tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55458663861101887412024-03-16T14:10:55.358+13:00TravelSkite Been there, done that, still gloating...TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.comBlogger1745125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-23597103456160811252023-12-24T17:06:00.000+13:002023-12-24T17:06:10.317+13:00Season’s Greetings<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NLFvVlNEDt2xypSnn3s_D74xHZIr_QFlm-6us-asZCcnpggLcNwAUXEy2htRphdcW6A40ezG4xpo78QC1CxyGtOmYHS4lpVAAWrn9vKvvU8T6WxYovqBrTy6LaBEIGmV7DfRNTlWvLguIZMkJeGl1PTnbloGIgl_XjTYfIwy1TC-wBDr8ISL-Ej2MYo8/s2732/IMG_1914.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2732" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0NLFvVlNEDt2xypSnn3s_D74xHZIr_QFlm-6us-asZCcnpggLcNwAUXEy2htRphdcW6A40ezG4xpo78QC1CxyGtOmYHS4lpVAAWrn9vKvvU8T6WxYovqBrTy6LaBEIGmV7DfRNTlWvLguIZMkJeGl1PTnbloGIgl_XjTYfIwy1TC-wBDr8ISL-Ej2MYo8/w640-h480/IMG_1914.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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).</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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? </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Anyway, enjoy your Christmas wherever you’re having it. I hope you have good times. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKncScc0FO7-4Yya-K9xdvN9zeFRx1fYbVIUZkz8yFDXe5VxXvimOKcFWr9sVSTtsieoYlZCUyQQyHaEaVQG1nJ0EkMxQ_-Gt4iryoqvOPYInER30H3HYRnb3nh-5wVLPhvxcxpULZA0RWfo55BSVU3UTCK0I7ODSgTwzdPp-Pg-3qP_maFjaRPhDrCTe_/s4032/IMG_6468.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKncScc0FO7-4Yya-K9xdvN9zeFRx1fYbVIUZkz8yFDXe5VxXvimOKcFWr9sVSTtsieoYlZCUyQQyHaEaVQG1nJ0EkMxQ_-Gt4iryoqvOPYInER30H3HYRnb3nh-5wVLPhvxcxpULZA0RWfo55BSVU3UTCK0I7ODSgTwzdPp-Pg-3qP_maFjaRPhDrCTe_/w640-h480/IMG_6468.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-34611750054724666892023-12-19T16:37:00.005+13:002023-12-20T08:01:46.775+13:00Best place to go? Not Ingham<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga5ffZs2LKdZ0oCks5SfI5CcEgYEI-Bate-IOT-lEH1-m0wKmNDrYw41-R0I7Pd0_lxO8CFTp2OMJiRGcuyoMrypBknypUjzcQtOKBVleHy3GrrbsD_L89xPPyj2ZgP9nyqtji5Tuj5mEMVbpGQybU7WTmh47SIrw32F42kNt7-vNgFoXdhAQDuczfrVQK/s1369/IMG_1909.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="1369" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga5ffZs2LKdZ0oCks5SfI5CcEgYEI-Bate-IOT-lEH1-m0wKmNDrYw41-R0I7Pd0_lxO8CFTp2OMJiRGcuyoMrypBknypUjzcQtOKBVleHy3GrrbsD_L89xPPyj2ZgP9nyqtji5Tuj5mEMVbpGQybU7WTmh47SIrw32F42kNt7-vNgFoXdhAQDuczfrVQK/w640-h464/IMG_1909.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">I see Ingham's in the news again. It's only been 80 years since the last time. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I visited Ingham <a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2013/11/sublime-to.html" target="_blank">10 years ago</a>, 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'.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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 <a href="https://www.nzherald.co.nz/travel/bar-review-the-pub-with-no-beer-queensland/Y4P6PY4WPJ7MKKP23ELNNPLXVI/" target="_blank">read here</a>. 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. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bMOW-LCEZBmqt0U6hNtAx6oQVw7i6k1qLqjLJwLPebI76RIeYDbjK8-7rCjE-g_X6didGWjJHO187nOfoDbKqAw3a6q-JvYkiZgGla_RUoFEFcfOdOFFhSTMolwu9zDkOWjh92QmJtrGuZQe6ZV8xo0Ayf8SSxKD5anG-dikWZMUrvs8yYTVjurOTFfC/s3264/IMG_2989.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9bMOW-LCEZBmqt0U6hNtAx6oQVw7i6k1qLqjLJwLPebI76RIeYDbjK8-7rCjE-g_X6didGWjJHO187nOfoDbKqAw3a6q-JvYkiZgGla_RUoFEFcfOdOFFhSTMolwu9zDkOWjh92QmJtrGuZQe6ZV8xo0Ayf8SSxKD5anG-dikWZMUrvs8yYTVjurOTFfC/w640-h480/IMG_2989.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-12986968075881021512023-11-02T12:03:00.162+13:002023-12-19T20:19:00.683+13:00Waiheke Walking Festival - Earning nosh<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">I paid for this outing myself. I k</span><i style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">now!</i></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQmxipJusA8zvGlAfVJepXqg1r3VfPYLY-8-rmpB1kZ_0-2wb7_LiTJui2G3L0VqhUFGgstlJasFCy4l_j9Tngfjvx7kEcL4UcFpcbgdcwjW6YWMu2ZPMqI_pzQtEeFRUSBZWebNREDjPq1ml0VDfXEqBoLInSTunxUL5hdc2g8tbUn8pCPf0ZHRhD6X7/s3324/IMG_6242.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2789" data-original-width="3324" height="536" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdQmxipJusA8zvGlAfVJepXqg1r3VfPYLY-8-rmpB1kZ_0-2wb7_LiTJui2G3L0VqhUFGgstlJasFCy4l_j9Tngfjvx7kEcL4UcFpcbgdcwjW6YWMu2ZPMqI_pzQtEeFRUSBZWebNREDjPq1ml0VDfXEqBoLInSTunxUL5hdc2g8tbUn8pCPf0ZHRhD6X7/w640-h536/IMG_6242.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Since walking 100km last week wasn't enough, I headed off to Onetangi again this morning on another of the <a href="https://www.waihekewalkingfestival.org/" target="_blank">Waiheke Walking Festival's</a> offerings - the much gentler, and gastronomically rewarding, Progressive Lunch.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEwSKbSp9VlESYz8-Qago2VbS9xE_7-Jb8uE42G-F5OoJlb5kIsz9M2vISNlt156MfExFy56UxvxCTW-Gip1peUKIseA61O00IgAUxxMZ-OgwcGpZlww9KWG17ftK62JcCEWCTMU128K95wZQxRsPHlKYnxNZHCdMDFyKh30olkedDJLP047dV1U0iN9f/s4032/IMG_6243.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpEwSKbSp9VlESYz8-Qago2VbS9xE_7-Jb8uE42G-F5OoJlb5kIsz9M2vISNlt156MfExFy56UxvxCTW-Gip1peUKIseA61O00IgAUxxMZ-OgwcGpZlww9KWG17ftK62JcCEWCTMU128K95wZQxRsPHlKYnxNZHCdMDFyKh30olkedDJLP047dV1U0iN9f/w640-h480/IMG_6243.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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 <a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2015/02/onetangi-beach-races.html" target="_blank">Onetangi Beach Races</a> 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 <a href="https://www.casitamiro.co.nz/" target="_blank">Casita Miro</a>, where I hadn't been for ages. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7DC4RqUFMG-Pd2axCatCPUuMLHMBLbDLHr7UIU4Q3NKXsdLSjhEkCH8dBNz7cYwkKxBbA0C1qLgA1RR2pPa8DogzIDQjGPVmaMIWHwW9OezxgUpFnKljWrQxoA-dw4pl5jx4v5mFxEBSy2HVRLLtdJHE0ddmAIDzhruVBG0CUL-_3Ssh-Vv6by_coALb/s2992/IMG_6246.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2140" data-original-width="2992" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7DC4RqUFMG-Pd2axCatCPUuMLHMBLbDLHr7UIU4Q3NKXsdLSjhEkCH8dBNz7cYwkKxBbA0C1qLgA1RR2pPa8DogzIDQjGPVmaMIWHwW9OezxgUpFnKljWrQxoA-dw4pl5jx4v5mFxEBSy2HVRLLtdJHE0ddmAIDzhruVBG0CUL-_3Ssh-Vv6by_coALb/w640-h458/IMG_6246.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZsdrNUfwZQ937z27UJRp2YOZYjMNUZisN-iJ9-3FhBjtH-UKDtfYpz9EGrRYYUYZnDPsqBnnVv_E6BTpLZtga0PpPZ5OKmc4KCFc_WdVXLrjRLqI75FBF1H63wUOxWyeVzosozffvGaVeIUY-e3biaRCYQ4wWrQVaFO3tDfjdh7zSxlLbkJu5-XMQyTx/s3803/IMG_6251.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2852" data-original-width="3803" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ZsdrNUfwZQ937z27UJRp2YOZYjMNUZisN-iJ9-3FhBjtH-UKDtfYpz9EGrRYYUYZnDPsqBnnVv_E6BTpLZtga0PpPZ5OKmc4KCFc_WdVXLrjRLqI75FBF1H63wUOxWyeVzosozffvGaVeIUY-e3biaRCYQ4wWrQVaFO3tDfjdh7zSxlLbkJu5-XMQyTx/w640-h480/IMG_6251.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuFwqLOFHAnxca5ZEGSB-s2R3CX9xAb4Yl7tbz4Ws5JocpYcPMKDL2Ovf-vqMB2Ep-RVFdHr_Btx3Pp8M74vdVrM4KlKa_UYOhofyTbi3fJ7rS4z0TiQVLDsDhopfjgfz0Wnl_ITWC9XbhCxDyEhyqsKXp1qPvHseoqm7xoscN3m-xbli4wKOFFdoyIdh/s4032/IMG_6249.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyuFwqLOFHAnxca5ZEGSB-s2R3CX9xAb4Yl7tbz4Ws5JocpYcPMKDL2Ovf-vqMB2Ep-RVFdHr_Btx3Pp8M74vdVrM4KlKa_UYOhofyTbi3fJ7rS4z0TiQVLDsDhopfjgfz0Wnl_ITWC9XbhCxDyEhyqsKXp1qPvHseoqm7xoscN3m-xbli4wKOFFdoyIdh/w640-h480/IMG_6249.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3DEo2Qp6KmnY6pGNt_8iz9X720AVAHrChN2KxJoyNTf6_jmooX7o4YDycLGS7d1hALcodQUJyUiTfqoM_jXtEbPYaVXhcXzfAp4Lboof9emyXz1Q9MnVAJnrwoTbuj3CELvgniZ7YV_P13xCNzIbEdsFDudSoVlW2wCAIFXOUqeR9Bha7xra5JyhhWNN/s4032/IMG_6253.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2734" data-original-width="4032" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk3DEo2Qp6KmnY6pGNt_8iz9X720AVAHrChN2KxJoyNTf6_jmooX7o4YDycLGS7d1hALcodQUJyUiTfqoM_jXtEbPYaVXhcXzfAp4Lboof9emyXz1Q9MnVAJnrwoTbuj3CELvgniZ7YV_P13xCNzIbEdsFDudSoVlW2wCAIFXOUqeR9Bha7xra5JyhhWNN/w640-h434/IMG_6253.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We carried on, through more rolling vineyards to <a href="http://www.temotu.co.nz" target="_blank">Te Motu</a>, 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.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFNc6H3q6zB8WDG_MB6G5quaAY3AUuFRzyn95f1tx30g9-xFTvIBtAsU5KKGiXPBXzGvxlrCxMBASBIygBN8C7lkTpL8M5pyLotCGGE0YHNI3hwNXH2rbe10ymhMJyLRP8t04o2JQ_1ocaUuHIckjjveju7pYGGvWSOHsYHafSvp0_LPHYE6-brAN1eaH/s4032/IMG_6257.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2617" data-original-width="4032" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpFNc6H3q6zB8WDG_MB6G5quaAY3AUuFRzyn95f1tx30g9-xFTvIBtAsU5KKGiXPBXzGvxlrCxMBASBIygBN8C7lkTpL8M5pyLotCGGE0YHNI3hwNXH2rbe10ymhMJyLRP8t04o2JQ_1ocaUuHIckjjveju7pYGGvWSOHsYHafSvp0_LPHYE6-brAN1eaH/w640-h416/IMG_6257.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FY74RGK9TmY9ek39Q54Mc2Rxq0xpNQ3luNtOUfAs_cciS3T4z1uILMKdmIdDD2XN2Uy2VGTTtQEeiKonnNmWR9YurfHvTsqSfRfdBgSaPyc2GhflxMWkiDFPFcxzMy8G3TjMoQkUqbnBs3_i_l0AWDJCcKjPfTtqPyB9fgddXCYGLahsstYKw1qHCLP7/s4032/IMG_6261.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2FY74RGK9TmY9ek39Q54Mc2Rxq0xpNQ3luNtOUfAs_cciS3T4z1uILMKdmIdDD2XN2Uy2VGTTtQEeiKonnNmWR9YurfHvTsqSfRfdBgSaPyc2GhflxMWkiDFPFcxzMy8G3TjMoQkUqbnBs3_i_l0AWDJCcKjPfTtqPyB9fgddXCYGLahsstYKw1qHCLP7/w640-h480/IMG_6261.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The weather had been lovely, but clouded over now as we sat outside at <a href="https://charliefarleys.co.nz/" target="_blank">Charlie Farley's</a>, 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!</span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9-BKuFRRWQ3GgaRNmvvaVS0rw1VIuHBuJGvM-l_HSdsIvO_ZEXOAM3wY0WwJahE_7OIV03DO12sxjEFDs9Ev6zyLJdsB5GzRO0cPyGLqSEs1nFHOXVxZdCx6RwZw7sg1udiRYV1BsNaW8ZD6jRmYdEZWQRHUMbBNH5o_nueeSEwZfkMUc_i0Ys6eFnYD/s960/IMG_6265.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="960" height="538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9-BKuFRRWQ3GgaRNmvvaVS0rw1VIuHBuJGvM-l_HSdsIvO_ZEXOAM3wY0WwJahE_7OIV03DO12sxjEFDs9Ev6zyLJdsB5GzRO0cPyGLqSEs1nFHOXVxZdCx6RwZw7sg1udiRYV1BsNaW8ZD6jRmYdEZWQRHUMbBNH5o_nueeSEwZfkMUc_i0Ys6eFnYD/w640-h538/IMG_6265.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-54783858864015789592023-10-27T16:42:00.132+13:002023-10-31T13:59:36.090+13:00Te Ara Hura, Day 5 - Saving the best till last<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;">With thanks to <a href="https://walkwaiheke.co.nz/" target="_blank">Walk Waiheke</a> for this famil</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jj-IH1aTm6f4r5CYNqqnaKY9RAGDtB5Le834tja1L-tldqriBB_s0BhvA7EJSQvsKuUTK2iegMFDX2yfVNVECPsyLyptcvIE1A5UvTDw5oyOXFwt9xOIWOz5JDPb1XZT_EpQsPN1VE95wCj_NZpyxh1nTpqg1217cf-pftE7hJEF1yEKWKwScviAFzAD/s4032/IMG_6214.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jj-IH1aTm6f4r5CYNqqnaKY9RAGDtB5Le834tja1L-tldqriBB_s0BhvA7EJSQvsKuUTK2iegMFDX2yfVNVECPsyLyptcvIE1A5UvTDw5oyOXFwt9xOIWOz5JDPb1XZT_EpQsPN1VE95wCj_NZpyxh1nTpqg1217cf-pftE7hJEF1yEKWKwScviAFzAD/w480-h640/IMG_6214.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B_dHTmoiaNZB8NkiUcgJFCh9ncKkNmtNYtr8gbkgadM-H6Phq80OwBBgA9EzcT9rVqLqXFVJz53NTGqvuYqotS0knpmRFkilI5x7x6mRNAQEA0YZj0BoHdjvn5aytCa9XhVKUubCvjxZo7JQfd65xV9guEKtTKU7xNwdFsIL_DEjIuxhbZFmDRjlM0r_/s3835/IMG_6220.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2528" data-original-width="3835" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1B_dHTmoiaNZB8NkiUcgJFCh9ncKkNmtNYtr8gbkgadM-H6Phq80OwBBgA9EzcT9rVqLqXFVJz53NTGqvuYqotS0knpmRFkilI5x7x6mRNAQEA0YZj0BoHdjvn5aytCa9XhVKUubCvjxZo7JQfd65xV9guEKtTKU7xNwdFsIL_DEjIuxhbZFmDRjlM0r_/w640-h422/IMG_6220.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPlEv-JvL4erfOYGG623evKVkXTdGKQ83pS8oA8kf7ZMnkHyo0p6kSuUFhAo0EaEHgUtnir8IWGhKEL9n_TqHBFxJ6tCrzeZLGAjVAbTluh7jg-uHmja1VOKuO40JER-JjWX67h40QREazgRv0oglWOTuIwifHVtJ7rInxuvTa8qoZ-v_20iGg0NBmQMR/s3288/IMG_6221.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2023" data-original-width="3288" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqPlEv-JvL4erfOYGG623evKVkXTdGKQ83pS8oA8kf7ZMnkHyo0p6kSuUFhAo0EaEHgUtnir8IWGhKEL9n_TqHBFxJ6tCrzeZLGAjVAbTluh7jg-uHmja1VOKuO40JER-JjWX67h40QREazgRv0oglWOTuIwifHVtJ7rInxuvTa8qoZ-v_20iGg0NBmQMR/w640-h394/IMG_6221.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_QSTArPWvveC-LoiBsp6P2jaEScogF21QYsCGCZZy0HhUiP6D8euXuIwT1G4wdHaDPtPho8nL0ONlbPGfc8mvFzf7fWTB2NSyq4dzLw9bq9gg8sm1QEkhF-jMRchxQMqDSulsIobVFiVa8t16Ay9Q9vvfrrUA5Uyv_zrmcmMaIGEC_lawGRqe-nkKz_WU/s3430/IMG_6225.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2634" data-original-width="3430" height="492" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_QSTArPWvveC-LoiBsp6P2jaEScogF21QYsCGCZZy0HhUiP6D8euXuIwT1G4wdHaDPtPho8nL0ONlbPGfc8mvFzf7fWTB2NSyq4dzLw9bq9gg8sm1QEkhF-jMRchxQMqDSulsIobVFiVa8t16Ay9Q9vvfrrUA5Uyv_zrmcmMaIGEC_lawGRqe-nkKz_WU/w640-h492/IMG_6225.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9C2-yGvyWfCJO4ayHeMXE8XsK3vCqVdH3_O0R0yYZ7ox1fiJSgiX8iOGS3mBzFMis96_qmWtPUq3dD56GyncD8c5EuHY9eth8KmofUwORMdcGY9zZg_fN6t4enVfkKZhXVQawOCmSQKiG1i_DWYzgHAziKwSqlhZnLBXkh9gYm7c1nj_g1Geq9CTfNEG/s3976/IMG_6230.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2589" data-original-width="3976" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9C2-yGvyWfCJO4ayHeMXE8XsK3vCqVdH3_O0R0yYZ7ox1fiJSgiX8iOGS3mBzFMis96_qmWtPUq3dD56GyncD8c5EuHY9eth8KmofUwORMdcGY9zZg_fN6t4enVfkKZhXVQawOCmSQKiG1i_DWYzgHAziKwSqlhZnLBXkh9gYm7c1nj_g1Geq9CTfNEG/w640-h416/IMG_6230.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uWdYiDB0KttBwADISGROOCeg1maZQnD03ipTi2qEI-JzWafp8Loy47UOnpjaem53sfIUbLlm4eXEY1-6JLFWlvqH7ie7dk7DipaKG6ca211Tedka3gcjMPOtmQNznhq4OGbDiiUgiD5Ho8vatO2AlBza3wziD1q2gD7KXv3_rKW_TABrWszBVGYrlXzD/s3919/IMG_6231.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2571" data-original-width="3919" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-uWdYiDB0KttBwADISGROOCeg1maZQnD03ipTi2qEI-JzWafp8Loy47UOnpjaem53sfIUbLlm4eXEY1-6JLFWlvqH7ie7dk7DipaKG6ca211Tedka3gcjMPOtmQNznhq4OGbDiiUgiD5Ho8vatO2AlBza3wziD1q2gD7KXv3_rKW_TABrWszBVGYrlXzD/w640-h420/IMG_6231.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXtlmn_h2M17s9Ze4tD-prKyJJvsDJeSx8ySyqu6yqcKzSWx9fqeoRCPqySDjZjMaCv7l8FhIg0lvGdf-ZniZJxLGbht8aTc1QYrYTX1aaMyDp8956LYKze1r6h5suDTpJvg30IpJfyhyhmGW90aZXTRhmzWATfLc2zzAM-XcmiEw7ztj6qtmx4UgZIna/s1120/IMG_6232.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWXtlmn_h2M17s9Ze4tD-prKyJJvsDJeSx8ySyqu6yqcKzSWx9fqeoRCPqySDjZjMaCv7l8FhIg0lvGdf-ZniZJxLGbht8aTc1QYrYTX1aaMyDp8956LYKze1r6h5suDTpJvg30IpJfyhyhmGW90aZXTRhmzWATfLc2zzAM-XcmiEw7ztj6qtmx4UgZIna/w548-h640/IMG_6232.jpeg" width="548" /></a></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-36062752851601168562023-10-26T15:52:00.119+13:002023-10-30T16:54:58.261+13:00Te Ara Hura , Day 4 - Roosters, ducks and dotterels<p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="color: #2b00fe;">With thanks to <a href="https://walkwaiheke.co.nz/" target="_blank">Walk Waiheke</a> for this famil</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKrdvZypw-Z1Twg1npX3x0QpBpWOdW2BinyzpfmHA6cgjWc3h81nEdSFb6nCynIMSLtpoVRJtHbVOZqJolaVQLJCx44p6KWfsBHrAqxzK7mPubLJipK4lJP7vkHfdOPN3eJ-FxEBoQj-rttJlW8r7LE81KnrByeoj7k9iNcByrNoM-ANZVt0O156On47N/s4032/IMG_6204.