Gisborne

We're now in Gisborne - the far east of the North Island. We're in a veritable mansion called Cedar House and seem to be the only guests here. The owner is a happy clappy lady called Catherine whose philosophy allows us to roam freely around her beautiful old property with its large dimensions and expertly crafted woodwork. Our bathroom with its hardwood floor is gigantic - the premier feature being a large, modern spa bath which Shirley lounged in as I swam in the outdoor pool this evening.

Today we drove up the coast to Tolaga Bay, hiking over to Cook's Cove where on October 28th and 29th, 1769 the "Endeavour" was anchored. Captain Cook's men took on board wood and fresh water while botanist Joseph Banks collected yet more unique plant specimens.

Cook's Cove north of Gisborne

Bus shelter on the road to Tolaga Bay

Shirley's spa bath

Captain Cook 's statue in Gisborne

Livingstone

Today - at Whakarewarewa, Rotorua

When I was eight years old, a new teacher arrived at my little village primary school in the heart of East Yorkshire. She was tall, slightly exotic in appearance and spoke English in an accent we had never met before. She was Miss Sanderson and she came from New Zealand.

On several Friday afternoons, she led singing sessions on her ukulele. The songs she taught us were as unfamiliar as her accent...”Riding home from Bangor on an Easter train/Met a student fellow, handsome tall and plain/ Quite extensive whiskers, beard, moustache as well...” But the song that really stuck in my little eight year old mind was "Pokarekare Ana", sometimes known as "The Waters of Lake Rotorua".

That’s where we are tonight – Rotorua - in the geothermal heart of the North Island. Our cedarwood chalet looks out on Lake Rotorua itself. This morning we visited the Whakarewarewa Maori village, built around an area of significant geothermal activity. Some of the pools are so hot that the people cook in them. For forty minutes we watched a little Maori cultural show in which the performers sang a languorous version of the song I first heard from the mouth of Miss Sanderson some time in  1961.

Yesterday was a true milestone in the history of blogging as when Livingstone met Stanley or when McCartney met Lennon. I visited the Tauranga mansion of Katherine de Chevalle with its lofty riverside views and there I met the great lady herself. I know that Mr Brague of Canton, Georgia will be extremely jealous about this but I don't care. Katherine gave Shirley and I a lovely homemade lunch which we consumed with Katherine’s affable daughter. The roast kiwi was succulent. Embarrassingly, I managed to drop some of our gracious hostess’s delicious green tomato chutney upon the tablecloth. Silly me!

Dr Livingstone I presume?

This is only the second time I have met with a blogger I have often linked with but I was glad I called in on Katherine. We got on fine in spite of initial and mutual nervousness and I wish we could have stayed longer. It was great to see some of Katherine’s portfolio of artwork – surrounding her investigations into the lives and perspectives of bees. Thank you Katherine. It was lovely to meet you and visit your characterful home.

Tomorrow we head for Gisborne on the east coast of the North Island.

Miranda

Sorry I haven't posted much since arriving in New Zealand. As a mean Yorkshireman, I don't really like paying extra for internet access.

We enjoyed four lovely days at Whangarei, about a hundred miles north of Auckland. It was a human-scale city with spectacular coastal scenery nearby. I swam in the ocean twice but as the water was not bath temperature Shirley only deigned to paddle. We saw two captive brown kiwis at the Kiwi North project. How salutary it is to recognise that these precious birds became endangered just because of Europeans' introduction of dogs and stoats and earlier the Maoris' introduction of the Polynesian brown rat.

Maybe it's just me but I feel a sense of sadness when I think of how New Zealand must have been before human beings ever happened upon these remote islands. It was surely a Garden of Eden with unique flora and fauna. Some of that still survives but much is lost or compromised by the things that man brought here. The towering kauri forests - containing trees five centuries old - must have been a true wonder to behold.

Anyway - here we are at Miranda - the NZ Shorebird Centre. Unfortunately we missed today's high tide with its promised excited conglomeration of shorebirds but in the late afternoon we walked upon the shoreline and saw some interesting birds pecking around in the mud flats - including white-faced herons, godwits and by an electric fence we found the sad corpse of a dainty yellow hammer.

Miranda - a picture by Katherine de Chevalle who we hope to meet tomorrow.

Alive

The Pudding heart is still beating. We have not been pecked to death by kea birds or savaged by warring Maori rugby players with sticky out tongues.

We are on New Zealand’s South Island now. We stayed in Koa Cottage, Little River on the glorious Banks Peninsula that Captain Cook mistakenly believed to be an island. It was named after the influential eighteenth century botanist – Joseph Banks. On Saturday night, the Earth moved for Shirley when  we were abed but it also moved for me in the form of a minor earthquake that measured 5.2 on the Richter scale.

We drove across the island yesterday via the breathtaking Arthur’s Pass, stopping off in the NZ village of Sheffield to buy a steak and onion pie from Sheffield’s Famous Pie Shop. I also noted the Sheffield Community Hall and the village’s only pub – The Sheffield Hotel. The weather was magnificent as we drove through obscenely beautiful mountains with hardly another vehicle in sight.

Annoyingly, just outside Greymouth I received a ticket from a traffic officer for overtaking another car on double yellow lines. Nothing was coming my way and the battered jalopy I chose to overtake was crawling along at about 30mph. Bugger! A $150 fine. Should I pay it? That is my current moral dilemma.

Birdling Flats, Banks peninsula

Kea bird at Arthur's Pass

Franz Josef Glacier earlier today

Today we drove southwards through lush forests and over gushing river plains, watched by snow capped mountains as we made our way to the Franz Josef Glacier. We walked up to this wondrous spectacle in blazing sunshine and later picknicked on a “scenic reserve” as we headed back up the coast to Greymouth. Another “grand day out”.

Rangitoto

It wasn't the bluest or sunniest of days on Rangitoto. We walked up a scoria track to the very summit of the island where we stood on the rim of the crater that spewed out this harsh black lava island only six hundred years ago. There were a few old bachs (NZ holiday homes) down near the shore and there were excellent views back to Auckland. It was as Wallace might have said, "a grand day out".

NZ

Above - the new Sky Bridge at Manchester Airport. Below - a place we were not meant to visit. It's Brisbane, Australia. Look very closely and you will see Helen from "Helsie's Happenings" frolicking barefoot in her garden. The plane was meant to refuel at Bangkok.

And finally, Auckland in New Zealand. Thirteen hours ahead of us timewise. It seems a very sleepy city but characterful too in the sultry sub-tropical warmth. People have so much space here and there's greenery and birdsong and one of the most popular pastimes seems to be waiting to cross roads even when there are no vehicles in sight. Two men were guarding a warehouse full of tens. And the Sky Tower - the tallest building in the southern hemisphere soared above everything like a guiding lighthouse. Tomorrow we hope to take a ferry to the volcanic islet of Rangitoto - assuming we can escape from our hotel room with its dodgy plastic key. We were locked out for over an hour earlier this evening waiting for the staff to figure out a way of getting us in. That's technology for you - sometimes it works - sometimes it laughs in your face.

Diversion

It was impossible for our flight to touch down as scheduled in Sri Lanka on New Years Day. This was because of tropical stormclouds piling up creating violent meteorological conditions over the Andaman Sea. We had chartered a seaplane to fly us from Colombo to Blogland but in the event we never got there. The pilot ignored my desperate pleas and kept going on and on through day and night, until we arrived in this place:-

Recognise it? We have never been here before so we are going to stick around for a while as I make new onward travel arrangements for Blogland.