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| The lighthouse at Cape Reinga |
Up early to catch the 0700hrs ferry across the bay from Russell to Paihia to join a bus tour to the northernmost point of the north island, Cape Reinga. Strictly speaking there is another headland nearby about 2kms further north, but Cape Reinga is the northernmost 'driveable' point. There were four and twenty on the bus ( where have I heard that before? ) and out driver/guide was Barry. I think Barry was a Maori; he certainly could speak Maori. In fact he spoke quite a lot. I had a horrible feeling shortly after we set off that Barry might become intensely irritating with his non-stop banter and unfunny jokes. In fact he got better as the trip wore on and as he began to run out of breath. By the end, after a few potential disasters, we all ( I think ) began to warm to Barry. He did actually tell us lots of informative things, amongst his personal reminiscences.
Our first stop, and the weather was, for once, inclement, was the Puketi forest to admire the famous Kauri trees (Left). They are similar to California redwoods and are, like much else, considered 'spiritual' in the Maori culture. We were sent off on a walk around a patch of damp dripping gloomy forest/jungle and encouraged to 'embrace' a particular Kauri tree to bring us good fortune. They were rather wet, so I didn't.
Right: I hope I did my bit here by not 'embracing' the the damned things. I would hate to fall foul of the 'Kauri Dieback Response Team' who might pounce at any moment armed with disinfectant, rope and chainsaws.
Our next stop was at Taipa for a breakfast cup of tea where I was ripped off buying postcards and stamps by an Indian shopkeeper. After another 10 minutes drive the bus broke down. I stand humbled and corrected. I don't think enough of us can have embraced the blasted soggy Kauri tree. Anyway, this caused Barry a bit of angst and a replacement bus was ordered. We set off again after an hour and a half wait and attempted to drive onto the 90 mile beach. This was to be a feature on our trip. The beach is flat hard sand and runs up the west side of the peninsular for 64 miles. Because of our delay the tide was coming in and after splashing through the surf, it was wisely decided to vacate the beach up a wonky gravel path-cum-stream to avoid floating off to Australia.
Right: Barry at the helm shortly before we nearly became seaborne and did a rapid right turn off the beach. We were promised a trip back down the beach on our way home when the tide was going out. It is called 90 mile beach because it took a horse-drawn wagon 3 days to drive up it. As these wagons were expected to average 30 miles per day, it was called 90 mile beach. It is 64 miles long.
Left: Cape Reinga. This is a VERY spiritual Maori place, if not the MOST spiritual. It is where the souls of dead Maoris come to go off to the next world. Barry even chanted a long Maori chant ( 5 minutes of ) on our approach to the Cape. The small tree clinging on to the rock at the far end is there against all the odds and considered 'magical'. You are expected to behave in a very reverential manner here.
It is also the point where the Pacific Ocean and Tasman Sea meet and as such the sea here can be really wild. It was relatively calm on this day. After the Kauri tree lack of embrace, I wasn't taking any chances and was as grovellingly 'reverential' as I could be. We still had the 90 mile beach to survive, and some sand-boarding yet to come.
Right: The solar powered lighthouse on the Cape point. This is switched on and off from a control room in Wellington. As you can see, if you enlarge this, we are 9735 nautical miles from London, 4576nm from Tokyo, 3383nm from the South Pole and 1066nm from Sydney.
Left: We left the Cape and drove south and then off down a track which turned into a sandy sided stream. It was quite deep, but Barry seemed to know what he was doing. We were on our way to the sand dunes for some sandboarding. Most people on the bus seemed keen to do this, so who was I to refuse....
Right:...... We were handed our boards and given a bit of instruction by Barry. The idea was to climb up to the top of the dunes and whizz down as per a toboggan. If you were going fast enough it was possible to hydroplane across the stream at the bottom and over to dry land on the other side. It was bloody knackering climbing up to the top. First time down, everyone was slightly cautious and braked a bit with toes in the sand; but you did get up a fair bit of speed. Everyone pulled up before the stream ( there were some 8 year old children doing this! ). Second time up ( I nearly died, puff puff ), Barry gave a demo. He whizzed down, flew elegantly across the stream and stood up dry on the other side. Right!, I thought, I'm going next and will show him what's what! Ex-Cresta rider and all that. I took a good run, launched myself, no brakes and went for it. I hit the near bank of the stream at a fair clip and, lacking technique, failed to raise the front of my board. The board stopped dead, but I carried on upwards and onwards in a majestic parabola to land with a powerful splash dead centre of the water. Oh, how they laughed. It was damned cold. I slunk off back to the bus. I think only one other person made it into the stream, and nobody, apart from the Blessed Barry got across. Bollocks to sandboarding, and I was still shaking sand out of my kit for days afterwards.
Left: We re-entered the 90 mile beach and headed southbound. Much of this journey was spent splashing through the surf. We had to stop a short way down because the tide had not gone out enough for safe onward progress. We hung around for about 30 mins while Barry went off for some coffee with a friend of his who had a shack over the dunes. I must say, by this stage we had developed quite a respect for Barry's amphibious driving abilities. He obviously, amongst all his daft patter, was highly skilled at this semi-aquatic bus driving job.
Right: A stranded ( and dead ) sand shark near where our bus stopped. There were several of these around. Maybe they had been caught and discarded. I am told they are harmless to swimmers. I don't know how big they grow but I would still rather swim where they aren't.......
We continued our wet journey, and I was still soaking from my dunking ( although given a dry sweater thankfully ) then onto dry land and onwards to a place which sold Kauri wood handicrafts. It was pissing with rain by now. With some considerable way still to go we stopped for 'fish and chips', and rather good they were too, before the final leg, running about 2 hours late to Paihia. The dramas were not quite over yet because traffic was diverted miles around what turned out to be a fatal road accident. Barry, by this time, had gone remarkably silent. We got back to Paihia at 2030hrs ( 2 hours late ). The last ferry to Russell ( normally 1930hrs ) was delayed especially, just for me. How remarkably kind, I thought. All the others were going on somewhere else. Barry was most apologetic about it all, but actually he had done remarkably well and with great good humour. He must have been knackered. So that was my educational trip to the northernmost bit of NZ mainland. A large whisky was greatfully consumed on arrival at the Swordfish Club in Russell.
.... and tomorrow it's the much heralded Russell Birdman Festival....!!
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