To the South Island

Loading photos into this blog is causing Peter extreme grief so he is doing it a small instalment at a time so that when it crashes, as it often does, he hasn't wasted an entire day. If the following extract makes even less sense than usual you may have missed an instalment or two so best to check where you last left off and start from there

Great Train Rides

New Zealand trains are a bit like Australian ones. Apart from some suburban lines, the trains cannot compete with domestic airlines and run one service per day targeted mainly at pensioners and tourists. To this end, the trains include a panoramic lounge at the rear and an outdoor viewing platform. Unfortunately it was our first cloudy and rainy day since records began – or at least within living memory, which in our case is increasingly short term. So, passing through the National Park we saw the foothills of several allegedly impressive mountains before steaming into Wellington. The rail system is also unusual in that it is narrow gauge, making for a rather wobbly ride. Also, the line is partially electrified so that we had to stop and change engines every now and again. This event was watched eagerly by half the passengers (well, the men anyway) which suggests that the trip is listed in “Great Train Rides of the Southern Hemisphere” and attracts ageing train-spotters from around the world.

Wellington

Emboldened by our stay at Sydney YHA, we had booked in at a backpackers hostel just across from the station. Although a little faded it was clean and comfy and as good as any Travelodge in terms of space and facilities and included a cheap restaurant. And only 37 dollars each so this is definitely something we will try again. Our trip is getting more and more like a belated gap year.

Another early start to get the shuttle bus down to the harbour and on to the ferry for a 3-hour trip across the Cook Straits to Picton on the South Island. The last hour or so is spent weaving through the Marlborough Sound, a bit like a Norwegian fjord or the entrance to Vancouver Island. By then the cloud had lifted and we disembarked to a lovely sunny day, with an hour or so to buy a picnic lunch and enjoy it in the gardens overlooking the harbour before boarding the train to Christchurch.

Picton is know for its sunny climate but by the time we had climbed out of the town and through Blenheim the cloud has come down again. This was a shame as the track follows the coastline through some spectacular scenery and, in anticipation of this, they provided an entire carriage with open sides for viewing but as the temperature had dropped noticeably it was virtually empty. As it turned out we were to re-visit the route days later by car so it wasn’t a complete wash-out.

North of the South Island

In Christchurch Hugh was there to meet us and we drove back to his house for a final planning session for the next stage of our trip.

Hugh has long established family roots in the north of the South Island and also spent many years as teacher and headmaster in various small rural schools. As a result we found that if Hugh wasn’t related to someone we met then he had probably taught them at some stage (a sort of Hugh's Who of New Zealand). If neither, then they were probably a foreign tourist. This added a unique and fascinating dimension to our journey though we also managed to sample many of the more usual tourist attractions. As you will hear in our next instalment.

Once Were Warriors


Our next overnight stop was the Pereti River – a very minimal site but in a beautiful location. We parked in the forest on the bank of a crystal clear river. After a walk up the valley we were sitting in the van enjoying a beer when a group of Maoris with hunting dogs rode past – a very impressive sight which gave an almost magical atmosphere to the woodland setting. A lot of the books we have been reading talk abut the impact of the loss of ‘mana’ on Maori communities. Respect or honour is a sort of translation of 'mana', difficult to maintain when your ancestors sold half the South Island for $300, but when you saw these guys riding through you got a real idea of what it used to mean. When I try and re-capture the image, the word ‘warrior’ always springs to mind. Would have made a great photo but somehow didn’t seem appropriate.


To Kai Iwi Lakes

The next morning, after a night full of forest sounds, Peter took his early morning dip in the river, a small deep pool flowing just fast enough so you could swim and stay in the same place. Strange not to be in salt water, you have to remember to keep paddling.

Hokianga Harbour is a huge estuary and you have to take a ferry across to get to Rewene, a lovely little town where we stopped to fill the water tanks, for a coffee overlooking the water, and to check our e-mails in the library/museum.

Further inland we stopped to walk through the Kauri forest to see the largest remaining Kauri tree in captivity. A really nicely laid out walk and a nice relief from the hot sun.

Finally, we arrived at the Kai Iwi lakes, three fresh water sandy lakes, the deepest in New Zealand. In contrast to the previous night the site was full of families with sound systems blaring and barbies sizzling. We lose track of time but of course this was Saturday night of the long Treaty of Kaitangi weekend. While some celebrate the Treaty, the majority just get away to the coast or lakes, and anything goes. We re-located to the other side of the lake where it was (a little) quieter and set up camp.



