Does anyone work around here?

A week from a tearful farewell to Steve and Elisabeth and we’re back out to the airport to collect Dave and Jodie. Awesome.

Learning our camp ground error from the trip with the folks we headed up the east coast to a DOC site knowing only that it was somewhere off the highway between Mangawhai and Ruakaka. We finally stumbled across it based in Uretiti, a town name providing great mirth and killer banter from our fellow Brits.

Brother in law Ben had lent us his wagon despite our previous track record with borrowing people’s cars and breaking them. (seriously, 3 other cars had not been so lucky) Brother in laws are great, they’re like brothers but better cause they still help you and yet never pick on you. I think I have a particularly good one.

We scoped the site and found an awesome pitch, secluded, flat, near a tap, a loo and beside a massive pine tree providing much needed shade. I had to put this pic in below, we started pitching at the same time and 20 minutes later Dave and Jodie were still….um…pitching, or rather, looking at the tent, looking at the poles, looking at each other, looking at the tent….you get the gist.

Pete took over and Camp Uretiti was made. No… Uretiti.

As the rain clouds began to blow over we headed over the dunes to the beach and were greeted by heaven. For the next four days we didn’t budge.

And it was here that we spent Pete’s 28th Birthday. We began the day with Pete’s favourite breakfast - eggs benedict, complete with hollandaise and bacon (no mean feat on a couple of mini bunsens). Surfing was the order of the day for Pete and while Dave, Jodie and I lay back on the dunes with our books he bobbed about out in the ocean watching baby rollers hit the shore while trying desperately not to make eye contact with the nudist swimmers.

We spent days on the beach and evenings drinking homebrew, stumbling through the dark to the loo and generally putting the world to right. Life doesn’t get better than this.

Day three and we took a drive further in land to check out a hike through farmland to caves filled with stalagmites. (this is how you spell stalagmites, I looked it up, and all these years you’ve been saying stalagnites eh?)

On the way we were lured by a sign saying ‘waterfall’ and turned off down the metal road. About halfway down and Pete and I started getting a strong sense of deja vu. When we finally drew up to the waterfall track we realised that we’d been lured by this very same sign before. Good job tourism New Zealand.

We’d barely reached the base of the falls and Pete was down to his shorts. The water was icy and he plunged in like it was a hot bath. I tried to play my ‘freak em out with eels’ stories but Pete’s brazenness had ruined any chance I had and Dave was in minutes behind him.

Pete ever the supportive mate pissed himself laughing as Dave lamaze breathed his way across the pool toward the base of the falls.

Eventually we left our Uretiti Oasis and headed back to Auckland to celebrate my 30th, yep, 30th, but that’s another blog.

We took a day trip down to Rotorua, cause you just gotta show foreigners Rotorua. I wasn’t super excited about the trip as we’d been there just recently with the olds but that was until we came across this.

This thing in the pic above? was the best contraption I have ever been on. It made your stomach bottom out and your eyeballs roll around in your head searching in desperation for a steady horizon. It was like being on a roller coaster…only better and it was so simple. Just a curved vertical bar and a platform for your feet and the whole thing swung round like a spinning top. I have never laughed so much in my life.

Pete and I love Adventure Parks and in all honesty there’s not a single ride in them that gives me the willies and this, this poley, spinny thing? as soon as you got on it you felt so mixed up it was all you could do to hold on for dear life. It was kind of like spinning with your head on a broom handle and then trying to walk along a cliff edge.

Then it was off to the luge.

Pete had something to prove as the first time we came to Rots I raced him down three tracks and won every time. In the year we’ve now spent in NZ he’s a changed man, racing a go kart down a mountain? pah, like swotting at flies to Pete. Brakes? who needs brakes, I didn’t stand a chance. A new bench mark has been set.

Dave exercised a little more caution, letting loose on the strips and breaking heavily on the bends. Jodie, well Jodie was different, lets just say there was a enough time at the bottom waiting for Jodie for us to decant the race and smoke a cigarette.

Coming back up on the luge chairlift.

Posing with luge helmets: Pete’s doing an Evel Knievil pose while I fancy myself as a Formula One Champ, Jodie’s got the hot lady that drops the flags to start the race pose.

Guess what’s got our attention?

Ooh, mud burp.

This picture is called. I AM DAVE.

And like all good kiwi adventures, we ended this one in the pub, watching the …um, Superbowl.

The morning after and Dave and Jodie flew out to a cyclone damaged Fiji. It had been so good to have them here and is nice to think they’ll be back in New Zealand again one day soon.

Best of all the car survived, ahem… minus three hub caps.

The day was finally here……

 

Finally, finally, finally the day of Cass and Fletcher’s wedding was here!

Cass, Chris and I woke early, attempted to rouse Mel to no avail and so threw on our trackies and strode out into the crisp morning air for a walk.  Halfway up Tairua’s mount, Chris started complaining of a gammy knee and I of stomach cramps as we watched Cass flitting nimbly up the muddy track ahead of us. I tried to reason with myself that she was fuelled by happiness but shamefully I realise she was just far fitter.

