Tales from the Gael

John says it has been like ‘Driving Miss Lazy Daisy’ all around the Northlands, and I can only agree! He has been perfect, avoiding all the crazy motor bikes and getting us from A to B with lots of little stops to have coffees and ice cream and all the other necessities of life.

We drove up the Hibiscus highway to Whangaparaoa and had coffee and some of the Bishop’s Cake with Kate and Gray (friends from days in Hanoi) and as I sat and listened to gossip of friends flung here and there, in Baku, Prague, Doha, and all around the world I had a vision of Kate and I walking the paddy fields in Hanoi never imagining that one day we would sit on her veranda overlooking the glorious Pacific ocean.

I love Blake’s lines, from the ‘augeries of innocence’:

‘To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a Heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

And eternity in an hour.

and I love this picture:

We are such global beings.

We zoomed north and came to a Mini Scotland, with the Gaelic welcome, ‘Ceud Mile Failte.’ We screeched to a halt… for we are never prepared for what we may see, (preferring to read the guide books later) so it was quite a special visit to Waipu. A monument made of Aberdeen granite with the rampant lion aloft marks the spot, and a large portrait of the Scottish preacher, Norman McLeod, stands proudly over the museum.

Portraits of the settlers line the walls, survivors of an amazing journey.

Norman set sail from Ullapool and made for Nova Scotia in 1817.  He arrived in Waipu in 1853.

I think it was around 1998 that our minister, Donald Beaton in Glenelg, organised a pageant involving the whole community to re-enact the Highland Clearances. It was a beautiful day, and as we stood on the beach we watched local women dressed in plaid cloths cook fish over a fire, and barefoot children play in the grass. Three houses had been built to look like old crofts and the scene was timeless; a page from a history book come to life. The minister dressed in a long white wig, and carrying a staff, acted as the story teller, ushering the people to leave their land and their homes. Sheep were coming to replace the highland way of life.

When the people dared to fight the authorities, their homes were burnt and I remember that summer’s day, feeling a lump in my throat as I smelt the fire and watched the smoke and walked to the water’s edge and stood as Calum Ian started to sing. It was a psalm and his voice was strong. I remember crying when I heard the people join him, the sound was so raw. And then it was over. We watched the women clamber into the boats and their children were helped in and finally the men. We watched as they rowed away. We, the audience, stood in silence, only the crackling fires and the splash of the oars breaking the quiet. It was a powerful reminder of how so many were forced to emigrate and never saw their homeland again.

Now here I was in Waipu, looking at the faces, and I read their stories of how they nearly starved to death in Nova Scotia and had to sell their ships to buy another to take them to Melbourne (but that was an ungodly place, with the gold diggers and the bush rangers and the like) so they sailed on to New Zealand. 940 made it. There was even a doll.

We drove on, and stayed briefly in Whangarei, then headed on round the coast to pretty Whale Bay

and finally up to the Bay of Islands. We didn’t linger as the place was so full of tourists and trippers and boaties. Instead we headed north to Manganui in Doubtless Bay and felt like Mary and Joseph as all the rooms were gone and we looked quite forlorn. A kindly motel lady offered us her attic and we nearly bit her hand off in gratitude. In fact it was more palatial than the ordinary rooms. Pretty bay with long beaches and shady pohutukawa trees and we ate fish and chips and watched the sun set.

Next day we drove on and on and on right up to the tip of New Zealand to Cape Rienga. Here is where the Tasman and the Pacific dramatically meet and we watched as the waves of the two oceans intermingled.

The blues were smoky and breathtaking, and we looked for whales in a bay where they are rumoured to come and rub against the rocks to remove their barnacles.

In Maori legend, Cape Rienga is where the spirits of the deceased leave the land.

Walking back up the steep track back to the car, we passed a newly landscaped rockery. I saw a woman with a trowel, and a boy bending over, removing one of the plants. John just strode on, but I lingered and saw that they were shovelling in an urn of ashes! Obviously a good place to be once the spirit has departed!

That night we ended up in Opononi… such a beautiful bay, where once a dolphin came in and stayed a year and befriended the children. There is a statue commemorating this happy event that took place in the summer of 1955! When we got there the power went off and all the restaurants were shut. We had to sit in our room and eat nuts, apricots and bananas. We were like chimpanzees.

