Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
Having briefly experienced life north of Auckland we decided against spending an extra couple of days driving to the northern tip of NZ (North Cape) - so were back behind the wheel and making up impressive ground. Looking back, the eternity it seemed to take to decide some sort of rough island crossing route, wasn't really that long at all. Baring in mind our total lack of organisation and having only been in possession of our lonely planet guide for 48hrs; 2 days to decide on where best to was pretty impressive. After all, we were about to rack up tidy little sum of 3,500km in our passion wagon.
One of the big flaws in trying to get to some of the remote places such as the northern tip - is that you have to drive a good 200km on unsealed road. Which basically knackers your tyres, makes windscreen chips around one 'thoisand' times more likely, takes twice as long to drive on and last but not least, nulls your insurance cover...great.
So our next point of call would be Raglan on the west coast, south of Auckland and heading back on ourselves already. Our bible described it as a picturesque little surfing town with a chilled vibe. Brilliant; women in wet suits...
A quick note on the driving...It's nigh on impossible to get lost, there are literally 6 major highways at the most, with the number 'One Highway' running north to south through both islands. They are generous with speed limits, traffic cops and speed traps etc are genuinely unseen or unheard of (in three weeks driving we saw 2 police cars, both whilst walking through Dunedein i think), littered with road kill with the only difficult part being the sharp mountainous roads. Spot of advice campers, when a road sign says 25 on a bend, it's highly suggested that you take it at this speed and not power slide your happy camper around them at 45. More so when passengers such as tom have to clamber back mid cornering to pick up the falling plates and glasses from the cupboards. Hilarious, he disappeared from sight in my rear view mirror, only to be stuck to the floor like glue from all the g force me and our little racing truck where pulling off. The whites of his knuckles and nervous giggling slash sobbing only spurred me on some more. After all, the last sign post said another 8km of hairpins to go...
We arrived a long time after dark which proved to be a bit of a hindrance. We didn't have a jerry's where the nearest campsite was - possibly because jimmy the navigator had fallen asleep mid shift. So after numerous laps of this little town, we found a campsite. (Which was extortionate - $30 in backpacking terms)
Cue our first AND last attempt at freedom camping. Technically it was two attempts in one night but hey. After consulting the bible, we learnt that it wasn't so much 'illegal', just heavily frowned upon and the extent of the frown varied from town to town. What it didn't tell us however, is that the inbred tree hugging folk of Raglan were severely uptight and against any form of parking on the roadside whatsoever.
...So we parked just off a residential, unfolded the comfy king size, quick splash and dash on the back tyre and bedded down for the next...2 hours until neighbourhood watch caught up with us. I didn't need rocking to sleep, I was already there! What cranks! Tom very kindly offered to leave me dozing in the back while he drove us 5 minutes out of town, 5 times, in search of a less obvious spot. I'm just glad Mr. Ticket Officer the following morning had woke up on the right side of the bed.
By sunrise, we were already up and in the town centre, eyes looking like two p*ss holes in the snow and in the hunt for coffee and a warm hearty breakfast. We were sat outside a cafe when across the road I spotted what looked to be Rosie - one of our fellow party goers from the Cook Islands. We were that tired, we remained seated and began to wave. In hope that she would eventually see us without us having to get up and go across the road. So we began to wave. And waved a little more a she went to the cash machine. Then waved some more as she went in the supermarket. We thought we'd best keep waving whilst she was getting her shopping. Eventually (I swear she's blind) as she made her way back to the car with her groceries, we were spotted. We made it; we were going to be ok tom! Having established that it was in fact the girls following us and not the other way round, she took us back to their hostel where two big comforting hugs from Emma and a timid Brommers awaited.
What a perfect day to go surfing; apparently. It was cold and windy and similar conditions you'd find in the Caribbean. Plus, great whites also loved to play off the shores here. Fab. Tom booked himself on the afternoon course and headed to the classroom for so step by step blackboard and power point surfing lessons. Once he'd learnt the dynamics of the board, correct body positioning and all that boll*cks, I too headed for the beach. Board and wetsuit - $15, a bargain at a fraction of the price. Result. I followed tom and his new surfing pals into the water and sure enough, I nestled into the thick of the group as if I too had just sat for hours through a lecture on surfing. Emma too thought she was a pro landing her first couple of waves, we were quick to inform her it was a sheer fluke and that her board must have had giant stabilizers.
Note for all surfing wannabes. Don't book a lesson. I literally sat for 5 minutes watching the board mounting drill, and I stood up on the waves FIRST ATTEMPT. I sh*t you not! So did tom like, but at least I hadn't had my pants pulled down and bottom slapped by Mr. Surf instructor. Lots of falling off and sea swallowing followed.
And whats more, with one of those all in one water tight jump suits on - you don't feel the cold one bit. If anything, you end up sweating yer' knackers off. Genius invention.
As 'picturesque'as Raglan may be, if you're not wanting to have a crack at the surfing, there isn't really much else to do here and only really worth a day or two here at the most. The girls were off to the Waitomo caves next; Tom and I already being the caving mavericks decided to head for volcano town, Rotorua.
- comments