Wicked Wanderings

So, it is no secret that I am a tiny bit useless with funds, and I realised fairly soon after returning to New Zealand that it would take more than a few months to get onto my financial feet (Update, I am still flat on my back). Moving halfway across the world is expensive (fyi!). Therefore, the desired overseas extravaganza was not possible, and Alex was right there in the monetary woes with me. So we brainstormed, drank some wine and booked a Wicked camper for 2 weeks up north.

For those who don't know - a Wicked camper is a large (ish - not so much after 2 weeks in it) van converted into a campervan for 2, scrawled with occasionally lurid pop-culture images. We got the Austin Powers Van, which was something we had to come to terms with, along with the absence of the air-conditioning that we had paid extra for.

The camper for me was a symbol of freedom as we explored a part of my country I had never seen before. It was the first time I had travelled independently and without time constraints applied by tours, public transport or itineraries. Alex and I decided where to go and when to do it. If we loved a place, we stayed longer. If I was tired of driving, we stopped. If we wanted to turn down a random road to find out where it went, well... off we went. It was pretty awesome.

After picking up the van from the middle of the industrial depths of Auckland, we hightailed it north out of the city, on a truly glorious day. 2 hours in, we realised the extra moolah for the air-con had been a waste of time and the leather seats were fusing with my thighs. We stopped regularly as we headed up the east side, the beaches and towns were enchanting.

The first stop was the little town of Mangawai, and it was definitely the gem town of the upper North. It had an eclectic mix of foodie shops, a great farmers market and a genuinely nice camping ground. We hung around like limpets for as long as we could, trying ice cream from a local store and cold drinks in the pottery shop to stave away the oppressive humid heat, before heading on up to Waipu in a haze of beach based drinks, good music and communal showers.

Our first coin operated shower came at a miscellaneous tiny town near Matapouri, where we parked up for the night and killed off a huge portion of our budget on a day trip to the Poor Knights for the next day.

The Islands are 23km from the Tukukaka coast and are the sunken remains of ancient volcanoes. The ocean currents push an unprecedented stream of warmer water past and this has allowed a rich marine ecosystem to develop. The extremely protected area is home to wild Tuatara (these feature later, so stay tuned), heaps of fish and the world's largest sea cave.

The Māori history is pretty enthralling, too. Small tribes lived on the Islands and would sporadically use waka to travel to the mainland for trade and supplies. While the Chief Tatua was away, a slave captured from the Aorangi tribe escaped and reported to the chief of a neighboring tribe that the Islands were undefended. The chief was harbouring a grudge from years previously, when Tatua refused to trade with him for pigs. His warriors travelled 320km in hand rowed waka and decimated the village. The few survivors left with Tatua on his return and the Poor Knights are now so protected that you can be fined to stand on them.

We caught a large boat out to the Islands, for a welcome van reprieve. The weather was a bit chilly, and there was a strong breeze. We headed to the top deck and enjoyed the boat as it battled the waves.

There was a European family with two small boys who were having a blast as the boat picked up speed and rolled over the waves. Alex began to pale and went to lie down in the middle of the lower deck. The trip became an endurance exercise. Soon, it was too rocky to move for fear of really injuring yourself. Waves ricocheted off the bow and smashed down on our heads. Everything was soaking.

No-one was having fun, apart from one small blond boy, who was still grinning like a maniac as he looked around at his grim father. And then he opened his mouth. The vomit exploded out of him as the boat slammed down on the lee side of a wave and I dived out of the trajectory, onto the lap of a large Canadian. The entire back seat of the boat was speckled with the half digested remains of the sandwich he had eaten barely half an hour ago, luckily the area had been vacated early in our trip.

I extracted myself from the horrified tourist, who; oblivious to the vomit-sprinkler, was confused as to why I had thrown myself at her. As I picked vomit out of the chest of my togs, dry heaving, realisation dawned, and her entire family thought that this was the moment to laugh at me. Luckily we began to slow down and islands came into view.

I collected Alex from her foetal position and we donned wetsuits. The water was freezing and the sky had clouded over. It was the first day of our trip that wasn't scorching hot. The fish were pretty and we swam around following shoals and swimming through rocky arches, scanning the banks for signs of Tuatara. We tried paddle boarding, but the surface was choppy and if we managed to stand, we were so wobbly we either dumped ourselves straight off or laughed too hard to stand up.

A fellow passenger pointed out that I was not meant to stand up here. Alex and I decided that explaining: "That's the point." would be a waste of time.

After lunch the boat drove into the sea cave, a huge cavernous bulb of rock. The pictures came out terrible, but it was pretty cool to be in somewhere like that in such a large boat.

That night we did some laundry. Ah yes.

Alex commemorating our stay with one of our custom made and designed stickers.

As we wended our way North the next day we stopped in to see the Hundertwasser Public Toliets in Kawakawa.

Friedensreich Hundertwasser is one of the best known contemporary Austrian artists of the 20th Century and he had a romance with Northland, spending his final years in Kawakawa and the area, passing away just after the opening of the modernist public loos.

That night we were all patriotic and dropped in at Waitangi.

Wine and Cheese picnic on Paihia Beach

Tapas on a wharf with a sun bed. The food was expensive, but sooo worth it.