Later went to the beach and amused ourselves. Well John did!

Our landlord had a photo of himself beside a giant marlin that he had caught just last year. Prize winning it was. I was so jealous, and asked if he had to be strapped in to catch it, but he said seats were for ‘woosers’ and he just fought the fish at the end of his line like a real man! Quite. Here is his number plate!

The big deal as we drove away next day was the Waipoua forest. Oh my.

We stared up at a kauri tree that has stood for 2000 years, planted probably when Jesus was a lad. Beside this king were his four sisters. It was awesome. We had been to see where the gumdiggers hacked out a living in their nasty sack built shacks…

What a vile life, digging for nuggets of gum out of the earth, and then it was sent back to Birmingham where it was turned into varnish which among other things was used to varnish coffins and sent back down into the earth. That is irony.

And now we are back in rainy Auckland and the news is full of sadness. Five families bereaved from the ballooning accident at the weekend.

I only have a week left before returning to the Bonny Land. I shall have to stock up on possum socks and gloves and get ready to fight the jet lag in time for ‘The Wedding’.

After that, who knows?  So from New Zealand it’s farewell.

It’s the last day of the year and I have a Bishop’s Cake in the oven, the ironing is done, the rain is falling and the whole of New Zealand is washed out. Oh I am so glad we got home from our massive road trip yesterday. We drove about 2,000 kms and saw scenery that was as diverse as a child’s picture book. Each corner we turned was like a page, as we drove past beaches, rivers, farmland and native bush.

Christmas was in Wanganui and the sun shone on Lyn’s beautiful home, and John and I posed by roses, lilies and lemon trees.

We fed grapefruit to her sheep that were sheltering from the sun, reminiscent of a Pre-Raphaelite painting.

I was very disconcerted when Lily the pet lamb (now approaching 20 and the new mother of twins) came up to kiss my new pink skirt with frothy yellow teeth… I made a hasty retreat.

I had to smile overhearing John talking to a lady at Christmas lunch. He was asking her if they export the cattle to Indonesia as they do in Australia. She looked at him very oddly, ‘Export the Catholics? Well I can’t be sure…’

The next day, we followed the Wanganui River up to Pipiriki,

past hamlets called the unlikely names of Athens, London and Jerusalem. Sister Aubert founded a convent there in the 19^th C and I looked around the beautiful little church attached. I took some quiet time to reflect.

Mountains dominated the landscape. On our way to Wanganui we were overshadowed by Mt Taranaki, where the Tom Cruise ‘Last Samurai’ was filmed.

Then we drove east, down the Desert Road, with scenery so like the bleak moorlands that surround Dalwhinnie and Laggan, and where the NZ soldiers train on their elbows in their camouflage outfits and get ready for wars.

Being in the Pacific Ring of Fire, we were in the heart of the trio of active volcanoes and decided to make the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. 20 kms of agonising climbs and descents, and with a bag full of provisions and a variety of clothing we set off from Turangi.

It was drizzly to start, but as we reached the saddle between Ngauruhoe and Tongariro the sun came out, and we could appreciate the awesome beauty of the place. We walked through landscape in the crater’s belly, and could have been on the moon; we read a sign that said if we heard any rumbles we had to run… quite. Apparently it blew up in 1995-96.

Then we reached the volcano’s red crater, steaming ominously, and I felt just a little afraid and found out later that the scenery was used for Morder in Lord of the Rings.  We oohed and aaahed at the emerald and blue lakes,

and slipped down the black scree, feeling quite liberated. But then after all the magnificence the mist came down, thick and alien and we made the descent unable to see the person in front. It was terrifying. We were totally dependent on the white poles marking the track as it zigzagged down for 800m. My toe nails will never recover from being shoved back into my toes, and at the end of the ordeal I felt as though I had danced for 5 hours on a hard stage with Anna Pavlova.

We took ourselves off to the thermal pools and soaked in temperatures of 40 degrees. I cannot describe the feeling of bliss! But to no avail, the next morning we both walked as though we had been hit by a train!

