Day 6. Friday 10 August.

Sailed all night to Wyndham through the Cambridge Gulf. Docked around 6 AM, with no commitments until 9.15, so a leisurely breakfast and blog catch up. The port sees very little traffic and visitors see mud but the whistling of the kites soaring above was a welcome.

On the bus at the appointed time for the two hour trip to Kununurra airport, longer than usual because of multiple roadworks, where we boarded our Cessna 208 propjet Caravan aircraft for the two hour flight over the Ord River, Argyle Dam, Bungle Bungle Ranges and the Argyle Diamond Mine, with snapshots of the surrounds of Kununurra. 

The produce gardens – melons, quinoa, bananas, mangoes, sandalwood trees – and more, were particularly impressive.

We had an aerial overview of Kununurra, but didn’t get into the town. Passed over the lake, where we’d stayed in 2007 in the caravan park and The flyover of the Ord River was a much easier journey than our three day canoe ride in that year – and it wasn’t raining!

The aerial views did not disappoint and T ran her phone/camera battery below 20%. Flood plains gave way to the ‘inland sea’ which is Lake Argyle, then long wave-like folding ranges, to the beehives of Purnululu. 2 hours of Pure magic!

Slightly less than two hours on the bus back to the ship, marveling at T’s almost favorite tree the Boab.

We followed up our day of sitting down with a short walk into the closest part town, keeping an eye out for hungry crocodiles. This part contains the Courthouse, Police Station, the old hospital and a few houses and several commercial enterprises of indistinct purpose. We recalled coming to Wyndham in June 2007 and at that time chatting to a young woman who had opened an art gallery. She specialized in printmaking and we bought a little piece with the boab tree image; her story had been one of going far from home to ‘find herself’ and it reminded us of our Jo who had gone to the UK. That gallery is no longer here. In fact the only retail outlets are a video shop and a cafe (both closed at 4pm). The motel (no longer in use) appeared in the recent TV series ‘ Mystery Road’, something that the coach driver spoke about at length this morning. He had been delighted to have had a screen role. 

The commercial and main part of this dying town is to south, at Three Mile, so called because….yes. The town as a whole is somewhat depressing, with little sign of activity, hardly surprising as the total population is now less than 700 people. However, Keith the bus driver, ex-pharmacist, loves living here and after 47 years, still can’t get enough of the beauty. He pointed out the ‘work camp/detention’ facility and  the alcohol drying-out facility – D is not sure what T’s dig in his side signified.

The afternoon concluded with a fellow passenger telling a long and fascinating family story of Wyndham.

This may be the last post until Broome, on 18 August – but we’ll try.

Internet connection will be intermittent and definitely expensive for the duration of our expedition, so posts will be rather random.

Day 4. Wednesday 8 August.

With the airport on the close horizon, we were treated to a mostly sound display of noisy Air Force fighters and heavy transport planes taking off and landing in the dusk and dark. Fortunately the pilots had been given a curfew (probably by their mums) and were snug back in their beds at a reasonable hour. This slight distraction by the brave warriors training for our defence did not in any way detract from the meal, which was indeed as delicious as expected – or perhaps even better.

So today is in large part waiting to board, which is from 1530. A late check out and access to the baggage room allowed us a wander into the CBD. While there, a couple of ladies checking in as we checked out assured us the journey would be fantastic. The Ramada Zen Quarter hotel has been good to us – friendly staff throughout, good bed and pillows, good facilities and close proximity to the city centre by foot.  T managed to slip a quick swim in before we got our taxi to the Fort Hill Wharf – a nice touch given the music played at SWUC a couple of times.

Needless to say, the process of boarding L’Austral was drawn out, but painless. We have joined 221 others on this trip, mostly Aussies, but some Kiwis, French, Japanese, Danish, English and British. Staff number 155, so a good ratio – better than at our schools! Once on board, we received the mandatory briefings on where everything is, security and safety, delivered in both French and English, introduced (aaargh) by the theme from The Love Boat. Departed Darwin at around 7 PM with a glorious sunset.