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAKrdvZypw-Z1Twg1npX3x0QpBpWOdW2BinyzpfmHA6cgjWc3h81nEdSFb6nCynIMSLtpoVRJtHbVOZqJolaVQLJCx44p6KWfsBHrAqxzK7mPubLJipK4lJP7vkHfdOPN3eJ-FxEBoQj-rttJlW8r7LE81KnrByeoj7k9iNcByrNoM-ANZVt0O156On47N/w640-h480/IMG_6204.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cD4P0XABAaQxcEF6Hgi0t7rKjGXC_M3pfgYKUuW-CiIO63jXuiHdmOgEAExsgJj6LWLv0NtXrAKmz0T_v-qWkiIJ93m3OhrPgseZcEizCvoMKN-EqtyKepcsdRQxhfoUbMHJ58ztzUowtwd-7sayUfTZ1setIO2gRR8jqjFKSW46od4HiDZT8n24OcGz/s4032/IMG_6203.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9cD4P0XABAaQxcEF6Hgi0t7rKjGXC_M3pfgYKUuW-CiIO63jXuiHdmOgEAExsgJj6LWLv0NtXrAKmz0T_v-qWkiIJ93m3OhrPgseZcEizCvoMKN-EqtyKepcsdRQxhfoUbMHJ58ztzUowtwd-7sayUfTZ1setIO2gRR8jqjFKSW46od4HiDZT8n24OcGz/w640-h480/IMG_6203.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA1RopwrdIkT5U18AHYt6JMr4ePbszYWFkngPM2xhBNZ9DCN7Zm_xxYPhyphenhyphen5pjYxVqYfknGe6WiFCVkkOiqxz8Tw8kMjEUt-KUFTfzzjldeFyraEISn9udV6dX2op3S9Nxo8KS6joqf990tnyV13ey8X5GFSN3qTksJt8bPjMzvXP3h7DtY-AH5Aq0Lr2A7/s4032/IMG_6206.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA1RopwrdIkT5U18AHYt6JMr4ePbszYWFkngPM2xhBNZ9DCN7Zm_xxYPhyphenhyphen5pjYxVqYfknGe6WiFCVkkOiqxz8Tw8kMjEUt-KUFTfzzjldeFyraEISn9udV6dX2op3S9Nxo8KS6joqf990tnyV13ey8X5GFSN3qTksJt8bPjMzvXP3h7DtY-AH5Aq0Lr2A7/w640-h480/IMG_6206.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoqZY7rX1MAlnuImYzni53c6vJnmVZVzHpLZv6PGCnujro_HjSj61SM30b9urzKkBVaLYtY4hnv87cjfHJLn5WYFqZnYjM0tl82_mDJdAC8Gy5KUEVYdlXctElarW2vy56V_muMq_SJRUA8r8iVC2f3xWqiSbCP8rQcszQSPP681VH_IpOR6PvPKBs_eC/s4032/IMG_6210.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicoqZY7rX1MAlnuImYzni53c6vJnmVZVzHpLZv6PGCnujro_HjSj61SM30b9urzKkBVaLYtY4hnv87cjfHJLn5WYFqZnYjM0tl82_mDJdAC8Gy5KUEVYdlXctElarW2vy56V_muMq_SJRUA8r8iVC2f3xWqiSbCP8rQcszQSPP681VH_IpOR6PvPKBs_eC/w640-h480/IMG_6210.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">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.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-qhpVDdHGlxMkDX53SQ_uiXVbYLCwtSoxQJr2NQNLwY4kSCpufkeh1AzpwMdVCYWlzioPJiqaR2t1WGRWKQz7CdhB4jESvjV5ERiQBHeqfaLRyr7VqSlheMycT9mEZAa5FNANqtT4528nPEIlvvu24FXox91VTN8yMwG7809DC-28yVOgpd2xmbGbGo1/s989/IMG_6236.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="989" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt-qhpVDdHGlxMkDX53SQ_uiXVbYLCwtSoxQJr2NQNLwY4kSCpufkeh1AzpwMdVCYWlzioPJiqaR2t1WGRWKQz7CdhB4jESvjV5ERiQBHeqfaLRyr7VqSlheMycT9mEZAa5FNANqtT4528nPEIlvvu24FXox91VTN8yMwG7809DC-28yVOgpd2xmbGbGo1/w622-h640/IMG_6236.jpeg" width="622" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-60063104363708122892023-10-25T13:28:00.208+13:002023-10-31T13:04:08.395+13:00Te Ara Hura, Day 3 - Ups and downs. Especially downs<strike></strike><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; text-align: left;">With thanks to </span><a href="https://walkwaiheke.co.nz/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">Walk Waiheke</a><span style="color: #2b00fe; text-align: left;"> for this famil </span></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKsRmxo61S3QGYdIfIGne7yGp_IjxmbyV10__fqEdIlz0XPkjNbTpHWeGi6OxdYLUzEpAUheqPAJqyCITD00jpnpx1z6o6ygaosIOD7cLrFyqQQJ629lkryp11AYJI_ediTJLDeiZG3ObbUoh6YDc0I76LW23ydgGIsX90TI9a0hJFM19w6axDK6xtxpE/s4012/IMG_6180.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2578" data-original-width="4012" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKsRmxo61S3QGYdIfIGne7yGp_IjxmbyV10__fqEdIlz0XPkjNbTpHWeGi6OxdYLUzEpAUheqPAJqyCITD00jpnpx1z6o6ygaosIOD7cLrFyqQQJ629lkryp11AYJI_ediTJLDeiZG3ObbUoh6YDc0I76LW23ydgGIsX90TI9a0hJFM19w6axDK6xtxpE/w640-h412/IMG_6180.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We started our walk today at the (Waiheke-)famous row of letterboxes above the jetty at Orapiu and popped down to Mary's house for a welcome and some local history. That's one of the many nice things about this walk - the input at various places from people who live there and know the inside stories. Mary told us how Captain Cook cut kauri tree masts here, gold miners passed through en route to Coromandel, there were boarding houses for city-dwellers in long dresses with parasols, and an excellent ferry service - all gone now.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BR8BId0CDGdd3kbzw9AJdztR1H5qgXvbVcHPyrS-d95z0v8AXKXBoYJeVNjhOrtEcIWdZytJXpuq6XrQTTfJ7lljJJHT7KL7n5dfnWYW2H5AF7GtM-Rofbjj8xvDeCvXo6QPahPmsls9tjHr_p-8q5td1z1BoJEPsG2Gu8L-KngMJvTnXbtzv3JGcOHx/s4032/IMG_6185.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2241" data-original-width="4032" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-BR8BId0CDGdd3kbzw9AJdztR1H5qgXvbVcHPyrS-d95z0v8AXKXBoYJeVNjhOrtEcIWdZytJXpuq6XrQTTfJ7lljJJHT7KL7n5dfnWYW2H5AF7GtM-Rofbjj8xvDeCvXo6QPahPmsls9tjHr_p-8q5td1z1BoJEPsG2Gu8L-KngMJvTnXbtzv3JGcOHx/w640-h356/IMG_6185.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We headed along the coast and then up into the bush to the road, passing Passage Rock vineyard and the celebrated Ooh-aah view which today was somewhat muted. We paused for morning tea in the Pioneer Cemetery where we decided that Samuel Powell had an unsuitably big ego, and felt sorry for poor Anne.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0HlbTFIO1J1pXWgEUbGw3YTyx6SHR68vxuJPjOIFoDTLlJIfMBhNSXWvi7l9w4ii0AEEzFlS3czKpKYW8UwsOylXoC8TpUHWwPKVShlPs3tH4IaTzqPwNrslBg7Nv0MAQHJgOfrfaV0SfFNdXXhUnFnYvf924iaH4L4OU_iGC2QazhOl_kDviO7AyehN/s4032/IMG_6186.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2559" data-original-width="4032" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0HlbTFIO1J1pXWgEUbGw3YTyx6SHR68vxuJPjOIFoDTLlJIfMBhNSXWvi7l9w4ii0AEEzFlS3czKpKYW8UwsOylXoC8TpUHWwPKVShlPs3tH4IaTzqPwNrslBg7Nv0MAQHJgOfrfaV0SfFNdXXhUnFnYvf924iaH4L4OU_iGC2QazhOl_kDviO7AyehN/w640-h406/IMG_6186.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKU6XoGbPL6Do9_ZcH5u_CUYzmTmtKYA2X2qHmCfv5Fkb48ZOs_TqOnwNYHNw82nSotRSc7yxl0jbPHOLUDqYI8tvKsbpz2vHkSouaTw2nAcTwF-uPmtQuzR44NS8V06ikeOTNh3_c1mOmCanlFsQ9C49CJ56yBtHRkJgGevIzMzrbf1itBtkPpJyuzjX/s3791/IMG_6187.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3791" data-original-width="2634" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSKU6XoGbPL6Do9_ZcH5u_CUYzmTmtKYA2X2qHmCfv5Fkb48ZOs_TqOnwNYHNw82nSotRSc7yxl0jbPHOLUDqYI8tvKsbpz2vHkSouaTw2nAcTwF-uPmtQuzR44NS8V06ikeOTNh3_c1mOmCanlFsQ9C49CJ56yBtHRkJgGevIzMzrbf1itBtkPpJyuzjX/w445-h640/IMG_6187.jpeg" width="445" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We headed back down into the bush, crossing over a creek where big black eels lurked, keen for a feed. It was a long, long climb up through the bush - but with no clumpy steps to haul ourselves up, for a change (sorry, <a href="https://www.maketracks.co.nz/" target="_blank">Make Tracks</a>, you do great work, really) to the Puke o Kai picnic table at the top. In an ideal world, we would have settled here for a break to enjoy the expansive views, but the weather was blotting out the hills, and we set off straight away downhill. We had </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">a brief Italian diversion as we passed a line of tall cypresses beside the Poderi Crisci vineyard, and then stopped to gird our loins near the Awaawaroa Ecovillage, where we </span><i style="font-family: arial;">finally</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> had lunch.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPTTi_fv21XBRR8K3He3NlOYsCbT0YB_ndbPbWRkAZcGNw1f0f95sxYt-ByjGTEqq4_ulCmV3rxzzYA16esDxn2uKbAzpYXN15nkDDliaqDeyyWrNce99KOgjKPGFfVtKdHH9UH3VtwdzK86MQO8fkGiBbdKCg1-dvDuAm_yqAU5hPuBeyqggdXkR8WyUF/s3466/IMG_6190.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2470" data-original-width="3466" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPTTi_fv21XBRR8K3He3NlOYsCbT0YB_ndbPbWRkAZcGNw1f0f95sxYt-ByjGTEqq4_ulCmV3rxzzYA16esDxn2uKbAzpYXN15nkDDliaqDeyyWrNce99KOgjKPGFfVtKdHH9UH3VtwdzK86MQO8fkGiBbdKCg1-dvDuAm_yqAU5hPuBeyqggdXkR8WyUF/w640-h456/IMG_6190.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then we set off to tackle Trig Hill, plodding gamely up and up to the day's high point - which was a descent. I'd been hoping that, since the 'gentle' and 'flat' descriptions of the previous two days had not been at all accurate, the same would apply today. Er, nope. Boy, this drop was steep, and slippery, and very definitely challenging. So steep was it, that a rope had been fixed to the fenceline, for us to cling to as we slithered down the 45° slope. Honestly, the photo doesn't do it justice.</span></p><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEW1JKgPjgFP-EclSZdniaBsMZnFQ8AHbSMZaX32mhwucYpLP62-aFwVYC5zq3OM3NGJj894eH5zotwKRP7aCYNPLE9QMG3pR760iPA_mLg9o4JuQzLssM-EM9FTXJeZp8OtJENUyrSZMWjrLssh02WA5QiX3YJe-6V9OAmw42y2onrsuDilFw6YzB1Pu/s4032/IMG_6193.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEW1JKgPjgFP-EclSZdniaBsMZnFQ8AHbSMZaX32mhwucYpLP62-aFwVYC5zq3OM3NGJj894eH5zotwKRP7aCYNPLE9QMG3pR760iPA_mLg9o4JuQzLssM-EM9FTXJeZp8OtJENUyrSZMWjrLssh02WA5QiX3YJe-6V9OAmw42y2onrsuDilFw6YzB1Pu/w480-h640/IMG_6193.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There was more clambering further down, less steep but no rope, only trees to grab hold of, and then finally we were at the bottom, congratulating ourselves. Except, further along, up (of course) a hill, word came that someone had slipped off the concrete culvert over a creek, and fallen in. Cue official concern, the one young man in the tour group conscripted for carrying duties, some quiet cursing at our being in <i>the</i> most inaccessible bit of the trail so far, and a long wait. But it all turned out ok, with Liz wet all over but otherwise unhurt, and so we continued the walk, down through lush bush with the odd fallen tree to negotiate.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH97bvKP-339f1pJ3FCdaobLhb96gZWzl9HsYwD7W2fkF3dHwQOUel9i7lNKTdzuMZNZ_17jP5_aXCbG2uy9CpJ0UDAlaxg6GXzgjndPTPQFDSfohtryNdPOd0_NWgo24fSVA88NbKlCI8EDVn1UfT6pt3qFYQAhWUCED2Bidcsevwie2hLisIkvpI9j6i/s4032/IMG_6196.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2325" data-original-width="4032" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH97bvKP-339f1pJ3FCdaobLhb96gZWzl9HsYwD7W2fkF3dHwQOUel9i7lNKTdzuMZNZ_17jP5_aXCbG2uy9CpJ0UDAlaxg6GXzgjndPTPQFDSfohtryNdPOd0_NWgo24fSVA88NbKlCI8EDVn1UfT6pt3qFYQAhWUCED2Bidcsevwie2hLisIkvpI9j6i/w640-h370/IMG_6196.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Finally, as the sun came out again, we arrived at Batch Winery, walking up through the vines to a fabulously welcome snacky spread and a glass of rosé, sitting at long tables and all enjoying our achievement today. It sure was tough, and the climbs were steep, but we did it!</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAVFmOxF5IXoPMVsgn52a-Wshqu8PEMkW-ygPUbbU5s0Qe_D1uFu_zUVr68dxo2mS1nQiDvpojqaeCzeC1CtHQpUC0cOJZOv_PrhJB8GZZs3Y4SqnfTR--36qRusa8oo1sLBMlwpcf6MZE0-h4Zr6lSgI9_ZaaY0R6IOWERsjjVrPtv8ioSL4sX1kAe-a9" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="291" data-original-width="320" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjAVFmOxF5IXoPMVsgn52a-Wshqu8PEMkW-ygPUbbU5s0Qe_D1uFu_zUVr68dxo2mS1nQiDvpojqaeCzeC1CtHQpUC0cOJZOv_PrhJB8GZZs3Y4SqnfTR--36qRusa8oo1sLBMlwpcf6MZE0-h4Zr6lSgI9_ZaaY0R6IOWERsjjVrPtv8ioSL4sX1kAe-a9=w400-h364" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm-mHsl_xijUiKFXF5AGqsVqQh32YOGSQI5DoS6G5dHsOAgFEZSe2Vpj3LN2ROH0-jc4kDrYIm36R3FN1UPBLevYuqniZ66cw6NpxNUSJ_gZ9Has_md3Oyl8wl2uuakOIWAdU2fW7-oqdsZE2wvnzBxozmBRL3Y8cSYwDuYXKttycLPVaiexZPnTIh86B/s978/IMG_6235.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm-mHsl_xijUiKFXF5AGqsVqQh32YOGSQI5DoS6G5dHsOAgFEZSe2Vpj3LN2ROH0-jc4kDrYIm36R3FN1UPBLevYuqniZ66cw6NpxNUSJ_gZ9Has_md3Oyl8wl2uuakOIWAdU2fW7-oqdsZE2wvnzBxozmBRL3Y8cSYwDuYXKttycLPVaiexZPnTIh86B/w629-h640/IMG_6235.JPEG" width="629" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-70258148665282469112023-10-24T13:23:00.000+13:002023-10-30T13:29:48.975+13:00Te Ara Hura, Day 2 - a day of two halves<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">With thanks to </span><a href="https://walkwaiheke.co.nz/" style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;" target="_blank">Walk Waiheke</a><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit; text-align: left;"> for this famil.</span></div></span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj85D6-FBurrbOvgvIqoeaHkbXyZ2cU0frdQaZYKI1IzOnPzhirpdWQVKzhUXy_WoEFJ5hc3rvPe6nHprjUMpuvZg4z5I4Sj_MGnBlXnbSALa2-x27BYUKyBwNZxPF1bo6jzHlkXyPIpJYp-VXPXI5nlI18P0MXCmueK8qNwcIlKb3gC1saH18GATOXTRT/s3930/IMG_6160.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2948" data-original-width="3930" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj85D6-FBurrbOvgvIqoeaHkbXyZ2cU0frdQaZYKI1IzOnPzhirpdWQVKzhUXy_WoEFJ5hc3rvPe6nHprjUMpuvZg4z5I4Sj_MGnBlXnbSALa2-x27BYUKyBwNZxPF1bo6jzHlkXyPIpJYp-VXPXI5nlI18P0MXCmueK8qNwcIlKb3gC1saH18GATOXTRT/w640-h480/IMG_6160.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We were told that today would be 'long but flat' so it was a bit disturbing to start with a very steep climb up from Onetangi, past some gorgeous homes, through a reserve to the road at the top. We followed it to Bruce Plested's place, which is actually a couple of big farms where, now at retirement age, he spends his time titivating the land, for our pleasure.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnouudth21tEKOKqwP5qFNoRqqTGk5icVnLiglx0bl1HxRnU24iHMLKLUOA90crf0MJJMFMjK4RfYItgvcipMxAHP34IDoy0ig4dytrB2Dwrhh_paUEgS-tyoYmLqaQL6KD7eEpdQPKT29hjBdfvalbJ7IWNEn5zNVaVnfvCq_NdhpPZ0udO4inaAvg7K0/s3834/IMG_6165.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2876" data-original-width="3834" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnouudth21tEKOKqwP5qFNoRqqTGk5icVnLiglx0bl1HxRnU24iHMLKLUOA90crf0MJJMFMjK4RfYItgvcipMxAHP34IDoy0ig4dytrB2Dwrhh_paUEgS-tyoYmLqaQL6KD7eEpdQPKT29hjBdfvalbJ7IWNEn5zNVaVnfvCq_NdhpPZ0udO4inaAvg7K0/w640-h480/IMG_6165.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And it was a real pleasure, to trail through his rolling paddocks, past a big flock of sheep with bouncy lambs, and across another with a herd of curious heifers. The townies amongst us were alarmed at their boldness, and then astonished when one beast, caught on the wrong side of the fence, jumped it like a horse. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci_wd43frEBelpQ-VRnsz0uSWi1sVCErxnHyHVRRaeb3S_9gVg640FffQFQDztEOLy-B_5pw1kh9qky0CGg2h6dA5t3PWH6tG0n4uZWjJkRWZLFeG1nwFT2hTeGbqITxr6NGZwTb4AZ0rZSlbZp3jIuOUsYPb_pREGvqiq1ohlDhh7zEdLc9QUimytprC/s4032/IMG_6167.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2489" data-original-width="4032" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgci_wd43frEBelpQ-VRnsz0uSWi1sVCErxnHyHVRRaeb3S_9gVg640FffQFQDztEOLy-B_5pw1kh9qky0CGg2h6dA5t3PWH6tG0n4uZWjJkRWZLFeG1nwFT2hTeGbqITxr6NGZwTb4AZ0rZSlbZp3jIuOUsYPb_pREGvqiq1ohlDhh7zEdLc9QUimytprC/w640-h396/IMG_6167.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There were some beautiful stands of ancient pohutukawa, which are going to be spectacular next month when their red flowers bloom; and I enjoyed looking down into all the little bays around the coast. We appreciated our morning tea on a headland with great views.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnzOatYB_VN4u2AQO2GUdxr56zh5in_ZSBG2dgQx2Z4hnt3J1qQss0jhtzyQGXAKJBl8Y6RSimywSC8DXF9NRN32pIe8buObyktIf7NZThM1EdACsNgQullstahmyl3e_CR6HLb4_ym6P2wQytC1BJpQlRNT_tigOBnElxaGcIncfIiZoOMcbxzZWbqhb/s4032/IMG_6173.