New Zealand

I am ashamed at the way I have neglected this space: since I have some more travels coming up, I am going to try to get things a bit more up to date. When I last wrote, I had just arrived in Collingwood, at the far north west of the South Island, for a four night stay over New Year's. It is a fairly small, but has a decent pub (albeit one that takes you back to the 1970's in its style, even has fish and chips in a basket),

a good cafe in the old courthouse which I visited each morning for coffee and a danish,


an ice cream place I visited each evening, a hand-make chocolate business I went to more than once, and a shop selling all sorts of bits and pieces in the Post Office (which still functions as a post office, although it is for sale so maybe its days are numbered).

Apart from a day on which it rained continuously, I took wee trips out to see what could be seen. There seems to be a taste for eel farms at the top of the South Island - there was one just out of Collingwood: much closer than I realised, so that I had to make an abrupt turn to go in, much to the mingled consternation and amusement of my passenger: the latter was increased when we found a Police car waiting for us. There were plenty of eels - not very attractive, I've decided - which became quite animated when we fed them.
They faced a certain amount of competition from the ducks with which they shared their pond.

There were a couple of tortoises as well, in a blue plastic kiddie pool: unfortunately, my camera became confused by the netting but I quite like the effect.

One of my trips had me go down as far as the entrance into the Heaphy Track - I actually walked in as far as the first hut.

Not really as significant as it sounds, as Brown Hut is maybe 500 metres from the entrance. On the way down, I had to stop at Bainham, for the oldest store in New Zealand, Langford's: it has been run by the same family since 1928. I had to have tea and a scone and a general mosey about.

Carrying on down the road, I saw a sign for the Salisbury Footbridge, over the Aorere River. The footbridge was built in 1887 but has been washed away twice, the more recent one being in 2010 and it looks like it will not be replaced - the wee frame is all that survives.

The river at this point is a popular local waterhole, and it was a good spot to just hang out for a bit.

Something I didn't really expect to come across in my travels was a museum - The Rockville Machinery and Settlers Museum, located in the former Golden Bay Dairy Company cheese factory out in the country, and carrying the overload from the Collingwood musuem. I didn't know this last detail when I visited and it explains something - the relative lack of household items (it is really about the machinery). When I arrived there were two kids playing outside but it was otherwise deserted, and stayed that way the hour or so I wandered about (even the kids left).

To pick up where I left off in my last post, I quit Mokihinui, had a last wander around Westport and headed north, up the side of the Buller River.

After an ill-advised stop for a beer in a place called Berlins, which consists entirely of a cafe, then an ice-cream in Inangahua and a coffee in a rather wonderful cafe in Murchison, I finally arrived in Motueka in the early evening.

I've never spent any time there, apart from a coffee as I've passed through, so set up camp for a couple of days. Its a nice enough town to do that - a relaxed holiday park, several decent bakeries, at least one good cafe - Precinct Dining - and a Sprig and Fern made me quite happy. Places for dinner were not thick on the ground, but I went to a very busy (and tasty) Indian cafe for dinner: while there, I had to ask the waitress why the nicer looking Indian place next door was practically empty. I never really expected her to tell me, but she was very forthcoming (had had a bad experience there on her birthday).

Friends were staying around the corner in Kaiteriteri, so I popped around to visit them in their camping ground. This was a rather different experience: it was HUGE and absolutely packed, with every tent or van cheek by jowl. Every time I moved, I got lost. Not really my sort of holiday park. Kiateriteri Beach itself was nice, with golden sand and a small rivermouth.

The next town round is Marahau: we stopped in for a coffee and a strange form of breakfast hash, several elements of which were not cooked. The main event on the streets seems to be the Marahau Water Taxis - they load the passengers into boats at a shed, then parade them down the street to the launching point.

My destination, however, was beckoning and so, with just two days of 2015 remaining, I set off over the dreaded Takaka Hill: it isn't particularly high, but it is a long and winding climb to get up and over it. Going up was actually OK - I just took it slowly and there was not much traffic behind me. On top, the outlook is bleak, but with nice coast views if you look in the right direction.

Going down was the problem: I had to brake so frequently that things started to get quite heated - I felt my wheel hubs at one point and nearly burnt my hand. This had the flow on effect of expanding (I guess) the brake discs to the point they were making continuous contact with the brake pads - it slowed me down even on the flat and there was a pronounced squealing: stopping to let things cool down removed both problems.

