Time for a road trip

Six months into New Zealand and time for a road trip. Our mission, see as much of Northland, the staunchly Maori province spanning 350km north out of Auckland, as possible. Described by some as the “winterless north”, the area boasts towering forests, golden beaches and some of the most spectacular scenery the country has to offer ­- rather predictably, the south island attracts the main bulk of tourists – splitting the Tasman and Pacific before toppling into the ocean in Cape Reinga, the country’s most northern tip.

Given that most kiwis live for the great outdoors, it didn’t take long for a flow of freebies to start flooding in. An old, but reliable, Honda was handed to us by Rae, one of Marit’s colleagues, while boxes stuffed full of camping gear were donated by Tamsyn, an ex-London colleague of mine. Got a great little tent at a snip, from one of the countless camping stores, gas for the cooker and spent a festive fortune on beer, wine and meat to last the ten day trip.

Prior to our trip north we ventured out west, to Piha, one of Auckland’s western beaches, about an hour’s drive away. In true traveller style, we’d been hosting a mate we met in India, during our monumental boat trip to the Andaman’s. Jez stayed about a week with us, following a random phone call from Auckland airport (Facebook has a lot to answer for!) before embarking on his own road trip – great to have him! The three of us hit the beach for a spot of body surfing only for us to find we left our swimmers at home – Christ, we looked like retards donning underwear as we charged into the swell!

Rugged Piha, the wrong side of the beautiful Waitakere Ranges, offers pounding surf, but is perhaps best known for its long black sand beaches. Despite being a gorgeous day, the water didn’t take long to render our bits useless – an embarrassing situation when you’re forced to retreat from the water sporting rather empty looking Calvin Klein boxers!

Before setting off there was still time to fill our boots with a smashing crimbo dinner out in Te Atatu, care of Kerry and Christina. As for the seasonal sunshine....great, you can keep the gloomy days and wet nights Europe has to offer, thank you very much! Super feed sat around the table with their family, including Kerry’s parents, not to mention our hosts on arrival to NZ, Fem and Richard. Worth mentioning here that Marit plucked up the courage to try a smoked NZ mussel (there about five times the size of the average mussel) as part of the starter – needless to say she didn’t swallow!

Boxing Day soon came round and we hit the road early. The roads out of Auckland were quiet and progress up the east coast, towards Whangarei, swift, though not without incident. Steaming along at 110ks the driver’s rear tyre (to be fair all four were as bald as a baby’s bonce) gave up the ghost in classic style, disintegrating into pieces as some debris cut through the rubber like a wire through cheese. Once we’d finished breathing into paper bags, to slow our breathing, we set about mounting the spare - a precarious looking thing, little bigger than a mountain bike tyre and littered with Chinese wording (never good) – and continued on our way.

Northland’s east coast is a delightful mix of straggling peninsulas, hidden coves and plunging headlands. Beaches are calm and safe, much the opposite of the west coast, home to enormous dune-backed sprawls pounded, without pause, by the Tasman. Whangarei, on the Bream Bay coastline, offers little in the way of entertainment – yet another under-populated kiwi town, boasting various liquor outlets, butchers, news agents and fast food outlets – but its harbour offers a pleasant lunch stop and a chance to chill over a decent coffee.

North of Whangarei and the coast spawns the Poor Knights Islands, a marine reserve packed full of wrecks and under water caverns dubbed ‘’New Zealand’s prime diving’’ site. Instead of donning scuba gear we headed on north, hugging the coast, towards the Bay of Islands, one of the country’s many tourism money spinners. In truth, the spot is no more spectacular than the rest of Northland’s coastline, but countless sales pitches promising swims with dolphins, not to mention water sports, are the big draw.

In all honesty, to fully appreciate the scenery you need to get airborne and hover above the 150 or so islands flanking the coast – but for that price! After an afternoon stopping here, there and everywhere, we opted to set camp in a beautiful little site, a few minutes outside of Keri Keri, one of the area’s biggest towns. From here we visited Waitangi, where a treaty was signed by the UK and United Tribes of NZ in 1840 to negotiate the transfer of sovereignty. The document remains central to the country’s race relations and remains, arguably, NZ’s most important piece of writing to date. Back in Keri Keri we visited the Mission House, a two-storey Georgian affair that remains the country’s oldest European style build.

