It’s a sign

There’s no, er, pussyfooting around with this newly-erected sign I walked past this morning. The one on the other side of the house where this cat lover lives is less graphic (literally) but equally emphatic. It’s on a route I’ve often followed and where, oddly, I’ve never seen hide nor hair of a feline. I’d hate to think these signs are retrospective…

But this one did remind me of another walk I did, in Québec in 2014, on a Silversea cruise from Boston to Montreal [pause for deep sigh]. I did about 8km wandering the streets of Sept-Îles one quiet, cold but sunny Sunday, which was pleasant. The most memorable thing for me, apart from learning that KFC is PFK in French, was coming across this road sign. Suggests that maybe the Canadians aren’t quite as polite and well-behaved as their national image would have us believe, n’est-ce pas?

 

Aaand here we go again...

 

This post is a blatant cheat, inspired purely by guilt. It's not, despite the date, and the photo, a cheery greeting to you [all] at the start of a new year, full of hope for the joy and interest it will bring. In actual fact, today is mid-July, past halfway through a year that has continued with the dreary sequence of horrible events around the world that has been the norm for so, so long now, to which we have become accustomed, if not inured.

Even the photo is a lie, since I took it in April as I walked home from my coffee run to Oneroa - clearly the work of some visitor as loose with the facts as I am today.

So why am I writing this? Good question (as every single interviewee these days begins every single answer, while they desperately concoct their reply). Habit, personal pressure, reluctance to accept, despite plenty of proof, that my travel-writing career is over - but mainly mild defiance that the blog's concept (see upper right) of travelling resulting in connection around the world is these days a disadvantage, given all the disasters, wars and dissent that daily comprise the news.

When you've been to places, met the people, eaten the food, admired the scenery and learned some of the history, you carry them with you ever after, so what happens to them, happens to you in some degree. World events then aren't just some item on the news to sit through while you wait for the weather forecast, but something you can identify with, sympathise with, feel. And that has to be a good thing, surely? Ignorance may be bliss, but knowledge is better.

Meantime, there is always a bit of good to find in anything, even the thick and persistent fog that meant getting to my daughter across the city took three hours yesterday: because of it, I discovered the previously unknown to me existence of the fogbow. Which today made it onto threeNews -

Season’s Greetings

I took this photo two days ago. Today it’s windy and grey, and tomorrow, Christmas Day, will probably be the same. We Kiwis do like to boast about our summer Christmases to our northern hemisphere friends but, honestly, the weather on the day itself isn’t usually that great. Certainly not often as glorious as in the photo (that’s a pohutukawa in the foreground, our native Christmas tree - it’s been a stupendous season for their blooms this year).

It really doesn’t matter about the weather - in fact, for the majority of us following the roast dinner tradition, it’s actually preferable. We know the sun will be back in a day or two, and certainly for New Year’s Day, which is guaranteed glorious. And since we had cyclones and stuff last summer, that means we’re due a good one overall this time round, eh? 

Anyway, enjoy your Christmas wherever you’re having it. I hope you have good times. 

Best place to go? Not Ingham

I see Ingham's in the news again. It's only been 80 years since the last time. 

Today it's because northern Queensland has been hit, yet again, by dreadful floods and, in amongst all the other misery they are causing, there's the inevitable Aussie problem of displaced wildlife. In this case, it's a croc in the middle of Ingham, a small town of fewer than 6,000 doughty banana-benders, causing some  excitement before its being caught - by harpoon, unexpectedly. It was only 2.5m, nowhere near the 5m+ that they regularly boast about up there, but big enough to be a nuisance, certainly.

I visited Ingham 10 years ago, on a Queensland famil, and was distinctly underwhelmed by the town, not helped by some hiccups in the itinerary. Its only other claim to fame is also a negative one: that it's the actual location and inspiration for the Slim Dusty song 'A Pub with No Beer'.

That was because, in 1943, a contingent of US soldiers had passed through and literally drunk every drop of beer, to the disgust next day of Irish farmer Dan Sheahan, who had ridden his horse for 20 miles into town, lured by the vision of a foaming pint. Admirably, fobbed off with a glass of warm white wine, he wrote a poem instead of getting angry, and in 1957 the song that resulted became Australia's most successful single.

The pub, in 2013 anyway, was still a brightly-lit, basic place full of leathery old boozers, its only nod to sophistication the wide-screen TVs on the walls. I did a review of it anyway, which you can read here. Earlier that year they'd done a 70th anniversary re-enactment of the draining of the town's beer, with an audience of thousands. The town itself had little else of note, and would have been hell for a hungry vegetarian. 

The most notable bit of that whole visit was when we went to a nearby cattle station for a farm tour. No-one there knew anything about it, so I just went to the toilet instead. When I flushed it, two small brown frogs were washed out from under the rim, and disappeared down the loo. Still feel bad about that.

Oh, and one other thing that I learned from the flood reports - there's apparently a town in Queensland called Yorkeys Knob. Not in the least surprised to read that.

Waiheke Walking Festival - Earning nosh

I paid for this outing myself. I know!

Since walking 100km last week wasn't enough, I headed off to Onetangi again this morning on another of the Waiheke Walking Festival's offerings - the much gentler, and gastronomically rewarding, Progressive Lunch.

We set off along the beach again, lamenting the fact that insurance costs have recently been hiked up so far that the classic, fund-raising Onetangi Beach Races won't be taking place this summer, and headed up the hill. It took us no time at all to stroll past sprouting vineyards, and a couple of unexpected turkeys, to the lovely Casita Miro, where I hadn't been for ages. 

