You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2009.
We’ve enjoyed it so much here this summer, we’ve just extended our stay by another fortnight. The lawns at Waiwera can wait!
We had a bunch of airpoints expiring in February, so we though we’d take advantage of Air New Zealand’s New Year sale. So in February we’re booked in for 10 days in Rarotonga. Already friends have told us we’ll be bored as there’s nothing to do in Rarotonga. But isn’t that why you go to an island? Sure hope so!
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Post mortem in progress
The other day we had part-time-locals Tessa and Wal to dinner. Tessa bought crayfish. Fresh crayfish, the sort that has just been steamed for seven minutes after being plucked from the water two hours earlier. Now I was hesitant. I haven’t eaten crayfish for 25 years, and back then I didn’t like it. Would I offend our guests by throwing up all over the table after consuming some of their prize catch?
I needn’t have worried. With surgical precision, Tessa drove the sharp blade of the carving knife into the belly of the creature and crunched her way through it’s exoskeleton revealing gorgeous white flesh below. It was like the scene from the movie Alien, where they try to cut the claws of the alien host impregnator off the face of one of the crew members, except no acid blood dissolved my floor, and nothing alien exploded from any of our abdomens. Instead fresh lemons were summoned, and the juice was poured over the exquisite flesh, which was then devoured producing the gleeful noises reminiscent of cows mooing by all of us who were furiously hacking, pulling, tearing, and cracking open this beautiful specimen of ocean bounty. Henceforth I can happily say I enjoy (love) crayfish, and now see why my mother and various other friends have demanded we supply crayfish whenever they visit the island (I texted my mother that Tessa had bought crayfish to dinner, but they had just left the island, and now I don’t think she will speak to me given that I failed to deliver some while she was here!). I can also say that the tough old boot of a roast mutton that followed as the main course (my offering) paled into insignificance compared to the delight of the entrée. Understandably of course!
The day finally arrived: Saturday 10 January – the date of one of the biggest events on the island – the Great Fitzroy Musselfest. Boats packed into the harbour, and fast ferries arrived with hundreds of excited Aucklanders. A short stroll up the hill to the Boat Club revealed a collection of gazebos, canopies, and tents where a vast array of mussels and other seafood were being served. There were mussel fritters served on māori bread, mussel and bacon kebabs, deep fried mussels, home made sausages and hotdogs, fresh fish bites, chippies, and lots of grog.
The entertainment was fantastic. A brilliant Irish band (including violinist) played for nearly six hours, and were then followed by an excellent rock band. Then the several bottles of wine consumed in the heat of the day took hold, and it was time to go home. We counted three cars on the road during the whole hour-long trip home!
Driving back from the ferry, having dropped off the last of the campers, I recognized a boat that was coming into the harbour. My parents had braved the Colville Channel in their 42 foot Pelin Eclipse launch ‘Kindred Spirit’ and were coming to visit. So it was back to the Irish Pub, and the Wild Rose Café, and the all now familiar tourist trail, followed by an invitation to join them on their boat for the Island’s annual ‘Musselfest’ held at Port Fitzroy (at the northern end of the island, an hour’s drive away).
So we hopped in the car and headed up to Port Fitzroy to meet them (while they sailed up). But somehow we’d got wires crossed and had arrived two days ahead of the Musselfest! So we went fishing instead, and toured the bays, and Peter leaned how to fillet fish. It’s been about 25 years since me or my family had visited Port Fitzroy, which is renowned as a ‘boaties haven’ because of it’s sheltered anchorages and great scenery and fishing. Back in the early 1980s everything was flown in by sea plane (including my grandparents who has flown over to join us on the boat back then). There was one public telephone at Fitzroy that shared a party line, and the shop was managed by a cantankerous old bastard who enjoyed frustrating his customers more than he enjoyed pleasing them, Bread was a whopping $2 a loaf back then, and was only available for the first hour after the plane landed, then stocks ran out. And all the boaties went to a pleasant haven called Smokehouse Bay where a local guy had erected washing tubs, smokehouses, BBQs and even a wood-fired bathhouse so that people could do their washing a get clean. Twenty five years later Smokehouse Bay still exists, but has been remarkably upgraded by a dedicated group of boaties and sponsors after the facilities were destroyed by a landslide in 2005. The bathhouse now has solar powered lighting, and flash composting toilets replace the original longdrop. A fancy water system fed by a local stream supplies the washing area with ample water, and various boaties have donated a wide variety of goods to the bay such as BBQ utensils, skillets, reading material (for when in the bath) and other nifty items. It’s great to see the spirit of generosity continuing, even after all these years.
Fishing proved to be both enjoyable and productive, with snapper, parrotfish, blue cod, and several species of bait fish being coaxed from the water on nimble hooks and lines. There is nothing like the taste of fresh fish – I can never again buy the stale crap they serve up in supermarkets. And now that Peter can catch and fillet fish, I won’t need to!