Dined a la carte and both chose the barramundi – three nights in a row! This version had a mussel sauce over it, which slightly overwhelmed the fish, but in a pleasant way. After dinner, some soloists provided music- while voices were good, they were unfortunately passed through a karaoke system, so were over whelmed by digital accompaniment.

The ship rocked and rolled a bit like we do these day – a gentle motion to each side and a bit of a sigh. Unlike us, it did it all night. D slept soundly, T less so.

Day 5. Thursday 9 August.

Headed into Indonesian waters for some bizarre requirement to make this an ‘international’ journey, with two Indonesian Customs officials on board, and our passports handed over for inspection, along with visa applications (the information supposedly copied from ours onto the form was incorrect, but we decided not to make a fuss). Interestingly, the two officials were still aboard when we left Indonesian waters and entered Australian ones.

Th morning was mostly taken up with briefings on safety, zodiac operations, and optional & included tours and then a lecture on the geology of the Kimberley, which was more geology 101 than specifically about this area. It was more interesting than the gentle snores of the elderly chap sitting next to us.

Lunch was a seafood buffet outside on the 6th deck, followed by a quiet snooze.

Our fellow expeditioners are an interesting demographic (average age 70?) and it seems from the few we’ve spoken to so far that quite a number might be regular cruisers. There have been some interesting life stories and experiences: but more interesting are the young staff members who have in their relatively short lives done such adventurous things. Danni is a scuba diver now living in Port Lincoln (born in Canberra, raised in Adelaide) whose main job is on a research ship investigating Great White sharks – having had stints in places like the Antarctic and Sub-Antarctic, & in South Georgia involved in feral animal eradication. Ri (Rebecca) is also a naturalist who has worked around Australia and in Mexico. They are both 30-something, at a guess. Lachie (or was it Toby?) is from Sydney and has taken off three weeks from his Honours year to be a staff member on this trip. There are 14 Expedition staff members, 13 of whom are youngish (compared to the guests) and with similarly interesting lives. Their brief introduction induced a slight feeling of envy for their lifestyle choices and opportunities. As our dining companion later commented’In our day, it was more like get a job and who cares about choice?’

The day was all blue…sky, sea, no land, no birds, no visible sea life, no other vessels and a different coloring at sunset.

Tonight was the Captain’s Gala Reception on the top deck. We stood around sipping Veuve Cliquot waiting for his welcome address, and introduction to key staff. The ship was rolling sideways through about 10 degrees (estimate – it might have been 2 degrees!) and quite a few folk needed to make an early exit. The pomp parade was reminiscent of the military lifestyle of our former life.

Dinner was a la carte in both restaurants for all tonight – there is a buffet most evenings in one. We were invited to join a table for 6 by a couple we’d met the night before – very surprised on getting there to discover that one of the others on the table was Dave Carpenter, who had been on the staff of Staff College at Queenscliff in 1985 when D was a student.

So we sailed on through the night, heading for Wyndham and a day of adventures – ours to fly over Purnululu NP and the Ord River. The briefing on Wyndham tells us it’s seriously dying; 11years ago we had experienced a very sad hamlet, perched on a muddy coastline , with the confluence of 5 big rivers. The rivers are still doing their thing, but since the demise of the live cattle export trade, there is nothing happening in the town. The port remains open for the two or three cruise ships, otherwise it’s a port for receiving diesel and ammonium nitrate.

 

Day 3. Tuesday 7 August.

Apparently the stressful journey from Canberra to Darwin deserves a rest day – but all part of the package.

An omission from yesterday. On our Uber trip from Phil’s Pad to the airport, the driver was distracted and was within centimeters (T has developed a sense of measurement from familiarity with fabrics) of rear-ending a car in front at some speed. It was T’s ‘Oooow’ that alerted him to brake heavily and avoid the collision. Just noting that this Suzuki had very good brakes indeed.

