I got a small fortune in organic produce and it felt similar to going away to Uni, as Maria plied me with all kinds of goodies, that I was sure to leave in various hostels. I knew I had to get back to Whangarei by Friday night as we were all going down to watch the Warriors play the Bulldogs. I havent been to a Rugby match before, let alone a Rugby League match in New Zealand, so I was making damn sure Id get back in time.
I thought leaving on Tuesday and head off. I kept changing direction all day, not really sure where I was going. I reached Kawakawa which proclaims to have some world famous toilets. They are interesting, but then I only wanted a piss, and it seems a little extravagant to have such fantastic toilets when the money could be spent on police to stop having your car broken into. Actually they are really nice toilets. There is a really good burger bar opposite with a nice cafe a few shops down. So its worth sitting in one of those and watching people take photos of a toilet. What does it say about a town that decides to sell itself as the town with nice public toilets.
I left and headed east.
Driving along I saw a signpost declaring that a "Historic Site" was to my right. I went up the gravel road and saw a small church. It was shut and not that, um, interesting, so I turned the car around, and got it stuck in the mud. It took me half an hour to get it out and the car and I were both spattered in mud, but the smell of burnt tyres and clutch lingers to this day in the car.
I couldnt decide whether to go to the Kauri forest but I seemed to be making good time so I went through Opononi and made my way through roads that consisted of chicane after chicane. If you took the A272, the Horseshoe pass, Silverstone, Lombard St, and a sine wave, compressed and added them, then laid it for 20 kms through mountains, then you might have an idea how twisty and turny this road was to the Waipau ( spelling?) forest. Here in Waipau there is Tana Mahuta, the largest tree in New Zealand and one of the oldest trees in the world. Its a strongly spiritual tree for the Maoris and it is bigger than breathtaking; its awe-inspiring. Estimated at over 2000 years old, and 18 metres in circumference, its a beast, a big boy and puts you to shame.
Think North American Redwoods with a Maori physique. You could have built a whole ship out of this tree, and unless Im mistaken I think these trees were used for that purpose years ago. The Europeans came and chopped loads down as they are good for houses, but I think they look more impressive in the ground. These trees are big enough to carve a complete staircase in the middle of them. Down the road from Tana Mahutu, there are four more large trees and a couple more within a few kilometres, but there are very few big trees left.
I drove back to Opononi as I noticed a few hostels there. Globetrekkers in Omapere, just south of Opononi is closed at the moment, and was the first place I tried, but the lady there pointed me to House of Harmony, which sounds like a sunday afternoon BBC costume drama, but was a very pleasant hostel. Strangely full of Italians and a couple of people from Brighton, it was friendly and WARM. There was a nice BIG FIRE and they had NICE FURRY CATS that you could use as hot water bottles on your laps.
Right, up early, oooooh about 10 ish and time to head north Ive decided. I dont think Dargaville is a very nice name for a town, hence my decision. I got to some town called Rawene, where I catch the ferry across the water, and get some more petrol before crossing. The man who owns the petrol station is from Chiswick. Why am I surprised? Why does this place both feel like a very foreign country and a very welcoming homely one? Money is in dollars, I dont understand the roadsigns, people talk in tongues and a hot dog isnt what
you think a hot dog is, but blokes from Chiswick sell petrol.
I head to Kaitaia via the back road, as the back road is always my preferred option, stopping off in Ahipara, taking in plenty of stops and listening to Beth Ortens new album. I still cant get over the scenery, and the quaintess and unique styles of the houses. Here you can build a house however you want. No stupid rules for how it should look, or standards to conform to. Rules are mainly for stupid people, or for those who lack originality. Warwick who we visited the week before, has built his own house over the last 20 years. He had electricity put in two years ago, but hadnt needed it before. He has a mezzanine floor in his lounge where his
drum kit is. Pot plants sit on a beam across the kitchen, the wood stove sits near the middle of the lounge heating the whole house, no two windows are the same, with diamond shaped windows, a triangle and a square frame in the lounge. He has a composting toilet that while it doesnt smell of daisys, it doesnt smell of pooh either.
This town was the same, sun decks around houses, outside toilets, expanses of glass, skylights, solar powered, windpowered, built into hollows or sited on ridges. People are building the house they want to live in, not those built by Mr Barrat or Mr Wimpey.
Anyway I got to Kaitaia, booked myself on a coach trip up to Cape Reinga and 90 mile beach for the day after. I had booked into a hostel in Kaitaia and found the owner to be a half Maori, ex army, healer, that burped when he was performing his healing feats. You see something new everyday.
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