Kai Iwi Lakes

The following morning Peter went off for a run round the lake but only got so far so had a fresh water swim instead. Soon after lunch people started packing up and going home and the place quietened down and was very pleasant, the van parked in pine forest just a few yards from the water. Later Peter walked round the lake (the other way), hired a kayak and paddled back to the site. They let him keep it overnight so Vladen had a go fishing – no luck – and Peter went for a moonlight paddle later. In the morning Vladen paddled it back to the owners and we picked him up on the way out.

Back to Auckland

We were due to drop back in Sydney that day so we said godbye to Vladen at the Park and Ride to continue his trip to the South Island. We got back to Devonport about 5 just in time to get stuck in the evening rush hour - only to find that the only motorhome-sized jet wash was back across town. There was no way we could have handed it back in the state it was in, so back we went and finally arrived at Len and Cillas barely in time to go out for a last evening meal at a lovely Italian restaurant back down in Devonport. Our last night in the camper van in their carport, trying not to make the van messy again as Len was taking us at the crack of dawn to the downtown station to catch the 7.30 train to Wellington. A final act of kindness that capped off a fantastic week.

Back to Auckland

To Cape Reinga and Beyond

By now we had decided the best routine was to drive one day then stay over for two nights, giving a clear day without driving at all. At Taputpputo we used our clear day to walk the Headland Walk to Cape Reinga, only a few ks but most of that vertical, taking in Sandy Beach and two 200 metre climbs along the way. And all of it very hot. When we got to Cape Reinga we had to share the view with coach-loads of visitors doing the 90-mile Beach trip. Felt like we ought to wear a badge saying ‘we walked here’ but I think our sweaty t-shirts and red faces said enough. Carried on down (another 200m) to the beach for a refreshing dip in the surf and then all the way back – a real killer but well worth it.
We have noticed that the birds in New Zealand are far less wary of humans than in Australia, probably due to there being, historically, no native predators. Taputoputo Beach had a couple of dotterels – an endangered species here., perhaps because they lay their eggs any which way on the beach. If you go anywhere near they run straight at you like a Doberman except that they are only about the size of a blackbird. Its hard not to laugh but they are so determined you have to try not to.
Vladen camped well away – he was very good about respecting our privacy - but we invited him over for a beer and offered him a lift out the next day as his chances of getting out otherwise must have been slim and he was running out of food.

Due South

Heading out the following morning we agreed to take Vladen to Kaita, the first decent sized town but we took a detour to visit 90- Mile Beach. Although Len and Cilla didn’t mind us going on un-sealed road, the beach was out of bounds as its quite easy to get bogged down if you don’t know your way around.. We had our lunch there but as far as we were concerned its quality rather length where beaches are concerned and it was a bit like walking down the M1.

We next stopped for coffee at the ancient Kauri Kingdom, a factory outlet for carvings out of the old Kauri timber. We particularly like the ceremonial 5-seater bench at $15,000 but it was difficult to carry so ended up with a paper knife at $4 instead.

At Kaita we dropped Vladen on the main road out and went off to find the municipal dump station and then fill up with water and diesel. An hour later we headed out of town and there he still was so we agreed he might as well stick with us back to Auckland. He was no trouble, in fact good company, and it was clear he was keen to see the same kind of things as us. Although working in the UK and previously in Alaska, he still managed to run a llama farm in the Czech Republic and play in a folk rock band, so we blew his mind with some Fairport Convention from Peter’s Ipod through the car stereo. The last leg of the journey was spent transferring both albums from our laptop onto his mp3 player. Eurovision watch out.

To the North of the North Island

Russell

Before leaving the Bay of Islands we decided to take the 10 minute water taxi from Paihia across to Russell. Once known as hell-hole of the Pacific, it was a chill-out spot for itinerant pirates, whalers and escaped convicts happy to introduce the native population to the rum and the various social diseases our valiant colonists carried with them. In fact the Treaty of Waitangi was in part an effort by the British government to restore order and protect the Maori. It is now a tranquil spot suitable for retired gentle folk – though at these house prices not many of them Maori.

The waterfront is very picturesque with the original police house still standing and a number of lovely homes stretching up the hill to the site of the flagpole that started the trouble n the first place. We climbed up there taking a short cut through a lovely little nature reserve, deafened by the cicadas as the day got hotter. A tough climb but rewarded with great views over the harbour.
As we headed back across the bay we saw a couple more of the war canoes out training for the big day and behind them a New Zealand Navy helicopter landing ship which must have been roughly the balance of firepower when the Europeans first arrived. Now they are happily all on the same side - I think.