Since my last visit, they've got into mosaic work, big-time, and it was fun to see the latest project, the wall alongside the driveway, taking shape. I've done my share of mosaicking, and could admire the skill and detail. 

At the cellar door, we all (50+ of us) streamed in under the high ceiling and sat eagerly waiting for our entrée course, which was a pleasant sliced potato dish and a triumphant goat's cheese croqueta, which was so delicious, I could have eaten six and gone home happy. The rosé was good too.

We carried on, through more rolling vineyards to Te Motu, where we settled in on the long benches at The Shed with its open sides for the main course - beef eye fillet, burnt parsnip, chimichurri and cauli rice. It was a bit of a long wait, but well worth it, and everyone was fully into the mood by now, chattering away happily and clinking glasses (smooth red for me this time). The food was excellent, and we were fully fuelled for the next section, through more vineyards - Stonyridge and Tantalus - and past a beer brewery and a gin distillery. Honestly, Waiheke can supply just about any alcoholic desire.

We had a lovely taste of nature next, trailing through bush, up a hill, through a leafy nikau forest, along a boardwalk, over a bridge, up steps and along some quiet roads past a scattering of very nice houses, and finally down again back to the beach.

The weather had been lovely, but clouded over now as we sat outside at Charlie Farley's, eager for our pudding. Apple and blueberry pie, with icecream, and more rosé, since you ask - all very yummy - plus plenty more chatter. What a lovely way to spend a day, getting just enough exercise to earn all that delicious food, without any of the serious exertion involved in last week's Te Ara Hura expedition. I can't wait for next year's Walking Festival. Great job, guys!

Te Ara Hura, Day 5 - Saving the best till last

With thanks to Walk Waiheke for this famil

This was going to be the best day, I had already decided; and despite less than ideal weather thanks to ex-tropical cyclone Lola, I wasn't disappointed - though it was up against stiff opposition from the first half of Day 2. We set off from the marae at Blackpool and climbed up through the bush, around the headland past Cable Bay (where, er, the electricity cable comes ashore) and into Church Bay. The timing of the entire walk was dictated by the height of the tide along this section, so we could go along the various beaches.

This bit of the island, like the Bottom End, is where the really rich people live (or, have homes) and we passed some pretty impressive buildings tucked away in, usually, private spaces. They have great views out across the water towards Rangitoto, Motuihi and the skyscrapers of the distant city, and I bet they get some spectacular sunsets.

After a while we got onto a more familiar section, where the Sculpture Walk trail takes place every two years, and we went past a corten steel piece that I particularly liked from last time, which evidently the property owner did too, and bought it. After that we continued around the coast, through bush, up and down steps, and eventually arrived at the ferry terminal at Matiatia where, since it was wet and windy, we went inside to eat our lunches.

After that we headed on around the bays, a lovely walk I've done before with more excellent views and big houses with gardens dotted with artworks, and a vineyard with a zebra sculpture, right the way round to, once more, our starting point on Oneroa Beach, 100km and five days ago (by which time, having been busy taking multiple photos of the inside of my pocket, my phone had died). There was a cheerful speech, a presentation, many thanks, some tears and then a group move up the hill to the fish and chip shop for rewards both liquid and solid.

So. The weather (cheers, Lola) could have been better for views and colours - though there would then have been considerably more sweat. There were sections that I really didn't enjoy, plodding along with nothing to think about but my sore feet and aching legs. And - well, and nothing else negative. All the rest was just lovely: the new bits, the private bits, the local stories, the guides' enthusiasm, and especially being part of such a positive group.

It was interesting how, initially, the chat was all about other walks people had done (very impressive, multiple Caminos plus every other one - including *cough* the Inca Trail). Then it got a bit more personal, about people's lives and families - and, finally, there were really deep conversations about relationships, health, death, career choices, mistakes and successes. Also, how long to hard-boil an egg, and the recipe for a Pornstar Cocktail. The scenery was lovely, the effort was satisfying (afterwards) but the company was best. Would recommend.

Te Ara Hura , Day 4 - Roosters, ducks and dotterels

 With thanks to Walk Waiheke for this famil

Setting off today under an encouragingly clearing sky, we enjoyed the sun slanting down through the leaves above us as we walked through Whakanewha Regional Park, following the Mamaku and Nikau Tracks. It was beautiful, with waterfalls, green ferny leaves and shafts of sunlight, and Sarah's suggestion to have ten minutes of reflective silence as we walked went down well with everyone.

At the bottom we followed Dotties Lane along the coast, taking care on the beaches to keep well clear of dotterel nesting sites. We headed up and over the hill to follow the road down to eclectic Rocky Bay, where the store has seen better days but the Omiha Memorial Hall opposite is apparently the place to go for arty events and the occasional cream tea.

It was a long walk from there up and over the hills and along the road past the Te Whau winery and the sports park roostery for our lunch stop at Ostend. En route though, we had classic Waiheke brilliant blue sea framed by pohutukawa - just gorgeous. While we ate we had a couple of families with ducklings keeping us company as we sprawled over the playground near where all the houseboats are moored - or, today, stranded on low-tide sand.

We carried on then, along tracks I'd never seen beside a road I travel often, and passed into very familiar territory at Surfdale and finally Blackpool beach. There we finished the day with another little treat - the walk organiser met us, opening her car boot to reveal a basket of local wines and beers. We were just below the town of Oneroa where the Island Gelato shop drew many walkers up for more rewards after another day of solid effort.