They would stand still until we got close, and then all we saw was a white cotton tail disappearing into the bushes.
Just as things appeared hopeless, we began to hear a faint whooshing in the distance. At first we thought it was the wind rustling the upper branches of the trees, but the rhythmic pattern told us it was the sound of the ocean in the distance.
I'd like to say that we quickened our pace, but the rolling hills and soft sand we had been hiking through had made us fairly tired. With every step we took it became more apparent that the ocean was getting closer. We rounded a bend in the path, exited the forest and entered a section of bushes and short scrubby trees. Beyond these to our left was ostensibly the ocean, but we had to hike parallel to the beach for a hundred yards or so before the path turned to the shoreline.
Our efforts were rewarded tenfold. The beach rolled out a white carpet of fine sand. Except for the sea gulls, the entire seven miles of beach was ours. The most avid collector would not have been disappointed as the beach was studded with numerous examples of large, uncracked shells. It didn't take us long to shed our shoes and socks as we headed to wade in the water. It was cool and refreshing on our tired feet. The shore sloped ever so gently to the east, and when we wandered out too far, the surf pushed us back towards shore like a sheep dog preventing a stray from getting too far from the flock.
We walked hand-in-hand along the edge of the sand, stopping every so often to inspect an interesting shell. We found a curious wedge shaped shell that would split horizontally into two pie shapes of the same size. The inside revealed a maze of channels and pits where the animal lived. Later, we found five of the wedges connected in their original circular form. Since neither of us could identify this curious shell, we carefully took one back with us to see if our hosts at the B&B could help us.
After walking a good distance along the shore our common sense won out over our desire to stay longer. As we returned to the path, we walked on the dry sand to absorb the water from our feet so that the remaining sand could be easily brushed from our feet and comfortably inserted into our waiting shoes, ready for the hike back.
It didn't seem to take us long to hike back because the path was more familiar. As we rounded the final turn, we were glad to see our red Fiat patiently waiting for us by the lake. It started up on the first turn of the key, as usual. This was the end our day's adventures. Before long we were driving quickly back to the B&B.
We passed a few cars heading in the opposite direction -- people heading back from work or shopping, we surmised. We only stopped once at a rise in the road to take a long distance shot of the B&B as it stood majestically on its own hill facing the golden setting sun.
Back at the B&B, Tony and Colleen were busy finishing the day's activities and getting dinner ready. We showed them a specimen of the curious wedge shaped shell that we had found on the beach. Tony disappeared for a moment and returned from the upstairs library with a marine biology book. He identified the shell as that of a type of sand dollar native to South Seas. We went upstairs to shower and get ready for dinner. The aroma of roast leg of lamb beckoned us downstairs, so we followed our noses to the kitchen. The table was now set with the good china and a clean lace tablecloth. Directly in the middle of the table was a silver condiment set which consists of a pepper shaker, mustard pot, and salt pot with a small spoon. We found out that in humid climates, salt cakes-up in a shaker and will not come out. With a spoon, you can avoid that problem. Our list of souvenirs to find had just become longer.
The menu consisted of roasted leg of lamb, roasted pared potatoes, local vegetables, mint sauce, bread and butter, tea and milk. Janet broke down and had her first taste of New Zealand lamb and enjoyed it immensely. I stopped asking for more after my third helping since it was getting embarrassing, even though I probably could have eaten the whole roast. For dessert we had homemade steamed pudding and ice cream with toffee chips. We retired to the living room. Tony restoked the fire until it began to roar. We discussed the day's events for a while and gave our dinner a chance to settle in. Tom, the cat, appeared from his well hidden resting spot and played with anyone who was willing to pick up a piece of yarn. There were many scraps of yarn to be found from previous play sessions and because this is the room where Colleen normally spun wool into yarn for her weaving.
Janet asked Colleen for a demonstration of how the spinning wheel works, but after a short explanation, instead found herself seated in front of it getting a first hand lesson in spinning. After an hour, she had accumulated two full bobbins which were then spun into a skein of finished yarn.
As the spinning wheel slowed to a stop, so too, our energy had faded from us for the day, so we said our good-nights and retired to our bedroom upstairs.
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Chapter 4, April 14: The Drive to Rotorua
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Nobody really likes to leave a comfortable setting. This was especially true since this was our first experience in New Zealand. Janet felt that these were the 'nicest people in the world'. For some reason, maybe to lessen the pain of departing, I bet Janet that she would like the people at the farm stay even more. Time would prove me to be right, but our next stop was Rotorua, about half way to the farm.