To the Cape

Reclaiming the van we headed North again, passing through Matauri Bay. This is a Maori owned location, part of the reconciliation process where land and money has been repaid enabling Maoris to start up tourist or agricultural enterprises. There were signs of housing plots but also a campsite, beyond which was the hilltop monument to the sinking of the Rainbow Warrior by the French not-so-Secret Service. This was an act of unbelievable arrogance by the French against a supposedly friendly country that just wasn’t too keen on the French testing their nuclear weapons in their back yard. The two agents who set the limpet mine were released into French custody and then not only freed early but actually decorated for their exploits.

Fortunately Peter took the opportunity of a swim in the bay before we headed off, as our stop for the night was by a mangrove swamp with no golden sandy beach. Simply not good enough, we are used to one golden sandy bay at every stop and usually one or two in between.

In which we meet a new friend ...

A lazy start saw us in Waimura stopping to get supplies for our lunch, and for the next couple of days as Cape Reinga is pretty remote. We fell into conversation with a young man from the Czech Republic trying to hitch hike to the Cape. His English was good as he was working in Chipping Norton as a carpenter and he turned out to be good company so we gave him a lift . As well as his camping gear he carried a fishing rod and we hoped to be able to share in his catch, but no luck.

The last 20-odd kilometres to Tapotupotu Bay, the nearest campsite to Cape Reinga, was in the process of being sealed so a bit tricky and we had to stop at one point as they were trying to winch a truck back out of the ravine to the side of the road. A sobering moment. A steep, winding descent brought us down to the Bay and a really lovely campsite with only water and loos but as a result not too busy. We parked with the rear window looking out over the bay – then in for a swim.

New Zealand

This is being posted for the West Coast of the South Island. its the 19th February so only a couple of weeks behind...

Well, good-bye Australia,

 g’day New Zealand.

 Len met us at the airport but had to hang around as Peter’s tent and mosquito net were identified as a bio-threat and had to be taken away for inspection and cleaning.  The fact that Margot had last used it in West Africa may have set off the alarms. You get it back but not folded so you have to re-pack it on the concourse floor. (Lucky they didn't check his dirty washing.)

 Len and Cilla were generous or foolhardy (I think I just used those exact words about the yacht in Sydney) to offer us the use of their motorhome, a Transit-based coachbuilt and definitely a step up from the campervans we had hired in Oz. We spent the first night in it on their driveway after a lovely meal and a quick tour of North Auckland, including Mount Victoria from where we could see the Louis Vutton America’s Cup races in the harbour below. They couldn’t have realised Peter was in town as he wan’t invited to take part.

After a leisurely breakfast, shopping for provisions and a leisurely lunch we headed forth guided by a nice New Zealand lady on the TomTom Sat Nav. Not having used one before we were a bit sceptical and at first stopped from time to time to checkup on her but over the week we grew to trust her judgement except when we decided to revise our route. She would try to get us to u-turn for a while, then go quiet but would pick us up surprisingly quickly and bring us back on track. We were impressed.

 As we were heading into remote country we decided to top up with diesel while we could, nearly taking off the roof box which Peter had forgotten was up there. We had a centimetre clearance but the attendant pointed out a 2 centimetre hump in the tarmac so we had to reverse out.

 This was at Waipu, settled in the 19^th century by a religious community who fled Scotland first to Nova Scotia, finding it too cold and inhospitable, then to Australia which was too hot, and finally settling for New Zealand, which was presumably just right.  Maybe we should just stay here.

 That night Tom Tom led us to the Uretiti municipal waste site, but a local resident pointed out the campsite a kilometre along the coast. This was a DOC (Dept of Conservation) site, a network of fairly minimalist sites in National Parks across the country. With the motorcaravan’s ensuite facilities and Len and Cillas’s annual pass this was not a problem and in fact they were some of the best sites of the whole week.

 Uretiti is set amongst sand dunes with a long golden beach (oh no, not another one!) so Peter had a swim both evening and the following morning. Heading North we decided to confuse TomTom by heading off route to see Ruapekapeka. This is the site of  a battle between Maori and British after a Maori chief repeatedly chopped down a flagpole at Russell. The site has no buildings but you can still see the amazing network of tunnels and palisades that held the British off until they brought up a whole battery of cannons. Once they had flattened the stockade the Brits charged only to find the Maoris has slipped away the previous night. The chief was never caught.