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHnzOatYB_VN4u2AQO2GUdxr56zh5in_ZSBG2dgQx2Z4hnt3J1qQss0jhtzyQGXAKJBl8Y6RSimywSC8DXF9NRN32pIe8buObyktIf7NZThM1EdACsNgQullstahmyl3e_CR6HLb4_ym6P2wQytC1BJpQlRNT_tigOBnElxaGcIncfIiZoOMcbxzZWbqhb/w640-h480/IMG_6173.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: left;">Then, though, we left the farm and hit the road, which Sarah said we were lucky had been dampened by the short, sharp rain that had swept over us, so wasn't dusty, as usual. That was the only thing good about it - it wound on and on, up and down, up and down, unsealed and bumpy, for SO long. Our various feet, knees and hips complained and we all got a bit fed up with it, only momentarily diverted by occasional views out over the water. The biggest island is Pakatoa, once a resort where a young Russell Crowe, under the name Rus le Roq, was an entertainer and bingo caller. It's for sale, if you've got a spare $40-odd million.</span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxET-fBTDpUfBePQ32sKOn_rjV9hs85xfym50iIsTEi6KJEgiOurpIX1mGj9DfEvmDUZ0qOuzPYUqJ1k_PSRmYYHci4FzpD1mswkuOobUYMCsf51bF909Uqi5drKXB1XRgblKz1NQa1UP9sgj0dkTlOFRb4hDlLVHkaFcfMPKyEI75RAl62lZ5oTdJvZXj/s4028/IMG_6177.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2641" data-original-width="4028" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxET-fBTDpUfBePQ32sKOn_rjV9hs85xfym50iIsTEi6KJEgiOurpIX1mGj9DfEvmDUZ0qOuzPYUqJ1k_PSRmYYHci4FzpD1mswkuOobUYMCsf51bF909Uqi5drKXB1XRgblKz1NQa1UP9sgj0dkTlOFRb4hDlLVHkaFcfMPKyEI75RAl62lZ5oTdJvZXj/w640-h420/IMG_6177.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We had lunch by the beach at the Man O' War winery, which was, sadly, shut; and then hit the sodding road again, as above. I decided that Sarah's suggestion to adopt an 'intention', to be in the moment, was a bad idea, since here and now was all about aching leg muscles, sore feet and panting. I could have done with rising above all that; or at least distracting myself with trivia.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVE_8GtwWq9qeoDEUZIR8_B_SnYqP77NQB7R1mhOmf1nxtyMYZbGzHkIJiEd_8rCofGt73OU12WaL4R4jR7Edcu-Y-UeuCHoxQcdfbmuAUSP2CvUAvMt60KLyVQ_fiO0JQwtvMTeLY0jUXth1pgSI16WuE0Bf_DEhyphenhyphenP44DSti7vuH4PHfTYoIOOoE1YtG-/s3887/IMG_6178.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3887" data-original-width="2915" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVE_8GtwWq9qeoDEUZIR8_B_SnYqP77NQB7R1mhOmf1nxtyMYZbGzHkIJiEd_8rCofGt73OU12WaL4R4jR7Edcu-Y-UeuCHoxQcdfbmuAUSP2CvUAvMt60KLyVQ_fiO0JQwtvMTeLY0jUXth1pgSI16WuE0Bf_DEhyphenhyphenP44DSti7vuH4PHfTYoIOOoE1YtG-/w480-h640/IMG_6178.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But we ploughed on, and on, and finally made it to the pick-up point at Orapiu, where I gratefully collapsed into Kate's car and silently groused about the 'flat' part of the official description of today's route. And tomorrow? 'Challenging'. Can't wait.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmwo44Vmn-bwDW161RfxTV0u4GqxSpNCsgRn-8vwcLzDYQZ_NPpMohEUhkkohUHD-TCWQtkpm5n_xrn8gVGltwwshA1oIETDTPFGBJxvCt0PJlgyuU25mWApVNwnu-U9JAo1aUJYPoGknrL5mSxyc586VlVK6AnZ9XoTtp26wgDJ8wQH3P4Z33-X_jRNy/s1174/IMG_6181.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1174" data-original-width="960" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmwo44Vmn-bwDW161RfxTV0u4GqxSpNCsgRn-8vwcLzDYQZ_NPpMohEUhkkohUHD-TCWQtkpm5n_xrn8gVGltwwshA1oIETDTPFGBJxvCt0PJlgyuU25mWApVNwnu-U9JAo1aUJYPoGknrL5mSxyc586VlVK6AnZ9XoTtp26wgDJ8wQH3P4Z33-X_jRNy/w524-h640/IMG_6181.jpeg" width="524" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-51831583174499370422023-10-23T12:13:00.000+13:002023-10-30T13:29:23.771+13:00Te Ara Hura, Day 1 - Do 10+ km/17,000 steps count as 'gentle'?<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With thanks to </span><a href="https://walkwaiheke.co.nz/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Walk Waiheke</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> for this famil</span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ano8nBELNIzj1622sBBeDKg9y6LfqB7npCH4Sjd9FgV9toyiq53XxcujH7ICC-rbkwRxfZVy6Z9WQrhdzbqwx8ISpXoZlSy7M0bYjpM_ED-X3u_pGbR1-hkpLpBy5Wb9oZgr6kdcEvXwzmGlF9a5tjItHBU35eixbpqHKJhPes_lhy2mk4_R1Ce4319o/s3855/IMG_6148.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2891" data-original-width="3855" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ano8nBELNIzj1622sBBeDKg9y6LfqB7npCH4Sjd9FgV9toyiq53XxcujH7ICC-rbkwRxfZVy6Z9WQrhdzbqwx8ISpXoZlSy7M0bYjpM_ED-X3u_pGbR1-hkpLpBy5Wb9oZgr6kdcEvXwzmGlF9a5tjItHBU35eixbpqHKJhPes_lhy2mk4_R1Ce4319o/w640-h480/IMG_6148.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: left;">Sarah, our guide, is full of enthusiasm, encouragement and energy and this morning we set off on our 5 day, 100km circuit of Waiheke Island eager and excited. The track is called Te Ara Hura, meaning 'Discover the Way' and though I was familiar with about a third of the route, I was looking forward to exploring new territory and seeing different views.</span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">There were 42 of us, the majority locals if you include Auckland, but of various nationalities - Kiwis, Brits, Saffas, Americans, Irish, Germans, a token Aussie, even a couple of Russians - plus 5 guides. Mostly women, our ages ranged from 30ish to a wiry little lady of 79 who was in equal parts inspiring and challenging. I mean, good for her but no way could I let her get ahead, eh.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSW6BBCGOH6HYtP92xPhDdu9tHmaqPRlyPIfh7dhNrH-P6RceQgVcG8-v5yMHCxJbi2ezuOGVS7xp1iJljlyo7fSKJReik8HVUHhL_vc921ir8jHb77u0lU-NHK6tfqVzYXxXehJSJyJE-V11Q8CkmQPoyrbbK9j7FqQKpognVxmxtXLvkiRzZSJ4bv_N/s3504/IMG_6149.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2295" data-original-width="3504" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGSW6BBCGOH6HYtP92xPhDdu9tHmaqPRlyPIfh7dhNrH-P6RceQgVcG8-v5yMHCxJbi2ezuOGVS7xp1iJljlyo7fSKJReik8HVUHhL_vc921ir8jHb77u0lU-NHK6tfqVzYXxXehJSJyJE-V11Q8CkmQPoyrbbK9j7FqQKpognVxmxtXLvkiRzZSJ4bv_N/w640-h420/IMG_6149.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Today was described as a 'gentle introduction', starting after lunchtime. After a welcome and some brief formalities, we set off down from Oneroa to our starting point on the beach beside a Te Ara Hura signpost - the first of very many. We marched off, full of energy, following a route I often walk, up over the headland to Little O, up again and along a bush track, down the road to the zigzag path to Hekerua and then off again towards Enclosure Bay - internationally famous <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y8iipFTBanc" target="_blank">on YouTube</a> for the orca encounter there with some children swimming.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1je6v6jpcwudKYOJHS8Lp6QjMtGPW-yc-7PsOe-eWNvj7xVHu7A9DWB30hNa0LxZjc4TGEIKg_hdOjxfU7RaEGE9DrBvcNemPILROjljfzNj6twbXNuPgKO3A5ntnZX_pnQra3GT9xFMjtiiECv5jpgTNOdu_rmxtM0aratrn0X7h18TRnkZgEeHYTpLa/s3393/IMG_6154.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2498" data-original-width="3393" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1je6v6jpcwudKYOJHS8Lp6QjMtGPW-yc-7PsOe-eWNvj7xVHu7A9DWB30hNa0LxZjc4TGEIKg_hdOjxfU7RaEGE9DrBvcNemPILROjljfzNj6twbXNuPgKO3A5ntnZX_pnQra3GT9xFMjtiiECv5jpgTNOdu_rmxtM0aratrn0X7h18TRnkZgEeHYTpLa/w640-h472/IMG_6154.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We heard about the amazing work done over 30 years by locals to restore a pine plantation back to native bush, a huge success, and then panted off again towards Palm Beach. After due warning, we descended the steep track (me behind a living-dangerously man who went the whole way with his hands in his pockets, tch) to the 'nudie beach' end which was, this being a sunny public holiday, well patronised by stitchless sunbathers. We finally had a proper stop for snacks under the palms, before the steep climb up again, cutting through a new housing development on former farmland. Sounds awful, but actually it was instantly envy-inducing: gorgeously landscaped big sections, well spaced and with marvellous views out to sea. It maybe helped that there are no houses built yet but, judging by the impressively stylish homes nearby, they will actually set off the scenery.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2i3vwmUHy-e5LQRmy69FeppBGh8p2K2FAEi3btL0kK5MGTToWsM1sSoxsyAjPBYa6c6sK0dTJnOc9Vr889fJdbMjACs6BhGuJ0Al5aaaAdKQ_ehibE8wUqE1_VY0zGeeRvIAtnHpqlkYMUuN-KvCB4cnYtY9fCi5F_zsorJADuZDyQ6R6SrpZtPRdWyqY/s3918/IMG_6156.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2938" data-original-width="3918" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2i3vwmUHy-e5LQRmy69FeppBGh8p2K2FAEi3btL0kK5MGTToWsM1sSoxsyAjPBYa6c6sK0dTJnOc9Vr889fJdbMjACs6BhGuJ0Al5aaaAdKQ_ehibE8wUqE1_VY0zGeeRvIAtnHpqlkYMUuN-KvCB4cnYtY9fCi5F_zsorJADuZDyQ6R6SrpZtPRdWyqY/w640-h480/IMG_6156.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then we trailed away along and down to Onetangi Beach for very welcome Postage Stamp wine and nibbles at Sarah's house just across the road. There was much group smugness, comparing of statistics - iPhone decidedly inferior to the Strava app - and eagerness to get into proper walking tomorrow, a full day officially described as 'flat'. We'll see...</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpMZA6m9zrcw3yUcmJyeGQ_9E9wqIbeNxT8hSk_lzrU3AHFgteRitlIM847ctkp1WeHaWcCwBiuwrk0Su52Twk1Fg-HS3Q3kiSpa1oHUK_Zz6_doZTx5QEt_cdj8Upsxop-v7R-V9u2cukOIbz8PYx2Myp1SA_TCDjDILrAOysgQhj0Xewh3NfZ2HGFQY/s4032/IMG_6158.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2115" data-original-width="4032" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpMZA6m9zrcw3yUcmJyeGQ_9E9wqIbeNxT8hSk_lzrU3AHFgteRitlIM847ctkp1WeHaWcCwBiuwrk0Su52Twk1Fg-HS3Q3kiSpa1oHUK_Zz6_doZTx5QEt_cdj8Upsxop-v7R-V9u2cukOIbz8PYx2Myp1SA_TCDjDILrAOysgQhj0Xewh3NfZ2HGFQY/w640-h336/IMG_6158.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-34650173862677347972023-09-22T16:42:00.035+12:002023-09-29T17:16:40.381+13:00It's all work<div class="separator"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJWlZEbUKeBbGYsg7oWhMQYdXqGgbveWy69O4xjbAhPa8bEe9WkMJ5osKx9WN_zDuRxjybupYSLMfWdqs3Dng6GeOk7LCXbmHY-30j7prAboMDpi80zdgO9G2cYT0TIlSZcF-_pBOf9PdvU5RVF_rdJbzzv3aYt4_npicSZKsyxsjsIf8D-k_jLe1IbYy/s4032/IMG_6027.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjJWlZEbUKeBbGYsg7oWhMQYdXqGgbveWy69O4xjbAhPa8bEe9WkMJ5osKx9WN_zDuRxjybupYSLMfWdqs3Dng6GeOk7LCXbmHY-30j7prAboMDpi80zdgO9G2cYT0TIlSZcF-_pBOf9PdvU5RVF_rdJbzzv3aYt4_npicSZKsyxsjsIf8D-k_jLe1IbYy/w640-h480/IMG_6027.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div> <br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">After a beautifully quiet night in one of the Martinborough Hotel's garden suites, I took a wander around town and was really quite captivated. Last time, I was amused by the trailerload of sheep I encountered but this time it was the people who I warmed to. Everyone I encountered on the street gave me a warm smile and greeting, and I felt very welcome.</span><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3i8aruzW4ObAQzNLJzPxU_yZ6Q1U3p3JtwuudAmG8WjjOPuIJj2HYtT4m_dX0B9-ZDNET72Fhybl4__LdDmfK6wgwpL8HaZY-X7yADUypnLEPpZhMyGLJ9M0JTFA_tmxtjtZPr8nE_la4-WAui5cgTtFj7T8ke_1lmwIG7GTnVtyw5sDodqB8vKhX9Y2N/s4032/IMG_6085.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2438" data-original-width="4032" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3i8aruzW4ObAQzNLJzPxU_yZ6Q1U3p3JtwuudAmG8WjjOPuIJj2HYtT4m_dX0B9-ZDNET72Fhybl4__LdDmfK6wgwpL8HaZY-X7yADUypnLEPpZhMyGLJ9M0JTFA_tmxtjtZPr8nE_la4-WAui5cgTtFj7T8ke_1lmwIG7GTnVtyw5sDodqB8vKhX9Y2N/w640-h386/IMG_6085.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It's also such a pretty place, with so many lovely buildings, all of them clearly treasured. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeM6s7v8JsOOJrrzBVVhBAwOYCW5jyKvXAD6QtRS82ZtjtY_dPoBLW-ce2chyphenhyphenJUXWT8UT5R4TrPBsG4oG1IKrMMmTldg1TmRiBGvIrPwvV4R9diRxAanOKmDjgLnFG12I1CgTkfIa9wOGUzrKbwKEIsucQPT3ReqUzAlu-gI8YtKZ8TqkjfPjcnL_GJIE/s3672/IMG_6083.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2737" data-original-width="3672" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeM6s7v8JsOOJrrzBVVhBAwOYCW5jyKvXAD6QtRS82ZtjtY_dPoBLW-ce2chyphenhyphenJUXWT8UT5R4TrPBsG4oG1IKrMMmTldg1TmRiBGvIrPwvV4R9diRxAanOKmDjgLnFG12I1CgTkfIa9wOGUzrKbwKEIsucQPT3ReqUzAlu-gI8YtKZ8TqkjfPjcnL_GJIE/w640-h478/IMG_6083.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We had a flat white and bacon butty at a busy cafe with <i>the</i> chattiest and cheerful lady behind the counter (wearing shorts!) and then toddled off for a look around Greytown, where I <a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2023/07/plus-ca-change.html" target="_blank">went last time</a> and is even prettier.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8Gtmt_IyFnjgcLV_NEhNvKllkb4Jhm_F4C0zWxSFEiE1z_xSE4ZZXql0medYOpNjMBfah7usC3-DbW3RdyvWoU1H0nCfZohOmI4f-1iF8FKtP93lZIjapb5VMw5b7s59ptTYji7CGjseNgrdNCk7xeQHI2P8-iPfXidQV2D54sZeS3f0Vt1F068FzfYJ/s4032/IMG_5797.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy8Gtmt_IyFnjgcLV_NEhNvKllkb4Jhm_F4C0zWxSFEiE1z_xSE4ZZXql0medYOpNjMBfah7usC3-DbW3RdyvWoU1H0nCfZohOmI4f-1iF8FKtP93lZIjapb5VMw5b7s59ptTYji7CGjseNgrdNCk7xeQHI2P8-iPfXidQV2D54sZeS3f0Vt1F068FzfYJ/w640-h480/IMG_5797.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And finally it was time to head off over the Remutaka Hill again - such a mental and physical barrier, though it only takes twenty minutes to negotiate all its curves and corners. Back to the airport and away home, Wairarapa finally properly ticked off. Except <a href="http://www.toastmartinborough.co.nz" target="_blank">Toast Martinborough</a> is coming up next month, and it sounds really good…</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5-5NO0eSI0eYqNDUZFhqJ5SA8xEdcl-xUht8TVzB7oCvdMuj5fGRHgmTq2fiNwWXpayx9lTFtC5DF9dK8eWWRbUnwiVyd91d2eFw5NNYdRM60oBUO6Lzr5TR5XQ-7Enflh2_DAeCilnffvo75xZFM3LobdXKmWmzMX3_YMuRObVwsAza-MBH-IKKcOjv/s4032/IMG_6021.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ5-5NO0eSI0eYqNDUZFhqJ5SA8xEdcl-xUht8TVzB7oCvdMuj5fGRHgmTq2fiNwWXpayx9lTFtC5DF9dK8eWWRbUnwiVyd91d2eFw5NNYdRM60oBUO6Lzr5TR5XQ-7Enflh2_DAeCilnffvo75xZFM3LobdXKmWmzMX3_YMuRObVwsAza-MBH-IKKcOjv/w640-h480/IMG_6021.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-83937568661042226412023-09-21T15:07:00.036+12:002023-09-29T17:22:32.097+13:00A Foley freebie<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;"><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">With thanks to </span><a href="http://www.foleywines.co.nz" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Foley Wines</a><span style="font-family: inherit;"> for this famil</span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2e-sRnIitsJMH4g68UQrc6_8BQGn7JpRbWt-7smP-V__ZSlb-YffOsk-OTNtH2e7GOh-XhfQtaWZM3xsamlvZCNga0_UGZAVLJ0PMyVuKx6f_l-iNs4Mz4djGTE_q_eTOYeQX4pHBjp-ESnLjQ03RDMWE29UES1K4aDNJlOI3yWR_x1eRq8fXJARrvdp/s3024/IMG_6017.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2579" data-original-width="3024" height="546" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg2e-sRnIitsJMH4g68UQrc6_8BQGn7JpRbWt-7smP-V__ZSlb-YffOsk-OTNtH2e7GOh-XhfQtaWZM3xsamlvZCNga0_UGZAVLJ0PMyVuKx6f_l-iNs4Mz4djGTE_q_eTOYeQX4pHBjp-ESnLjQ03RDMWE29UES1K4aDNJlOI3yWR_x1eRq8fXJARrvdp/w640-h546/IMG_6017.