boomers-on-the-road

JEFF: It’s great to take a break. Whether it’s from the daily routines of work or an active retirement, new places and faces enliven the body and renew the spirit. We have only three weeks free so visiting an island nation like New Zealand makes sense. This is a good time of year to travel here. It’s almost summer but schools have yet to close for the combined Christmas and summer holidays. Although New Zealand has affordable cabin style accommodation in most of its motor camps, we can camp for half the price and splurge on a room when the mood or the weather hits us. This could prove to be a real concern because the climate statistics for the parts we plan to visit say that on average we should experience rain for one third of our days. Not to worry, our trusty mountaineering tent has never leaked since the day it was purchased in 1989. With confidence I stride up to the customs officer at New Zealand’s Auckland International Airport. Knowing of their strict quarantine regulations I feel prepared. “What, you washed your tent?!” the officer asks incredulously. “Why, I’ve never heard of that. But you didn’t do a very good job on the pegs. I see flecks of dirt. I’ll get them sterilised for you. You can pick your tent up at the window outside the customs area.” When I ask for my tent the blonde athletic-looking female in uniform laughs, “This is yours? And you washed it?? Crikey, but it stinks. And the rain fly is all stuck together. I wouldn’t sleep in this thing!” She’s still chuckling while I cringe off with our trusty but sticky and smelly shelter, vowing to never wash it again. They can wash it for me. Now we can pick up our rental car and go find the real New Zealand. I rummage in my daypack then unfold the reservation advice. In bold letters its titled El Cheapo, a reference to the class of motorcar we’re about to get. I am given a contract to peruse. It seems that the only guarantee specifically given is that our vehicle will have at least 200,000 kilometres on the clock. The agent drives up in a silver Nissan Sunny of unspecified vintage then walks around the car while furiously scribbling on the clipboard. “Have a look at this and if you agree please sign it. There’s lots of scratches and the like, which I’ve only roughly put down, so we won’t notice if you add a few more. We’ll only be concerned if you return it with a bent panel.” I perform a quick body check and see that two hubcaps and part of the front bumper are held together with plastic strap ties. Looking inside I find the assurance I was looking for and relate it to the agent, “I see that your organisation has exceeded their guarantee with this vehicle. There’s 220,000 kilometres on the odometer.” His businesslike expression changes to puzzled, “What? Oh, yeah, more than 200. Good one!” We drive off with everyone happy. Housing over a third of New Zealand’s four million population, Auckland is a big city and we aren’t planning to see much of it. We’re interested in the unique countryside, the palm and fern forests and the flightless birds, which include the nation’s mascot, the kiwi. Surprisingly, this leads us right downtown. After a long and restful sleep in our comfortable, clean smelling (after an afternoon’s airing out), and decidedly non-stick tent, we race to the heart of the beast that is Auckland to find maps, breakfast, and the one dock in this huge seaport where we are to meet our friends Judy and Shelley as they disembark from a cruise liner elegantly christened the Rhapsody of the Seas. We arrive with minutes to spare then whisk them past the numerous expensive shops to the Waitakere Ranges Regional Park on the island’s west coast. After being confronted by a Maori totem pole, a carved thirty-foot stack of grimacing tikis, we enter the park’s visitor centre where we are further intimidated by full size models of two of New Zealand’s extinct species of megafauna. I stand shoulder to shoulder with the flightless Moa which is depicted bent over in a grazing pose. If it were to raise its head it would seriously tower over me. Then I read it’s just a juvenile. When the Polynesian Maoris first landed here and spotted these huge flightless and blissfully unaware birds they realised the table was set. Anthropologists think it may have taken only three centuries for the Moa to be wiped out. Then the Maoris had to work harder for their meat. I look up and get a fright. Hovering right above me with outstretched talons is by far the largest eagle I have ever seen. Fortunately for my life expectancy this bird is a model that’s hanging lifelike from wires fixed to the ceiling. The information sheet tells me this eagle had a wing span of more than 10 feet. It also explains that the extinct eagle’s primary food was young Moas. We drive through the dark green forest down steep winding roads until we reach a volcanic black sand beach. Today the sand and ocean are grey. Both look cold. We walk along the beach then up a steep path through tall fern trees to a 130 foot tall water fall that splashes white on the rocks below, a fairy tale setting. Time is passing quickly and we start retracing our path back to the cruise ship lest it sail without two passengers. With just enough time, and in anticipation of an expansive view of the city, we visit Auckland’s historically infamous One Tree Hill. Once a pa or Maori fortress, this bald dome was topped with a sacred totara tree which the victorious British felled in 1876 and replaced with a pine which grew to regal dimensions until felled by a Maori protester in 1999. Since then two replacements have been planted, only to be felled within months. Now it is One Stump Hill. After dropping Judy and Shelly off we shop for groceries then return to the motor camp and go for a stroll. A few tiny derelict caravans (trailers) squat in various corners of the place. The sounds of