Today was an opportunity to partly explore Darwin on foot, limited of course by our feet and the heat. But high on T’s agenda was a visit to a fabric shop. It was not possible to get across on the ferry to the Tiwi Islands on a Tuesday, so a shop on the Esplanade would have to do. But first, there was a letter needing the Post Office and on the way there, T noticed a shop sign for Cloth.  D said he’d fill in time in the camping store, T crossed over to the Air Raid Arcade and found Anna Reynolds, textile artist. T was having a deja vu moment….she had previously met Anna in a shop in Hesse St, Queenscliff (about 18 months ago). It had been a Sunday morning, T had been peering through the closed shop window, Anna arrived to do something in the shop and invited T in. At that time, Anna said how she was closing down and going north. Well, here she was in Darwin, things were going really well and, with cutting shears in hand, today Anna talked non-stop about her sometimes rocky and colourful journey from artist, through deck-hand on a fishing trawler, to artist working with indigenous communities, to Batchelor College, to New York….. and she’s running late with that Masters thesis…showed T the abstract (very dense academic- speak) and there’s a dress to be finished for NT’s Indigenous Art Festival starting later this week. Exhausting! We’ll be on the Kimberley Coast by then, so will miss NT’s biggest annual event!  

That was followed by coffee at the Bush Traders on the Esplanade, a terrific indigenous business that provides an outlet for high quality clothing, art work, fabric and accessories in conjunction with the cafe. Luckily, a purple frock had been snapped up by a customer just ahead of D&T – T reckons it would have been a better fit on her, but the colour wasn’t right anyway. Nice coffee, though.

A few observations of the CBD…smoking is popular and there are plenty of empty commercial premises. Perhaps the hoped-for economic boom has not happened or has been and gone? The CBD was quiet – the only incident was an apparently very drunk man being placed (actually rolled) into a Police paddy wagon.

 

 

Then a rather long walk to the Botanic Gardens, through the lovely grove above, and a short stroll around the rainforest walk.

And on our way out, we looked up to see an origami peace crane that we’d walked under and missed on our way in. It was a sort of a blessing. Our thoughts and prayers have been with and for dear friends and relatives who are grieving at this time.

Then back to the Zen, via Woolies (!!!) to buy the makings for dinner -T said we’d have prawns and pawpaw but the prawns were all from Thailand. The fresh selection was barramundi, that will be pan fried and placed on top of a Thai salad with lime juice and chilli and washed down with a crisp Rose. And there’ll be potato sides (of course).

The Kimberley Coast trip is happening 11 years on…we’ve been wanting to get back to this part of the country since our magical road odyssey of 2007 but time, distance and other commitments ( life, that is) have kept us away. Now it’s time to do the craggy coastline by ship, Darwin to Broome.

 Day 1. Sunday 5 August.

The Kimberley adventure is off to a good start. Craig arrived 2 minutes early, alleviating D’s timing worries (and scoring some brownie points). Smooth flight to Sydney and a twenty minute walk to the Mantra Hotel then a train trip to Central to catch up with Phil and Helen.

Helen departed after one champagne, heading for the bus back to Canberra. Phil Ubered us to his pad at the rocks, and then cooked his famous pork Florentine dish derived from his travels years ago in Italy with his wife to be. A delightful, relaxed evening sharing just a couple of red wines. And Phil then arranged for the Uber back to Mascot, trusting that we will reimburse him in due course!

Grumpy alert. What is it about hotel guests that need to slam their doors late at night or early in the morning?

Day 2. Monday 6 August.

A damp morning in Sydney, but up to Darwin in 5 hours. T sat next to an older lady from Wodonga,  heading for a family catchup in Katherine who shared her life story. Having breakfasted in the airport before embarking, we were somewhat surprised and bemused to be served breakfast at about 11AM – the Qantas staff were equally bemused, but later told us that they were submitting a report suggesting that something approaching a brunch be served instead (eg sandwiches rather than an omelette or yoghurt, which were our choices).