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;">Up in the air again, hooray, I was heading back to Wairarapa to fill in a gap from last time. </span><a href="http://www.therunholder.co.nz" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;" target="_blank">The Runholder</a><span style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;"> is a brand new cellar door that's opened just outside Martinborough to present both wine and gin, and it sure is classy. We went straight there and spent about nine hours on the premises, much of that time being indulged with delicious food and some excellent drinks.</span></span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTg4J2FGfH2yQpKXM1sPRE7-ajJi6L6EL9DLtC42N23uOM9ydrpEe6hrJ7Gm8L761hX5RV3ZQI8rqKVxek3flUwwrW_SKWIaazvNzoe6UqChHlDKYf3f6Zoj-rzVE73aK7xUxQyn4E5YnM5SwCBfclHETmakrSgNSP4PG2A9ofL97mtdDM4fieO2z4drg/s3641/IMG_6045.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2137" data-original-width="3641" height="376" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTg4J2FGfH2yQpKXM1sPRE7-ajJi6L6EL9DLtC42N23uOM9ydrpEe6hrJ7Gm8L761hX5RV3ZQI8rqKVxek3flUwwrW_SKWIaazvNzoe6UqChHlDKYf3f6Zoj-rzVE73aK7xUxQyn4E5YnM5SwCBfclHETmakrSgNSP4PG2A9ofL97mtdDM4fieO2z4drg/w640-h376/IMG_6045.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The building is a big, stylish take on the traditional woolshed, with a wine cellar below and the gin distillery alongside the tasting room. The vineyard is owned by American billionaire Bill Foley, the cellar's full of French oak barrels, and the distillery has a shiny, brand-new steel and copper still just arrived from Germany, but everything else is genuine Kiwi, and mostly local - gin botanicals, grapes, food.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZa4mN8uujMEuf4NxLn3dXXloFWICpCvSP6lremigsMRaEBSpRKqCye2Zp-QbWijH1h15B7XE72uWw7gX4-XtiG9BhGncC4_P_rP_GyvPwpy7klMp3GKiM3RExhy4d385N4b7bpBNTQg_38lXhxEAGm532A-LFF1FTOmxyoGZyITyACFHn1dLqOrxYNYA/s3782/IMG_6037.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2836" data-original-width="3782" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZZa4mN8uujMEuf4NxLn3dXXloFWICpCvSP6lremigsMRaEBSpRKqCye2Zp-QbWijH1h15B7XE72uWw7gX4-XtiG9BhGncC4_P_rP_GyvPwpy7klMp3GKiM3RExhy4d385N4b7bpBNTQg_38lXhxEAGm532A-LFF1FTOmxyoGZyITyACFHn1dLqOrxYNYA/w640-h480/IMG_6037.jpeg" width="640" /></a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Oh, the food! Chef Tim served us lamb ribs, sashimi, wagyu steak and all the sauces but, peasant that I am, it was the spuds that blew me away. Pommes Anna, to give them their proper name - sliced super-thinly, pressed overnight, flavoured with rosemary and garlic and then baked to be brown and crisp on the outside and soft inside. My mouth is currently watering again. Delicious.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMseMEDcuQV9gCY3JXewPEH7F3dGqWf7qRn3Z8INfrP7Tt-g82UqAl4tqyLDx7CYwXv2sFrWVsZODxFQzVUCF5FewqwZ60djk08ZVestncYYAQz8V-xTRn3XhMsaU2rtZHT28bs62eLf8EPVTzaUBE8ToUQPktx4IsKqYeXMVMQ2Z2zsGwTRumdgLzui3/s4032/IMG_6033.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMseMEDcuQV9gCY3JXewPEH7F3dGqWf7qRn3Z8INfrP7Tt-g82UqAl4tqyLDx7CYwXv2sFrWVsZODxFQzVUCF5FewqwZ60djk08ZVestncYYAQz8V-xTRn3XhMsaU2rtZHT28bs62eLf8EPVTzaUBE8ToUQPktx4IsKqYeXMVMQ2Z2zsGwTRumdgLzui3/w640-h480/IMG_6033.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Toby, the man in charge of supplying the fish, came and told us all about how sustainably it's done - to order, line-caught, spreading the harvesting in both time and space - and, when I asked, said he did, occasionally, still fish for fun.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wIhgW4mWzwOeDIrTXqc1twV4na4Aj78gMs5hJLb6YhZ8XhAY4pnumJrzh5I93SCnx1Enqo8199GmbBzWmUc5YfMGxpGmvA7guyw7EUF90j3vsBuwwTQCcQ3M-dm09TMjDMFpIVwg9VXxp0KHeuyr7DJfAxvE1aQpDF38O8tFH7IOnlG3qmATumkbz_2l/s3024/IMG_6041.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2862" data-original-width="3024" height="606" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-wIhgW4mWzwOeDIrTXqc1twV4na4Aj78gMs5hJLb6YhZ8XhAY4pnumJrzh5I93SCnx1Enqo8199GmbBzWmUc5YfMGxpGmvA7guyw7EUF90j3vsBuwwTQCcQ3M-dm09TMjDMFpIVwg9VXxp0KHeuyr7DJfAxvE1aQpDF38O8tFH7IOnlG3qmATumkbz_2l/w640-h606/IMG_6041.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Of course we tasted lots of wine, which added up, with the consequence that though I conscientiously took notes throughout, they're now totally illegible. But the wine was good. Wine master John gave us the tour of the pressing room and cellar, talking lots of technical stuff which I noted down, see above, and gave us tastings from several barrels. This involved, I was mildly repelled to see, his sucking a sample up into a metal tube which he then released into our glasses. Traditional, and hygienic, I'm sure, but still.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62s1qdbA2g99V6pqOfrpvVKu8hToV_WaAUoEo6Q8YXCJykwy41KXG2S-U18YvZNG_a0K5TDmi6XwnHm2OKRa_GUleUN0xdIV4rZOTrBsJnIM98vDqXXYJkcdN9LE6GbI6fzjyEi2ZgR8G0zHM_OdVRXPLSvn0o2xyQzLI1BkE6VNVgu8KOxNhQsC00x8a/s4032/IMG_6036.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62s1qdbA2g99V6pqOfrpvVKu8hToV_WaAUoEo6Q8YXCJykwy41KXG2S-U18YvZNG_a0K5TDmi6XwnHm2OKRa_GUleUN0xdIV4rZOTrBsJnIM98vDqXXYJkcdN9LE6GbI6fzjyEi2ZgR8G0zHM_OdVRXPLSvn0o2xyQzLI1BkE6VNVgu8KOxNhQsC00x8a/w480-h640/IMG_6036.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Speaking of which, we went to look at it and marvel at all the pipes and dials, after which we had a tasting. They do three varieties, ranging from 42% up to a gasping 57%, which was challenging when we had to sip it neat - but impressively subtler when tried with ice, and then tonic. But I liked the wine better.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22RHfEnlJt9YgMFzikdxaAe6W5lYb30JQYT6Sh20yV0yppiLdUBPcxsMjeBGlwhlTSPyHUUV1hrTkvaev6aJMrxJ_iBgKMNGSmKp-Z_Pmi2jjbK9y3jaqMluGs55OG9TkKXYHKnA7PcH-7MdX4L720eth6JMvkU6-z4s-1w0yb_KV5LB70ZGr82YB77I5/s4032/IMG_6060.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22RHfEnlJt9YgMFzikdxaAe6W5lYb30JQYT6Sh20yV0yppiLdUBPcxsMjeBGlwhlTSPyHUUV1hrTkvaev6aJMrxJ_iBgKMNGSmKp-Z_Pmi2jjbK9y3jaqMluGs55OG9TkKXYHKnA7PcH-7MdX4L720eth6JMvkU6-z4s-1w0yb_KV5LB70ZGr82YB77I5/w640-h480/IMG_6060.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then, with the public all gone, we had the big, airy dining room all to ourselves, and "made our own pizzas" in the open kitchen: ie, we wrangled the dough Tim had made, and put some toppings on, before he slid it into the wood oven. Pretty impressed that it cooked in 90 seconds, I must say - but 450° will do that. Yummy too.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmqXxQ9vwNVmf4i8VhGaDb0O3tccVdyvk4yjK4b5pMGdIKx_Smh-KTqsS_l49BypoxpArvWL2JO8U-psVPddf1GoIhBW4tqE-N0rOdgYay0qcSKxWWGSU1EiCgXxCnB4PdjVY2kI9PFPvjRJZBKROp00llcUPut-qKkCn_o2IttX6MUp0VveNzZXC7jzDj/s2958/IMG_6064.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2958" data-original-width="2649" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmqXxQ9vwNVmf4i8VhGaDb0O3tccVdyvk4yjK4b5pMGdIKx_Smh-KTqsS_l49BypoxpArvWL2JO8U-psVPddf1GoIhBW4tqE-N0rOdgYay0qcSKxWWGSU1EiCgXxCnB4PdjVY2kI9PFPvjRJZBKROp00llcUPut-qKkCn_o2IttX6MUp0VveNzZXC7jzDj/w574-h640/IMG_6064.jpeg" width="574" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We sat around for ages while it got dark outside, eating, drinking and chatting, before finally going back to the Martinborough Hotel, which looked lovely at night.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5h3jLly-JRVazg0dvkajQz-4FqtznZGCnUyGbkZtAsqv75_fw7qCgxzW2Ee42I3JDuCiJJ6N8orm7YOWTQJ0mGFQSv0iwN0xz-5PcXpcL1y3wH4Si4_Ek8scAKZ5G650m41Yzqxe1Lv33k9xnTNUIVYh1SUnpCutXdlWRRGbbjVeOYlKyeydRcjoYdL8h/s3774/IMG_6073.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2708" data-original-width="3774" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5h3jLly-JRVazg0dvkajQz-4FqtznZGCnUyGbkZtAsqv75_fw7qCgxzW2Ee42I3JDuCiJJ6N8orm7YOWTQJ0mGFQSv0iwN0xz-5PcXpcL1y3wH4Si4_Ek8scAKZ5G650m41Yzqxe1Lv33k9xnTNUIVYh1SUnpCutXdlWRRGbbjVeOYlKyeydRcjoYdL8h/w640-h461/IMG_6073.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><p><br /></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-14268531614951383772023-08-14T14:24:00.001+12:002023-08-14T14:24:34.068+12:00Such a shame<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGS2qBXzBJ4DZuxgFiZGZORmiiWeemeFB_Iuk1zuUhTvkMaGJcFala9IAiD51LHBGunQhwPJMPX0ed0xYMpkhQzT456QmY1OUHgiH3PScBlStmVwrTmAKFWLlIeomUmUJ6YptaiPs7CdIL7g615iA7ihcKC9VvtKw3s_dyoZq6UddG_Uwrv9zWKwemlBR6/s4608/PC140259.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGS2qBXzBJ4DZuxgFiZGZORmiiWeemeFB_Iuk1zuUhTvkMaGJcFala9IAiD51LHBGunQhwPJMPX0ed0xYMpkhQzT456QmY1OUHgiH3PScBlStmVwrTmAKFWLlIeomUmUJ6YptaiPs7CdIL7g615iA7ihcKC9VvtKw3s_dyoZq6UddG_Uwrv9zWKwemlBR6/w640-h480/PC140259.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">And so we continue. Last post Rhodes on fire, now it's Maui. The pictures and stories coming from the island are truly horrendous and the destruction is mind-boggling. Lahaina <strike>is</strike></span> <span style="font-family: arial;">was such a pretty place when I visited in December 2016, with Uncruise. As I wrote <a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2016/12/we-began-day-by-rolling-joints-on-top.html" target="_blank">in the blog</a> that day, it reminded me strongly of Russell, in the Bay of Islands here, because of its position by the sea, the historic buildings all pretty, wooden and individual, and the atmosphere friendly and relaxed, but still buzzing with contented visitors.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG3vBdUoonMVqdsSxVzxkgEFNGDM-m7YHVx0ua6oxszNL_eehfzjHjps-g8b4BpbrAqfRmdWWFqs8OhbINnTuq95AqDR8ah2qnv9SGvUGdju7N3GlHQLZmpcm-7fGlVL7eBj6dyLLWWp0XA9FwQEBEjW0S4Gxd1iPZDPUATnoqkAaCxizoeUZMlKQmRFl/s4553/PC140256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3240" data-original-width="4553" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG3vBdUoonMVqdsSxVzxkgEFNGDM-m7YHVx0ua6oxszNL_eehfzjHjps-g8b4BpbrAqfRmdWWFqs8OhbINnTuq95AqDR8ah2qnv9SGvUGdju7N3GlHQLZmpcm-7fGlVL7eBj6dyLLWWp0XA9FwQEBEjW0S4Gxd1iPZDPUATnoqkAaCxizoeUZMlKQmRFl/w640-h456/PC140256.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Kb6IOYGwL_4nl2PJ1Dok76YkeihP2V4pJDVfP3E-a4KDjnlXCfHLzzcGWRsEu-uaGhWhnyvcsg1K7wsQYq17MXJtzObSg5K6AE3jPInDS5Y-RS1y_OH67JEZcig92hMlBRRCGCHM0Ce0Lizc95N0lFQEqINDMUr7Ry4tqgJ_KLjuQ0GrWM9k4aGG0QBV/s3456/PC140260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2678" data-original-width="3456" height="496" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Kb6IOYGwL_4nl2PJ1Dok76YkeihP2V4pJDVfP3E-a4KDjnlXCfHLzzcGWRsEu-uaGhWhnyvcsg1K7wsQYq17MXJtzObSg5K6AE3jPInDS5Y-RS1y_OH67JEZcig92hMlBRRCGCHM0Ce0Lizc95N0lFQEqINDMUr7Ry4tqgJ_KLjuQ0GrWM9k4aGG0QBV/w640-h496/PC140260.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0v54TgNw3tfpIqEONiP5dbHRQ3abKzWob_taYJbGvG76mmS6CEnrenjZoVAGhQrcR2YFxS4H1Ewg1zZWqhrxh-AJyxQjNfQEWX9AAv23gtDOXTaQVW3dYVSd7M1HWrVadglPS5BZTET151Pv2n_DaQm1zQCePb1eSRfmOXJx1Z9D8smYAZgTzkXnhZbqE/s4608/PC140262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2989" data-original-width="4608" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0v54TgNw3tfpIqEONiP5dbHRQ3abKzWob_taYJbGvG76mmS6CEnrenjZoVAGhQrcR2YFxS4H1Ewg1zZWqhrxh-AJyxQjNfQEWX9AAv23gtDOXTaQVW3dYVSd7M1HWrVadglPS5BZTET151Pv2n_DaQm1zQCePb1eSRfmOXJx1Z9D8smYAZgTzkXnhZbqE/w640-h416/PC140262.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">After a busy morning starting with yoga on deck, followed by spotting turtles while out snorkelling, and then a bit of whale- and spinner dolphin-watching, we went ashore after lunch to wander around Lahaina. The town was totally focussed on tourists, all the shops along Front St bright and colourful, full of tempting non-essentials (though I did buy a sun visor), the picturesque historic buildings explained on storyboards, the jetty by the lighthouse busy with adventure activities. There were peaceful bits too, especially in the shade of the vast banyan tree by the sea, with its multiple trunks and its branches full of birds.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGT0SkZM_QFG64kNNSiQpef_8JkETSCD4fu8-ZpzrO5btDkRskPbnaer0SgXw1tlCheFM0PQ6T3E6bEOSUVZU-QpyVUJVBytRUDfl_rO6qq9ZtDqWjyPpvbI5n6qtg5JopvgWYW_u1HbZzROkQ5zLvp89CmzYrmv0YklRuylTPL46oK1E7RIdwzSBI8p7/s4510/PC140257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2771" data-original-width="4510" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJGT0SkZM_QFG64kNNSiQpef_8JkETSCD4fu8-ZpzrO5btDkRskPbnaer0SgXw1tlCheFM0PQ6T3E6bEOSUVZU-QpyVUJVBytRUDfl_rO6qq9ZtDqWjyPpvbI5n6qtg5JopvgWYW_u1HbZzROkQ5zLvp89CmzYrmv0YklRuylTPL46oK1E7RIdwzSBI8p7/w640-h394/PC140257.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZ38AeTVLbLxoOOt-VlhcYevsnbFtxgTzdw_4tzraWB0MWhRW_ci6Fi18c5oSfqyUhCWQPYe3gaVL-6NsswYTQAMkKErtZPHnsHBfo_sFiB3XtNi7eTvcOUQqoujwQDTaGX3_7y49sfVpWURa-B9HRMQ802FI6Lw-scYGwDOUxnnVxZR46Mw10WQ1XKhD/s9614/IMG_0601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3684" data-original-width="9614" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZ38AeTVLbLxoOOt-VlhcYevsnbFtxgTzdw_4tzraWB0MWhRW_ci6Fi18c5oSfqyUhCWQPYe3gaVL-6NsswYTQAMkKErtZPHnsHBfo_sFiB3XtNi7eTvcOUQqoujwQDTaGX3_7y49sfVpWURa-B9HRMQ802FI6Lw-scYGwDOUxnnVxZR46Mw10WQ1XKhD/w640-h246/IMG_0601.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've read that the lighthouse and banyan tree are, though damaged, still standing, and are about all that's left now of that busy, bustling, pretty place that I, and everyone else, was so pleased to be exploring. In the photos all those buildings are completely gone, the streets full of half-melted cars, the palm trees just blackened stalks. It's so awful, and the terror of being caught in the middle of it all is unimaginable. The death toll is currently 90+ with lots more to come. So very, very sad.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Q04CKQ7dB4ierhEYUGoPFEppp-9xfnD4waDgbXBGFGiMS3R2jikxnel0iqLA9VQGfuTg8oZYBmUyOtnGrOrJBTALq55GcczYnsLplkTZa-B6afOk8JaaWQU6vSdKaH-ByvG6d4U2SDw1ZdvRPHfPNQc66bDSv78Nsjmd32KFj4HT9MbjjenZvnJ0Zc0z/s4500/PC140263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3087" data-original-width="4500" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Q04CKQ7dB4ierhEYUGoPFEppp-9xfnD4waDgbXBGFGiMS3R2jikxnel0iqLA9VQGfuTg8oZYBmUyOtnGrOrJBTALq55GcczYnsLplkTZa-B6afOk8JaaWQU6vSdKaH-ByvG6d4U2SDw1ZdvRPHfPNQc66bDSv78Nsjmd32KFj4HT9MbjjenZvnJ0Zc0z/w640-h440/PC140263.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFfMiUJDPtuMOHS4KZzxceZQ-VlC8aCej9HjpZjJeswtRa4uNVJcCpDQ4E-FFPSrxQBaGRLXGoEusqRH_vCIZzOcCxdbWj5E3kf0cOBgGMniIAFIFSuviQhq_HrvKCA3Q3NeGxDWUt6IK_DCfqJu502kWRKPIcyYOFnYkU8hokDHUCZQKjiZZVgNXos49/s4608/PC140265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsFfMiUJDPtuMOHS4KZzxceZQ-VlC8aCej9HjpZjJeswtRa4uNVJcCpDQ4E-FFPSrxQBaGRLXGoEusqRH_vCIZzOcCxdbWj5E3kf0cOBgGMniIAFIFSuviQhq_HrvKCA3Q3NeGxDWUt6IK_DCfqJu502kWRKPIcyYOFnYkU8hokDHUCZQKjiZZVgNXos49/w640-h480/PC140265.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-49735322891030261482023-07-24T13:56:00.009+12:002023-07-25T08:51:20.257+12:00Kia kaha, Rhodes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnWhFAJ7NHidic4BjJOKZl2rBGE-LTHvsRJqYLefCc36iSyOMBhuCM_rNejQeLNQRuGhXofkbInTAgCZkj0wbVPWuFgRbOnnmLp9OjMLoVBpgqE8xJzLpojx8AtsEoJqCJve0t4bJQ9v4nhGvD2REnWiquaVxTVC6mC0zU5bqLsTw_d-oev2yE7yc3ye9/s3664/PA120582.