 Our next stop was at Kawakawa, best known for it’s public toilets designed by Austrian architect Friedrich Hundertwasser. These make Gaudi look positively restrained and are certainly worth the detour, even if it did upset TomTom. Also possibly only the public toilets it is safe to wander around taking photos.

 Bay of Islands

 By evening we were at Bay of Islands where we headed up-river to a site at Horuru Falls. Our site was right by the water’s edge looking across at the aforementioned Falls and a swimming pool behind us for when the tide was out. 

The next day we made the 5k walk down along the riverbank, taking a cliff-side path that ran within feet of dozen’s of shag’s nests complete with baby shag's being fed by stickingtheir beaks down their dad's throat. Kids! doncha just love them?

 Then down across mangrove swamps before arriving at Waitangi, site of the treaty that is the basis for the accommodation between settlers and the Maori. At the time of signing it was clear to both sides that a war would be long and costly and, compared to what happened in Australia, was a a model of diplomacy and good sense. Unfortunately there were two versions, one in English and one in Maori and – guess what – some of the small print didn’t quite match and the subsequent interpretation by the settlers have led to resentment and confusion that is still being unravelled today.

 After lunch we decided to take the official tour with a nice young Maori man. As there was no coach tour in there were just four of us and we managed to get him to wander a little off the official line and perhaps get a bit more insight into the way Maori people felt about the whole thing.

 The tour covers the site where the Treaty was signed with a marae (meeting house), the first governor general’s house and a war canoe designed to take some 74 paddlers and 51 passengers.

 After the tour we wandered down to the foreshore where groups of Maori were arriving to practice paddling their war canoes in preparation for the Treaty of Waitangi Day that Friday. Thousands come to celebrate the anniversary, mainly Maori, believing the treaty, although abused by the British subsequently, forms the basis of any reconciliation and recompense that is now being sought – with some success. We had been warned it might be better to have moved on by the Friday as occasionally things get a bit heated and certainly overcrowded but this year’s passed off without unpleasantness.

 When we discussed this with a Maori tour guide later on, he felt that the recent attempts by the New Zealanders of European origin to recognize the past and to compensate for the damage done had been accepted as genuine by most of the Maori people. He certainly felt that the future looked very positive, at least for those living in Maori communities in rural areas. The problems of .disaffected groups in urban areas was probably going to be more difficult to resolve. But that’s true in most places.

Last Days in Oz

In solidarity with the lovely people of the Yarra Valley, North of Melbourne, who recently showed us such hospitality we will be making a donation to the victims of the bush fires - by no means over in this area. Please join us.

Bathurst 25th January 2009

Instead of heading back into Sydney the next leg of our trip took us out to the end of the railway line at Lithgow where the track descends onto the central lowlands. Originally this was achieved by the cunning ‘zig-zag railway’ which still exists as a tourist attraction. From Lithgow the last leg to Bathurst is by coach and we were met there by Bob, who, with Judy, lives on a small farm in the middle of nowhere, except that its somewhere rather nice, a couple of kilometres from Middlethorpe. This is a lovely little town now with Heritage status and a friendly and active community

Our journey there took in a quick lap of the Bathurst race-track which, other than for one frantic week later in the year, forms part of the local road network with stands and pits all in place.

Bob and Judy have, I believe, 30 cows, but we couldn’t see them as the hay was too long – or their legs were too short, one or the other. They also have fruit trees, the fruits of which we enjoyed as smoothies at breakfast thanks to a state-of-the-art blender.

Our first night was enlivened by a plague of little flying beetles that clattered across the room before crashing on to wall, floor or Margot’s face. Once we established they meant no harm we went to bed, turned off the light and pulled the sheets up past our noses. We are clearly city folk but after a while they calmed down and we relaxed and went to sleep.

The next day was Australia Day (or ‘Invasion Day’ if you happen to be of Aboriginal descent) and we drove into Orange, the other big(gish) town in the district, to see the celebrations. All the local clubs and organisations were represented and the mayor and a TV celebrity gave out awards to Orange’s Australians of the Year from the band-stand in the park. We also took in a winery and the local reservoir before returning to the house. Bob and Judy staff the local agricultural museum in Middlethorpe as part of a rota and Margot and Peter took the opportunity to bike in to the town to get a guided tour of the museum. Though we were maybe the only visitors that afternoon if was a fascinating collection which would give York’s Museum of Farming a run for its money.

The day was rounded off by a live music event in a neighbours barn with a local band fronted by the lead singer of one of Australia’s top bands of the 80s (?) who had retired to the town but still was a class act. Although we may have missed the fireworks on Sydney harbour bridge I think our Australia Day was closer to what Australia is about as we were made welcome everywhere we went and we had great fun.

