Roughing It

Saturday

With our time in NZ running short, and Mark with a few days off, we wanted to see Northland. All the credit for planning the trip goes to Sherry. We got a late start this morning, as all our efforts to get out the door kept getting thwarted. Sherry tried to pick up a few last-minute things at New World, which was a madhouse. Royal Caribbean's Rhapsody of the Seas was in port today, so all the pedestrians snarled the already busy traffic. We had problems trying to print Sherry's carefully crafted itinerary with all the directions on it, and then got caught up trying to jumpstart a neighbor's car in the carpark. Aigghh!

Ro finally meets Mark's "other woman" in Katikati

Ro was in a less than great mood on the long drive north, and we were relieved when he finally fell asleep. The Karangahake Gorge was packed with holiday makers, but the usually oppressive traffic through Auckland was blessedly non-existent on the weekend. Ro finally woke from his nap as we were crossing the Harbour Bridge, each new kilometer marking the farthest north we've been in NZ. Winding through the hills of the North Shore, we encountered a somewhat unusual toll road - you had to stop at a kiosk on the side of the road to pay, but we elected to use our five-day grace period and pay it online when we got home.

We took a little side trip Sherry had scoped out to Piroa Falls, literally in the middle of nowhere. Mark looked at her dubiously when the rural road turned to gravel and a small sign pointed the way to the falls - 6km down the road. We didn't see any other cars on the way, but were a little relieved to see a few at the trailhead. Ro changed into his togs faster than you could say "waterfall," and bounded down the steep trail, slipping and landing on his bum a few times. The bumpy drive soon proved well worth it, as we were treated to a gorgeous scene.

The Hills at Piroa Falls

The pools beneath the falls are a popular swimming hole, and are deep enough that Mark couldn't even touch bottom. A few backpackers were actually taking showers under the falls, but the dominant activity seemed to be jumping off the treacherous rock ledges above the pools. Sherry convinced Ro to egg Mark on so he would jump, too. Then she claimed she didn't get a good picture on his first attempt, so he had to jump again. Ro wasn't too keen on diving in, but he did psych himself into opening his eyes underwater (he'd forgotten his goggles), and wanted to stay at the falls indefinitely.

Mark taking a deep, chilly dip

Geronimo!

Our drive into Whangarei featured some amazing scenery along the coast, looking towards the imposing Whangarei Heads dominating the horizon. We stopped for necessary provisions at Four Square (a small grocery store so ubiquitous it has become Kiwiana) and Liquorland, then continued through town to the Blue Heron Holiday Park along the bay. Our friendly hostess Elaine, a transplanted Canadian, oriented us to the place by just pointing out the window in different directions. All the baches (i.e. vacation cottages) had long since been rented for this busy weekend, so Sherry had booked us into a camper that was permanently parked on the grounds. She figured it would be a good trial run for our campervan trip next month.

Home sweet home

The camper was vintage 1960's, with faux wood panelling and a mattress lumpier than bad mashed potatoes. There was a sink, but the water wasn't hooked up. There was a gas burner, but trying to turn that thing on would void the hazardous endeavours clause on Mark's disability insurance. If you thought of it as a simple motel room, you'd be really disappointed, but if you thought of it as a glorified tent, it wasn't half bad. "No, Ronan, daddy didn't call it rusty, he called it rus-tic. Well, I guess it's rusty, too."

Fortunately, the holiday park had a kitchen, a grill building, and bathrooms. Fifty cents got you twenty minutes of gas cooking time, or a five-minute hot shower. Like any good Kiwi on holiday, Mark cracked open a Woody (i.e. Woodstock Bourbon & Cola) after the long drive, and poured Sherry a glass of wine to drink as we cooked dinner. The bottle of Villa Maria wine actually came with a game ticket to win passes to the Ronan Keating concert at the winery next month! It took a little while to figure out how to work the gas grill, not realizing that the built-in igniter didn't work anymore. Mark finally noticed the pack of matches sitting nearby and put two and two together. While cooking the food, we met another camper from Seattle, who said we were the first Americans he'd met in the three weeks he'd been touring NZ. We had veggie kebabs and sausages for dinner, made all the more delicious by our intense hunger.

Nice view at the kitchen window

Sunset over Whangarei Harbour

Dinner's ready, daddy!

The ambiance was overwhelming

We relaxed with our drinks after dinner, sitting at a picnic table on the beach, watching the waves lap on the shore as Ronan played with a bunch of other kids. We'd brought his Ben 10 scooter, which he enjoyed riding down the main drive as the other kids coasted down on their BMX bikes and skateboards, jumping over the speed bumps. They'd all scatter when the rare car would come creeping through, and Ro would dutifully shoo a couple of little girls out of the road.

Finally taking a minute to chill

Once it got dark, we put Ro to sleep in the one bed we had, and we chatted quietly, planning tomorrow's itinerary and dipping chocolate into a jar of peanut butter as we finished the wine. The stars were amazingly bright, since we were a couple hours from the nearest real city. We shifted Ro to some cushions we had set up on the floor when we went to bed, but he woke up scared so we let him into our double bed. Nobody was getting any sleep, especially Sherry since she was scrunched up between Mark and Ro, so she finally gave up and slept on the floor. Mark couldn't sleep anyway, as he was coming down with a cold and sore throat. Just in time, eh?

Can you spot the Southern Cross? Careful!