More important to us was the need for a new rear tyre – the police had let us off with a stern warning after explaining the Chinese scrawl meant “don’t drive further than 50ks and no faster than 80ks’’. Apparently we’d broken both rules. Fixed up with a reliable rubber, and with the bike tyre back in the boot, we continued north, stopping in the delightful Whangaroa Harbour for a cold beer. This is game fishing central, where small boats head out through small inlets into the Pacific to do battle with some enormous fish. The biggest we saw, given it had been dead since 1963, was a 1400kg shark – a record that still stands, or hangs, today!

Hot weather spells BBQ

It may be nearing summertime, but the bbqs have been out for some months. Our first, something of house warming, was arranged spontaneously, the Saturday hangover providing the thirst for red meat and cold beer. We weren’t alone.

The Sunday noon kick off attracting plenty of faces from the various lines work places and local hangouts. Made for a great day, the kiwi practice of turning up with ice buckets full of piss and bags brimming with home cooked grub exploited to the max.



Kyle and Tamsyn were first to arrive.
The former bringing with him a number of bottles from his latest batch of excellent, not to mention strong, homebrew. The pilsners and golden lagers certainly doing their bit to put us on a level from where the only place to go is down. Seriously though, the fridges have never been so full – it seemed to be raining beer and wine at 11 Edgerley Avenue!

The sun beating down, the hammocks strung up, the sweet smelling aroma of New Zealand green and a dozen dozens of refreshing beer.
The house in Edgerley really is the perfect party venue. All doors open onto a decking which flanks both sides of the house. The kitchen spills out onto the grass at the back, the dining room, too.

On the down side, such was the turn out and the number of new faces, you rarely got more than a drink with visiting folk. A real bonus though to meet people outside our social circle, people like Lee and Serena, fellow Brits who stuck two fingers up at Blair ten years ago. Of course, where beer and wine is concerned, Josh and Sue seem to head the queue every time.

Such is the geography of Auckland, most people are forced to drive, especially those outside the city’s limited suburban rail network (in truth, it’s an efficient, cheap and reliable service, so are the buses, kiwis just don’t do public transport). That spells ‘designated driver’.

Still, leaves more beer for the rest of us! Not seen the man Kyle quite so bevied in some time, the look of total perplex ion on his face honest testament to a good afternoon’s work. Kyle, why do your eyes go like ‘that’ when you’re pissed?

Outside of Henderson (west Auckland’s chav central) you’d be hard pressed to come up with a fact to support Marit’s colleagues as government workers. The Child, Youth and Family department certainly know how to sink piss and were the last standing when the sun finally went down.

Marit fits right in with the popping corks and clinking glasses. Put the journalist contingent to shame in the boozing stakes, not something I’m proud of either! Can’t really recall too much of the afternoon, except that the party shifted inside at some stage and the ‘reds for a rainy day’ were significantly depleted come kick out time. Monday morning was no fun. First time in a long time breakfast has been a steak and kidney pie – it was followed by a steak and cheese and spicy sausage roll. Reckon the four full wheelie bins we had to drag out this morning are some indication of how the rest were feeling!

Life's a beach!

The motor car is, in most cases, a penis extension for today's Aucklanders. The kiwis are mad for motors, the love affair born out of necessity with public transport almost non-existent. On any given day the city’s roads are saturated with Asian imports and over-priced Europeans. Even Hummers have started making an appearance – some people!

We digress. The roads weren’t too bad when we made the hour long trip north, with Kyle and missus Luise, to Orewa, a decent east coast beach packed with kite and wind surfers.

Stocked up with bubbly and strawberries and found a quiet spot away from all the kids. It’s amazing how quickly you can get pissed when you try, the bubbles combining with the sunshine to good effect! The beach provided ample opportunity to welly the football about, our accuracy worsening with every damn kick! The girls soon transformed from their polite, sociable selves into giggling, rude teenagers. The bubbles putting them both into a bleary eyed slumber within hours. The perfect Sunday afternoon!

