to the gorge below.

We’d read about the ‘Gentle Annie’ several times before, and its promises of grand high-country views and a faster and more scenic route for us to Ohakune from Napier (we are skiing later this week) meant we had to give it a go. So stuffed full of fuel and water, we set off.

Bridge at Inland Patea

Sadly Mother Nature had other plans for our afternoon, and the grandiose views were veiled under dark clouds for most of the trip. We carefully climbed and descended the slippery gravel roads, and marvelled at what the views of the Central Plateau could look like if we could actually see them. Then it started snowing.

That's snow falling out there as darkness approaches

With dusk falling, we continued on, mindful that it was too ruddy cold to camp up on Gentle Annie, and that if we stopped now, we might become snowbound by morning. The mercury continued to plummet as the snow fell, and the drive became slower as we became more aware of the increasing danger of ‘black ice’.

Fortunately the ol’ girl got us through to Taihape safely, where beneath the ghastly cloud layer we got to see the last of the glorious evening sunset – Gentle Annie having being dressed in black and white for most of the trip.

So now we can join the herds of other motorhomers who say they have travelled the Gentle Annie. However given we missed out on most of the views, we’ll now have to do it all over again another day.

Taihape Holiday Park (love the chalets!)

Feeding time at the zoo

Another day, another flat!

Our escapade through Te Urewera ended at we emerged out the other side of Lake Waikaremoana and out into the farmlands that lead towards the coast and the township of Wairoa. The sudden contrast from lush native rainforest to farmland was a stark reminder of the damage that has been done to New Zealand’s ecosystems since the arrival of European settlers to the area 160 years ago. Although the farmland, lakes, and hydro dams were stunningly scenic, it was clear what the cost had been in terms of lost flora and fauna. Thousands of years of growth felled or burned in the name of progress. Even on Great Barrier much of the original rainforest had been destroyed, with large pockets of the island now being classed as regenerating bush and forest. Te Urewera is a reminder of how things could have looked.

We arrived in Wairoa in time for a late lunch followed by the compulsory browse of the local second-hand shops. At one shop we found a lady holding a baby goat (go figure) who gave us a tour of the back of her shop which she had converted into a secret covered garden complete with outhouse. Beyond this was a small unit that she rented out to holiday makers. In winter she rented the whole place as a party venue. It was Wairoa’s own Narnia hiding through the back door of the her wardrobe!

After purchasing a whole lot of stuff we really didn’t need, we departed Wairoa for Napier. About halfway along, we noticed the familiar sway and sound of a puncture – a puncture we must have had for the past 150 kilometres given all the grit and stones rattling around the ruptured tyre. With the nearest tyre centre being an hour in either direction (and probably closed now that it was dusk), we set to and changed the tyre with great precision (and minimal arguing) then were off again in search of a campsite.

A few bends later we happened across a rest area at Lake Tutira where we stopped for the night. Now if we’d driven 500 metres further up the road (or consulted our book), we’d have seen the DoC campsite at Lake Tutira, which upon inspection the next morning looked a far better place to park up. Nonetheless, the morning stillness over Lake Tutira was breathtaking. There are truly so many beautiful places around this country, and early Spring seems to be the best time to see them as there is no-one else around.

Lake Tutira (near Napier)

We finally reached Napier, and the tyre shop, only to be relieved of $255 for a whole new tyre (we had completely munted the original tyre having driven on it over most of Te Urewera!)

Somewhere near where we changed our tyre (again)

Captain’s Log, stardate: 1.9.2009.1

The enterprising motorhome (as opposed to the starship Enterprise) and it’s crew of two continue exploring the far reaches of the North Island galaxy and are now camped in deep space somewhere in the middle of Te Urewera National Park…

What a voyage so far. As we went to depart Reporoa, we discovered that the back tyre had come off it’s rim. No wonder the old girl had been swaying a bit on the road yesterday! A relatively quick stop at the Reporoa Tyre Shop and we were on our way again $89 lighter (we also bought some oil).

The ol' girl gets her shoe fixed

We headed off to Rotorua (again), then turned off towards Murupara. Interesting place Murupara – once a thriving forestry town, now a desolate slumland for local gangs. The local second-hand dealer eagerly pointed out all the Police security cameras in the local shopping centre carpark, and told us of the main street gang fight that took place last week. We hurriedly bought some fresh duck eggs, a can opener, some fish and chips, filled up with diesel, then sped off towards the Ureweras before we got lynched by the locals. Duck eggs for breakfast tomorrow.

When I was about 13, my high school organised an outdoor experience called ‘Wider Living Week’. I chose to tramp the Ureweras with about 10 others from my year for my week. I walked up the Whakatane River track, spending about 5-6 days whinging and carrying a bl#%dy heavy pack doing so. Now this was my opportunity to revisit Te Urewera, but this time with more style. No camping or tramping – this time I’m ‘glamping’ (glamorous camping as it is known). With our motorhome, we were like a snail with house all propped up on it’s back.

Lake Waikaremoana

The snail though is probably a good analogy, as the road is so bad we could only travel at snail’s pace. The general driving speed was 25km/h – slow enough to absorb the view whilst being careful not to drive off the road and down a steep cliff (there was only one incident where I nearly got it wrong – but a quick shriek from Peter and my eyes were focussed on the road once more!).

It's a long way down if you fall off the road!

Before long we happened across a hitchhiker who was very relieved to see us as we were the only vehicle he had seen on the road. We gave him a lift to the Lake Waikaremoana track, stopped to walk across a river swingbridge (reminiscing of my younger track walking days before laziness set in), then proceeded to drive around the lake to Mokau Landing. What a fantastic part of the world we have found. Narrow roads perched on high cliffs cutting their way across a majestic lake – it was something like you’d expect to see in Italy. Mesmerised, we decided to stop and set up camp at Mokau Landing which is a DoC camp. For $15 we get to park right next to the lake, and this fantastic and rather large public camping area is completely absent of people at this time of year (or week). It seems we have the whole lake to ourselves.

Us, the lake, and no-one for else miles

Biking around Lake Waikaremoana at dusk