The bus driver taking us back to Turangi was full of the local gossip. A 17 year old youth had been arrested for sexually attacking a 5 year old girl in a campsite. According to the gossipy bus driver, he was from out of town but had come to be with the Mad Mongrel Chapter of the Hell’s Angels in Turangi. New Zealand is riddled with these gangs, and we were so alarmed at the stories connected with such peaceful looking towns. Anyway, the Mongrels had vowed  to kill the youth. They were going to slice him a bit, then spreadeagle him in the bush and leave him for the wild pigs to eat. Then the bus driver pointed out the place where he had seen the pigs… not so far from where we had walked. Dear God.

We drove to Taupo and saw the lake and drank coffee in such a cool pottery and John wanted to buy just about all the lady’s stock! We might have done, but how on earth would we have got the frog, the poppies, and fairies home I wonder!!  Not to mention the pukekos.

We drove south to Napier, where for miles and miles we saw only trees and bush, and pine trees marching over mountains, looking like the bristles on an angry dog.

Napier was a total surprise. It is the Art Deco capital of the world. It was not till later I found out that Napier had been the victim of an earthquake, the worst natural disaster in New Zealand (until Christchurch) and the city had been totally destroyed in 1929. The rebuild took place in the ‘30s, hence all the building and style of the place. Quaint.

It was there we stayed in a luxurious motel where we caught our breath and enjoyed the bubbles of the local Hawke’s Bay wine, and the ensuite spa! Nice.

We drove on to Gisborne and were met with a population of ‘sweet young things’. They had all gathered for the annual ‘T in the Park’ or ‘Drams in the field’ or the Kiwi equivalent. The booze shops were doing an amazing trade, and when we tried to stock up with some wine and whisky we were in a queue of about 30! It is NZ’s biggest music festival held for the New Year. Poor things will be having a soggy time of it. So glad we are home and dry.

Captain Cook arrived in a bay in Gisborne and went ashore to stock up on food and water, but the local Maori chief must have organised a Hakka and the result was bloodshed, bad feeling and the captain retreating with no fresh supplies, and sulkily named the area ‘Poverty Bay’!

The drive back over the mountains was like being in the land of the long winding roads, feeling at times never ending,

but we came to the Bay of Plenty (!) and we were glad to get a bed for the night in Whakatani.

The rain came down and it hasn’t stopped.

Now it is New Year’s Eve, and another year is over. What will 2012 bring? Whatever, we must be positive and optimistic, but first I must vacuum, for you must never let the New Year come in on the old year’s dirt. Then it will be time to be thinking of a toast for the bells! Happy New Year from New Zealand!

At last the sun is shining. I was beginning to feel like Noah, cooped up for days on end with my Manet jig saw (now completed)

and have almost finished the Degas. This does not help with making the most of my short time here, but what to do?  I also feel very piano, lack-lustre and vaguely melancholic… could be the season, and could be the ‘new country’ syndrome, which I know will pass. I was so disappointed that the fishing charter trip was cancelled due to weather. I had been really looking forward to it, for ‘they’ say that snapper are just hurling themselves on to the hooks at the moment. Let’s hope we get another chance.

We did venture forth at the weekend and drove west to Muriwai Beach. Had to smile at all the instructions!

The sea was wild, the intrepid surfers were braving the waves but we just marvelled at the coast line and the angry skies.

The bottle brush trees are in their full glory, and are so much more sumptuous here than in Australia. They must be the equivalent of holly or poinsettia at this time of year, as all the Christmas cards feature them.

We went to visit gannet bay, and I came as close to a David Attenborough experience than I ever had before.

There were thousands of these birds, all nesting in neat precision, many nursing bundles of fluff which looked at first like dirty bits of old wool.

The parent birds went off for a soar, for the sheer joy of it, and I snapped, feeling like I did in Macau with the racing cars, that I would be lucky to catch one.

The wing spans were huge, I had no idea.

Actually I had no idea what a gannet was apart from a seagull. Well it is, with a yellow head and they have such a strange life pattern. Imagine…you are born on a rock in New Zealand, then for your first flying lesson you take off for the 2000km flight to Australia where you hang about and grow up and see the world. Then you have a notion that you may want to marry and have a family, so you head back to the rock, find a bird, and start again. I suppose not so different from our own ‘youth of today’!