So when Lu asks, ‘’want to piss off for the weekend, my friends offered us her bach up in Waipu’’, the reply warrants little thought. ‘’Fuck yeah.’’

Two hour’s drive north, near Whangerei, on the coast, this little hideaway was a treat. Second homes, or getaway baches, are a luxury for many New Zealanders, so we were privileged to be asked. The four of us jumped in the car early and were motoring along the east coast before anyone got a whiff of the sunshine.

Loaded up with food and booze in the tiny town of Waipu and headed for the coastline – it’s stunning. Seemed to be a lot of Scottish influence in the town (town, feckin a, more like a hamlet) with kilt wearing bagpipers and words like ‘’McClouds’’ appearing here, there and everywhere. Oh, we must mention, on the drive up, we passed a museum. Can you believe there’s a museum called ‘’Sheep World’’? That’s what we’ve got to put up with! Sheep World?

Girls being girls had the bubbles out before you could say ‘’champagne?’’ Boys being boys, we opted for a splash of Monteiths. That stuff’s my pick of many good kiwi ales. Both their Pilsner and Golden Lager are special bevies, the Raddler (not a fan) tastes like shandy, is shandy, but comes in at a handsome 5%.
The sea was a quick hedge jump away, which made escaping the sun a piece of cake – not so later on, when the bubbles kicked in! Getting up so early meant we had two whole days to ourselves. It’s a tough job but someone had to do it. The garden provided us with the perfect picnic spot, from where mission: ‘get totally buggered’ was conducted. It was a complete success.

Marit and I were reminded of our beds by the sunlight about 6am, Kyle and Lu suffered a psychedelic setback and were under the duvet by 10pm – probably a good job given their state the next morning!A run into town to grab a few beers – somehow, the night before, during our stumbling we’d come upon a second fridge, laden with gifts, such as Kingfisher, Stella and Corona – to replace homeowners’ stock. We were relieved to find the wine cellar intact, the half dozen we’d brought with us just about doing the job. Sunday went without incident. Except to say that we were all a little unnerved to see a rozzer fall through the hedge, compose himself, then stroll up to us in ‘’interested to know why your here’’ mode. Apparently, Lu had managed to trigger the panic alarm, thus notifying the cops, who subsequently sent a patrol out, who found a sunburned, spaced out foursome wrestling with 2007’s cheekiest hangover.

A run into town to grab a few beers – some

how, the night before, during our stumbling we’d come upon a second fridge, laden with gifts, such as Kingfisher, Stella and Corona – to replace homeowners’ stock. We were relieved to find the wine cellar intact, the half dozen we’d brought with us just about doing the job. Sunday went without incident.

Except to say that we were all a little unnerved to see a rozzer fall through the hedge, compose himself, then stroll up to us in ''interested to know why your here'' mode.

Apparently, Lu had managed to trigger the panic alarm, thus notifying the cops, who subsequently sent a patrol out, who found a sunburned, spaced out foursome wrestling with 2007’s cheekiest hangover.

Lava ain't no jokes

Most Aucklanders are guilty of knowing all about Rangitoto without actually having set foot on the island. The low, conical shape of the volcanic mass is rather out of place sat in the Hauraki Gulf, all the other islands so luscious and green. Mind you, at just 600, or so, years old, it’s a wee pup when compared to its siblings – the lack of soil and vegetation creating the rugged, rocky appearance.

It’s just a short 25 minute ferry ride from downtown, directly across the gulf - the island is visible from just about anywhere in mainland Auckland. The island boasts little more than secluded beaches and a good work out for those stupid enough to try and walk the perimeter in six sweaty hours. The terrain is tough, the black lava heating up quickly in the hot sun.

Packed a bag full of goodies, though, evidentially, not enough frigging water, again. First up was the 260m summit. An easy climb though for some visitors too much like hard work (why bother?) Stunning panoramic views of the entire gulf – Auckland city always looks good from distance – make the climb worthwhile, especially on a clear day. After the summit, we set off in search of some seclusion, something we enjoyed to the max during our six hour hike. Nothing but lava, lava and more lava.