Arrived to a very warm public holiday afternoon ( Darwin Cup Day). Shed the layers, then the  shuttle delivered us to the Ramada Zen Quarter overlooking the working end of Darwin Harbour. Views are not inspiring, but pleasant nonetheless. The lap pool was a boon, and it was cool rather than tepid. A couple of beers before dinner, which we’ve decided to have in the hotel cafe. Overhead fans are whirring, but delightful to not be in airconditioning.

Day 35. Sunday 10 December.

We’ve reached the five week mark – and it really is time to be home. The sky suggests that the drought may be about to end, which has a sort of slowing effect on us, adding to the sense of an end of journey, and of course some tiredness from the activities of the reunion. By mutual agreement this will be slow day. It didn’t start all that well as we’d allowed the milk supply to dry up so our morning cup of tea was threatened – and the bread for breakfast had become mouldy. A quick trip down the street to pick up supplies was extended by meeting some of our friends and joining them at their breakfast for a cup of tea and sharing the SMH quiz. What is the largest island in the Society Islands group? What was Cheryl Crow’s only #1 hit in Australia? What were the two films that starred Michelle Pfeiffer and Johnny Depp? Can the questions be any more obscure? Overall, the collective mind power did pretty well.

T went out for a slow waterfront amble leaving D to be slow at our digs. A perfect morning for a stroll, with a bit of cloud cover. Sunday families at the beach, folk strolling, cafes doing good business, gallery staff passing time on screens…

  

In next to no time it was bbq o’clock at Clarence St again. How did people still have chatting energy? But, energy there still was in abundance. Tony hosted, food and wine was shared, laughs rolled on and the Auckland skyline, cloudy all day, put on a golden show to finish the celebrations. It has been a marvelous 3 days in Devonport.

  

Day 36. Monday 11 December.

The reunion is over, but another celebration takes over: today is T’s birthday. We have a day to ourselves, and plan to catch the ferry across to Auckland to visit the Maritime Museum, to do a cruise of the harbour, do some galleries, have lunch …and whatever else takes our fancy.

We stopped at the ticket counter and missed the ferry by a whisker. Just as well: the security guard gave us detailed advice on what we should do, some of which was a bit confusing, but which boiled down to a recommendation to take the ferry to Whaiheke Island, about 30 minutes down the harbour, do a walk and catch a later ferry back. So we took his advice and paid the ferry man (actually a woman) for a round trip Devonport – Whaiheke – Auckland – Devonport, and then had just a short wait to catch the boat.

  

The harbor was beautiful. Whaiheke was much, much larger than we’d imagined – and full of creative art outlets. A comprehensive guide on these art offerings was available, so after a bus ride into the village, and a coffee overlooking the water, we set out to visit a few of them. Glass, jewellery, wood…and jandals.

At the public library/Arts Centre, T noticed a poster advertising a NZ film released this year called ‘Human Traces’ and decided that it looked interesting: a dark thriller. T was feeling her hot feet and figured a movie would be cooling/soothing. Google told us the film was screening in Auckland at the Academy Cinemas so back on the bus, catch the waiting ferry, hurriedly walk up Queen St, dodging cruise traffic, to arrive at the 3.30 start time. Perfectly timed! There were 3 filmgoers in a large cinema!

A stroll back to the ferry terminal, punctuated by short stops to dissect the film and discuss meanings and the occasional doge to avoid the scurrying passengers from the cruise liner docked on the very edge of the city. The end of a working day saw a fairly full ferry heading back to Devonport. Needless to say there was a passenger sitting immediately behind who shared with us all a private call involving the probate of a relative’s will all the way across the harbour. Technology manners please!

T had hankered for a French Rose in a green wine glass since Saturday when a couple of the ladies had ordered it on the wharf at midday (in preparation for Saturday night). So we stopped in for that and a beer for D before heading up town to look for a dinner spot.

Passed the Esplanade Hotel and couldn’t believe our eyes that a couple of our reunion mates from Canberra were still here too, and were enjoying a quiet drink looking towards the water.