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3664" data-original-width="3456" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnWhFAJ7NHidic4BjJOKZl2rBGE-LTHvsRJqYLefCc36iSyOMBhuCM_rNejQeLNQRuGhXofkbInTAgCZkj0wbVPWuFgRbOnnmLp9OjMLoVBpgqE8xJzLpojx8AtsEoJqCJve0t4bJQ9v4nhGvD2REnWiquaVxTVC6mC0zU5bqLsTw_d-oev2yE7yc3ye9/w604-h640/PA120582.JPG" width="604" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Now, which current disaster shall I link to today? Spoiled for choice, really - as usual, sigh. Let's go for</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> Rhodes. Currently sweltering, as are most places around the Mediterranean, in eye-popping temperatures, now there are raging forest fires driving locals and tourists away from their homes and hotels, into halls and stadiums, and even onto the beaches for evacuation. Horrendous.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0GuDxXbiXA0wIj7v4yVh_blXCkGWHA_qlnwftYpmAFq4XTvjUTj6Z4wMFwadkBNSvKBqJGdF2vJ1iXiCcwtH4mnIjQDgcekTV_OAgLs9jBDEjVnjjuSBlIPCg6M6LCYYFV_BioSeuwFthXA5CO1XV-Fm717HjtZ9jSF_loALLXGt4yfxv6hGSVqEyP-Sg/s4608/PA120606.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2684" data-original-width="4608" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0GuDxXbiXA0wIj7v4yVh_blXCkGWHA_qlnwftYpmAFq4XTvjUTj6Z4wMFwadkBNSvKBqJGdF2vJ1iXiCcwtH4mnIjQDgcekTV_OAgLs9jBDEjVnjjuSBlIPCg6M6LCYYFV_BioSeuwFthXA5CO1XV-Fm717HjtZ9jSF_loALLXGt4yfxv6hGSVqEyP-Sg/w640-h372/PA120606.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div><span style="font-family: arial;">It was autumn 2015 when I was there, on a Silversea cruise, and ironically </span><a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2015/10/clinging-on.html" target="_blank">my first blog comment</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> about the island was that it has trees - having just visited Mykonos, which has none (but is still gorgeous). I liked Rhodes very much, and was impressed by its antiquity, which was pervasive, and its sheer prettiness. It’s understandably a standard port for the cruise ships.</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> Many of their </span><strike>passengers</strike><span style="font-family: arial;"> guests would be Brits, who without a doubt would have fallen foul of my guide Stefanos's declaration that, with 300 days of sunshine a year, any conversation in Rhodes about the weather is considered rude, as a sign of boredom. Not now though, I bet.</span></div></span></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmtrmM0Htoz7q4hFc7zP2quqVV0Vcbl6vm1y1LdkJJl_dKJUk2dV0qPPSMHBc3p1d_JUcVYokiIXf799NC5CXf5nH1O-ryD5Rbq4a9te6zD-RO2RmkQd4h4cnPKB_rq5dtRs2l1anldYta0lozH2GBtHlSgTNo9VaZXJ65PtfkyMEuDM4o-1laafoDH6c/s4448/PA120584.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2683" data-original-width="4448" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfmtrmM0Htoz7q4hFc7zP2quqVV0Vcbl6vm1y1LdkJJl_dKJUk2dV0qPPSMHBc3p1d_JUcVYokiIXf799NC5CXf5nH1O-ryD5Rbq4a9te6zD-RO2RmkQd4h4cnPKB_rq5dtRs2l1anldYta0lozH2GBtHlSgTNo9VaZXJ65PtfkyMEuDM4o-1laafoDH6c/w640-h386/PA120584.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">He took us south to Lindos, which is one of the towns that have been evacuated. It's famous for its Acropolis, an arty ruin on top of a hill, ancient of course, and with splendid views over, I have to say, not a remarkably tree-clad landscape by our standards, though still very picturesque. The town itself is classically pretty, all narrow lanes, cobbles, white paint, colourful shops, stray cats, and quite a lot of resigned-looking donkeys descended from Californian imports donated by the US after WW2 destroyed all the roads on the island.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9N-rerc-sauz8VESaCbQal1Hm0YgA3qKzsYMw7R16RpCMIjXAMok5mh1YXMdCWRthni_VTMNMS7QO59yi6D8PWknMCfSuuvKUwsC8EshJYdZjDB40pnZiknTO9B4Z9T1tNSpBQHl2Xw5OAXdC_wT8ogKm5iDtwN5tfqSURV8KCSgwUJajGeNbUuSAaaPE/s4608/PA120640.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3233" data-original-width="4608" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9N-rerc-sauz8VESaCbQal1Hm0YgA3qKzsYMw7R16RpCMIjXAMok5mh1YXMdCWRthni_VTMNMS7QO59yi6D8PWknMCfSuuvKUwsC8EshJYdZjDB40pnZiknTO9B4Z9T1tNSpBQHl2Xw5OAXdC_wT8ogKm5iDtwN5tfqSURV8KCSgwUJajGeNbUuSAaaPE/w640-h450/PA120640.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplEtYPFYCbd_td4loaVCbOpJY5xNIXMkWd3rqCN52gbxqEl9GIt56dvhe42UVeEaL4ImZcQQHUaivbQ3VGwBhambg4XazCE1zKE99IZUh8-0Zl1HTuZv2px7k8C-hThkNV3Qr__DFlF_3p_mo1eNzIRrA9v9QzUFL6un5BwIh3J0wkuM-_WIx7NYap9iZ/s4608/PA120614.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhplEtYPFYCbd_td4loaVCbOpJY5xNIXMkWd3rqCN52gbxqEl9GIt56dvhe42UVeEaL4ImZcQQHUaivbQ3VGwBhambg4XazCE1zKE99IZUh8-0Zl1HTuZv2px7k8C-hThkNV3Qr__DFlF_3p_mo1eNzIRrA9v9QzUFL6un5BwIh3J0wkuM-_WIx7NYap9iZ/w640-h480/PA120614.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><div><span style="font-family: arial;">Later on I had a lovely wander around the Rhodes Old Town - more cobbled lanes, fountains, frescoes, stalls, buskers, a castle with a grassy moat and pyramids of cannonballs. Really lovely, I thoroughly enjoyed myself, especially the cup of iced tea at a café on a hill with a cooling breeze and a view of the castle, mosques, a church spire, the city wall, a windmill, the harbour with ferries, yachts and cruise ships, and, not far away, <strike>Turkey</strike> </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Türkiye.</span></div></span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVROHBA-3VROTigjt5RGGdJZ9DoGyapHd7Mmqxz0Um_FVijguq_99VF0-vBpad8YCsXbnLTZwmeJgtBXeL_npwdHQdPsTkyibMyreud024OIrdWZ51aNmFfyDI7XufdluCCQPZWhLE6cznHOzfnBJMAVbAUh2LDnLhIkOXCueq1f_SCqRQCCljhsVuD2Kk/s4608/PA120659.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVROHBA-3VROTigjt5RGGdJZ9DoGyapHd7Mmqxz0Um_FVijguq_99VF0-vBpad8YCsXbnLTZwmeJgtBXeL_npwdHQdPsTkyibMyreud024OIrdWZ51aNmFfyDI7XufdluCCQPZWhLE6cznHOzfnBJMAVbAUh2LDnLhIkOXCueq1f_SCqRQCCljhsVuD2Kk/w640-h480/PA120659.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-43355015302773278392023-07-09T15:15:00.020+12:002023-07-25T17:17:26.127+12:00Mostly made up<p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;"> With thanks to <a href="https://www.wellingtonnz.com/" target="_blank">Visit Wellington</a> for this famil</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1yQX7VyClX5MGu6WRQ6BvdOIfv99nY10vke-qlYzU4YvBG9ZzmIjiJtFVXrcRQ2-PvUXQwYWtDLw1YMILvBbHINfaWxUyoEgS7y30QWwSBJYthtcjkKmT9PQuGEdbTf81FpjMCID70bshv7Bm8oNoiAD-yN-jLz3MkpOa3iFghqQRvJf6jIbVusucGVe/s5573/HX1A7080.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3499" data-original-width="5573" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1yQX7VyClX5MGu6WRQ6BvdOIfv99nY10vke-qlYzU4YvBG9ZzmIjiJtFVXrcRQ2-PvUXQwYWtDLw1YMILvBbHINfaWxUyoEgS7y30QWwSBJYthtcjkKmT9PQuGEdbTf81FpjMCID70bshv7Bm8oNoiAD-yN-jLz3MkpOa3iFghqQRvJf6jIbVusucGVe/w640-h402/HX1A7080.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The edible delights continued today with an Anzac scroll from </span><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://www.cafepolo.co.nz/" target="_blank">Café Polo</a> that is still making my mouth water, in memory of its sweet, flaky deliciousness. Then we headed (me for the <a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2013/08/giving-disneys-imagineers-run-for-their.html" target="_blank">second time</a>) to Miramar's most famous attraction, <a href="https://tours.wetaworkshop.com/" target="_blank">Weta Workshop</a>. This is where all the magic for LOTR, the Hobbit and so many other fantastical movies is created - honestly, SO many, you wouldn't believe it. We had a super-enthusiastic guide, Sully, who must have seen it all many times before but still seemed agog at the mastery. Which is what it really is - imagination, skill, finicking detail and amazing creativity. We got to see processes, like making prostheses, chatted to a couple of artists, got hands-on with swords and such, heard behind-the-scenes stories, and viewed close-up costumes and props that were truly amazing.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAvpuDnTw5KCMBul8RgwqoL41R4L0scdps4-CkLX46mrAZH1C4ruGMkOMHyHLTRYtNzeR97zP63hNqQKSFNBsNA5Vk3xukoKDfZxtMxVoyUtUZLC3S09uSFodrUTUIYpX9cA05bCqEkT9R1yDL0HGGNuKok9kKrEC9dIRFBD7ZtXIwtRcqW38b_msUS4a/s5224/Weta%20Cave%20Workshop%20Tour%20Touch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3156" data-original-width="5224" height="386" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaAvpuDnTw5KCMBul8RgwqoL41R4L0scdps4-CkLX46mrAZH1C4ruGMkOMHyHLTRYtNzeR97zP63hNqQKSFNBsNA5Vk3xukoKDfZxtMxVoyUtUZLC3S09uSFodrUTUIYpX9cA05bCqEkT9R1yDL0HGGNuKok9kKrEC9dIRFBD7ZtXIwtRcqW38b_msUS4a/w640-h386/Weta%20Cave%20Workshop%20Tour%20Touch.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">These are supplied images because you're not allowed to take photos there, until the end where we had a go at tinfoil sculpture. Everyone on the tour was enthralled throughout, especially the nerdy types in long black coats who asked particularly detailed questions. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEzf9r9dV7IW2ZAfehIl-XOyFfVW90bpkN4xoThjN0CjX9aLMT3X2Iggp7SRT6maDqv7cJ0IfwIKwujhghcWraj27VfhmV3_8CtkEdXDBdFbqDnKL8woILJ-tHFO3yGymgL7nI8o7Okr1YT2aD9yOxJgD5Y-2m303_q6-EMjqVjxMi53RqTKQTLgnm4dF/s4032/IMG_5826.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2536" data-original-width="4032" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEzf9r9dV7IW2ZAfehIl-XOyFfVW90bpkN4xoThjN0CjX9aLMT3X2Iggp7SRT6maDqv7cJ0IfwIKwujhghcWraj27VfhmV3_8CtkEdXDBdFbqDnKL8woILJ-tHFO3yGymgL7nI8o7Okr1YT2aD9yOxJgD5Y-2m303_q6-EMjqVjxMi53RqTKQTLgnm4dF/w640-h402/IMG_5826.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Lunch was at <a href="https://www.arcimboldi.net/" target="_blank">Arcimboldi</a>, who make an excellent pizza, as you'd expect from the name; and then I was back at Weta for one of their Experiences - today making a bloody wound on my hand. Artificially, of course, with silicone and dyes. It was actually less fun than I expected - our guide this time wasn't as outgoing as Sully, and mostly it was heads-down over our paintbrushes with no talking. The results were fairly impressively disgusting, and some of the others were enjoying themselves - "Can I do my gunshot wound on your forehead?" - but for me it was a bit disappointing (though I hope you're impressed at how old I was able to make my hand look).</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwJ_TgOyhkiBZNrc1onKA-K4P3TxFjNwBaxiRY7l7ezCfTNfzuKqX858PGBPLnE6mMrZ6pL7m0VWOK42g-WZTAFZLmL4Nf257wXKV8da1Z04CyuIt1fGDzsEfsrWfpNO2q8OyyuIiD3U6Fi988UGnNZLmgUKRDm9E0eeANw7VDT79jMF-QHePKdMW-QPR/s3024/IMG_5830.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2850" data-original-width="3024" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglwJ_TgOyhkiBZNrc1onKA-K4P3TxFjNwBaxiRY7l7ezCfTNfzuKqX858PGBPLnE6mMrZ6pL7m0VWOK42g-WZTAFZLmL4Nf257wXKV8da1Z04CyuIt1fGDzsEfsrWfpNO2q8OyyuIiD3U6Fi988UGnNZLmgUKRDm9E0eeANw7VDT79jMF-QHePKdMW-QPR/w400-h378/IMG_5830.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Never mind - on to the next treat, which was dinner at the <a href="https://roxycinema.co.nz/" target="_blank">Roxy</a>. This is an Art Deco cinema that was first built in 1928 as the Capitol Theatre. This is the same year the Miramar Film Studios were established, I was surprised to learn, to produce tourism films, much later being taken over by Peter Jackson. It was Richard Taylor's wife Tanya who was behind the restoration of the Capitol into today's cute Roxy. We had their Sunday roast which was nice, but a bit mean with the gravy. Then we headed into the very comfortable cinema to see the latest </span><i style="font-family: arial;">Mission: Impossible</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> movie - silly, but irresistibly exciting, as usual. And that was that for Miramar - well worth the visit. Would recommend.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGYzFcu2Hw8VzeXm4SO7W2UxNTRoMLo6MYJILegVj5EU-qbwr91r5NXaQF6NrcWKF7m3jv7UIh-FRcTtGl69-qJJApSaJaMw1v08g2omR0vWEJkCiQGVsUI8DTYQ0CIwSWxzde37LP59bQ0byeAVTe-9gPwJ8wNbYkAYDJmUQ8rif0b6JuzBZld_Otf_Z/s2452/The%20Art%20Deco%20Roxy%20cinema%20is%20both%20stylish%20and%20comfortable%20inside%20-%20credit%20Roxy.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1574" data-original-width="2452" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnGYzFcu2Hw8VzeXm4SO7W2UxNTRoMLo6MYJILegVj5EU-qbwr91r5NXaQF6NrcWKF7m3jv7UIh-FRcTtGl69-qJJApSaJaMw1v08g2omR0vWEJkCiQGVsUI8DTYQ0CIwSWxzde37LP59bQ0byeAVTe-9gPwJ8wNbYkAYDJmUQ8rif0b6JuzBZld_Otf_Z/w640-h410/The%20Art%20Deco%20Roxy%20cinema%20is%20both%20stylish%20and%20comfortable%20inside%20-%20credit%20Roxy.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-34900558526345593902023-07-08T14:09:00.007+12:002023-07-24T21:00:16.347+12:00Admiring Miramar<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"> With thanks to </span><a href="https://www.wellingtonnz.com/" style="font-family: arial; text-align: left;" target="_blank">Visit Wellington</a><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"> for this famil</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial; text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI_HSerPJkHBZCTmhudoRhZbzn_tQeesOOSSuon6ujNNIsJvjKGr26fxfsRO6dbU0SNH6lkRNQvxvZ9yrfE2wFMgfk3vVFCXBNpjrtvYSUB1_7dx_Joouy71-eDW5K19oocO0gYo5Pv4nH5yA4U4SKiyPEMPdAJqqxt7mI_S7s-q-Ca0zg-WgU-2kEO90e/s3024/IMG_5864.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2701" data-original-width="3024" height="573" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI_HSerPJkHBZCTmhudoRhZbzn_tQeesOOSSuon6ujNNIsJvjKGr26fxfsRO6dbU0SNH6lkRNQvxvZ9yrfE2wFMgfk3vVFCXBNpjrtvYSUB1_7dx_Joouy71-eDW5K19oocO0gYo5Pv4nH5yA4U4SKiyPEMPdAJqqxt7mI_S7s-q-Ca0zg-WgU-2kEO90e/w640-h573/IMG_5864.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">For once, leaving Wellington airport, I turned right instead of left, to spend some time exploring the peninsula suburb of Miramar (since I now have family there). It turned out to provide the perfect combination of exertion and reward, the latter mostly, I'm happy to say, edible. It's a hilly neck of land at one side of the entrance to the harbour, and there are some steep climbs up its slopes, through both bush and pretty suburbs of wooden villas. On a good day when, famously, Wellington can't be beaten, the views are excellent - unfortunately (but also predictably) this wasn't one of them, though the misty, moisty conditions produced a moodier picture which was still attractive.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCm-X8y-OUOm_01jEpKh2ibW7aUbcQGsSbfS9XMR0vfVnNJFpxuIK_EEp7gu2MNXB_zKduWW3fEo4YqoGbl63hK6UWH-jBQvMbFrtRaVPlVpbXE6I5AFjXRJS64LOhHNwv4_VJweiYle-A4fRUesavujiMUhluc-blzugeiTvIAMyoqhy7uT4B3pU4Ql1/s3928/IMG_5816.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2701" data-original-width="3928" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXCm-X8y-OUOm_01jEpKh2ibW7aUbcQGsSbfS9XMR0vfVnNJFpxuIK_EEp7gu2MNXB_zKduWW3fEo4YqoGbl63hK6UWH-jBQvMbFrtRaVPlVpbXE6I5AFjXRJS64LOhHNwv4_VJweiYle-A4fRUesavujiMUhluc-blzugeiTvIAMyoqhy7uT4B3pU4Ql1/w640-h440/IMG_5816.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Spreading the love, we collected a very good almond croissant from the Shelly Bay Bakery (which isn't actually in Shelly Bay) and then an excellent coffee from Swimsuit, and headed off on a walk that included enough steep bits to both cancel out the breakfast and earn the lunch we had at </span><a href="https://www.scorchorama.co.nz/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Scorch-o-Rama</a><span style="font-family: arial;">, in Scorching Bay (which wasn't scorching, but cool and silvery). I really liked the menu there, which was full of genuinely funny jokes, viz the vegan dish: "No animals were harmed in the making of this, unless Chef chopped another digit off. No? High three!" The food was yummy, too.