Certain bays made the walk worth the effort, McKenzie, Boulder and Ship Wreck were all treats in their own right, but by the time we’d stumbled upon the latter we’d given up on catching the last ferry and were reluctantly preparing for a night under the stars (there’s literally sweet fa on the island).

Much appreciated slice of good fortune when, with an hour left till last boat departs, we stumbled upon two litres of unopened, cool drinking water, at the start of a decent trail, which leads us all the way back to the pontoon. Shattered – 20 kilometres tip-

toeing across lava is a tad tiring – we toasted our stupidity with an ice cold Heineken as the ferry ploughed its way across a choppy gulf. The hot, soapy bath at the other end never felt so good!

Most Aucklanders are guilty of knowing all about Rangitoto without actually having set foot on the island. The low, conical shape of the volcanic mass is rather out of place sat in the Hauraki Gulf, all the other islands so luscious and green. Mind you, at just 600, or so, years old, it’s a wee pup when compared to its siblings – the lack of soil and vegetation creating the rugged, rocky appearance.

It’s just a short 25 minute ferry ride from downtown, directly across the gulf - the island is visible from just about anywhere in mainland Auckland. The island boasts little more than secluded beaches and a good work out for those stupid enough to try and walk the perimeter in six sweaty hours. The terrain is tough, the black lava heating up quickly in the hot sun. Packed a bag full of goodies, though, evidentially, not enough frigging water, again. First up was the 260m summit. An easy climb though for some visitors too much like hard work (why bother?) Stunning panoramic views of the entire gulf – Auckland city always looks good from distance – make the climb worthwhile, especially on a clear day.

After the summit, we set off in search of some seclusion, something we enjoyed to the max during our six hour hike. Nothing but lava, lava and more lava. Certain bays made the walk worth the effort, McKenzie, Boulder and Ship Wreck were all treats in their own right, but by the time we’d stumbled upon the latter we’d given up on catching the last ferry and were reluctantly preparing for a night under the stars (there’s literally sweet fa on the island). Much appreciated slice of good fortune when, with an hour left till last boat departs, we stumbled upon two litres of unopened, cool drinking water, at the start of a decent trail, which leads us all the way back to the pontoon.

Shattered – 20 kilometres tip-toeing across lava is a tad tiring – we toasted our stupidity with an ice cold Heineken as the ferry ploughed its way across a choppy gulf. The hot, soapy bath at the other end never felt so good!

Waiheke - island of wine

Take the time out to analyse Auckland and, in terms of the central city, it really isn't very big at all. In fact, it's probably on a par with somewhere like Amsterdam, with a few more hills, of course. You can easily walk from one side to the other in an hour, crisscrossing through funky areas like Ponsonby and Freeman's Bay, down into the rather soulless CBD, and back up into Parnell via The Domain. Why are we telling you this, we hear you ask. Well, unlike a London or Singapore, sometimes it's necessary to escape the hustle and bustle of central Auckland - it gets a little claustrophobic at times, people drawn to the same bars and restaurants.

Imagine our joy then after learning of the comprehensive ferry service that links Princes Wharf, downtown, with the beautiful islands scattered across the Hauraki Gulf - the water way that feeds into the Pacific. The Gulf is a magnet for summer-holidaying Aucklanders, travelling a few minutes to Browns Island (a low volcanic hill of 60 hectares) or for a few hours across to Colville and northern tip of the Coromandel. For us though it was the lure of Waiheke, the largest island, with its beautiful sandy beaches and, most importantly, booming vineyards. Yep, believe it or not, just one hour's boat trip and 90km from Auckland is a little slice of paradise that boasts some of New Zealand's most coveted wineries. Perfect place for a day trip then!

Aptly named the ``island of wine'', Waiheke is home to, at last count, nearly two dozen vineyards. Small, family run businesses such as Kennedy Point (fantastic 05 Sav Blanc, we stocked up) right through to the hugely commercial and popular Stonyridge and Passage Rock estates. It really is difficult to describe how good life can be when you can bomb around an island in a rented car slurping top vino everywhere you stop. Given that there's hardly a living soul on Waiheke the chance of hitting a pedestrian or fellow motorist is small. Good job too!