An hour later and we arrived back at the batch to find it alive with people. 8am and the hairdresser was already busy pulling boxes of rollers and bobby pins from her car seat. The makeup artist was close behind and Mel and Odette were up, showered and knocking back coffee. While Don laboured over a fry up in the kitchen, Cathy moved with purpose through a list of last minutes and the boys wandered about on the deck looking sleepy trying desperately not to get underfoot.

The day had begun…

 

The hairdresser lady was just awesome. I never knew my hair could have such oomph. I felt like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Coco the Clown and kept bouncing my head about like a nodding dog.

 

As morning turned to afternoon Chris and I calmed a few jitters by swilling back the last of the heavy on the gin, Gin Tea Sara had made that morning.

The photo below was taken just before Odette walked out through the ranch slider, bumped into something and tipped a glass of gin tea straight down the front of her dress. Her face was just like that moment in Jerry Maguire. Dorothy…. pacing up and down the kitchen, panicking about her desire for Jerry and she walks smack into a plate full of curry that her sisters holding. Her face is a perfect mixture of acute alarm and relenting resignation. We looked at Odette and gasped hands to mouths. Mum’s the first to regain composure, ‘no probs, it’ll dry’ she says slightly high pitched but with the wisdom and calmness of motherhood. Yes of course we all nodded wide eyed, sceptical. Thank god minutes later… it had.

Up until this day in Tairua it had rained.  Every day, the air had been heavy with moisture and then on the morning of the wedding the clouds began to clear and by midday the sun was pouring through them so ferociously it made me panic about my lack of SPF and large areas of exposed skin. 

3:25 we piled into our cars and seconds later we were at the reserve. 5 groomsmen met our 5 bridesmaids and we walked arm in arm through the crowd towards the estuary where Fletch waited for Cass looking happy, relaxed and incredibly composed.

 

The Nutes played their ukulele’s as Cass walked beaming up the aisle between Henry and Don. I didn’t need to look down the row to know each bridesmaid was desperately swallowing down tears and puffing out their chests with great pride at seeing one of ours looking  glamorous, happy and deserving.

 

 

If either of them were nervous it didn’t show. Both Cass and Fletch just seemed chuffed to bits with the moment and rolled off their vows with ease.

Then in a flash it was over, the bride had been kissed and they’d been pronounced husband and wife. Cass was no longer a Hogg but a Dunning. I never get over that, the ceremony part, the whole day seems geared towards this one moment and yet blink and you’ll miss it.

 

Beautiful mum xx

 

The maids. 

 

Then the bridal party took off for photo’s. While waiting about for the photographer’s direction we gathered on the edge of a wooden pier, the sun sinking in the sky above and the tide rising in the estuary below, Chris turned to us all and said, “what’s the difference between marmalade and jam?”. We looked at each other, silk dresses blowing gently in the breeze, the men hansom in their white shirts, “you can’t marmalade your cock up your girlfriends arse” she said. HA. The blokes let rip their laughter, I looked at Mel holding back my grin, she looked at me and let out a cackle. You can take the girl out of Beach Haven but you can’t take the Beach Haven out of the girl eh.

We hit the beach, the pier and an old tug for pictures and finally headed back to the bowling club for speeches and toasting, lots of toasting.

 

Getting drunk de drunk drunk drunk drunk.….

 

Cass is the only girl I know who can do ‘saucy minx’ face. Some of us just have it eh.

Fletch was a gem too promising me he’d have words with Pete about the joys of marriage. The days of the subtle hint are over.

 

Because he’s too hansom to leave out.

 

A rare moment off the dance floor. I love wedding music, it’s every good song you grew up with and know all the words to. I dance in a frenzied chaos at every wedding I’ve ever been too. You can imagine the type if you think of the dancer that people smile behind their hands at and oldies pat on the back and say ‘I like your spirit lass’.

 

Shame to have missed it photographically but the head table was lined up in front of the screen in the pic below. One of the bridesmaids Tui got up between speeches to duck to the loo. On her return the father of the groom was mid speech and as she attempted to slip silently past my chair she tripped and slammed hard into the screen with an incredible whack. It took every inch of my will not to dissolve into laughter as I drew both hands up to cover my mouth. I nudged Tui grinning and jokingly moved her champagne glass out of reach, she widened her eyes in pure innocence and tried to explain a previously unseen trip device but I didn’t believe her and nodded mockingly instead. Minutes later and still during speeches the photographer attempted to slip between my chair and the screen and smack tripped straight over the same obstacle. I looked at Tui, she raised her eyebrows at me knowingly, “vindicated mate” I said.

And at this point we wisely put the camera away.

 

The next morning Pete and I drove up over the hill to Pauanui where mum was staying with Lou and Nova. Poor Pete was so hung over he had red blotches on his eyelids. The neurons in his brain fired wantonly as he attempted to unravel the night with us women. Entertaining the baby seemed to be his only forte this day and we left him to it as we digressed all the important stuff like Cass’s dress, the hairstyles and whether our single bridesmaids found love that night……. if Odette were here this blog would get a lot more juicy right about now but best leave that story for her to tell ;)

likely lads…..

