Breakfast at hotel cafe,. am. sun and cloud. Sth on 1, roadworks, Drove around lake, good views - sun. Got to small town, New World supermarket, cafe beside. coffee and brownie - lovely. Good drive to Wellington, excellent landscape,. Walked to quay - lovely, Friday evening, people out, Shopped. Ate in Hotel Appt.
Most of the interior of 'The Cove' hotel was grey, gloomy with a bunker-like ambiance. The cafe, however, with a lakeside view was much brighter and served delicious breakfasts. Overall we felt the place was over-designed, arranged to look good in a photo but not very practical
We were on the road by 10am. Highway 1, the main route from Auckland to Wellington passed right by the hotel. In most places that would mean traffic noise and pollution, not in New Zealand though, it really does not do 'traffic', consequently pollution is low everywhere. At first Highway 1 skirts the lake, then beyond Turangi ('trout capital of the world, a sign boldly proclaims) the road climbs through arid scrubland and low hills oddly reminiscent of the Pennines.
Soon you reach a high plateau, so devoid of vegetation it is dubbed the 'desert road. A place of big skies with conical extinct volcanos in the distance. The photos we took bear an uncanny resemblance to those from our ill fated attempt to visit the Grand Canyon - we have lots of pictures of the semi-desert on the Nevada/Arizona border, but none of the landmark itself due to the fact we ran out of daylight before we reached it.
Due to the lack of traffic New Zealand road repair is an usually relaxed, informal business. Instead of traffic lights and complex single lane contraflows, road menders simply scrape-off the top layer of asphalt for a couple of kilometres, lay down a layer of gravel and impose a 10kph speed limit, re-laying the road in short sections as traffic passes. To protect the workforce 'human traffic lights' with giant lollipop stop/go signs direct traffic-flow. There appears to be a preference for female traffic conductors for some reason - gender diversity even in road mending - though it has to be said the fun jobs like driving the road-roller or mooching in small groups while staring down a hole remain, as elsewhere on the planet, a strictly male preserve.
Beyond the Desert Road you pass through a tract of grim moorland which surrounds the tiny township of Waiouru. The entire area is used by the military as a training area. It has the same sad, half abandoned atmosphere as the fringes of Salisbury plain. Surely there is no more unproductive or futile use for a tract of land than to be used as a firing range? What we needed was a supermarket and provisions for lunch. No shops in Waiaouru, so we pressed on a further 30 kilimotres to Taihape. Google maps promised a New World supermarket here.
The only thing our Lonely Planet guidebook had to say about the township of Taihape was a few lines about Gumboot Day. The event celebrates the noble sport of 'wellie hoying' as it is known back in dear old Blighty. Somehow Gumboot Day in Taihape has grown into an event of national renown. This reinforces the image of the place as a middle of nowhere hicksville packed full of eccentric locals. Looking at the somewhat ramshackle old wooden buildings, and considering the remote location it is not an unreasonable assumption.
In reality, there is more to the place than first appears. We pulled-up in the New World supermarket car park. We must have been looking a tad bemused because the man beside, loading-up his car with shopping, us enquired if we were looking for somewhere in particular. 'Has the supermarket got a cafe and toilet?' The friendly local advised us that the nearest cafe was just around the corner and was very good. He was right. The coffee was excellent, the sandwiches, pies and cakes on offer homemade and delicious. Furthermore, the cafe owner was welcoming and friendly. We have found in the USA and Australia many rural settlements do seem disconnected from civilisation and the locals somewhat surly. Here, similar places have a homely charm, but the food on offer is fresh and delicious and the people interested in having a conversation; they seem thoughtful but positive - to we 'glass half empty Brits' refreshingly optimistic.
An old chapel near the supermarket had been converted into the town museum. People seemed keen to record the development of the place. I suppose many of the residents can trace their ancestry back to when the town was first established. That your great grandfather was one of the earliest settlers and your family helped shaped the place must develop a strong sense of belonging. Perhaps it is such common roots, a shared history of making something from very little through hard work and determination imbues such modest settlements with a sense of common purpose and dignity, something that is rare indeed now back home.
The story of the town is written in the buildings themselves. The wooden structures, most 80 - 100 years old, built by settlers we presume. Then later structures in an Art Decor style from the 30s with a a smattering of modern metal clad structures dating from recent decades in-between.
We headed for Wellington, a long drive, but the landscape was varied and the roads almost empty. - a great road trip.
A few miles north of Wellington we finally discovered a New Zealand traffic jam. It was a Friday afternoon, most of the traffic was heading northwards, out of the city for a weekend at the beach, we surmised. The Gilmer Apartments were situated in the heart of the city, a block away from the Welligton Cable Car and within easy walking distance of the harbour. A great location to explore the city on foot but tricky to find by car. Somehow we negotiated the narrow tangle of one-way streets and booked in. The studio apartment was comfortable and well equipped. We made ouselves a coffee and relaxed after the long drive. I took the opportunity to summarise my impressions of the day on the Facebook group site we had set up to keep in touch with people back home.
We are don't do relaxing too well. After half an hour or so we were itching to get out and explore the city. Just a short walk around the neighbourhood we agreed. In the event it became an hour's stroll around the harbour front. It was Friday night, people were enjoying the sunshine, restaurants and bars were buzzing, the place had a bright, convivial vibe. We were tired however, we decided to cook at the apartment so found a small supermarket. Back there we chatted about the day. Wellington, we mused, seemed a really lively place, welcoming, with an alluring outdoor culture. The city's harbour setting was spectacular. Architecturally, hardly stunning, but an attractive hotchpotch of the old and new, its steep slopes creating intriguing juxtapositions and unexpected vistas.