We opted for a rusty old Toyota manual - nothing like tryna drive an automatic pissed behind the wheel, they have minds of their own do autos - which provided just enough room for the two of us and a few crates of purchases, should we chose to dabble. And we did. First stop was Kennedy Point. Set back in a wee cove this idyllic spot was as good as it gets. The wine and views alone make the 12,000 mile trek from England to New Zealand worthwhile. Seriously though, the wine is f**king ace! Being a family owned and run vineyard the measures take some beating too. Three towering glasses of different drops for $5. That's two quid and a bit of change to most of you.

Not sure what went down best, the 05 Sav Blanc or 06 Malbec mix (the climate here, coupled with rolling green hills, makes grape growing and mixing a piece of piss, hence they're always trying new things). The Shiraz was a little on the zippy side - we could still distinguish between wines at this point - so we gave it a miss and loaded up with a bottle of each to takeaway.

Goldwater estate came next. Founders, Kim & Jeanette (idle chit chat helps the slurping) pioneered winegrowing on Waiheke Island when they planted the island's first Vinifera vineyard in 1978. Their wines are consistently regarded as among the best in New Zealand gaining international recognition for their intensity and ripe fruit flavours. If it was down to me I'd have given them another award - most booze in a single taster session. We were steaming after slugging back six glasses - the 05 Chardonnay the pick up the bunch (no pun intended).

Next up was Stonyridge, perhaps the island's most commercial. Mind you, the setting is stunning, a beautiful open planned bar (complete with lounge-cum-club feel) sits opposite a, funny this, stony ridge. This place is all about Cabernet blend wine (Cabernet Sav, Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Malbec and new kid on the NZ block Petit Verdot). It's also one of the few places where you can accompany booze with food. So we did, and plenty of it! The wine wasn't the greatest, perhaps it was a bad day for tasting. but there's usually a silver lining in every cloud, Stonyridge's being that it's flanked by two more, smaller, wineries. 'Hicup.'

We could bore you with, 'hiccup,' anecdotes and soundbites from the afternoon's revelry but we imagine you're getting the drift now. For the record, we managed seven vineyards, I think, ending up in the stunningly located Mudbrick Estate for our grand finale, 'hiccup.' Billed as "one of the most picturesque in the world'' it's home to the deliciously good Shepherds Point Cab Sav Merlot blend - a couple of bottles of which were added to the growing collection in the back of the car, 'hiccup'. Here we toasted absent friends and rolled around in laughter as drunken wedding guests (what a place to have a stag do) joined us for "one more tipple''. What a shame the day's action didn't stop there, 'hiccup'. Instead, I had to reverse the pissing hire car into the back of a stationary ute in front of said wedding party - I was shamefully w**kered by this point - and stagger off in search of the owner, who I, for some strange reason, never managed to find.

Returning the car was a sobering affair - have you ever tried to plead innocence in a drink drive related incident with blackberry coloured teeth, rocking from left to right, with eyes, 'hiccup', staring in the opposite direction. Nor had I till now. F**k! Needless to say we lost the best part of $500 in damages (wrecked the rear bumper and managed to, 'hiccup', mangle some body work - reversing, in neutral!). Have to say though, it was worth every f**king cent!

Bigger and better!

After six months on the road living in hotels, guesthouses or wherever we could find a bed and two months living in shoebox in Auckland's trendy Newmarket, we finally moved on to bigger and better places!

We just couldn't resist. The temptation of having four bedrooms, a dining room, lounge, an entrance hall bigger than our previous flat and not one, not two but THREE fireplaces was too much for our travelled out minds to turn down.

So here we are.... Moved into our own villa with Kyle and are slowly but surely making it homely. That takes some time considering all we had two months ago were two backpacks filled with dirty clothes, but we're getting there.

And with Kyle as a flat mate and Johnny as our temporary house guest we never feel lonely. Even Mister Puss adds to the bliss when we enjoy a glass of wine at night by the fireplace.