The following morning Peter took an early morning run round the local farm gravel roads (grid layout so keep turning left and you get back to where you started) and then Bob took us in to Bathurst. While he popped into the University we sent a parcel from the Post Office and then went to the Art Gallery where there was a fascinating exhibition based on a ‘mural’ done by an Aboriginal community as part of a land rights claim. Through traditional representation of the land they managed to demonstrate their historic link with that land and satisfied the courts as to their rights of ownership. I can’t see a British court of law accepting this as evidence, but there are definitely lessons to be learnt about access to justice.

Back to Sydney

After meeting us for lunch Bob dropped us off at the station where the connecting coach took as back to Lithgow. As we arrived at the station Peter swears the driver said the train left in 25 minutes, so, after loading our bags on the train, he went off to get some take-away lunch and coffee from a nearby café. As he waited for a somewhat leisurely service, a guy rushed in demanding a coke as “the train goes in 3 minutes”. Grabbing the food and two cups of scalding coffee Peter took the steps 3 at a time to find Margot and the guard unloading the bags. We got them (and the coffee) back on as the doors slammed shut – a close shave as that was the last train of the day!

As we had three nights in Sydney before flying out we had decided to use the YHA which has two hostels adjacent to the station. Unfortunately these were full so we ended up in Glebe Point which turned out to be fine apart from us being 35 years older than anyone else in the building. It was close to the tram which took you straight from the station and we got there in time to pop out for a pizza.

Sailing in Sydney Harbour

Next morning a bus took us right into the CBD (Central Business District – every city has one) from where we walked to the Art Gallery where we saw some recent Aboriginal art including a very interesting special exhibition of photography. We then wandered back down through the Botanic Gardens in the intense heat, past the Opera House to Circular Quay.

From the quay we took the ferry across the Harbour to Mossmans Bay where Peter D – who we had met in the Snowy Mountains – keeps his yacht, a 28’ Cavalier. As he is his own boss he let himself off work early to take us out for the evening – yes, even Margot, who normally is reluctant to set foot on anything smaller than the QE2, was seduced by the thought of wine and nibbles while watching the sun set over the Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Allowing Peter H to helm the boat was the ultimate in generosity (or foolhardiness) as his outings back home are at the helm of a 14 foot Laser dinghy where capsizing is all part of the fun. In fact, it made sense since, although Peter H was notionally in command, it left Peter D - the owner - free not only to manage the rather complicated rigging but also to navigate across what must be one of the busiest waterways in the world. Not only did we have to contend with ocean bound cruise liners, innumerable ferries that give way to no-one but we also managed to pass the CYC (Cruising Yacht Club of Australia, the people who organise the Sydney to Hobart race) a few minutes before the start of the 6pm twilight race.

This race involves 50-foot yachts of the kind you see in the Americas Cup - worth heaven knows how many millions and crewed by teams of about 15 highly competitive Aussies – and you don’t get much more competitive than that. At first, under Peter D’s instruction we hugged the shoreline as they quickly overhauled us but then ran out of room and had to tack across the fleet only to find one of the lead boats bearing down on us. Technically we had the right of way but, given their size and the fact they were racing and we weren’t, this seemed academic to me, but Peter D insisted we held our course and to my amazement and Margot’s intense relief, just as we could read the designer labels on their dark glasses, they gave way and we sailed serenely on.

We sailed out to the mouth of the harbour where the Tasman Sea starts and then back down to a quiet cove where we dropped anchor and Peter had a quick swim (only hearing today of a Navy diver just being attacked by a shark in the harbour). We broke open the wine and nibbles and watched the sun set slowly over the bridge and opera house, finally motoring back to base in the dark as the lights of the CBD came on.

Peter had thought of taking a trip out on the harbour but actually being able to sail there was a dream come true and has got to be a highlight of the trip, even for Margot.

Manly Beach

Whilst sailing past the Opera House a sudden gust had blown Peter’s ‘Flying Doctor Service’ baseball cap - bought specially at a charity shop in Katoomba – into the drink. Given the traffic we decided not to execute a rescue manoeuvre and left it to its fate.

The next day we took the tram and then the monorail back to the Botanics as Margot wanted to see the previously-believed-extinct Wollemi Pine that we had missed the day before. Our route through the CBD took us pst the Queen Victoria Building, an unexpected treat which must out-do Liberty's of lLndon and Burlington Arcade in its Victorian kitsch splendour. Wee liked it so much we we had lunch there instead of our usual sandwich in the park.