There is a reward for going west over the hill: Takaka. In the summer, it is a bustling wee town, with lots of craft shops (although fashion is making some inroads) and cafes - my preferred option is the Wholemeal, which was set up in part of the cinema in 1977 and has subsequently taken over the entire building.They have retained a few notes of its cinematic past, it is a cheerful place and (when the kitchen is open) serves interesting food.

From here it is an easy jaunt to Collingwood, which is near the end of the road. It is built on a point, with the holiday park occupying the sea end. Here I was faced with my first significant parking challenge: there were two parallel walls, with three tents at the entrance to the space and my plot at the far end, meaning I had to back down between the tents and the wall, then turn the 'van so it faced into the wall. Not a problem as it happened, but I did take the precaution of suggesting to one tent person that he move his car.

Collingwood

This is where I spent 4 nights over New Years, and I'm very happy with my choice.

Westport strikes me as a town at the end of the line (this is not necessarily a bad thing). You drive over the Buller River and up its long main street, to find that it terminates at the edge of the river. In ways I can't describe, the town also has an end of the line vibe. Kaitaia feels the same to me. But it is not the end of the line: by turning right half way up its main street, there is more - 100 km of gloriously wild coastline, coal mines, country music museums, pizza parlours in cowsheds and historic sites before you get to Karamea. Even then, for the determined, there is more: a multi day walk over the Heaphy Track will see you emerge near Golden Bay.

I spent a couple of days north of Westport, parked up in a holiday park in Seddonville, a tiny settlement named in honour of former PM Richard ("King Dick") Seddon: I don't think he had any connection to the town, although he adopted the Coast as his home when he arrived in New Zealand (and was Mayor of Kumara). Seddonville was a mining town, and as far north as the West Coast railway line came - it sits just across the Mokihinui River from the Karamea Bluff, which is a major obstacle for trains. The camping ground is very low key, in the former school with check in at the local pub. There were just an older couple - who come every year for the fishing (the man grew up here and went to school in the very building used for the camp facilities) - a family in some tents, and a group of indeterminate size in a large converted bus.

There are actually three camping grounds in this area - the Mokihinui Domain ground is on the southern side of the rivermouth and the Gentle Annie is to the north. The former didn't look very appealing and I found my place before I drove in to the Gentle Annie - a busy park in a beautiful spot.

It is here I found the pizza place in the cowshed: the people who ran the farm found that a lot of people wanted to stay, so they turned over some land to camping, and that business grew to the point it was better to stop the dairying and provide some food. After a few years, they contracted out the food side of the business, which led to an odd system of payment. You can pay for camping with a credit card, but for food it is either cash or direct payment from your bank account to theirs: they watched me as I made the transfer on my phone. Pizza range was pretty limited, but I enjoyed the Margherita.

I could not be this close and not carry on to Karamea: as I drove over the Bluff, I was so glad I was not towing a caravan - it is about 30 km of curls, first up, then down. Karamea itself is pretty small, and very quiet on a summer Sunday afternoon. I sat outside the shop with an ice cream, amused by the young guy who parked his bike beside me, engaged in an elaborate ritual of locking up his bike, went across to the shop aver the road and was back to unlock his bike before I'd finished my ice cream. The only people around were a few locals coming in for beers, and tourists in campervans after ice cream: no security risk. After a nosey around town and a quiet ale in the Karamea Village Hotel ("Best Country Hotel 2011" according to Hospitality New Zealand), there was no real reason to stay.

Beach @ Karamea

South of Seddonville is much more interesting. I stopped in Granity several times - initially to have a quiet ale at the pub. My only companion seemed to have a certain hostility to outsiders coupled with a need to talk - his sole conversational gambit was an attempt to tell me my caravan lights were on, dismissing any suggestion by me that they were not on the basis that he knew better. I drank up quickly and went out the back to the rather good Tommy Knocker cafe, which faces the beach.

It has only been open since Labour Day, but is by far the best source of rogan josh pies on the West Coast, has good coffee and, at least on the Sunday after Christmas, was doing a roaring trade. I was past several times and stopped in, but when Drifters, the original Granity cafe, re-opened after the break I went in out of curiosity. I remembered it as this ramshackle place, with furniture which was a mixture of the hand-made and whatever someone wanted to get rid of - in other words, quite cosey. Now, it looks like any other cafe with corrugated iron bar facing and proper tables and chairs.

