Kawhatau Kamping

Upper Kawhatau Valley, to be precise, where it was forecast for the sun to shine, and the winds to be stilled, while it was torrentially downpouring at Mangatutu Hot Springs (inland Hawkes Bay), our intended destination.  For the geographically challenged, Kawhatau is on the western side of the Ruahine ranges. Heading north, turn right at the metropolis of Mangaweka, and go bush for 19 kms.  To make life interesting, thanks to Google, we went almost via Palmerston North, with lunch at Kimbolton. The only other business is Kimbolton is a farm motor mechanic, who makes insects out of horseshoes for $800 a throw.  He doesn't like parting with them.

To get to the free DOC site, you have to ring ahead, so that arrangements can be made with the locked gate.
In our case, the gate was already open, but you do have to sign in and out. If you don't, the farm dogs will attack you, and you will be run to ground by the most expensive, and smelliest, billy goat, any of us have ever seen.

We are in the free paddock. We held our breath that a school party was not going to take over the Lodge.



This fine matai was the social centre but had to be avoided en route to the toilet. Oddly enough, the new long drop on the left was not "connected", with the "out of order" sign.  The recently-mowed paddock provided sufficient hay to keep the facility "sweet".

With the boudoir and dining room complete, it's time to erect the entertainment area.

This is our boudoir, dining room and entertainment area. Snug. Dusky rose & silver. Very tasteful. Note the new blow up beds, and very old woollen blankets. Both very welcome later, when the wind howled, the moreporks sreeched, the stags roared, and one really needed one's beanie.

The sun is still shining and the gin is out, as we discuss how many more layers of thermals are available when it gets dark.

 We're only allowed one gin, but as night progressed, and temperatures dropped, we retreated to B & B's tent, with the cards and the red wine.  This was before the stags started to roar, within a tennis ball's throw of our campsite. The more malicious of our party were keen to share this information with the hunters, returning empty-handed after several days in the bush.

The Kawhatau River was a long way down, and this is NOT the recommended path. There was probably a fence, and a sign that said "No entry. Danger" but Bill didn't have his glasses, and thought it said "Best photos taken here".

Bill and Bev, playing nicely, albeit looking a little intrepid. 

You put your right foot here, you put your left foot there, you put your right foot here, and shake your poles about

Barb likes the look of the beach on the other side, but where is the Flying Fox?

 

On strict instructions that he was NOT to go on the Flying Fox,  Bill looks glum, but still insists on having his photo taken while pretending that he is going to launch himself into space.

The bush was dense, with goblins around every corner, and fresh stag prints just below our camp. And yes, this is mud, not a giant stag's dung heap.

And the forest looks lovely!

Aah, good walk. Just need a nice cup of tea - and a lie down.

 

A typically unstable road, getting out of the valley. One has the impression that a hearty sneeze would set the papa hillside on a downward slope.

Christmas 2011

 Mother harvesting "her" garden. 

We provided the ham, so how else do you get star anise to stick into the skin? Years of watching them fall off during basting, but not this year!















 

Queen Elizabeth Park, Christmas Day. Just perfect for Christmas lunch. Julie & Tim are getting the hang of a hot Christmas Day.












It's not Christmas without pohutukawa.















Tim carves the ham, under Barb's supervision.

And the Otaki Races.  Auntie Val does her good impression of her mother doing the picks, and daughter Faye wasn't bad either.

Ohiwa Harbour 2011-12

Cow unhinged! The back road to the Bay of Plenty, with new stock signs that can be folded up when the cows are safely in their paddocks. Strangely enough, the Children signs were the same. Missed photo opportunity: the sign for "Bitterns Wandering" through the swamps of Cheddar Valley.

The traffic gets more interesting, the closer you get to the Ureweras.

Ma & Pa Kettle go on holiday. Not quite the same as a trailer, 3 boats and a tent.  
(I thought we looked super cool - Dad)

With the weather closing in, we still managed the new 22km Dune trail south of Opitiki. Reward for the odd foray onto the main road was a stop at the shop. We could have drunk our water, but hey! Fanta was attractive, with a few kilometres of head wind still to go.

Sparkle Bixley looking dangerous with a bat, with low tide on the Ohiwa Harbour, and Ohope, in the background.

A vicious game of croquet in progress. The girls were up on the finer & tougher rules of the game.

Jo being coached on the finer points by Zoe & Paul.

Paul looking relaxed and ready for another day's activity, and before the floods put pressure on the red wine supply and the tolerance of the septic tank.

Sumptuous feasts were prepared each night. Anna looks happy with the outcome

And Bill is an excited starter.

The new outside shower, providing luke cold (read freezing) water for the intrepid. An ingenious method of reducing waste water going into the stressed septic system. Pat Hill gets the prize for going for a swim in the ocean, floodwaters included, and then taking a cold shower.

The heavens opened, but our tent was snug. The reading must go on. The cup of tea must still be coming.















Bill & Zoe took advantage of the high tide, and the lull before the storm, to kayak on the harbour.














 Crisis. The red wine supply is exhausted, and this is the main road to Opitiki.  Fortunately there was a 2nd route. We were a bit disarmed by the Road Closed signs when we were coming home - with wine and bread - we could live - but fortunately the road closure was just past our turnoff.

Stump garden.
 
Enterprising farmer had created a number of roadside gardens, using old stumps as a base.

Hukutaia Domain, established around a 2000 year old puriri, Taketakerau. It was a burial tree, which gave farmer, Norman Potts, a bit of a surprise when he found it on his land. Consequently he established a 4.5 hectare domain, and spend years developing it as a native reserve. And yes, the skeletons were removed appropriately.

Ahh, those guys! Oldest friends, playing in a hollow puriri.

The bush was super eerie, in the rain, with everything dark and shiny. Taketakerau had its only special place, with carvings.










 

But who is this joker, in the base of the tree? Spooky.

Otaki Forks Camping

"Slow Down. Rural Character Area. Don't burst their bubble" - whatever that means. We were very careful about bubbles after that.

Little tent in a big space. The luxury of camping mid week.

The compulsory first night tipple.

Camp Mothers consider the day, and perhaps another cup of tea.

Glamour breakfast wear, when the sun is already quite high in the sky.

Francie gets her first cup of tea just right, after sleeping through the first wake up calls.

Running repairs on the beach umbrella. An attempt to stop the butter melting.

Bill & Barb (backlit as per Lady Diana) peruse the swimming hole, and estimate the temperature of the water. Response: cold, very very cold.

But really bearable once you get in.

Morning 2. Drizzle. Forecast. Heavy rain overnight - we are in the Tararuas, with gales the next morning. The decision is made to decamp.  Footnote: the forecast was right, but by then we were snug in our own beds.