We headed south to Bethell beach, on the edge of the Waitakere Range, and by now the storm clouds were gathering.

We did wander out across the black volcanic sand, and see the dunes that apparently nurture baby penguins. It was bleak, beautiful and desolate. Driving over I thought of the stories I had read about the numerous graves in the bush clad foothills, where only handcarved slabs of kauri mark the spot where a loved one lay. Many died from ship wrecks and were buried by local people. I heard of three seamen found near Huia in 1863, their graves marked by a simple cross. They were later moved to a simple little bush grave, ‘Laid to rest,’ their epitaph reads, ‘in this quiet place.’

We ventured out on Sunday evening, and met a throng of others all under their umbrellas scurrying into St Mary’s Cathedral. We looked like a scene from Renoir’s Parapluies.

We were treated to amazing music, carols and readings and I came out hoarse. All the great worthies from Auckland had graced us with their presence, and we had mayors, MP’s, bishops and what not…it was all very uplifting. We ran home through the puddles, sharing the umbrella and went to bed humming ‘God rest you merry gentlemen!’

One carol featured the red bottle brush I mentioned earlier,

‘Pohutukawa’s crimson bloom,

Gold wayside flowers, lupin, broom,

Glow round our coasts, across the land:

A canvas painted by God’s hand.’

It was all good, but the hymn writer forgot to mention these blooms which were growing like weeds everywhere we went…so beautiful, and I just wanted to snap them whenever I could. Wouldn’t have minded a bunch, to take home!

So Christmas is ahead, we are going to see the sights, and have a long list of ‘things to see’ so hope this weather improves. Land slips in Nelson, rivers and campsites flooded in Taranaki gloom and rain filled skies does not bode well, but hopefully the sun will come out. I shall think of Natasha and Leo in China (having a wonderful time, according to her text) Nick and Kathryn in Sydney, and Gerry and Cathal in Ireland. I sent Gerry her birthday card and thought as I wrote, how this would be the last birthday card I address as Miss Geraldine Harrison!

Christmas greetings to all, and when I write again, let’s hope I can include a picture of a hand caught snapper! (or a marlin or a  hammer head????? Ha Ha!)

Monday morning in Parnell. The new house (No. 2) is fine, one of four townhouses owned by Mary who is a very kindly, pernickety landlady who has a penchant for ornaments and knick-knacks that must be very precious to her. They have to stand in such a way on such a table. I too have things that are of significance to me in our house in Edinburgh, and it struck me how annoying ‘things’ can be to someone else who has no involvement in their purchase. As the great philosopher David Hume said, ‘Objects have absolutely no worth or value in themselves. They derive their worth merely from the passion with which the purchaser pursued them.’ I have taken some clay mushrooms and some strange candlesticks and hidden them in a cupboard.

 The other tenants are very highbrow… the organ master for St Mary’s Cathedral lives at number 4 and a museum curator lives at number 1.

 John has gone off to work, dragging his feet and muttering about ‘the snake pit’. The morning began badly when he discovered the severed legs of a spider all on his side of the bed! He did ask me if I felt anything run over me in the night???? Apparently he woke up with the sensation, and had visions of being the star of his own version of Dr No! I did shake out the sheets, but there was no sign of the rest of the beast!

 We went driving on Saturday, north of Auckland, meandering along the Hibiscus coastal  route

and came face to face with a pakeko bird in the Shakespeare Reserve. It was blue with a red head and large cartoon-like feet!

We had hoped to try some fishing, but the winds were wrong and the tides were wrong and it was not to be.

 Instead we found Warkworth and I have fallen in love with a tree. I don’t remember hearing about the KAURI tree, and then suddenly I found myself face to face with an amazing specimen, 800 years old.

I spread myself against it, as you do,

and then walked in the bush lands behind it, seeing tree ferns known as ponga, or silver fern. This fern is the emblem of New Zealand and made famous by the All Blacks.