After a chat we found Manuka Café and liked the look of the menu. T ordered scallops on a parsnip/kumara mash and D fried calamari on a rocket salad, which we shared. Delicious. T then had seared tuna and D grilled salmon. These dishes were just about perfectly cooked, so together with fresh wines and excellent service this was a wonderful way to head towards the end of a lovely day.

Back to our motel to try and fit everything back into our suitcases. Oh dear!

Day 33. Friday 8 December.

A day to ourselves before the first event of the reunion in the evening. We drove to Takapuna, a shopping precinct about 5 km north of Devonport for a spot of browsing in an area which is remarkably similar to Manuka or Bondi. T was in serch of some hot weather clothing. So much for the bag of thermals from Canberra! Traffic was intense and on street parking impossible. We left as soon as we could!

Our first catch up was at the organiser’s house in Devonport, where he put on drinks and nibbles for the 51 participants and quite a few others from family and associates. Our greatest fear was not being able to recognize people from 45 years ago – but although there were a couple of minor moments, it was all ok. The babble continued for 4 hours, with continuous food platters and liquid refreshments and of course some photo bombers prevailed. The hosts were indeed generous.

Day 34. Saturday 9 December.

The NZ heat wave continues. D joined the walking tour of the North Head Historic Reserve (basically artillery batteries built to defend against invaders, including the Russians, Germans and Japanese, none of whom came) organized for the group.

  

T wandered into town for a coffee – catching up with whoever arrived at 1100 outside The Esplanade. The town band was playing Carols outside the Library and a different Christmas tree had been positioned next to the NZ Christmas Trees that are just coming into red bloom (Pohutukawa trees).

  

A trio of girls adjourned to the shade of the wharf coffee shop and got down to verbal exercise. Another pair arrived and the workout got more energetic. Later, after D had spent 45 minutes trying to track down the verbal exercising T who was not at the designated meeting spot, we lunched with long time friends, the two men having been best man and groomsman at our wedding 45 years ago (anniversary is on Thursday 14 December) before heading back to the motel for a ‘nana nap’ ahead of the dinner tonight.

Drinks in the bar pre-dinner: ‘Is this a conference?’ asked a bewildered customer as he tried to buy a drink. ‘No, it’s much worse – it’s a reunion’. We were moved into the dining room, transferring a rising babble of conversation and laughter that never seemed to peak.

Few speeches, wonderfully short, toasts to the members of the class, to their partners and to those who have passed on. The meal was excellent, the wine flowed, the stories poured out, possibly embellished, histories updated… Hotel staff were excellent, managed by a young woman who gave lots of cheek. One class mate remarked to her that she reminded him of his daughter. She replied that he reminded her of her great grandfather!

The night ended at Cinderella time as the Hotel Esplanade called last drinks. There will be hoarse voices, possibly a few sore heads, but great memories to add to the store.’

Day 32. Thursday 7 December.

Google maps told us the drive from Paihia to 11 Buchanan Street in Devonport, our last accommodation before getting back to our own bed next week, would take 3 hours and 12 minutes. That was without multiple roadworks, heavy transport traffic, slow motorhomes – and of course a stop for coffee at Bianca’s at 1956 The Coast Discovery Highway (SH Route 1) in Kaiwaka. D had asked T when did she want coffee. A good hour past the preferred time, a suitable stop was found. As T got out of the car, D said, ‘I need to talk to you about our renovations’. T was amazed as D NEVER wants to hear about reno plans. Then as she turned around, all became clear! He then added, ‘Well, we’re almost there’.

Bianca’s was a delight.

   

Excellent coffee, wait staff with big (good) attitude and a little clothing room to rummage in. Then onward to the big city.