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9jucQTEQvOaIWdxaF4s5ZMRoxv_zpeqkRFPgl5w_4N9kPL_EYGKj36Zi9f7Ej33exntfRP-uOH70bNatYJf-l4KBHxFRkc1uyqeRJK8qiTiNedKEFyTUEjn-ApsCJuimzGjhb0cw2OQVP9IFpU23zOduZ79s7GrYes9RFTooxOtRqe8N4BAEtKnFau0K/s3814/IMG_5863.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2459" data-original-width="3814" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf9jucQTEQvOaIWdxaF4s5ZMRoxv_zpeqkRFPgl5w_4N9kPL_EYGKj36Zi9f7Ej33exntfRP-uOH70bNatYJf-l4KBHxFRkc1uyqeRJK8qiTiNedKEFyTUEjn-ApsCJuimzGjhb0cw2OQVP9IFpU23zOduZ79s7GrYes9RFTooxOtRqe8N4BAEtKnFau0K/w640-h412/IMG_5863.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then we carried on along the waterfront, past sandy beaches, pohutukawa, and a fringe of interesting houses, modern and traditional, with turrets and towers. Six, count them, in a row belong to Peter Jackson, so of course there be dragons. It was an interesting route, but long, with lots of steps, so after a rest back home I was ready for some indulgence.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGacxtVa7Qh7FlAXvcrO0VClhN_qxUJKULQ-qJmZ8naYJOBYbV7-xB6PvjooamLjaVpEFrkb-DU2fFc19ojixMlSMPYqOZNCGwva_ol2S1xXfHNlnIYdgobeWXtj7wlLTTfbW0RZ1Fu03FfR2YevgR8_OkKBzCLplXXj_C__6KpJVXn6Q1QW-H7Vp8J2T/s3874/IMG_5821.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2135" data-original-width="3874" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGacxtVa7Qh7FlAXvcrO0VClhN_qxUJKULQ-qJmZ8naYJOBYbV7-xB6PvjooamLjaVpEFrkb-DU2fFc19ojixMlSMPYqOZNCGwva_ol2S1xXfHNlnIYdgobeWXtj7wlLTTfbW0RZ1Fu03FfR2YevgR8_OkKBzCLplXXj_C__6KpJVXn6Q1QW-H7Vp8J2T/w640-h352/IMG_5821.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">First we went to </span><a href="https://doublevisionbrewing.com/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Double Vision Brewery</a><span style="font-family: arial;">, in a mildly industrial area, where in the taproom with its big shiny silver tanks the bar serves a very appealing range of drinks. I really like that they're not grim purists, and was very taken by their offering such treats as Cocowbell - a coconut chocolate milk stout, as well as a strawberry and lime cider, and honey mead, plus all the usual ales and lagers. This month's cocktail was Chocolate Mud Slide - coconut stout with Baileys, vodka, chocolate syrup and cream. Sounds disgusting? Clearly, you haven't tried it.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTepJtkRYVzUO6B8CzOK5kPf60f-KFryd9_sNZ5Om4zEi5TGhSY6BHHuMftQ8ZoEsFcsPOzZn2QxkFt0Zrtl38BtMaYFd28xeIwzWjPShTKpi_AO9v86M54zAAiHcn1ajBopSMxs6kaSqcYaqljKMq1sh95ZdEoxlSsVEiavwruRRQtzDSV887fuNcBmdj/s4032/IMG_5825.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTepJtkRYVzUO6B8CzOK5kPf60f-KFryd9_sNZ5Om4zEi5TGhSY6BHHuMftQ8ZoEsFcsPOzZn2QxkFt0Zrtl38BtMaYFd28xeIwzWjPShTKpi_AO9v86M54zAAiHcn1ajBopSMxs6kaSqcYaqljKMq1sh95ZdEoxlSsVEiavwruRRQtzDSV887fuNcBmdj/w640-h480/IMG_5825.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Then we went to </span><a href="https://www.oikos.co.nz/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Oiko's</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> restaurant for dinner, and had the nicest, friendliest waitress I've ever encountered. She also knew her stuff, and we did so enjoy our tasting plates, especially the chicken skewers and fish sliders. The sesame-crusted halloumi was a bit too delicious though for the family atmosphere, especially when it came to the last morsels - that's the downside of shared dishes.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqTfM6gEc9QBqLSfkstfQCiV6napZxi1Rq-cAmTaLsqBK-9V9VXEGW2pDr7WSzyMprSHPgwvuVoYwWGF4i7Ga-Hb1e6Ybi-j0HkZKBoMI3Ze3fZQnk-jU49kOjt09gobQYYI4FVaueeZzu4jeTnXPilKyfEq6_CxBzPwZaRosAp2fCyNlccbq4CHU_7lK/s3842/IMG_5815.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2478" data-original-width="3842" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlqTfM6gEc9QBqLSfkstfQCiV6napZxi1Rq-cAmTaLsqBK-9V9VXEGW2pDr7WSzyMprSHPgwvuVoYwWGF4i7Ga-Hb1e6Ybi-j0HkZKBoMI3Ze3fZQnk-jU49kOjt09gobQYYI4FVaueeZzu4jeTnXPilKyfEq6_CxBzPwZaRosAp2fCyNlccbq4CHU_7lK/w640-h412/IMG_5815.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-22678974662566327652023-07-07T12:54:00.003+12:002023-07-20T14:25:58.335+12:00Plus ça change...<p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;">With thanks to </span><a href="https://wairarapanz.com/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Destination Wairarapa</a><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;"> for this famil</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Brrr! It was -2°C this morning, and the ice was so thick on my windscreen that I had to scrape it off with a redundant credit card - it's been a long time since I've had to do that. Beforehand, though, I had my last yummy breakfast at <a href="https://www.parehuaresort.co.nz/" target="_blank">Parehua Resort</a> - which has been a lovely, quiet, rural place to stay. Almost 30 villas and cottages scattered around a pretty and very neat garden, with a pond, bushwalk, and lots of trees. That means birds too, and it was a sheer delight to be woken by the echoing musical notes of a magpie this morning. I shall miss being fussed over in the restaurant by host Dean - </span><span style="font-family: arial;">I haven't experienced such</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> friendly but perfectionist service since my last Silversea cruise. That's high praise, you know.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JLsxvfJdxiMN38E56WlkSUrJPGnWnh-dmHGcpGeQJvZPl6Px80T803RZNZB0iXEnORefXMEX6_5fCgtcVwUHlkdBqWfA40zSHrjAgECSZ79Sbmf4Wj1TBYAJmT83feENym1dotMmkLGO2nkpZwnARDrFXEIf796Tj74GFuC8_Qn0AK08i7weRmtRvgru/s1500/The%20Garden%20Cottages%20are%20exactly%20that%20-%20credit%20Parehua.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JLsxvfJdxiMN38E56WlkSUrJPGnWnh-dmHGcpGeQJvZPl6Px80T803RZNZB0iXEnORefXMEX6_5fCgtcVwUHlkdBqWfA40zSHrjAgECSZ79Sbmf4Wj1TBYAJmT83feENym1dotMmkLGO2nkpZwnARDrFXEIf796Tj74GFuC8_Qn0AK08i7weRmtRvgru/w640-h426/The%20Garden%20Cottages%20are%20exactly%20that%20-%20credit%20Parehua.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I whipped into Martinborough for a quick squizz, and found it to be a classic country colonial town - ie, neatly-mown town square focused on its war memorial, deliberately impressive stately buildings, and, er, a rather smelly trailer of sheep passing by. Some nice shops, though, and apparently also a sweet shop that I missed, tch.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYaG_56REuw10880fbx49zaAIss_-POe0RmZzgYn1YNPXXi09IFOkhMeU8bK5jFhyZ7ThXKoq-8VG3KXIT1ptbtsBY8Ns0wt7zXqJV8pLC7p6axl8Tbo0HMlS9l5uxKhsqnn6CbfNc5rVyB2MxJiYccQ1rNmXCIfffi9ASWEqimOyPy52M81nGdcrz_fg/s4032/IMG_5749.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzYaG_56REuw10880fbx49zaAIss_-POe0RmZzgYn1YNPXXi09IFOkhMeU8bK5jFhyZ7ThXKoq-8VG3KXIT1ptbtsBY8Ns0wt7zXqJV8pLC7p6axl8Tbo0HMlS9l5uxKhsqnn6CbfNc5rVyB2MxJiYccQ1rNmXCIfffi9ASWEqimOyPy52M81nGdcrz_fg/w640-h480/IMG_5749.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Then it was off through the crisp, frosty morning back to Greytown, for a proper look around. I started at <a href="https://cobblestonesmuseum.org.nz/" target="_blank">Cobblestones Museum</a>, which is a town within a town, comprising a good collection of historic buildings, most of them moved onto site. One of the originals is a cute little Cobb & Co stable, which would have been a busy place, back in the day. I wasn't such a fan of the basic hospital, though, especially its bed with raised stirrups for you-know-what. I was taken, though, with the display inside the main building about wheelbarrow races, and the story of poor Samuel Oates, who in 1858 pushed one loaded with saplings from Wellington right over the Remutakas. When he called into the local pub for a well-deserved refreshment, some low-life nicked three of his trees. Painful.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi719wydxXbCG1Rz2LQGKhu5xv4vNM6-vlv8iL6St84SrPjeUNjA2InhbKpT_QK3XXM_PnUCESnsvRs2xmVuj8N8vaXjTX6auCR46pdb1ldVNp63GypMUepfPnzy__ymC3OLSISA7h_uEtvuVfMev7dD43HWTeujmxl61gRrOTp0LkOXce04GVOsikMT9b0/s4032/IMG_5764.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2520" data-original-width="4032" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi719wydxXbCG1Rz2LQGKhu5xv4vNM6-vlv8iL6St84SrPjeUNjA2InhbKpT_QK3XXM_PnUCESnsvRs2xmVuj8N8vaXjTX6auCR46pdb1ldVNp63GypMUepfPnzy__ymC3OLSISA7h_uEtvuVfMev7dD43HWTeujmxl61gRrOTp0LkOXce04GVOsikMT9b0/w640-h400/IMG_5764.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Right next door, also in a pretty cottage, is Schoc Chocolates, where they make a huge range of tablet and fancy temptations from Belgian chocolate. They even make colourful, and edible, bowls and shoes there. It's just one of a whole townful of quirky little boutiques, proudly individually owned, and each one determined to be as appealing and surprising as possible. So, at Mango Interiors, you can buy a shiny wooden motorbike or Vespa 90 from Bali; or in Blackwell & Sons a fantastic, traditional English Pashley bike, when I was there for a whole $1000 off the usual $4 thou-plus price. Books, clothes, antiques, crafts, food... and all beautifully displayed in pretty wooden shops. No wonder it was busy.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oV-JuD1nZP8zUXchflrL5KwlVN1u_6Ts_Cl-Q-tCgamvJ3KTqRJc55cqIWUzTweZeEAlJkr_BCfVnIvnqwjjdGeS_NHNDpryZNZlUUw2kcP5tMilfmLqxsnEJq6PO23uzYZiUnLOm6jQCRg2qNDr2PLHPcs4TnKIuGOKT1DZ2Q2_F2KR-7AOKRc3D7-d/s4032/IMG_5791.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1oV-JuD1nZP8zUXchflrL5KwlVN1u_6Ts_Cl-Q-tCgamvJ3KTqRJc55cqIWUzTweZeEAlJkr_BCfVnIvnqwjjdGeS_NHNDpryZNZlUUw2kcP5tMilfmLqxsnEJq6PO23uzYZiUnLOm6jQCRg2qNDr2PLHPcs4TnKIuGOKT1DZ2Q2_F2KR-7AOKRc3D7-d/w640-h480/IMG_5791.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rX_bF-piW9J8736ofulxVPnibavH6EGSjAVAW4e1nZSEAAZx0VHP7HHAH9J9Rua51t06kFhTwmZHDhOB4j6VAw1-XW56Nvs8RAYVy8r-ucgcowbJA2WnypiWuh7acZlYEBeuzPO6YD_IbNzOh8Qf4uLLMlY1ZoHh4XbdpjmCT42QufyDQct7YxSp0hat/s4032/IMG_5803.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2rX_bF-piW9J8736ofulxVPnibavH6EGSjAVAW4e1nZSEAAZx0VHP7HHAH9J9Rua51t06kFhTwmZHDhOB4j6VAw1-XW56Nvs8RAYVy8r-ucgcowbJA2WnypiWuh7acZlYEBeuzPO6YD_IbNzOh8Qf4uLLMlY1ZoHh4XbdpjmCT42QufyDQct7YxSp0hat/w640-h480/IMG_5803.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It was lunchtime by now, so I had to head back to <a href="https://www.theroyalhotel.co.nz/" target="_blank">Featherston's Royal Hotel</a> to eat with three of the driving forces behind the town's <a href="https://www.booktown.org.nz/festival-2023" target="_blank">Book Festival</a>. 'Driving forces' is right - they are totally dedicated and infectiously enthusiastic book devotees. The town has seven bookshops, which is going some for a population of less than 3,000. The festival draws writers, illustrators and publishers in ever-growing numbers for all sorts of events over a weekend in May. The hotel plays a big part - opened in 1868 it is, naturally, a feature on the Featherston streetscape, and is plushly Victorian inside, including the accommodation which I got to see.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYT0TT5qeiPQB96v5U-ZxiSkR79bQSoITrpILOcYhAXEXAy_DV2dATapKmNgKCl5Zdg68HVxI2SX8MC0BXmzm61inN0esn7KMmVb9pyHd5Dnb0CC5Cn0d3U5yT1HrgznW2dnUutZGsmwwd8ifR3jBA2vrgfF4H-IezUofT-O6W3ePI8RXjLeZBdWsQvUr/s4032/IMG_5805.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYYT0TT5qeiPQB96v5U-ZxiSkR79bQSoITrpILOcYhAXEXAy_DV2dATapKmNgKCl5Zdg68HVxI2SX8MC0BXmzm61inN0esn7KMmVb9pyHd5Dnb0CC5Cn0d3U5yT1HrgznW2dnUutZGsmwwd8ifR3jBA2vrgfF4H-IezUofT-O6W3ePI8RXjLeZBdWsQvUr/w640-h480/IMG_5805.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I was starting to fade a little now, but I got another injection of enthusiasm from Garrick, who drove me back out of town to the racecourse he runs, to see the campsite there. On the way, we passed the huge site where, in WWI, there were rows and rows of 90 huge wooden barracks at the military camp. It was resurrected in WW2 as a Japanese POW camp, where there was a riot in 1943 and almost 50 prisoners were killed. All rather grim, but the racecourse was a classic country set-up and had some interesting buildings too, including an octagonal hospital used during the 1918 flu pandemic, which originally had a hole in the roof for ventilation. In less than two months, flu killed 9,000 people in NZ - that's half of the 18,000 soldiers who died over the whole of WWI. Sounds familiar...</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHxIWKejm-X-ilOAJgpyUW_oyluogU7ma28mqbMYq1qqqs0MbYsUup6euTjSLbfs1dv017ztEvFqUZPBJ0WU9b_CX-QKeVmVgBLo2WV6AYBf3UnB8oUwo_euc93OFlMzxpXhUpT5F3j6wxOzlor_poGolMWKS4UV7gUShXTF_r1rURDZMtSbajjnRNeQ4/s4032/Tauherenikau's%20WWI%20flu%20hospital%20is%20a%20point%20of%20interest%20at%20the%20campsite.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2318" data-original-width="4032" height="368" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNHxIWKejm-X-ilOAJgpyUW_oyluogU7ma28mqbMYq1qqqs0MbYsUup6euTjSLbfs1dv017ztEvFqUZPBJ0WU9b_CX-QKeVmVgBLo2WV6AYBf3UnB8oUwo_euc93OFlMzxpXhUpT5F3j6wxOzlor_poGolMWKS4UV7gUShXTF_r1rURDZMtSbajjnRNeQ4/w640-h368/Tauherenikau's%20WWI%20flu%20hospital%20is%20a%20point%20of%20interest%20at%20the%20campsite.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And then it was time to leave Wairarapa and drive back over the Remutaka Hill to Wellington, happily against the surge of traffic heading out of town for the weekend. I had lots more treats to look forward to - in Miramar.</span><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-51301441219753714982023-07-06T14:10:00.160+12:002023-07-19T16:52:11.314+12:00Bad start, good finish<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;">With thanks to <a href="https://wairarapanz.com/" target="_blank">Destination Wairarapa</a> for this famil</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHN_My3a-0fnEtgJfzmSEoYBJ3oAY01_qD2-9QwMOZmgYilQ8oyY6DE9oxGxgIE6VRDUApO5rZ4r_wyjoXFQyI9XanEqxzeL8XNJVxn8aSDQf0tGlV8UTpB0v3M2hUTRLMux5buVOveD5C9jBTJdLgsEHbG_M4AjDJjNJGy_2DDmqkvYXDLMNCqTRrm-Vx/s4032/IMG_5748.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHN_My3a-0fnEtgJfzmSEoYBJ3oAY01_qD2-9QwMOZmgYilQ8oyY6DE9oxGxgIE6VRDUApO5rZ4r_wyjoXFQyI9XanEqxzeL8XNJVxn8aSDQf0tGlV8UTpB0v3M2hUTRLMux5buVOveD5C9jBTJdLgsEHbG_M4AjDJjNJGy_2DDmqkvYXDLMNCqTRrm-Vx/w640-h480/IMG_5748.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Phew, busy day today. Lots of miles covered, people met, things seen and learned (and promptly forgotten) - but definitely enjoyed. Chilly start, though. Thanks, by the way, to the OWM who, when I said as much as I passed him on my way to Parehua's restaurant for breakfast, sternly corrected my comment to praise the sparkling morning. Hadn't noticed that.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-godXMu9DmelvJhwMSl8xUxbw7Kzi5S4eX2fKJ6_VG45ArDjDsTlyzYKcryWnlvpxlWhGXjxg_q4q-znAb0z-Y3BCEjL27_bMy4_Pq8eQuWpN5dAfqg8kiubdSguzN6wmt8rFULPtEInixtaKgux8xcTQ29RP7Cv39VDlCv93R0IO9mrVb8jhken6AYg4/s4032/IMG_5711.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-godXMu9DmelvJhwMSl8xUxbw7Kzi5S4eX2fKJ6_VG45ArDjDsTlyzYKcryWnlvpxlWhGXjxg_q4q-znAb0z-Y3BCEjL27_bMy4_Pq8eQuWpN5dAfqg8kiubdSguzN6wmt8rFULPtEInixtaKgux8xcTQ29RP7Cv39VDlCv93R0IO9mrVb8jhken6AYg4/w640-h480/IMG_5711.