Just up from Granity is Hector. On my first pass through, I saw a sign for the Hector Country Music Heritage Museum, but the first couple of times I checked, it was closed. Finally, about a week into the New Year (I was back in the area) I had my chance. It doesn't reveal its secrets from the outside

Hector Country Music Heritage Museum

but the place is jam-packed - some memorabilia, a homage to Dunedin band the Tumbleweeds (who had the best selling single in New Zealand for a couple of decades with their version of Maple on the Hill), a few Indian-American artefacts (why not?) but the bulk of the collection was music and signed photos of country music artists. The fellow who runs the place, another Barry, was keen to chat, told me of the difficulties of having modern artists provide photos without payment and of having people want him to make recordings from the collection without payment. The collection is impressive.

The big thing on the coast is, of course, mining. The Denniston mine has tours, but they were not operating the days I was there. The Stockton mine is still producing coal, and very much closed to the public, with a big security fence several kilometres from the mine. All I could see were the gantries constructed above the railway line so that coal can be poured into carriages.

The best I could do was wander around the old Millerton mine, which closed in the 1960's. There are still a few houses scattered about but the equipment and buildings from the mine have been taken away, leaving behind just a few (significant) signs of activity.

This is a grand part of the world in which to hang out, but I had bookings elsewhere, so it was time to cross back over the Buller River and head north.

Having an accidental day in Westport had its advantages. I could stock up for Christmas in the supermarket. I could buy hardware to make repairs to my caravan (window flapping open) in Mitre 10, then go back to buy Christmas lights with which to adorn the caravan. Most importantly, I could visit what is probably the best cafe on the West Coast - Westport is sadly depleted in terms of cafes, but the Bayhouse at Tauranga Bay is still going strong. After a quick look at Carter's Beach

I made my way there and had my first taste of Punakaiki Pilsner, which is made in Westport and has apparently won awards, although I have not been able to identify which one(s) - my source at the Punakaiki pub could only say it was something to do with a wine and food thing. It is very tasty, with a touch more hop than the traditional pilsner. I couldn't just drink beer, so also had a chowder, as I (correctly) thought they'd know their way around seafood.

Bayhouse Cafe

Tauranga Bay

Another cafe worth knowing about in this area is the one at Charleston, about 25 km south of Westport, which is attached to the Adventure Underground Tours - I was in here 3 or 4 times as I drove up and down this stretch of road: it is in a cool building.

Underworld Adventures Cafe

I spent Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and quite a bit of Boxing Day in Punakaiki, without much of a plan. I looked at the beach behind the camping ground, several times.

Punakaiki Beach

I have decided that living one's life according to a few rules helps provide shape and certainty to life and came up with one rule for living while in Punakaiki: every time in my life that circumstance takes me through Punakaiki, I am to stop in at the pub and have a Punakaiki pilsner (you have to start somewhere when setting up rules for life). It is a good, casual pub, right beside the camping ground, so I popped in each day I was there.

Of course, I went down to look at the Pancake Rocks - this was on Christmas Day. The cafe there was open, but its prices are high and augmented by a holiday surcharge, so I just had a coffee while I enjoyed access to cellphone coverage and went for a wander on the rocks.

Pancake Rocks @ Punakaiki

I didn't feel very Christmassy or energetic, so spent the day reading Michel Houellebecq's Submission and watching The Bridge. I took a late afternoon walk around the camp and its environs before droving up to Bullock Creek. It was dry and very stony - I tried driving along the creek bed a bit, but the stones became too big for comfort. Christmas dinner was not much - chips in the pub followed by a toasted sandwich (it did have ham in it, as a nod to the Christmas tradition). One thing I noticed about the camp was that although it was very busy, all but about three hardy souls in caravans were in campervans.

Bullock Creek

Next day, I was feeling like doing more - I'd walked about 7 km before I'd even had a cup of tea. This was a walk up the Porarari River. It has a well formed track which takes you in to Cave Creek (it also loops around and ends up at the Pancake Rocks). There were a few people out walking and a couple of runners but very peaceful - the main interruption was from people talking to each other in canoes on the river. For the most part, they were obscured by bushes, but when I did get to see people canoeing, I started to think it looked so peaceful on the water that I wouldn't mind having a go. One day.

Porarari River

The track comes out into an area where the trees have been felled but there has been regrowth so it looks kind of chaotic, in a good way. The swing bridge takes you to the Bullock Track Creek, so I expect you could walk out that way as well. I was quite happy to retrace my steps, have a quiet beer and some lunch, then hit the road.