On arrival (after just over four hours – well done, Google maps) we had to search for our motel, picturing from the booking site a ground-level block within a garden. Everything in the street was either 2 storeys or very colonial period. D paced the street, upsetting a yappy dog; there was nothing that looked like our booking. Eventually, seeing some signage, he approached the front door of #11, upsetting the dog again. There was a note for Unit 1, but not for us. Eventually, a young woman wrapped only in a towel and lathered in soap answered; yes, we were expected and the motel turns out to be two units behind a large old residence, with no on- site parking. The rooms are old, self-contained, neat, well looked after and comfortable, but very small; although D remarked that the space is much bigger than the van.

  

As we departed to walk in the town, our motel neighbours arrived, and ‘Ove’ D was able to direct them to their room, where to park, who was at home etc. They were followed in short order by ‘Prue’s mum’ – who was also put in the picture although she didn’t seem all that interested – so now we’ve met two of the three generations: just waiting for the proprietor. We’re only a street back from the beachfront and the shopping strip in Devonport, dinner has been sourced from the deli in New World (Coles), the afternoon is balmy and the beer, brie and Sicilian olives in the garden taste very good.

Today it was time to touch base with some historical matters, so a short drive to the Waitangi Treaty Grounds (the birthplace of NZ). A cultural tour gave us the overview and the context for slower exploration of the site and the story. It was hardly surprising to learn that the melding of Maori and European cultures has involved pain, compromise, pragmatism, leadership…. and time. It was fascinating to learn of the linguistic variation between the English and Maori versions of the Treaty that led to bitter conflict and that still resonates today in the area of ‘land rights’. The Museum presented a clear chronology of the Treaty and was supplemented with a video re-enactment of the signing. The restored house of James Busby and the beautifully crafted Marae, the flagstaff and the grounds provided us with several hours of quiet information.

  

Inside the Marae not all members of the group of visiting high school students were engaged in their excursion. The teacher told the students to touch the carvings, absorb them for ’they are your story’….a couple of boys muttered and went outside, presumably they had better things to talk about.

With a few hours to fill we then set off to Kerikeri, a ‘normal’ working town 25 kms up the road. What a difference! Unlike Paihia (totally tourist), Kerikeri is productive: food, wine, engineering, fabrication, medical facilities, lingerie shops etc etc

We had been told about a walk/drive in a kauri forest just out of Kerikeri, so with minimal signage we headed in a rough direction. Found it and the boardwalk of 5 mins took the best part of a most enjoyable hour while we marveled at nature and those magnificent tress – and practiced our newly acquired photographic tecniques.

Kauri trees are being attacked by a die-back caused by a virus or parasite that gets into the root system and then kills the trees. Apparently many national parks/forests are now closed to bushwalkers, who are not happy, and those that are open require visitors to shed their footwear before entering. Our walk of 390 metres was entirely on a raised boardwalk.

Back into town to meet up for dinner with the first of the Duntroon contingent, 2 of whom we had run into in the Countdown grocery aisle yesterday afternoon, who had in turn met the next two at a coffee shop across the bay in Russell. A lovely meal was shared at Charlotte’s on the wharf – we all chose the deep sea fish, which was lovely, washed down with NZ wines. The reunion has officially begun!

 

Day 30 Tuesday 5 December

The morning looked a bit cloudy and as we set off to walk to the wharf for our sailing expedition, T said ‘I can hear thunder!’ But no, it was only the sound of the high tide striking rocks in the bay. Phew!

A cruise ship was in, so the craft stalls had set up near the wharf and would stay all day…beads, possum clothing, metal art, wood and leather…because we’d arrived early enough there were a few minutes to browse. T wondered just how successful these markets are.

There was a stiff breeze, unlike previous mornings and T wondered whether she should do a fast shop for Kwells, but skipper Mike assured that we’d be as flat as a tack once we’d cleared the bay and got behind the islands.