Just before Christmas Steve and Elizabeth made the mission out to NZ and from the looks of their pasty complexions off the plane it wasn’t a moment too soon…

Steve hired a 6metre long Maui Camper and the four of us took off for 10days to explore as many highlights of the North we could squeeze in.

In Rotorua it rained…and rained, heavy and monsoon like for 2 days. Puddles like lakes, campsites like wetlands, it was insanely heavy rain. We abandoned camp and headed to the sights.

The highlight of the day, we’d read about a hot water stream an hours drive out of the city called Kerosene Creek. It was what the locals called a natural spa and still a freebie in a city heavily laden with tourism. Taking a metal road off the highway we drove for a further 20 minutes, the back wheels kicking up a dust storm until the road panned out and ended in a line of trees and the start of a small weather beaten dirt track. The creek was puffing out steam like a billy can when we arrived. We must have looked every inch the tourist crew as we stripped down to our togs, each looking nervously towards the scolding bath we were about to endure. A helpful looking maori fella called over to us, “watch out bro, it’s pretty hot tonight ahy”. You could see his cheeks were flushed despite his brown skin.

We waited and watched Pete move towards the waters edge.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the story I’d told everyone earlier that day on a geothermal village tour. I’d swaggered about recounting the tale of the Asian tourist couple that dipped their feet into a thermal pool they’d stumbled across on a nature walk years back and upon finding it cool had rushed back to get their togs on a hot day. When they came back to the pool they leapt into it’s centre only to be boiled alive as the pool had heated up to over 70 degrees in the time they’d been gone. I suddenly felt very responsible that I was about to cook my potential father in law alive.

The following day after the rains Pete and I nipped out to view the gorgeous lake we’d been camping at only a stones throw from our pitch. It was stunning.

And then we were on the move again.

PICK-AH-NICKINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. food food food food food. There was a sallow dead goat on the bank behind us. The waft of decaying flesh was a horrible reminder of the 6 day old Christmas ham now going into our sarnies.

For Christmas Steve bought Pete a very cool rod and we didn’t waste any time getting in it the water.

I actually got home to a note on the bed the other day to say ‘Gone Fishing’, a quote that resonates with the kiwi way of life that Pete had been dying to have a use for.

Wine touring, need I say more?

Plenty of barbies were had. The word on Pete’s lips is ‘FANDANGLE!’, seriously there were sweaters in the 80’s printed with this.

For New Years we were in Napier and being that we all fancied a night of boozing through our wine tour collection we decided to sit tight and slip over to the beach at midnight to watch the fireworks from the Soundshell a couple of bays up the coast.

We played a name game ladies to gents with the blokes scraping in with a 1 point lead and by then suddenly midnight was upon us. When we got down to the beach it was littered with orange lights, as we squatted on the stones it seemed that everyone had a fire but us. Steve and I carefully propped our glasses on the stones and set about making FIRE. We huffed and we puffed, I demanded more kindling, more kindling I got! Elisabeth and Pete watched our crazed frenzy with great mirth until Pete couldn’t stand it anymore and took over my post as Fire Igniter. As midnight drew closer and our pit remained black Steve drew his hand into the air and with great aplomb said, ‘I have an idea’ and took off running towards the ocean. As we watched, Steve approached a group of youths around a fire, reached in and drew forth a burning log. Running up the beach we all silently sung Chariots of Fire in ours heads as he approached and proffered the fire starter. Steve, you’re a legend.

Note to everyone road-tripping about NZ, below is a doc camp (Department of Conservation) We pulled off the single lane forest highway to stretch our legs and found more than a pit stop.

Prior to this we’d been staying in your average campsite and at peak season they were rammed, particularly full of kids. The doc camp although limited in facilities (one loo, a tap and a billy can hook) was practically empty, right on the river bed and wonderfully quiet. I know where we’ll be camping in future.

From Napier we drove onto Gisborne and up to Whakatane. Dolphin country.

After browsing through the pure tourist gold that Whakatane offers we settled on Dolphin Sighting and some Dolphins we did sight!

This is a trip dic goes from: ‘I’m about to go dolphin watching, don’t really believe I’m gonna see one, but I’ll humour the skipper…. to: I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST SAW A DOLPHIN!!!!’

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee hahahahahhahhaha

The first one I saw made me scream. We’d been churning about in the ocean for a couple of minutes, the captain excitedly calling into the mic that dolphins were pooling beneath us and as I strained my eyes out into the ocean a dolphin leapt clean out of the water beside the boat, drew eye level and plunged back into the sea. And all I could do was squeal with delight. Squealing with delight is shocking at 30, no sooner had the sound left my lips than I was looking around to see who could possibly have made that noise…

Happy bows-men.

Nothing like a beach holiday eh?