The 3rd of January was the date for the inaugural Long Island Lunch, and the day was a scorcher. The case of bubbles consumed earlier in the week had helped the throng at Camp Barrier plan the menu and table layout. With mechanistic precision, the army of cooks, dishwashers, and cleaners set about laying the table for the 15 booked guests. Boxes of glasses and serving dishes were unpacked, the garden was pillaged for flowers for the long table, shade sails and tarpaulins were erected, and the chefs in the kitchen began preparing their culinary delights. Given that the bubbles were gone, a case of red wine was unpacked, and a rather dangerous vodka punch was assembled (we were short of ice and mixers!).
As the brilliant day unfolded, the guests arrived, and the BBQs were fired up. Then we dined, all seated on the deck around a long table decorated in vibrant red Pohutakawa flowers and water lilies. The wine and conversation flowed as we all soaked up the ambience, music and views, and we ate till we could all eat no more…
Long Island Lunch Menu
Starters:
Loretta’s famous foccacia served with hummus and salsa
Vanessa’s chilli, garlic and curry BBQ prawns
Mains:
Eye fillet encrusted with green peppercorns
Venison sausages
Pork sausages
Marinated rump steak
Pork chops
Minted potato salad
Loretta’s tuna and pasta salad
Tossed lettuce salad
Recovery:
Skanky blue cheese, delicious soft brie, and a selection of crackers served with copious glasses of red wine
Dessert:
Triple layered peach sponge with a cream, chocolate and passionfruit sauce
Dessert was served at about 5pm. We’d all sat on the deck watching some nasty weather form across the Colville channel, and all speculated whether it would be sucked down the channel away from us, or would head across the 19km gap to us. I can’t remember what the gaggle of meteorologists around the table concluded, but at about 4.30pm the glorious day was interrupted by an impressive squall that saw us all scurrying indoors to the safety of the kitchen and waiting hot coffee and dessert. The party continued into the evening, concluding with the remaining campers sitting huddled around the couches in the lounge watching DVDs and eating leftovers. A fabulous day all round, and well worth repeating.
The next day the various campers were taken on a tour of the island before all departed on their various flights and ferry sailings. And after 7 days of hectic partying, Camp Barrier finally closed it’s doors wishing all those who had visited a safe journey home. It was certainly a magical way to spend the start of the new year.
Summer on Great Barrier Island is fantastic. We’ve been having a blast since we got here. It all started with a great ferry ride over on the 28th December. We had the car and trailer packed to bursting point, and friend Vanessa joined us for a lovely evening sailing to the island where we managed to squeeze in two movies (there are two cinemas on board) before arriving just after midnight (the trip on the car ferry takes 4.5 hours). Another friend Trish had already set up camp at our place, so she was noisily woken out of her tent in the early hours of the morning as we (me, Peter, and Vanessa) clambered up the driveway with chockie bikkies and chilly bins in the pitch black. The car and trailer spent the night jammed down the bottom of the drive – once again we had overloaded the poor bloody thing with our precious possessions, and it couldn’t get up the drive! After a hot chocolate, and a good night’s sleep, we unhitched the car from the trailer, and took the car up the drive first so that it could be unloaded, and only then did the poor car have enough steam to tow the grossly overloaded trailer. If you ever need a car packed, call us – we’re now experts at filling every nook and cranny (short of pulling the air vents off the dashboard and filling behind them with compressed toilet rolls!).
A day later we were joined by Brian, giving us a nice sized crowd for New Year’s Eve. The celebrations had of course started days earlier, as once we had all unpacked our luggage we found there was ample grog and goodies requiring instant consumption. New Year’s Eve itself remains a blur – there was a case of bubbles involved somewhere, and we’d managed to find our new ‘party light’ in amongst all our packing. I seem to recall some energetic Kylie Minogue (yes, I hear you all groaning), then it was off to the Irish Pub for midnight where things got even blurrier. At about 2am I remember we headed home to get ‘party light’, and then returned to the Irish Pub where upon everyone hit the dance floor. Kylie Minogue however was banned from the Pub by it’s owner, so we endured something less dramatic (not that I was noticing much at this stage). About 4a, we all hit the sack, although the party was still going strong at the Pub.
Next day it was off to the airport for a long, hot, hungover flight to the mainland. Then it was a long drive through crowded Orewa up to Wharehine (about 15km west of Wellsford) to the family New Year’s Day picnic. Arriving at 4pm, I had missed the picnic, but not the hangi (the Johnston family have a picnic and hangi every New Year’s Day at my Gran’s farm, and given this she had died last year, we all felt it important to continue the tradition). However, only orange juice was consumed by this poor darling on the day (one’s liver being in a state of shock that an occasional blood cell was infiltrating the alcohol stream!).
Next day it was back to Party Island to meet and greet Lyn, Loretta and Andrew, who were all coming over to join us for the Long Island Lunch. It was great having a full house – so many people who were eagerly washing dishes, cooking, and cleaning up around the place! Now that’s what I call a holiday!