The coast between Greymouth and Westport is pretty spectacular - but better is to come!

I never did get my Christmas lights on my caravan.

Greymouth. It is a town with a varied reputation. Not everyone likes it. I do. I've made at least four prior visits, have managed to spend an entire day making a very slow visit to the supermarket, have done a stint for a couple of hours on the radio there due to a chance meeting with a guy in the hostel and have just enjoyed meandering around. Steve Braunias likes it. In Fool's Paradise (which I happened to be reading while I was there) he says he likes it for its smell of coal and the hardiness of its people (he tells a story of a bloke who, back before the floodbanks were built) canoed into the local pub to buy a drink as if there was nothing untoward with the streets being a couple of feet deep in water). He writes of his arrival on the train:

The high riverbank cliffs give way suddenly, and there's the flat town, slinking towards the treacherous bar and the white, foaming Tasman Sea... Greymouth is worth a good, long gawk. It feels like the most forgotten town in New Zealand. There are other places more far flung, isolated, amputated. None exists with such independence or strength of character... In the town, attractions include the ABC Quick Lunch Cafe which at this time of year serves excellent whitebait sandwiches on white bread for $5.50. The only printing press in New Zealand that is visible from the street whizzes out copies of the Greymouth Evening Star behind glass....

The Star is still there, still being printed behind windows - I was able to watch it as an edition was being printed. Sadly, the ABC Quick Lunch is no more: the entire building in which it was located was due for demolition, has probably now been demolished, with no clear vision for what will take its place. I did find three cafes I liked to hang out in. The DP1 Cafe has been there as long as I have been visiting Greymouth, undergoing several transformations - I can remember it being a surprisingly alternative place and quite busy. It has taken on quite a retro identity these days, featuring kitchen tables exactly like the one my parents had when I was a kid, but unfortunately not featuring any customers.


The Gap Cafe is the local winner in the Restaurant Association's best cafe competition: aesthetically, it could be anywhere but it served up a good coffee and decent food, so I was happy to pay a couple of visits. It was Freddy's, however, which became my favourite: I think there is something special about upstairs cafes accessed by nice wooden staircases, and by my second visit, I was recognised as a regular ( perhaps because I demanded that they put my coffee in a much smaller cup than their norm). In the several days I was in or around Greymouth, I would have been in 4 or 5 times.

I visited the local museum (or history house) - which told the story of Greymouth according to a number of themes, such as gold, flooding, local identities and the 43 or so ships which had come to grief trying to get into the quays at Greymouth. In about 1867, there was more trade in Greymouth and goods passing through its port than anywhere else in New Zealand. The history house had real depth - in addition to the normal collections of artefacts and photos. the people who run it had put together hundreds of folders of information - it would have been easy to spend a week reading through it all.

Although a breakwater has been built to make shipping easier, the waters at its end are still wild, and people still come to grief - most recently when the Lady Anna had problems getting across the bar in 2013, leading to the death of one of the crew. I went out a couple of times - I think that if I lived here (it is one of my possible retirement plans), I'd come out to the end of the breakwater every day, just to see what was going on and to enjoy nature.

On one of my visits, a couple of guys had set off on surfboards from the beach in the last photo, but in the time I was there, they were so pushed back by the waves that they were closer to the shore when I left than when I arrived: I doubt that they ever got out far enough that day to actually get up on their boards.

Greymouth also has a grand old theatre, so I had to watch a movie there. Most offerings were for kids, but Freeheld stars Ellen Page and Julianne Moor, making it worth a punt. Unfortunately, it was not screened in the main theatre, just a small room off to the side, but I enjoyed the movie - it was based on a true story in which a cop battled county officials to allow her pension to be paid to her (female) partner: the county resisted because they were not (and could not be) married. While in the theatre, I noticed publicity for a forthcoming event which made me revise my plans so that I could return to Greymouth before heading home.

My plan was to spend a couple of days over Christmas at Punakaiki, but (as Jimmy in The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin might have said) there was a bit of a cock up on the booking front - after checking out of the Moana Holiday Park, I had a spare night before I was due in Punakaiki which I had filled by booking in at Westport - which meant I had to go north of Punakaiki for a night and then backtrack 50 km. At least that part of the coastline is truly fabulous. Here it is going north out of Greymouth:

Oh, and this is what my caravan looks like on the inside (at least, this is what it looked like when I bought it):