On the road again

Corolla at the trough

Friday 30th SeptemberWoken early (0630) by a phone call from my dear wife. Doesn't that woman ever sleep? Actually pleased to hear from her. She is organising things incredibly well at home which is all part of my master plan to make myself completely redundant and thus become 100% indolent when I finally return to blighty. Having woken, I girded my loins, tidied up and set off for Taranaki at about 0800. A beautifully clear morning made driving easy and in no time I was in Sanson for an early morning pie. Pete's Pies is a mecca for the pieophile! What a choice there was; tempted mightily by the beef and oyster offering, I finally opted for the seafood pie which was absolutely outstanding.


Note the dual spelling for the apostrophobics;-

Onwards then to Stratford – the town with the only glockenspiel in New Zealand (allegedly). I sought further pieage for lunch (steak and kidney with Desperate Dan sized chunks of both, a real treat) and then pushed off to Stratford Golf Club. The course was breathtaking. Beautiful setting, lovely native trees, a lot of birds (feathered) and views which would take a lot of beating for any course in the world. Mount Taranaki towered over the course and Mounts Tongariro, Ruapeho nd Ngauruhue could be seen in all their snowy magnificance.

View from the fairway

One of the holes was named Delilah which I took as a good omen for the match to follow.

Pleased with my (mediocre) round, I had a quick beer and chat with the locals before picking up some beers and a bottle of red (Ngatawara Stables Cabernet Merlot, a snip at $9.99) and booking in at Antonio Mews, my abode for the night. The motel was almost new, very modern and well-appointed and it didn't take me long to settle in. An exchange of texts with her indoors and I got the Acer up and running with the free wifi to make email contact. The husbandly duties completed, I walked five minutes in to town to seek evening sustenance. Colonel Malone's was alive and jumping with the locals and its Beef and Reef (clever variation on Turf and Surf!) proved an excellent and filling choice. My Welsh shirt initiated a chat with some Kiwis whose daughter lives in Maesteg and so I transferred my plate to their table to complete my meal. Charming people, and great ambassadors for the 'Naki. Back then to Antonio's to watch The Saffers v Manu Samoa. Samoa played their knackers off against the Knackerstompers. True to form the game got stroppy in the last ten minutes and one of the Islanders (a white man actually) got sent off and the SA skipper ended up in the bin. Samoa were unlucky not to get a bonus point (or even a win) which would have put Wales in the doo-doo, so all we have to do now is beat Fiji on Sunday and we'll be in the quarter finals. Simple eh?


And so to bed.



Saturday 1st October

White rabbits, white rabbits. Where did September go? A lovely clear and sunny morning and just right for my trip up the Forgotten Highway. I had previously told John on the phone that I was going up the Forbidden Highway but he informed me that that is something different entirely and probably still illegal in New Zealand. The Forgotten World Highway is a Kiwi gem, the country's first Heritage Trail. You can find out all about it here. I was really lucky to catch it on such a super day. As I am fast running out of adjectives, I will let the photographs tell their own story.



Eerie floating mountain



Where be Hobbits?

Half way up the Highway I arrived at this sign;-

Whangamomona (don't try that with false teeth) was so small it didn't actually appear on my map. But the heart of the self-declared 'Republic' being the pub, I think you can guess at the inspiration for this lunacy.

What an excellent place for breakfast

Whangamomona was definitely quirky, but produced a very good coffee and fry-up for breakfast. One of the local sports is an obstacle race for the ladies, the twist being that they have to complete it with the (dead!) body of a wild boar that their husband/partner has shot on their backs. The poor dears looked shattered in the photos I saw, but they also looked very determined and competitive.

I rather liked this notice on the wall of the bar;-

Whilst I was finishing my brekkie a couple of the locals came in, young lads, presumably farmhands. Leaving their gumboots (bought in Taihape - have you been attending?) at the door they nipped in for an early pint and game of billiards, it being about 1030. One of them had obviously decided that shorts were de rigueur and was wearing denim cut-offs with rather fetching black woolly tights underneath. On my way out I remarked "nice fashion statement" and almost immediately regretted it as, had he turned nasty, he would probably have been entitled to shoot me as we were in the Republic. Luckily no offence was taken and some good banter ensued. Pausing only to buy a pot of locally produced manuka honey from a deranged lady apiarist and to take this picture of a rather fine restored general store (not in use!), I wended my way further up the Highway

That's enough Whangamomona - Ed.

Not far up the road I came to this single lane tunnel.

Amazing thing to find on a public road, no priority signs, presumably you don't argue with locals on tractors or stock trucks coming through at a rate of knots. Actually, the chance of meeting anyone was negligible, there was so little traffic. Cars were few and far between and drivers were doing the South Island thing of lifting the finger off the steering wheel to acknowledge each other.

This shot shows why its called the Forgotten Highway;-

They forgot to seal it!

Twenty-odd km of un-paved road was taking things back a bit. I doubt there's much of that left in the North Island now, certainly not on (alleged) main roads.

I'll finish of this bit with a few more photos;-

Second highest waterfall in NZ

Locals looking alarmed at sight of a Welsh shirt

Turn your tip into a Heritage Site!

Name on paddock - well, I thought it was funny

 Returning to civilisation if not to sanity (all terms used in this blog are relative and should be taken in a NZ context) I passed on to Te Kuiti - The Shearing Capital of the World.



Statue of Kiwi doing things with a sheep

Now those of you who are devotees of this blog will remember that Te Kuiti is the home of Colin Meads as these photos attest;-



Crikey, a pun!

Liked that last one. Most of the shops had these signs, 'Colin's Coffee Shop', and so on.

French fan lost in Taumarunui (load of cock)

I paused a while for a beer in a riverside bar which had a Llanelli Scarlets autographed shirt on the wall - donated by the Welsh Shearing Team (it seems we have one!). The licensee was a genial cove and gave me a souvenir pint mug as a memento of my visit. Then it was on to Hamilton Airport to pick up John. The place was like a morgue - even the bar was shut (calamity). Having some time to wait, I dropped in to the Airport Motel bar to be greeted by the sound of the strains of 'Bread of Heaven' emanating from the kitchen. The soloist proved to be the duty manageress who was from Skewen and had a really broad Welsh accent. She also happened to be the second cousin of Lee Byrne, the Welsh fullback. The Tongans were turning over the Frogs on the telly, the biggest upset of the tournament so far - let's hope the Fijians don't get inspired. When John's plane landed we were joined in front of the box by Roger Lewis, the WRU Chief Executive who was very chatty and left his wife to sort out their transport arrangements whilst he watched the end of the game - good to see that the WRU is in such sensible hands.

Off then to Aaron and Julie's for beer, pizza and a trip to the club across the road to have a laugh as the Scots almost got away with beating England in a game that appeared totally devoid of skill. We finished the night at 0200, downing a bottle of Aaron's home distilled scotch whilst sitting in the hot-tub. All in all, a great day.