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.