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Lovely Luke at </span><a href="https://www.longbushcottage.co.nz/" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">Longbush Cottage</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> restored my good temper with his contagious enthusiasm for the tulip. He plants about 6,000 of them every winter, in pots and beds around his pretty little cottage, to bloom during his Tulip Festival in early October. It tells you everything about his eagerness, that I got caught up in it all despite, right now, there being nothing to see but the odd tiny green tip poking through all the mulch. It'll be splendid, for sure.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2tthNhndcyBCFQiQp-7GGtzSL7IVxiWWQ_GlUiglnXIGIOvQH0Crziy61dXIC_mmBVBPVyK7Q_-5sKeQ7FKWkiQlAz_PZkvTSCpI12cx1Qbj5ansIUgDp8RqEI7fNwmNZhMj2M4UE_N7UCyzokJ_7J5cjzeXFSvGOl_XJKcIClI5Ymp0Pmym999c9yMvY/s4032/IMG_5715.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2349" data-original-width="4032" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2tthNhndcyBCFQiQp-7GGtzSL7IVxiWWQ_GlUiglnXIGIOvQH0Crziy61dXIC_mmBVBPVyK7Q_-5sKeQ7FKWkiQlAz_PZkvTSCpI12cx1Qbj5ansIUgDp8RqEI7fNwmNZhMj2M4UE_N7UCyzokJ_7J5cjzeXFSvGOl_XJKcIClI5Ymp0Pmym999c9yMvY/w640-h372/IMG_5715.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Next I headed, through lovely winter scenery, to Masterton, for a bit of art at <a href="http://aratoi.org.nz" target="_blank">Aratoi</a>, the big gallery there. There was some good stuff to look at but I was most impressed by the current exhibition of a huge model moon, constantly rotating to show off its hidden side. It was a bit alarming, to see that it's much more pitted on the far side than the smoother surface we can see - because of all those meteors it cops, which would presumably otherwise hit Earth. Thanks, moon.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGzslia_F-t-E3s2HT9PycIlMyV3ED4LHkgwzTItdNzpq_sngCwI0I_fPocWvgNEQGeE9HfhuhPhdMNtpTG4-SPjPUOhPP9XPCIHez_hVZKGPCmtVem1SjGCRLHh6RZMKTd1omPd2tNiJ3RyN6rTOwwvLE-QczFrwbh49qAU9Vrg1ACjJcpayRQUogGbx/s3578/IMG_5720.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2875" data-original-width="3578" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGzslia_F-t-E3s2HT9PycIlMyV3ED4LHkgwzTItdNzpq_sngCwI0I_fPocWvgNEQGeE9HfhuhPhdMNtpTG4-SPjPUOhPP9XPCIHez_hVZKGPCmtVem1SjGCRLHh6RZMKTd1omPd2tNiJ3RyN6rTOwwvLE-QczFrwbh49qAU9Vrg1ACjJcpayRQUogGbx/w640-h514/IMG_5720.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Masterton is home to the Golden Shears competition and of course has a <a href="https://www.thewoolshednz.com/" target="_blank">detailed museum</a> covering every aspect of shearing sheep; also plenty of art and a very popular park with a miniature train and an excellent minigolf course I would love to have taunted the Baby with - but I had an appointment to keep up the road.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVa8RVZS6iGe4qBk65Aej0HwL3LTLlrY8EXQ9AfHfn3yJUMZb3tpdtVjgh1VeYVRakT89Yc6HqCGKUiu3Atp6hvi0PDl2eAcJF1Z9dWIbTYuYybK7pmQOAtHmzOy5ULxBIatzapvhOYY-f60nk3sqt0NaFSizBxdWMPiIS627gUEeo7bHogQb6ET7OaUIy/s4032/IMG_5721.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVa8RVZS6iGe4qBk65Aej0HwL3LTLlrY8EXQ9AfHfn3yJUMZb3tpdtVjgh1VeYVRakT89Yc6HqCGKUiu3Atp6hvi0PDl2eAcJF1Z9dWIbTYuYybK7pmQOAtHmzOy5ULxBIatzapvhOYY-f60nk3sqt0NaFSizBxdWMPiIS627gUEeo7bHogQb6ET7OaUIy/w640-h480/IMG_5721.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><a href="https://pukaha.org.nz/" target="_blank">Pukaha</a> is a wildlife sanctuary I've been to before, but this time I was shown around by the inimitable Everlyne, who was irrepressibly full of information and - yes - enthusiasm. She told me lots of interesting things, and took me to see a kokako who only likes men, so Everlyne collared a passing one to take to the enclosure so the bird would come and talk to us. As it/she did - though, disappointingly, she didn't drop the f-bomb as she has been known to.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4h1tkMU6XQj7M9JxmAlZA18Fz6332Busn8BBnenfd5Q7aI8oKDD-U34EOr9ADHtTaF8WPfao3uwfbK8e_E2JnkFvFOD7XIPmcs2W4KTFVswoGhbl3t8jvv2Q7uJNhiDyVsNrHhsT1B4yNEKwj5pKzbX7PWEr-KZjCEC7Ue67NPfUgsO05w0PqN82usgV/s4032/IMG_5737.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4h1tkMU6XQj7M9JxmAlZA18Fz6332Busn8BBnenfd5Q7aI8oKDD-U34EOr9ADHtTaF8WPfao3uwfbK8e_E2JnkFvFOD7XIPmcs2W4KTFVswoGhbl3t8jvv2Q7uJNhiDyVsNrHhsT1B4yNEKwj5pKzbX7PWEr-KZjCEC7Ue67NPfUgsO05w0PqN82usgV/w640-h480/IMG_5737.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The eels were pretty impressive, too, big and so eager for a feed that they nearly wrenched the spoon away. The whole place was well done if, today, a little light on actual bird life, despite Everlyne's best efforts. Didn't matter, though - she was the real star.</span><p></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJiTO1m0Nqks2hfA3T4N7o16etSz2y9rew70AO86w6K33C0yhbWHLVXPMGDK2xw7Iv1i0UYmB4RRg5BfmpkdiLh7j8ymP4-5ib2slc4fnZrDjNZNp-vPkY-wgP2V6hqznbiv77KxM83KH6cFtnTu6n4dZqel65wYmkGVGh4P90zpO1ecnBSO_0n8O0thyV/s4032/IMG_5741.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJiTO1m0Nqks2hfA3T4N7o16etSz2y9rew70AO86w6K33C0yhbWHLVXPMGDK2xw7Iv1i0UYmB4RRg5BfmpkdiLh7j8ymP4-5ib2slc4fnZrDjNZNp-vPkY-wgP2V6hqznbiv77KxM83KH6cFtnTu6n4dZqel65wYmkGVGh4P90zpO1ecnBSO_0n8O0thyV/w640-h480/IMG_5741.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZvZdo7ru0yKaev7-dl1NfADIs8P6b7h5JCm3Sa2lzEh8aSwo5vxsRfob3A5SDL8_Ab6MIxY6j-UhTOLfh99b2SwmM7QK9oJnsWiroKMz3Y8DVX60QTFB7gMzCEQEuzG-rsaEW1XaXmwx_bYF-SsCPqdgXnwZWZ5ofDVPKv9UJHxigCC2eQR6DepJ7mbx/s3645/IMG_5742.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2008" data-original-width="3645" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZvZdo7ru0yKaev7-dl1NfADIs8P6b7h5JCm3Sa2lzEh8aSwo5vxsRfob3A5SDL8_Ab6MIxY6j-UhTOLfh99b2SwmM7QK9oJnsWiroKMz3Y8DVX60QTFB7gMzCEQEuzG-rsaEW1XaXmwx_bYF-SsCPqdgXnwZWZ5ofDVPKv9UJHxigCC2eQR6DepJ7mbx/w640-h352/IMG_5742.JPEG" width="640" /></a></div>Masterton is a perfectly pleasant town, with some impressive buildings, but it suffers from being so close to Greytown, which is outrageously pretty and full of character, as well as a whole range of quirky boutiques and other attractions. One of them is the White Swan Hotel, which was moved here from Wellington in six bits, one of them dramatically falling off its truck on the way over the Remutakas. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8puB6y_oGspJqvhr4WqSt1CQxIXoT0FmNfo8kVnvsOTfLzwTf4os8Qq85L0a_hY7Tgq531xY59YRG-OHR9Y2vm4rbZoqOQRgdkjIe_pHimrdr7i22ECrmHuTb80y9859PuGCF5vfWDA2HtIA1e4wIQ96Xy9Y1fi-7Gm2XX8HPkXtKgK9I4fUDIJHVmAiI/s788/IMG_5896.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="788" height="350" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8puB6y_oGspJqvhr4WqSt1CQxIXoT0FmNfo8kVnvsOTfLzwTf4os8Qq85L0a_hY7Tgq531xY59YRG-OHR9Y2vm4rbZoqOQRgdkjIe_pHimrdr7i22ECrmHuTb80y9859PuGCF5vfWDA2HtIA1e4wIQ96Xy9Y1fi-7Gm2XX8HPkXtKgK9I4fUDIJHVmAiI/w640-h350/IMG_5896.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div>I had a very tasty dinner there before going out to admire the town's current Festival of Christmas, with lots of decorations, lights and big slides. I'll be back again for a proper look around tomorrow.</div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpXl6bRrojxwLmTo_gZqTOMeeUoNf9xBeuTU_9_QtrXhlG-8n9UCjMS72EmCEArG47225dQaiHeueV3IU9x3ubMr4E6wSpHg3gODm2rRWVwowlKnEJwWsd7bfWmrw1Wqmp8xbDp4bQZiIhR9vZqYwMiWSgl6Eh6_D1jpo8hrfUQLELsHIkyug-y1noK2n/s2357/IMG_5746.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2357" data-original-width="2215" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpXl6bRrojxwLmTo_gZqTOMeeUoNf9xBeuTU_9_QtrXhlG-8n9UCjMS72EmCEArG47225dQaiHeueV3IU9x3ubMr4E6wSpHg3gODm2rRWVwowlKnEJwWsd7bfWmrw1Wqmp8xbDp4bQZiIhR9vZqYwMiWSgl6Eh6_D1jpo8hrfUQLELsHIkyug-y1noK2n/w602-h640/IMG_5746.jpeg" width="602" /></a></div></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-85618793215956230772023-07-05T13:07:00.008+12:002023-07-19T22:54:30.540+12:00Welcome to Wairarapa<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: arial;">With thanks to <a href="https://wairarapanz.com/" target="_blank">Destination Wairarapa</a> for this famil.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiT29k_NDtaDXv_-Alpn8e6U8kiMJdfIoKeUgmDqbzOMkuQ86JHWI-VYTuw7L55Sade03ueQ9voBzxxdGF0b_1FaZCWTXHvkLeSdvTXr58NF0v2F-hKN_56d2za6Ac86sw9t6m0lBi2xZtOLN4l8C9QzXJh1laDkZi2goUJafSL1_lj6sMpAGAG4ODOnfn/s3897/IMG_5687.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2923" data-original-width="3897" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiT29k_NDtaDXv_-Alpn8e6U8kiMJdfIoKeUgmDqbzOMkuQ86JHWI-VYTuw7L55Sade03ueQ9voBzxxdGF0b_1FaZCWTXHvkLeSdvTXr58NF0v2F-hKN_56d2za6Ac86sw9t6m0lBi2xZtOLN4l8C9QzXJh1laDkZi2goUJafSL1_lj6sMpAGAG4ODOnfn/w640-h480/IMG_5687.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Back in the air again, heading this time to Wellington, for - gasp - actual work. (Er, "work".) The Kaikouras looked splendid, as did the capital as we came in to land. Not that I was having anything to do with the city, to begin with, anyway. I had Wairarapa to explore - which means driving over the Remutaka Hill, even today something not to be sniffed at.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVJvIAiDPUQLAxe2hHtmZoLK6D-Oln5JsVH7k5wDjIVcUZz4hwdw1RJgA1eE2YmI40yLno2dEIUvBzNIDXsdNpzy0bJUlvBq0cxqaAm6968pJaPYcl_5VZDI2cmSYRHLGpzAkL8jcGtDNLUoj-BclSOzILz5uxZdthZkWItITXfhTyYTtC2Qg44GeIS7J/s4032/IMG_5688.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVJvIAiDPUQLAxe2hHtmZoLK6D-Oln5JsVH7k5wDjIVcUZz4hwdw1RJgA1eE2YmI40yLno2dEIUvBzNIDXsdNpzy0bJUlvBq0cxqaAm6968pJaPYcl_5VZDI2cmSYRHLGpzAkL8jcGtDNLUoj-BclSOzILz5uxZdthZkWItITXfhTyYTtC2Qg44GeIS7J/w640-h480/IMG_5688.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Of course, it was worse in the old days, specifically during WWI when young soldiers who'd completed their training in Featherston were marched over this range of hills, taking three days to make the journey. Naturally they would have welcomed the cups of tea offered to them at the summit by grateful civilians - can't help thinking though that a beer would have gone down better. Especially since they had Gallipoli ahead of them.</span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJ8jTBfX5RwgK1wPL7u8y19GRqTZZUhqajDW9w67PIhAmWUFwtUxgqPQF1BFzwMBttA-TxrQLxB8HaAJTj06XuhNWB-GO5Sa1N9Hk5wO5J-nelA4BwuCqMkDsR68lhmMyTOQTnrL7LILgvuENSBs_IPdeeMMFuuXbLedVY5d2Axft4TFnlg5Ep_akOAx5/s3848/IMG_5706.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2425" data-original-width="3848" height="405" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJ8jTBfX5RwgK1wPL7u8y19GRqTZZUhqajDW9w67PIhAmWUFwtUxgqPQF1BFzwMBttA-TxrQLxB8HaAJTj06XuhNWB-GO5Sa1N9Hk5wO5J-nelA4BwuCqMkDsR68lhmMyTOQTnrL7LILgvuENSBs_IPdeeMMFuuXbLedVY5d2Axft4TFnlg5Ep_akOAx5/w640-h405/IMG_5706.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">My first call in the pretty little town of Featherston ("NZ's only Booktown!") was at the <a href="https://www.fellmuseum.org.nz/" target="_blank">Fell Locomotive Museum</a>, a typically detailed, well-presented and thorough effort by rabid enthusiasts, here celebrating the engine that pulled the train over the steepest bit of the hills. It's the only one left in the world, they proudly proclaim - and it is impressive. It has separate gripping wheels that latch onto a central track to grind up the incline, and the brake blocks wore out so fast that they had to be replaced every trip. There was only ever one accident, due to a gale, not slippage, and a newspaper report from the day is educational in several respects:</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2ttdyprmEb55s2qLqMpgs9j0XvcS_3EMXbfaF49zVLxaRWxph_g3tGX7GGq_LGtUFDXWrvHaw6x5OogIWEyj2Tlw1RrjsRZF3c7sAyXipT7jApcA1oVURSpDiyY9O1MK-BK5KdiTqkFp3kaNy9-WdXgjfXI39eRQAbxPAtKglLi5U5Qo1objnClGacXm/s1384/IMG_5704.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="1384" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy2ttdyprmEb55s2qLqMpgs9j0XvcS_3EMXbfaF49zVLxaRWxph_g3tGX7GGq_LGtUFDXWrvHaw6x5OogIWEyj2Tlw1RrjsRZF3c7sAyXipT7jApcA1oVURSpDiyY9O1MK-BK5KdiTqkFp3kaNy9-WdXgjfXI39eRQAbxPAtKglLi5U5Qo1objnClGacXm/w400-h234/IMG_5704.JPEG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Can you imagine reading that sort of detail today? There were two crime reports in my paper this morning that had warnings above the text.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliBfnAGC_levzHlCoda5C_NAfyClAHvrBVW3R_Ed1LE5u-GTLoywrEwtWU_kBygF2iMfZxtX6PH6DuWglIOANWWGp72Mw5FMy-8WoQTbsaIFgCKoMwRH1C0J7T_sY_eTkJrvCeCXbraZUvlA2Hmg3cOX-Y_KDwF4QKqtx6A9uVqILqMWcvsmCGbEMy8ms/s4032/IMG_5709.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliBfnAGC_levzHlCoda5C_NAfyClAHvrBVW3R_Ed1LE5u-GTLoywrEwtWU_kBygF2iMfZxtX6PH6DuWglIOANWWGp72Mw5FMy-8WoQTbsaIFgCKoMwRH1C0J7T_sY_eTkJrvCeCXbraZUvlA2Hmg3cOX-Y_KDwF4QKqtx6A9uVqILqMWcvsmCGbEMy8ms/w640-h480/IMG_5709.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Next I met a cheesemaker, also an enthusiast and justifiably proud that his organic cheeses are made from milk that takes just half an hour to get from the cows up the road into his churn. He was disappointingly stingy with his sample sizes, though - so I was very happy to be met with a generous platter of savoury nibbles at my accommodation, <a href="https://www.parehuaresort.co.nz/" target="_blank">Parehua Resort</a> just outside Martinborough, next door to a vineyard. Only trouble was, it spoiled my appetite for what turned out to be a delicious dinner, and I couldn't manage dessert. Tragic. But the lovely kereru artwork over my bed was a consolation.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFX-pWogg5EADEq0ZD-FXPSg7CuaZY8NSQMr-womApN9TIkElX4m9_i6_1BCP56OgdAPwoBNY1UBIb6l9Pup-T2J9pn3OLKKBJemibfSIEphhOraJpsdoqWU16HVOt8jWoECBz71OqtEojpnqwMtGcJD44khWB41pTsfRpUbPA6lR--KlSlREjzPIMjfBb/s3076/IMG_5747.JPEG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3076" data-original-width="2851" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFX-pWogg5EADEq0ZD-FXPSg7CuaZY8NSQMr-womApN9TIkElX4m9_i6_1BCP56OgdAPwoBNY1UBIb6l9Pup-T2J9pn3OLKKBJemibfSIEphhOraJpsdoqWU16HVOt8jWoECBz71OqtEojpnqwMtGcJD44khWB41pTsfRpUbPA6lR--KlSlREjzPIMjfBb/w594-h640/IMG_5747.JPEG" width="594" /></a></div><div><p></p></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-72141920910804801652023-07-03T21:07:00.081+12:002023-07-18T21:42:09.920+12:00Going not home<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jyggda49PrASQzXEarXxGvdrZf85doxsv3mw0EM9BGC7aW8OjDPfPgUtZWCkwzUZvM6FqTRuoMSLnK75khXYqm8cUwyqwIWOcnlE6B4QclxELhDa1ecocIu95nL31AeV5SxxGx-Pd61xikjT5X_3dSH-uS1rE0naV32lguJmJwlId-mNd5SpUF87GYX8/s3537/IMG_5665.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3537" data-original-width="3022" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jyggda49PrASQzXEarXxGvdrZf85doxsv3mw0EM9BGC7aW8OjDPfPgUtZWCkwzUZvM6FqTRuoMSLnK75khXYqm8cUwyqwIWOcnlE6B4QclxELhDa1ecocIu95nL31AeV5SxxGx-Pd61xikjT5X_3dSH-uS1rE0naV32lguJmJwlId-mNd5SpUF87GYX8/w546-h640/IMG_5665.jpeg" width="546" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Really? Ten months since I was last on a plane? That’s so gloomifying, sigh. And it was to Christchurch last time too - which is perfectly fine, no complaints there. I was pleased to swoop down over the plains and braided rivers on a sunny winter afternoon, even if it was to drive with my sisters to my father’s house, to draw lines, close doors, place full stops, all that. There was a bellbird singing in the garden and the distant mountains were shining in the sun beyond the trees of the city, which was green and neat and pretty.