Historic Tauranga Bridge
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 29
There are dramas at the petrol pumps at some New Zealand garages because of a computer glitch, blamed on the Leap Year. My wife, Marie and I are in the Land of the Long White Cloud on an 18-day holiday, and, fortunately, we have enough petrol to get us from Tauranga in the Bay of Plenty, to our next destination, Gisborne in Poverty Bay. There is a huge P O ship – ‘Majestic’ – at Tauranga. One group from the ship – Kiwis by the sound of their accent – ask a (Indian) cabbie how much to be driven to Jean Batten Drive, here in Tauranga. They recoil in horror when they are quoted $45.
I get New Zealand Herald at Four Square supermarket and lady who serves me wants to talk about the closure of the ‘News Hub’, one of the mainstream TV news bulletins here, and what it means for journalism. A young male worker at the supermarket had also engaged me in conversation about the future of newspapers. “I used to read them, when I was 14,” he says. A bloke wears a t-shirt, with the message ‘Unvaccinated Lives Matter’. It’s funny – I had been chatting with a mate in Australia yesterday, who was convinced some untimely deaths he had become aware of in recent times, were down to ‘the vaccine’.
Leeds v Chelsea FA Cup match is on television as we check out of our motel. The range of sports channels here has been sensational. Heading out of Tauranga, we dodge the toll road, not because we are cheap skates, but because we hate the hassle of paying on-line. Besides, we want to see some of the countryside, and, in the process of taking the long way round, we drive through Te Puke, which calls itself the Kiwi Fruit Capital of the World.
Pies for lunch at bakery at Opotiki before negotiating the Waioeka Gorge and Kahikatea Range. The bitumen road was only opened in 1962 and was quite an engineering feat, with three men losing their lives in the construction process. We stop at Tauranga Bridge for a leg stretch. It was built over the Gorge in 1922 by the Public Works Department to provide access to sheep farms access up the Tauranga Valley.
We have a lovely upstairs suite at Pacific Harbour Motel in Gisborne, overlooking Turanganui River, New Zealand’s shortest river. Kids jump into the water from the disused rail bridge, as we head to the docks. Wind and rain forces us indoors, as we enjoy a glass of wine at Gisborne Wine Centre’s courtyard. Outside Lone Star Tavern there is a large Maori chap in a pink tutu, who is worse for wear. His mates are trying to coax him back inside. Marie and I dine in Wharf Bar – fish and chips (moi), mussels (Marie). Not bad, but not cheap.
FRIDAY, MARCH 1
Gisborne’s Captain Cook statue is still in one piece – not a hint of vandalism, in a place that is more Maori than most in New Zealand. Just down the path is another statue (also intact) of Young Nick (Nicholas Young), the first crew member on Cook’s Endeavour, to sight the mainland. There are numerous logging trucks going to the harbour, where Bunun Miracle (bound for Tauranga next) is being loaded. The Gisborne Herald is only $3, and has a lovely yarn about local lass, Yvette Williams, who broke the world long jump record at Childers Park, in her home town, Gisborne, on February 20, 1954. The Herald has a full page of rugby league, including an article in which NRL legend, Paul Gallen tips the Warriors to win the premiership. We drive north to Tolaga Bay and check out its historic, 500metre wharf. We had planned to drive down to Waikau Beach, but the road looked too dodgy, and there was a burnt out vehicle at the start of the trip, which wasn’t encouraging.
Television newsman, recounting history of Wellington’s Basin Reserve (scene of the current New Zealand-Australia cricket Test) mentions that it also has hosted a stack of other sports, including athletics and ‘AFL’. But no mention of the fact Rugby League Tests have been played there. Another plot by Aussie rules people.
After a river walk to Anzac Park, Marie and I enjoy drinks at Gisborne’s busy Sunshine Brewery. The Pipeline Pilsener is excellent. Three ‘old dears’ near us, tuck into schooners. Back at our motel we watch start of the Super Rugby Weekend in Melbourne – Auckland v Otago. There is no-one there. Sonny Bill Williams still struggles to express himself in commentary.
SATURDAY, MARCH 2
There is a lone ‘Ceasefire in Gaza’, (female) protestor at the Farmer’s Market in Stout Street. Across the road, in Kelvin Park, two Palestinian flags are flying above what is primarily a craft market. I would hope Israeli flags were flying in solidarity with the Jewish State, after Hamas murdered civilians on October 7, 2023. Marie buys plum and pear chutney from the ‘Relish This’ stall. Then we buy meat from No. 8 Lowe Street Butchers.