There were 11 passengers: Germans, Americans, and lads from Italy (Venice), Denmark and Japan and Melissa from US (who came here as a tourist and fell in love, and stayed) was the deckie. Mike is a Canadian expat (now a NZ citizen, but only just) who has spent the last 20+ years living in the Bay of Islands, doing the tourist season with his 65 foot yacht. In May he goes to Fiji, presumably to do the same. For 6 hours he kept up a constant chatter and patter, telling sailor anecdotes and giving local information on everything from NZ politics, social structure, environment, real estate…and regularly contrasted with his North American roots. Interestingly, he said he had only ever worked on boats; at age 16 he started in the commercial fishing business in Alaska and still divides his time between the around-the-clock fishing on his boat in Alaska for 3 months, making enough money in a good season to live for 2 years, then flies back to NZ. He and his wife +2 babies had set off from Vancouver on their boat in 1978 and spent 10 years at sea, raising the 2 daughters within yachting communities: with all those cruising retirees, missing their grandkids, baby sitters were always available. Some time was spent in Tahiti for the girls to attend high school. Eventually they decided that the Bay of Islands was a good place to put down some land roots and it was easy to buy a shack with million-dollar water views – that has since appreciated as investors realized the value of these views. How things have changed over 20 years.

The young lads and D fiddled with ropes, under Melissa’s directions, while the rest of us just lapped up the day.

We dropped anchor for a beach/ island walk.

 

This was a barefoot thing: Mike had explained that the Dept of Conservation required that no shoes & no backpacks could go onto some of the islands. T had a partial exemption; elegant pink crocs while on board and sneakers worn on the beach would be washed upon return to the boat.

 

 

 

 

 

There was a greast view from the hills above – but barefoot through the long grass…

 

 

 

 

 

 

While the group climbed the grassy hill, T just did the beach.

 

 

 

Then it was time to bite the bullet…that water looked too good to refuse, even though it was only about 19 degrees. Snorkelled up, D & T ventured in to at least swim back to the boat. Yes, it was cool, but we stayed in long enough to take a look for marine life around the rock ledge…nothing!

Lunch on board, then up anchor and dolphin searching. A pair performed for us at last, leaping high and were then gone. The afternoon finished with a drop off at Russell, across the bay, where the water is deeper at low tide and then we came back to Paihia on ‘the white ferry’.

It had been another beautiful day.

 

 

Woken up early by a bird that sounded like a combination of an old Holden starter motor and an arthritic bell ringer, later identified as the Parson Bird. Why are we surprised that a parson has rudely interrupted our sleep? Don’t they usually manage to put us to sleep?

Bay of Islands. Paihia. Stunningly beautiful, and, thanks to Australia’s help in keeping the hail, rain and wind well to the west, perfect weather. But what to do in the three days we have here – that doesn’t involve driving, or not too much?

Into town to a booking office, where T was immediately captivated by the all day yacht trip. That’s been booked for Tuesday. We’d seen a brochure in the accommodation about a walk/kayak to Haruru Falls, but the walk was described as one and a half hours, which we roughly calculated as about 5 km – too far for T’s feet. When asked, the booking agent said we didn’t have to do the walk…pause…so D asked ‘How do we get back, then?’ The look on the booking agent’s face said ‘Gotcha!’ You paddle back, he said.

So that’s what we did. Hired a two person kayak for half a day and paddled to the falls, oohed! and aahed! and paddled back. We did attempt to land on the mangrove flats to have some lunch on the way back, but the mud was too much of a challenge – for a while we struggled to free the kayak, and it was only beached by its nose.

We had a bit of time left on our half day hire, but opted not to go out into the bay, as the wind had freshened and conditions were not conducive to relaxing travel.

Shopping for the ingredients for the evening meal proved another small challenge requiring assistance from the self-service checkout supervisor, not once, not twice…don’t move the bag or items till….so, we departed the store without the potatoes and red chillies. In fact we couldn’t find red chillies in any supermarket, so resorted to a canned, pre-mixed red curry (very ordinary but filling enough). While dinner simmered it was time to be introduced to the first of The Hobbit films. Well, thought T…good & evil, fear, courage, obstacles, a bit of magic and lots of costume cleverness… that’s it. We’ll have to watch films 2&3 to see just how much film time actually happens in Hobbiton.