We started the chore of packing as we got ready for the day. Breakfast was a carbon copy of the two previous days, but you can never tire of good food. While we ate our breakfast, Colleen sat down, had a cup of tea, and steered the conversation. First, she told us that we had the distinction of being the first people to actually visit their beach. She explained that many people stay for one night and only get to hear about it. Next, she mentioned that she was tracing her genealogy and needed some help obtaining the address of some people in California with the same last name. We gladly agreed to help her when we got back to the States.
After breakfast, we finished packing and then met Colleen in her woven goods showroom. Both Janet and I had made previous excursions there to get a preview of the available items. Janet had her eye on a few items, and with Colleen's help in selecting from those displayed and those stored away, chose a number of items: dresser runners, placemats, blanket, and wall hanging. I paid for the B&B room charges, previous night's dinner, and all the woven goods with my Visa card. Some things that we wanted had to be made for us, so these items would be shipped to us later.
We said our good-byes and headed out their long driveway to the main road. Even Marmaduke, who was still tied-up in a shady spot, was out to say baa-ye baa-ye, and we waved at him, too.
Not many miles south from the B&B we found the New Zealand Earth Station. If Janet had been driving, I'm sure we would have flown past, but I couldn't resist making this the second stop on the 'techno-tour'.
The New Zealand Earth Station is the location of the antenna dishes that connect New Zealand telephones and television to an orbiting satellite. The small visitors center was not crowded, and we spent a few minutes reading a couple of the displays explaining their communications network, and then went outside to take a picture of the biggest antenna with a flock of sheep grazing in the background to show how two diverse centuries could coexist.
We didn't stop again until we were just north of the city of Auckland. There, from a ubiquitous road side picnic table, we viewed Red Beach, a popular day trip for Auckland residents, and prepared for another drive in the big city.
With the map in her left hand and the experience that we gained from our last visit, Janet was able to successfully direct us to the intersection of Queen and Customs streets, and, after a few trips around the block, into a parking structure. The elevator took us up into a shopping arcade where small produce stands were selling their goods next to bookstores and small specialty shops. Many people were busily making their day's purchases. The noise that was generated grated on our ears which had become accustomed to the peace and quiet of the previous days.
We looked through a few book stores to find a New Zealand cookbook, but failed to find one to our liking. We exited the building, and wandered around Queen Street stopping here and there to browse in the stores and purchase a souvenir or two. In a small shop just two doors from the wharf we purchased three carved kiwi birds -- probably the best bargain that we found on the trip. We then exchanged some traveler's checks, and made our way to the top of the Park Royal Hotel where I had a beer and Janet had an Amaretto. As we rested, we enjoyed the view of the city and tried to spot the Art Museum which was just out of view behind a tall building. Backtracking through the shopping arcade, we found our car and left Auckland as quickly as we had entered. The road south was a freeway for several miles, and then returned to the usual two lane paved road that we had become used to in our travels through the Northland.
On the way to Rotorua, we stopped at the city of Hamilton for a break in the drive. We found the local AA office and were again loaded up with all the local maps that we could ever want by yet another friendly agent. We knew that we were on the threshold of the wine country, so we found a liquor store and purchased two bottles of local wine for later consumption. The only two times the driver was forced to stop was when the gas gauge read empty; in this case we would stop for gas, a couple of Cadbury chocolate bars and sodas, or when Janet saw the word 'Crafts' or 'Antiques' on any type of building; in this case we would go in to look at what was for sale.
We could tell we were getting close to Rotorua when we began to see steam escaping from holes in the ground and to smell the sulfurous redolence that pervades the air. We didn't have directions to our motel, and couldn't find the street on the map. We stopped for directions at the library. They had no trouble directing us to the Fern Leaf Motel. It turned out that we were only a few blocks away, so we arrived right on schedule. The proprietors of the small motel, Stuart and Gwen Bloxham, had recently moved from England to run the sixteen units and had already made a few improvements. Gwen appeared from a sitting room and entered the adjoining front desk area to check us in. She gave us a local map showing the tourist traps of the thermal area, a place where we could go for a hike, the local restaurant district, the key to our room, and the map to the farm stay that had been sent to her by an efficient travel agent. A quick tour of the grounds showed us the mineral pool, swimming pool, and laundry facilities.
Our unit was right up front. It had a kitchenette, dining area, living room, bedroom, and bathroom. There were signs in the kitchen and bath warning you to watch out for the extremely hot water coming from the faucet. Morbid curiosity made me test the accuracy of the signs, so I turned on the faucet to see if they were really true. Even before the water had time to come up to temperature, I had to pull my finger quickly from the stream of water to avoid second degree burns. With all the natural thermal springs, hot water was easily had.
We simply tossed our opened suitcases on the spare bed, took Gwen's advice and walked two blocks to the business district where many restaurants are located. The restaurant that she had suggested did not look too good from the outside. |
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