When we went into the museum nearby, we saw all the products made from the kauri, and I was amazed to learn that the kauri gum or resin was more valuable at one time than timber or gold (it was used for high quality varnishes apparently). When they realised how lucrative it was, men used to search for it in swamps and dig it out, and it was like amber with preserved dead things inside it. All very fascinating.

This museum reflected a different quality of life than the museum we visited in the one time gold fields of Arrow Town in the South Island. Here there was evidence of a more genteel way of life. There was a replica of a milliner’s shop, a school dentist’s clinic (from Hell… with its antiquated drills), and underwear showing off old Pa Broon’s ‘combinations’ that men lived in all year round, and ladies’ trapdoor knickers with, and without, buttons! All hanging side by side on a ‘washing line’!

 I felt pin pricks in my eyes when I read a letter from a 23 year old boy writing from the trenches in 1917:

Dear Mum,

Long before this reaches you I will have left this world forever. I have known for some time that I can never regain my former health and I cannot bear to think of the future in my present condition of health.

Life is one long ache, with nights of sleeplessness and I will be happier where I am going.

I do not want you to grieve for me for it will not be long before we are all reunited in the land where there is no sickness or pain and where there is no parting.

I have no fear for the future, for I am merely giving back the life I owe.

Goodbye,

Your loving son,

Lawrence.

 So the kauri tree in all its magnificence lives on, witness to the families that settled and made their lives and hats and histories along the north coast not so far from Auckland. John thought it highly amusing to see me thus…and walked off and left me to reflect on my sins! huh.

 Sunday we ventured out again, but this time we drove west across the Waitakere Ranges on killer winding roads, reminiscent of a curling rattlesnake.  I was nearly sick and had horrid memories of roller coasters. From the dense forests of more fern trees and lianas and unidentifiable trees we finally came down into a perfect surfer’s paradise: Piha Bay.

We ate green tipped mussels whilst I ogled some very attractive young surfer gods, and the sea whipped up the surf as they battled to stay on board. It was all very nice. I do like spectator sports! I remember years ago Gerry took an odd interest in football. I was quite intrigued until I realised she was following the Italian team who had some very attractive, sultry players. Oh we are so shallow!

 We somehow retraced our path over the mountain chicanes again, and came down at Titirangi and drove to the tip of the peninsula at Whatipu, where we decided to climb to the summit of Mt Donald McLean. (!) There were just the two of us in the bush, and it was all so thick and unfamiliar and somehow ancient and foreign.

The ferns made me think of Jurassic Park, and I was half expecting some of those weird prehistoric birds with the long legs and fierce looking helmets to come screaming along the path. I think the Moa was the largest bird of its kind, but is now extinct (Phew).

Between Piha beach and Whatipu is Karekare beach, the scene where Jane Campion sited her film, The Piano. It was so isolated and beautiful and atmospheric.

 I was more afraid yesterday in a country that has no poisonous creatures or scary reptiles than I was in South Australia with their brown snakes and red back spiders. It is all in the atmosphere and imagination.

 The drive back was beautiful, and I am intrigued by the nasturtiums that grow willynilly, threading themselves along the banks and sides of the road. Has someone gone along and strewn the seeds to make a colourful show?  

It is also disconcerting to see bougainvillea, banana trees and bamboo growing alongside montbretia, holly hocks, marguerites and buttercups, all growing regardless of the season. Summer has only begun here, on 1^st December, yet there seems to be no rhyme or reason for the appearance of such an array of flowers all at the same time. Colours are exquisite, and the greens are so dense, yet so soft, your fingers just itch to touch them.

 I am about to start another jigsaw. I so enjoyed the one I did in Adelaide before we left. Funny thing, jigsaws, they were introduced as dissected maps, as an educational tool for royalty and aristocrats, but have since been seen as a way for people to stave off boredom and death! Some see them as a way of killing time, and Daniel Defoe once said that perhaps that ‘was the worst of murders’! I just know that sometimes I can be worried about things, and have a lot on my mind, but when I do a jigsaw it’s not the everyday things that torment me when I walk or drop off to sleep, instead it’s pieces of sky edged with a blob of green or a shiny pit of metal – could it be the vase or a piece of the chandelier? I had to laugh when I read how Queen Victoria described her evening with Lord Melbourne. Together they worked on a puzzle, and she wrote, ‘The pleasantest gayest evening I have passed for some time. I sat up until half past 11!’