The next day we were instructed to proceed directly to the Mangonui Fish Shop and do some eating. Alex and I are fairly good at this so we dutifully drove on.

And on.

"This better be worth it." Alex grumbled along with her stomach.

And oh, it was.

A tiny town, picked out of rock with a fish and chip shop that had more people in it that the population of the town, with prices to match. But, delicious.

After that, it wasn't long until things got landscapturally exciting.

Deciding against driving up 90 Mile Beach (Which is 55 miles, 90km long - yeah), which is a state highway and a beach, we threw the van around tar sealed corners and parked at the top of New Zealand.

Cape Reinga is the tippy-toppy North of New Zealand. The Cape in Māori means the "leaping-off place of spirits."The Māori believe that the cape is the point where the spirits of the dead enter the underworld.

That night we stayed in one of our countries most basic campgrounds. At $7 a night, we had a long drop and an outside, cold shower. But it is New Zealand's most northerly camping ground, and we had steak.

Aw. Yea. Steak.

Our camping ground is highlighted in white. A definite recommend - really beautiful Pohutakawa Trees, and if you do go, check the back of this sign for our sticker.

On the way back down, we took the West Coast. At the bottom of 90 Mile Beach, there are these epic sand dunes. We wandered up to have a look and then Alex was convinced that if she climbed up the enormous sand dune, that she would get a spectacular view of the sea. Having been familiar with sand dunes from the Middle East, I knew 2 things about sand dunes. 1 - there is always another dune. 2 - Sand is UNBELIEVABLY hard to climb. Here is a picture of Alex resting halfway up and waving. There is no picture of a view.

Carrying on South...

It's so PRETTY!!

Ferry Crossing; nice driving break.

The gift shop of this place was called "Parrotphernalia". I liked it.

At the top of the West Coast is one of largest remaining Kauri forests in the country.

In the depths of the Waipoua Forest is Tane Mahuta, a 50m tall, 2000+ year old giant of the forest. Kauri trees have very sensitive surface roots and the area is well protected by boardwalks. In Maori mythology 'Tane' is the son of Ranginui the sky father and Papatuanuku the earth mother. All living creatures of the forest are considered Tane’s children.

For non-religious me, standing in the shade of Tane Mahuta was a spiritual experience as I am ever going to get. It really brought a lump to my throat. You could feel the majesty and age of the thing. You feel inconsequential standing next to something that was already a few hundred years old at the fall of Rome.

After a night at the Ka Iwi Lakes. the next stop was the Muriwai Cliffs. Made famous by Colin McCahon in the 60's and 70's, the gannet colony weathers the strong winds on unique rocks, jutting from the Pacific.

Colin McCahon : Muriwai

Colin McCahon : Moby Dick is sighted off Muriwai Beach, 1972

We booked it past Auckland and headed in to Raglan, which was a hugh highlight for the both of us. It was gorgeous, vibrant and the shopping was baws.

The next day was a good one. We stumbled into a town we had never heard of - Otorohanga, and I was a bit over driving, so we checked out the average looking campsite. On discovery that the showers were unlimited, and hearing that the towns calling card was a KIWIANA MURAL, we had to stay and we parked next to a dude in a sleeping bag who was walking as far as he could until his tourist visa ran out.

Yup. Worth it.

Unbelievably, the town had a wildlife sanctuary that was almost impossible to find out, but was an absolutely stunning experience. We saw the only Great Spotted Kiwi on display in the world. She was about the size of a turkey and so energetic. I have seen my fair share of kiwi, and know them as quiet, reclusive, small creatures, but the Great Spotted was all over the place - darting about, raking the ground for worms. At feeding time she all but climbed over the keeper, who treated her talons with a wary respect, telling us that the bird had put more than one keeper in the hospital for stitches.

We hand fed baby Kakariki (Small green native parrots) and after seemingly endless searching saw a Tuatara for realsies.

The town was super close to Waitomo, so we booked in for another trip. Waitomo caves are one of, if not The most famous natural attraction in New Zealand.

The Waitomo Caves is a "solutional" cave system. The word Waitomo comes from the Māori language 'wai' meaning water and 'tomo' meaning sinkhole - combined it is the "Place Where Water Passes Through Holes". There are hundreds of caves under the regional farmland, and they are filled with glowworms. We joined our tour, met our two rugged Maori guides and tramped across sheep-poo speckled grass in wetsuits that we so thick you couldn't hold your arms straight.

The experience was stunning. The glow worms were everywhere, you could see perfectly fine in the caves with torches off, they glowed so brightly. We toppled backwards into darkness over a waterfall and ALEX (NOT ME) got scared by the guides.

After a second night taking advantage of the unlimited showers, we (me, I talked Alex into it) went to Matamata, a town made famous by being the setting of the set of Hobbiton in Lord of the Rings. As the land is privately owned, to see the area the film was shot it cost almost the same as our day trip to the Poor Knights. An absolute rip off. So we decided to explore the town. Here is the highlight:

Yup. The main street had a shop selling stuff for dead people. Because you go to Matamata to die.

To be a little less mean, the i-site was cool.

Lunch at a Blueberry Farm.

Alex broke the van.

After the disappointing Matamata side trip, we headed back to Auckland, stayed with our friend Emma, picked up the boys and headed to the Coromandel, the peninsula to the right of Auckland.