We found the tree and carried on down to the harbour. On reaching the harbour wall, Margot also insisted we look over the side to see if the cap was there, after all it had cost 2 dollars. Despite Peter’s scorn we did look … and there it was floating bravely amongst the flotsam. Tragically, the wall is steep and high and there was no way we could reach it (apart perhaps from breaking off a long branch from the Wollemi pine?) so we turned and walked away leaving it to its fate. Although we had only known it for 3 days it felt like abandoning an old friend.

Once again at Circular Quay we took the ferry out to Manly a long established beach community, beyond the harbour entrance we had passed the night before. Very much a surf-based culture with surf kayak racing, surfing classes for hundreds of local kids as school came out and surf-rescue oarsmen with immaculate pecs, tans and thongs. Unabashed Peter cavorted in the surf with the best of them before we walked out to the headland to allow his shorts to dry before catching back the ferry that had just discharged its load of commuters about to swap their briefcases for surfboards.

Walking back across the CBD to Darling Harbour as darkness fell we headed back to the YHA stopping for a Thai meal at a take-away across the road. On the way Peter nearly trod on a foot long stick insect whose remarkable camouflage was perhaps counter-productive as it crawled across the pavement.

Leaving Australia

On the advice of the YHA receptionist we took an early-morning tax to the airport, though there seemed to be a perfectly adequate shuttle bus from the door. The airport is out in the Western suburbs and the route passes the poorer areas of Redfern and industrial-commercial areas probably a healthy reminder that Australia isn’t all Bondi Beach.

Of course we only saw a fraction of the country and to a degree not all the iconic parts – no Barrier Reef, no Ayers Rock, no tropical rainforest. However, and particularly as coming here at all was not part of our original plan, it has been a revelation. Beautiful beaches, towering temperate rainforests, great mountain ranges and fascinating cities but above all our trip has been made by the kindness and generosity of those we met, not only all of Margot’s friends who have looked after and entertained us along the way but all the people we met as we went about our business. Not once were we called whingeing poms but then, there was nothing very much to whinge about

South Island NZ

Laptop seems to have sorted itself and I have updated the blog to the day we flew to New Zealand but you wil have to be patient as there is no way of loading it up for now. Coming soon !

In the meantime we have returned the campervan to its rightful owner undamaged and made it across to the South Island by train and boat. We are Hugh's house in Christchurch and having a breather for a day before heading on a 10-day tour of the north of the South Island, or is it the south of the North Island? Peter is getting very confused about where we are and what day it is - 'No change there, then' we hear you think.

Hugh has Sky news and we have been trying to catch up, especialy with news from Victoria. Although the fires were in the north and east of Melbourne which is where we stayed, until now none of the townships mentioned were familiar. The nearest was Hearnsville where we went to the animal sanctuary and this was mentioned as a place where people were being put up after they fled their homes. However last night, despite the temporary respite, fears were raised of the forecast new winds creating a 'super fire' where two existing outbreaks joined up. Warburton, which you may recall is where Sarah lives, was shown as beng slap between the two of them. Margot will be trying to email her but I trust she has the sense to get out in good time as the casualties seem to be worst when people leave it to the last minute. Not that you can't understand peoples reluctance to just walk away from their homes and possessions.

Here, you will be pleased to know, is more like an English summer with low cloud, rain and us wearing sweaters for the first time for two months. So I will spend the day indoors trying to get the blog up to date. Keep checking.

PS Kate - thanks for your comments, all comments welcome. We do love to hear how our esteemed readers are getting on.

From the Far North

12" of snow in Devon? We go away for a few months and the place goes haywire! I will not mention the weather here.

Still no laptop so just a quick update. We have been up to the far north in our borowed campervan with more beautiful beaches and mountain forests. We have had a Czeck hitchhiker on board for the last couple of days as it seemed too traffic free to leave him anywhere but he's a nice guy so no worries. Also lots of Maori in this area so very interesting especially as its the big day of the year when they celebrate the Treaty of Waitangi, when some sort of accommodation was made with the British settlers.

Will try to get laptop fixed and update blog in next few days. In the meantime those of you in UK keep warm

Technical Hitch

We are now in New Zealand travelling to the very North of the North Island in a campervan borrowed from a friend of Margot's. Unfortunately we seem to be having a bit of trouble with the laptop so the blog may have to go on hold for a bit - please talk amongst yourselves.