I see in the papers that snow has arrived in the UK, shutting down airports and causing all the headaches of winter. Christmas is nearly upon us, and I feel very removed from it all. Perhaps we should go to the Cathedral and listen to our new neighbour play the carols. This time last year I was in a delightful frenzy cooking and baking and making ready for the family feast. Now I am off to find another ‘straight piece’ for the edge! I am doing Manet’s The Bar at the Folies Bergere, 1882. You learn so much about a painter’s brush strokes and little tiny details when doing a jig saw or am I just justifying my new hobby! This is the one I did earlier!

I am sitting here sipping liquorice tea, and nibbling big red strawberries. Outside the sun is shining and I have a wonderful view from our 27^th floor apt of Auckland spread below… the harbour is ahead and the park lands and city are fused together like a colourful jig saw puzzle. From my lofty position I have a good view of Parnell in the distance where we have signed on the dotted line for a house to rent. We pack up and move in tomorrow.

In Adelaide at this time the streets were lined with Jacarandah trees, here in Auckland there are so many magnolias, so beautiful and such a perfect flower. Also love the song by JJ Cale!

We arrived in New Zealand on Saturday and were met with the Korean manager, who is given to ‘the odd tipple’.  His face has that bloated shiny look, and I don’t think it’s the job that has tipped him over the edge. I think he just has a ‘party’ disposition! John and I were instructed to find ourselves a place to live, so we dutifully spent Sunday scouting around in our new hired car, with the GPS and a map of the city, all in the pouring rain. Indeed eachday I have felt a bit  like Eeyore and the rain cloud,

as I seem to have had my own personal cloud following me about. Today I marched along the harbour defiantly trying to walk faster than the long black cloud above me!

We looked at Howick, so pretty and compact with the sea lapping along its own private beach, just down the hill, and picturesque marine villages with names like Cockle Bay and Half Moon Bay, but in the end we chose Parnell.

The street is full of arty boutiques and galleries and so on, and loads of restaurants and down from there we are just a spit away from the Parnell rose garden and Judge’s Bay. It is all very nice. I am looking forward to unpacking, and buying vinegars and spices and filling my cupboards and fridge with things I might want to use tomorrow or the day after! I feel I have been camping for quite a few weeks now.

Yesterday whilst out and about on Queen’s Street, I saw some crazy abseilers doing their acrobatic stunts at the Metro Centre in Aotea square. They were dressed as crabs and lobsters and so on. I didn’t really pay too much attention. Later I watched the News  and saw that the ‘mermaid’ had fallen 20m from the top.  Horrified spectators thought it was just part of the act, and thought she would stop any minute, but she didn’t and landed on the square. It was awful, but by some miracle she has only broken her cheek bone.

I missed the drama (thank goodness) as I was in a café reading about pandas arriving in Edinburgh and a pod of orcas thrilling the motorists, pedestrians and boaties in Wellington Harbour.

It is all go with animal stories. I was really intrigued with the dancing praying mantis!

Christmas is in full swing here and it seems so odd with people walking about in shorts and sunglasses. Also there is a tendency for fun, and crazy stunts in gardens and streets.

Whilst driving out to Mission Bay on Sunday (with the wipers going flat out) we passed a huge wall of rather a strange design. John was quite disparaging, saying how he didn’t care for the building.

It wasn’t till we got closer that we realised it was a huge wall of Maersk containers on the container wharf, and was the result of a 4 day strike.

 Looked like a mighty wall to us, and I just hope there were no poor people being smuggled in any of the boxes. (Have I seen too many episodes of The Wire?!!)

John came back last night full of despair. This job seems worse than the Adelaide one, but after a hot bath, and a wee dram he perked up and we went for a therapeutic walk in the nearby Albert Park.

 Oh well, we sat and enjoyed the setting sun, and the views of our apt and the magnificent trees that one of these days I must find a name for.

I feel quite up-beat and positive about this stay. There is the whole of the north to explore, and seas and rivers to try out my trusty rod. John said that some guy at work said I would need a much mightier line…you only catch ‘brutes’ here apparently!