radio or TV float from the darkness beyond their open doors. A heavy man on the wrong side of 60 emerges and shuffles to the ablution block to the toilets and showers. It seems that pensioners, mostly single men, inhabit these small spaces. We return to our tent and settle in for long, restful sleep. LYNDA: Whoa! What’s happening? Its pitch-black, middle of the night and the deep sound of “whup, whup, whup” from a helicopter positioned directly overhead shocks me awake. The sound is deep, loud and the tent shakes. Are they going to land on top of us? I realize they wouldn’t due to the trees we are camped beside. After two to three minutes the chopper leaves. Jeff’s earplugs help him slumber through the whole exciting event. What would a helicopter be doing at such a low flying level, hovering in that area and at that time of night? Mystery. We’re off to the kauri forests of Waipoua, many kilometres north and west of Auckland. The kauri is a majestic and historically important tree. These slow-growing native trees were native only in the Northland and on the Coromandel Peninsula to the east of Auckland. When European settlers arrived the kauri was recognized as a great source of material for sailing ship masts, buildings and fine furniture. For years kauri was logged and shipped to Britain. Kauri gum, which is hardened sap dropped from the trees, was also an important commodity. Dug from where it had fallen from the tree and got buried in the earth, the kauri gum (looks like chunks of amber) was used in the production of resins and linoleum. Then when the gum quantity dwindled, kauris were cut and ‘bled’ for their sap. This practice resulted in the destruction of those trees and the practice was stopped in the early 1900’s. Here’s Matakohe, the Kauri Museum on our way to Waipoua. This is a large interactive museum fully staffed and supported by volunteers. A simulated working saw mill holds massive kauri logs ready to be cut. Push a button and the mill starts up without the log actually being cut. Life-size mannequins dressed in the garb of the day wrestle with the logs. Another area houses a two storied boarding house of the era. Each room is a diorama again with life-size mannequins depicting some aspect of life in that area of New Zealand during the days when so much kauri was logged. In each diorama and all around us are items made from this beautiful, warm golden-glowing wood. Interestingly, each mannequin strikingly represents an actual person whose photo is mounted nearby. These are people whose families have historic significance in the area. A volunteer tells us that one of her friends aged 92 likes to dress up in her nightie and sit very still on the bed in one of the dioramas amongst the mannequins. When visitors are looking in she will then wink, or wiggle her toes, much to the shock of the observers. Another volunteer dresses up as a maid of the era and sits motionless on a chair in the hallway amongst the visitors. When a man in shorts stands beside her looking at a diorama, the ‘maid’ will tickle his bare legs with her feather duster. And boy do they jump! This is such an interesting museum. We’ve been here for over three hours and now our stomachs complain to be fed. Good thing we’ve got the makings for a picnic lunch and here outside overlooking green rolling hills and distant views we have our pick of picnic tables. Stomachs first, then Waipoua the giant kauri forest. We hear that the oldest living kauri named Te Matua Ngahere (Father of the Forest) is over 2,000 years of age and that the tallest kauri, Tane Mahuta (Lord of the Forest) is close by, both in Waipoua. Tane Mahuta is more than 50 metres tall with a trunk girth of up to 16 metres. In the late 1800’s the largest recorded kauri was taken on the Coromandel Peninsula. It had a girth of 88 metres! The only reason that the forests of Waipoua were saved from destruction was first due to their remoteness and then by the 1876 purchase by the Crown. Still the forests were vulnerable to logging. In the 1940s a campaign was started to ensure protection of the kauri. These efforts resulted in the creation of the 9105 hectare Waipoua Sanctuary in 1952. Camp set up in the Waipoua Forest campground we walk some tracks amongst the kauris on Rickers, Lookout and Toatoa Tracks. What a wonderful experience to be amongst these majestic trees. We’re up with the birds and eager to set off for walks to Te Matua Ngahere (oldest kauri), Tane Mahuta (tallest kauri), Yakas Kauri (seventh largest), the Four Sisters (stand of four very close kauris), and the Cathedral Grove (many kauris in close proximity). Standing near these trees, aware of their imposing sizes and ages, makes us feel tiny and like just a brief whisper of life on this planet. It has taken so many years for these trees to grow and man can cut them down in minutes. Mankind needs to protect these giants. Multiple camera images of kauris, we’ll head further north to Cape Reinga tomorrow. A hand painted sign beckons us up a gravel driveway to see kauri woodcraft. In the open garage a wiry man stands at a lathe. Then he sees us, grins and motions us to him. “Hi ya, I’m called Irish. I was a professional golfer’s caddy and now I have found my second love. I love to work with the kauri wood. Have a look!” He shows us inside his home stacked with beautiful hand turned platters and bowls. “I use the swamp kauri. ‘Now what is that,’ you ask. You see, scientists determined that between 45 and 50,000 years ago there was a massive earthquake resulting in many kauris falling to the ground. A watery swamp covered them and now they are being dug up, cleaned up and turned into beautiful art. They used carbon dating to confirm the age of these swamp kauri. Some the trees are so big that a man carved an entire circular staircase inside a huge stump using a chainsaw. He took months to finish it.”