Today’s drive takes us to south to Mahia and Mahia Beach, places recommended by the butcher. We checked out the rail bikes as an option on the way, but the business is not operating. It is a wild, beautiful part of the world. Not classically beautiful, but interesting. There is a Rocket Cafe at Mahia, named after the commercial Space Lab on the peninsula. We buy ice creams from the general store, opposite the pub at Mahia Beach. There is so much fried chicken in the hot tray and that always seem to be the case over here. Speaking of rockets – the Kiwis are putting a satellite into space – from the USA – to measure the methane levels from farm animals. I kid you not. The Greenies will do anything to stop us eating beef or dairy products.
We return to the motel via one drink at the brewery, where barmaid says she usually goes to the Gold Coast in March. There is a Samoa v Tonga under-20s rugby match on TV, and the commentator compares the Samoan number 15 to Israel Folau.
In the Philippines, my sister, Gay Lynch and her husband, David snorkel around a Japanese gunboat sunk by the Americans in World War II. They are on the start of a World trip, in their first year in retirement.
SUNDAY, MARCH 3
‘Vintage’ cars in our street make me think I am back in in our home village of Samford, where there are regular car events. As I buy coffee, the stall holder converses with a tall, local chap, asking him about his navel oranges. “I ploughed them into the ground ages ago,” he replies. “There was no profit margin. Just sheep and beef now.” There is a Harley Davidson group staying at our motel, again bringing back memories of home, given Samford is a big Sunday destination for bikers.
Marie and I head inland to the Eastwood Hill National Arboretum, hoping to have lunch, but the cafe is closed. It is a wet day and the volunteers obviously thought no-one would turn-up, so they didn’t turn-up. But two volunteers in the reception/merchandise are delightful, and rustle up scones and cakes. We walk for about 90 minutes, in the woods.
Back in Gisborne, we walk town looking for a bar showing the NRL double header from Las Vegas. No luck. The place is dead on a Sunday, and the few TVs tuned into sport are showing Super Rugby and car racing. We settle on The Rivers Pub, where there is an Irish music session. They are amateurs and to begin with, the music is hard on the ears, but they pick up. They even sing my favourite Dubliners’ song, ‘Rare Old Times’. The fellow who sings the song, has his Swiss/Italian wife with him, and she also participates in the session.
MONDAY, MARCH 4
“We are all born ignorant, but it takes a special effort to remain stupid.” So says the message on one of the many gum boots on a fence at White Pine Bush, on our trip from Gisborne to Lake Tarawera, where we stay in Te Miro Cottage on the banks of the lake’s Waitangi Bay, not far from Rotorua. We are greeted by lovely Ngaire Callaghan, 84, who lives on site in the family home, built by her late husband, Neil.
Learn of the passing of dual rugby superstar, Lewis Jones, aged 91. Jones played for Wales and the British and Irish Lions in rugby union, and for Great Britain and Wales in rugby league. He played club league for Leeds in England and Wentworthville – at the end of his career – in Australia.
TUESDAY, MARCH 5
New Zealand’s National Woodchop Titles will be held in Palmerston North this weekend, and a young competitor is interviewed on TV1. To some extent, I think the female presenter takes the piss out of the bloke, who is competing in a traditional, noble, international sport. It is not a sideshow event, like the World Manu titles in Auckland. (See previous diary entry).
Marie and I walk the lake shore from our residence to Kariri Point. It is such a beautiful walk, despite strong winds. There has been wild weather in New Zealand, with a house in Greymouth losing its roof. We saw a quail family at the start of the walk.
Cronulla Sharks’ visit to New Zealand for match against the Warriors on Friday night, tops the television sports news. It’s a huge advance for rugby league over here, when you consider that back in the pre-Winfield Cup/NRL days, the 13-man code struggled for publicity against the might of rugby union. In 1961 the Kangaroos played North Island Maori at Rotorua Showgrounds, where there were no dressing rooms, with players having to change on the bus. There were plenty of stiff arms from the home side, with Australian skipper, Barry Muir confronting referee, John Percival, asking for sanity to prevail. Back in Brisbane today, the Norths’ Devils, a club Muir coached in the 1980s, visit Boondall State School. At the start of the TVNZ news there is a story about the NZ Prime Minister’s Air Force plane not being fit to fly, so he (Christopher Luxon) has to catch a commercial flight. Embarrassing, but things are not much better in Australia, with our military, from what I can gather, with ships sitting at anchor because there are no crews.
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