</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPjW57BD7QBneCUEmBPQKQnr3FYn3xiV44-mj-_TsXtwiRcEpXK48d18ckVoz7GD5SoWkXZVqMRDbThb2ERVlb1xBmZashRPJVDlNu7VTqCWkV-cQi6yEegxgGVJm8J91A8ikGCghJdKMx443enD0NVStwAOfmTiEHxCX4Ci2nuMBFXEfbuZJozCLXnUD/s4032/IMG_5667.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUPjW57BD7QBneCUEmBPQKQnr3FYn3xiV44-mj-_TsXtwiRcEpXK48d18ckVoz7GD5SoWkXZVqMRDbThb2ERVlb1xBmZashRPJVDlNu7VTqCWkV-cQi6yEegxgGVJm8J91A8ikGCghJdKMx443enD0NVStwAOfmTiEHxCX4Ci2nuMBFXEfbuZJozCLXnUD/w640-h480/IMG_5667.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I went back to the same hotel, the Mayfair, which is better now than it was then, at its beginning, and I liked my room and was proud to work out all its fancy electronics. Despite all that tech though, it was quaint to note, in the lift, that superstitions still rule - apparently, East Asian cultures view 4 the same way we do 13 (the owner’s wife is Japanese):</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCw3QpT6dcq-G7Dj-Yt5m31zNXpYBXt51GpooQZ5V_Y9bdC2yGKGiJIisC4VKD_BE3jq5NM3Dt980DENfSu4TMQPONej3cQp9Q2ZYI31OOC1db85Ch2rvhcx7EF_Up_UunZ1YkLFGICB__i89s51AZ-YvYxq7D35GV1oUJCrBhEZ2O5T-fd_cX-tokYvl0/s3182/IMG_5671.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3182" data-original-width="2464" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCw3QpT6dcq-G7Dj-Yt5m31zNXpYBXt51GpooQZ5V_Y9bdC2yGKGiJIisC4VKD_BE3jq5NM3Dt980DENfSu4TMQPONej3cQp9Q2ZYI31OOC1db85Ch2rvhcx7EF_Up_UunZ1YkLFGICB__i89s51AZ-YvYxq7D35GV1oUJCrBhEZ2O5T-fd_cX-tokYvl0/s320/IMG_5671.jpeg" width="248" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">That’s because, in Japanese, the word ‘four’ sounds like ‘death’. That’ll do for today’s connection.</span></div></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-28199062958499816352023-06-23T16:05:00.006+12:002023-06-25T20:38:34.424+12:00Ship of nightmares<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE330BcarIqkD8pXEcmaQ5q4ihAOGBdfS33iEhquODSlTtwp1L_uCku47gmdOGlJe_lY3vfDb56czJaKRwLSPhCzIdMW23gOnu3F3YmCaIrtz5M-0QLjl_v9aLBPhqohaiGCT3-d8ZDY8_YBpLmodSDZrObljHqh2ffAMlw_bkBD8ms85p-kl3tE53ziiD/s1707/IMG_1558.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1482" data-original-width="1707" height="556" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE330BcarIqkD8pXEcmaQ5q4ihAOGBdfS33iEhquODSlTtwp1L_uCku47gmdOGlJe_lY3vfDb56czJaKRwLSPhCzIdMW23gOnu3F3YmCaIrtz5M-0QLjl_v9aLBPhqohaiGCT3-d8ZDY8_YBpLmodSDZrObljHqh2ffAMlw_bkBD8ms85p-kl3tE53ziiD/w640-h556/IMG_1558.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">So, five very rich men have now joined the 1500 mostly very far from rich people who died when the <i>Titanic</i> sank 111 years ago. The extensive - and expensive - search for their submersible has generated a mass of headlines and lots of screen time and, while it’s been moderately interesting to follow, it’s hard not to miss the sharp contrast with that other recent sinking, in the Mediterranean. Viz this very pointed cartoon in The Times yesterday. </span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Recap: last week a fishing boat hideously crammed with migrants from Libya trying to escape to Italy sank off Greece. Some men on the top deck were rescued, while around 500 mostly women and children trapped down below drowned, their bodies so far unrecovered. It was initially in the news, but soon dropped out of sight, especially once the <i>Titan</i> submersible got into trouble. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Amongst all the dreary conclusions to be drawn here (as well, of course, as acknowledging that any life accidentally lost, even of self-indulgent billionaires, is tough), the one I'm focusing on is our apparently never-ending fascination with the <i>Titanic.</i> It's inescapable, in our culture. I mean, like me, you've seen the movie, right? At least once, I bet, and quite possibly several times - you're certainly super-familiar with the quotes and iconic scenes. And, if you've gone overseas much, you'll have come across <i>Titanic</i> displays in various museums and possibly even one of the travelling exhibitions. The big one that's in New York right now I saw in Copenhagen - in 2011. It's still going!</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I've certainly <a href="http://www.travelskite.com/search?q=titanic" target="_blank">seen my share</a> of <i>Titanic </i>stuff, from Jack Dawson's grave in Halifax to a note in a bottle thrown overboard by a passenger in Cobh, Ireland. And of course it's impossible to visit Belfast without going to their striking <i>Titanic</i> museum near the shipyard where it was built. That it was opened a century after the sinking tells you all you need to know about people's morbid fascination with mass deaths. See also my last post (er, also the Last Post) - but especially if there's something glamorous about it. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Not that the bulk of <i>Titanic'</i>s drowned passengers were, nor those on the fishing boat:</span><span style="font-family: arial;"> just poor people trying to start new and hopefully more successful lives than those they were escaping. Nothing glamorous there, at all.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And for today’s tenuous connection, I’m currently sorting out a trip to Wairarapa, which is where James Cameron lives on his huge farm. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkF3YFvRJOtiPRmUlg8qqlWBPfco-1p_vmYxZb9M3wXzE7i-JYlDglU0ZHBYA7gd15GNFY3XWJ5hjZMcRdWFBykRf-O1_RUNfcPCKVFw1vPrWFpyWXF7oOB0oPd09jKTVKtsjzBAbM_RfqdTcc0xBUZTBnXmkLHKeDRxdCOgfweSDJ1wK1DnGOXe0bl3p/s1600/P8190997.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1233" data-original-width="1600" height="494" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkF3YFvRJOtiPRmUlg8qqlWBPfco-1p_vmYxZb9M3wXzE7i-JYlDglU0ZHBYA7gd15GNFY3XWJ5hjZMcRdWFBykRf-O1_RUNfcPCKVFw1vPrWFpyWXF7oOB0oPd09jKTVKtsjzBAbM_RfqdTcc0xBUZTBnXmkLHKeDRxdCOgfweSDJ1wK1DnGOXe0bl3p/w640-h494/P8190997.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-40784070510694196562023-06-06T12:49:00.004+12:002023-06-08T12:24:32.824+12:00Oestrogen rules!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyimYGL7yDL1GBxIZDfKy9zYQ9iWWywg3RpDwIMcxb4n58K-vtFWkjpWc134WUD_ihqyQ8yuljor1RgpItydTRR0fK9C-9kMJTxAnmiwdDzbgb9MRs4eQerqX3YzQZ-Dtn5QfxWXaeNaeGbUXS0Aph8d4uQFg1ed8L-yw9bpOFGDs6r1miv-teB5Gplw/s4032/IMG_5627.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2680" data-original-width="4032" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyimYGL7yDL1GBxIZDfKy9zYQ9iWWywg3RpDwIMcxb4n58K-vtFWkjpWc134WUD_ihqyQ8yuljor1RgpItydTRR0fK9C-9kMJTxAnmiwdDzbgb9MRs4eQerqX3YzQZ-Dtn5QfxWXaeNaeGbUXS0Aph8d4uQFg1ed8L-yw9bpOFGDs6r1miv-teB5Gplw/w640-h426/IMG_5627.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I was going to revisit here a train trip I took from New Delhi to Agra, way back in 1980, prompted by the appallingly tragic triple train crash that's just happened in India. But of course that would be somewhat appalling too - insensitively trivialising and tone-deaf. So instead I'm going to write about war as a tourist attraction.</span><p></p><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_57zOR5LWLY5MyurZhgtBLnjZiqOMiG1P12G4jCC_FGosmPEx4gpleraQgoXz_Lrj6TTEn6Vn7arx6pYlnN0v7b1EGU7d_Z700Bvif0K4R2uKbfJR2814MG-rAoOxdXBCPMy2P4gBp4fytafAWPT7MP9FNKsUVx0cLqYipoYoNrny_ASGQx0pUNgPw/s4032/IMG_5628.JPG"><img border="0" data-original-height="2135" data-original-width="4032" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy_57zOR5LWLY5MyurZhgtBLnjZiqOMiG1P12G4jCC_FGosmPEx4gpleraQgoXz_Lrj6TTEn6Vn7arx6pYlnN0v7b1EGU7d_Z700Bvif0K4R2uKbfJR2814MG-rAoOxdXBCPMy2P4gBp4fytafAWPT7MP9FNKsUVx0cLqYipoYoNrny_ASGQx0pUNgPw/w640-h338/IMG_5628.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Today is the anniversary of D-Day, after all. And who hasn't done a tour of northern France and not been to the beaches, visited Dunkirk, been awed by the white crosses stretching away into the distance at the cemeteries, marvelled at still being able to see the remains of the Mulberry harbour at Arromanches? It's hugely sobering to see it all, stand on the edge of a bomb crater, read the info boards, and imagine the horror of it all - but it's also, be honest, fascinatingly interesting, dramatic and thus, yes, entertaining.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfo7X_6bqoGbDES6mrGxKtm-Fhtuhx-HaNxryV_nV42M2lc058KcTZzh1Ov7SKhlZZwpJSVaoY-2xZrQBW5ihf86GX59K1oOqGhTXFH_8DJjIuJek0tOFPCBkRzaT0hnElNZSOte6cE7zcIR4Jna3cM_tQdqpZs1Rqx1I24E7nrEjTzCd1LyB2MfeOw/s1600/PB130179.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1189" data-original-width="1600" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZfo7X_6bqoGbDES6mrGxKtm-Fhtuhx-HaNxryV_nV42M2lc058KcTZzh1Ov7SKhlZZwpJSVaoY-2xZrQBW5ihf86GX59K1oOqGhTXFH_8DJjIuJek0tOFPCBkRzaT0hnElNZSOte6cE7zcIR4Jna3cM_tQdqpZs1Rqx1I24E7nrEjTzCd1LyB2MfeOw/w640-h476/PB130179.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Wherever you (ie I) go in the world, there are wartime (and worse) 'attractions' - I honestly couldn't count the battlefields and war cemeteries I've visited, from Gallipoli to Gettysburg, Adelaide River to Bourail in New Caledonia. Plus Stalag Luft III and, even worse, Auschwitz and the Hanoi Hilton. These places have an irresistible appeal that's a weird combination of honest reverence and regret for all those lives lost and pain inflicted, and a creepy fascination for viewing the utter depths of cruelty that men (it's always men) are driven to by their overwhelming desire for power and territory.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHbv0k9cMGskEvQHaYGs53inhewzzO8DWR96-V8QBy82aHjYXpU_7XNMgGTWGg8wYDkm25SuRAZoomR-kBYBcBNZsmRgT7B52auMgcX32usw8ovPetvoRrUZUq-fTqiRE9bOgfaTIAx9fV1fVVboepEY-HYaAFGPmezGXJEOaLOUHjOwIqKvXtPFUrQ/s1024/NC.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="768" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHbv0k9cMGskEvQHaYGs53inhewzzO8DWR96-V8QBy82aHjYXpU_7XNMgGTWGg8wYDkm25SuRAZoomR-kBYBcBNZsmRgT7B52auMgcX32usw8ovPetvoRrUZUq-fTqiRE9bOgfaTIAx9fV1fVVboepEY-HYaAFGPmezGXJEOaLOUHjOwIqKvXtPFUrQ/w480-h640/NC.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And, though I suppose it's possible to travel the world and have holidays that don't include stuff like this, it's always there, pretty much wherever you go. The tourist industry isn't backward in pointing that out and, yes, exploiting it openly with focussed tours and suchlike. Their main customers are, of course, Baby Boomers, whose parents lived through WW2 - I wonder, once we've all shuffled off , whether younger generations will be quite so interested?</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjom0pN9BK7Cuc_Nc-6eS7M-9QnPUiGQNteRqNG6AxXgg5f8U-F1PG4VfAckC5wthLScNg98gNzh1QDuBABgVaGje_lAgKM5v2vts0FxvKTxD9F6GQwKIfPi2KXnsK43T2BlIVdZTtmcU-aGleKsEu0spXu7KeCkj7wQZi61QaOiZgiEN3uDZZfhQcdkw/s4416/IMG_2110.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3222" data-original-width="4416" height="466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjom0pN9BK7Cuc_Nc-6eS7M-9QnPUiGQNteRqNG6AxXgg5f8U-F1PG4VfAckC5wthLScNg98gNzh1QDuBABgVaGje_lAgKM5v2vts0FxvKTxD9F6GQwKIfPi2KXnsK43T2BlIVdZTtmcU-aGleKsEu0spXu7KeCkj7wQZi61QaOiZgiEN3uDZZfhQcdkw/w640-h466/IMG_2110.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I'm guessing yes. After all, war has been a constant throughout human history, and is certainly front-and-centre right now, with the distinct possibility of others looming, despite the deservedly quite distracting threats of climate change. Do you ever wonder how different things might have been/might be if there were a bit less testosterone swirling through the people in charge around the world?</span><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuki6APCTgFZk2kPYqSP9jEZdUNx5IcojIbKYmqvt9I5Pa3NFYJtISWSGXKjy9VY_aBA81Sx9akkHPktVXf9cLYSqcBYC9wrV4RTsnWRw-uxQWwMHCKxglhyGbWjaQmY7aMKdiOSxE8iWvH83GTUXsrThQYBf6AfXwNXDJv34OjcG2hX6NkWl5655wA/s3720/P5161031.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2046" data-original-width="3720" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuki6APCTgFZk2kPYqSP9jEZdUNx5IcojIbKYmqvt9I5Pa3NFYJtISWSGXKjy9VY_aBA81Sx9akkHPktVXf9cLYSqcBYC9wrV4RTsnWRw-uxQWwMHCKxglhyGbWjaQmY7aMKdiOSxE8iWvH83GTUXsrThQYBf6AfXwNXDJv34OjcG2hX6NkWl5655wA/w640-h352/P5161031.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-52049032187716126872023-05-23T15:23:00.008+12:002023-05-27T08:26:30.234+12:00Counting sheep<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzup-h_woqWRNJyRIwto1nUBwHXz3FNX5LI6OQVdF50YTPZEhONQeUkYga_-YMYVxK4HUtE_1vlkztmfb1pEORF2TRO_l1IjshodkYh_i2gTyt7sgBcPE7NwnZX8ntLzH9bUYiNgmIzfZ-35pEw8cfOP2JSkY28s-Fe6ZZaN71wuz37zgNMtq_u20ApA/s1797/IMG_1528.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="1797" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzup-h_woqWRNJyRIwto1nUBwHXz3FNX5LI6OQVdF50YTPZEhONQeUkYga_-YMYVxK4HUtE_1vlkztmfb1pEORF2TRO_l1IjshodkYh_i2gTyt7sgBcPE7NwnZX8ntLzH9bUYiNgmIzfZ-35pEw8cfOP2JSkY28s-Fe6ZZaN71wuz37zgNMtq_u20ApA/w640-h182/IMG_1528.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We’re still ahead - and always will be, if you ask any Aussie, for whom the Kiwi/sheep thing is essential unsavoury-relationship joke material - but our ratio is dropping shockingly low. Not that long ago it was 22-1, but now we’re closing in on Iceland’s level. They are very proud of their 2-1 there, and never miss a chance to boast about it. (Australia, by contrast, considers their 3-1 ratio perfectly standard.)</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">To be honest, and going purely by the attitude of my guide Páll, Icelanders will boast about any feature of their country that’s the least bit distinctive. Good for them, I say. They certainly have plenty to be proud of - volcanoes, glaciers, waterfalls, doughty horses, ancient language, historical resilience, human rights, Björk and co, standard of living, even hotdogs - and I can’t imagine any visitor coming away unimpressed. But the sheep? They’re woolly and cute, and live free-range, with an annual round-up that’d be something to see; but there aren’t <i>that</i> many of them.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHecrrl94JbD-Y8zVtAxIx4fL42yg0Z7m2Wl-2fLmft9qXC0VzwFFlCcSUiBKdSUaeFHAoIVrbCR4nQNbPIHP1tbwZykAwroDkdBQSsAL3dV_xvFKtPUrmiyRLePu7vK3bG6IlubrUb2sl90GK7aHiMK50UGQoLEEyEFqH4yWoXG2oAEAJGqWuQwHO3w/s897/IMG_4298.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="897" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHecrrl94JbD-Y8zVtAxIx4fL42yg0Z7m2Wl-2fLmft9qXC0VzwFFlCcSUiBKdSUaeFHAoIVrbCR4nQNbPIHP1tbwZykAwroDkdBQSsAL3dV_xvFKtPUrmiyRLePu7vK3bG6IlubrUb2sl90GK7aHiMK50UGQoLEEyEFqH4yWoXG2oAEAJGqWuQwHO3w/w400-h400/IMG_4298.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Our formerly vast sheep population is dwindling because dairy is more lucrative (though polluting ☹️) and, shockingly, the price of wool has dropped so low that just getting them shorn leaves farmers in the red. Crazy, when it’s such an eco-friendly product, with so many uses - which are expanding all the time, as producers are driven to be more and more creative. All power to them.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">In the meantime, it’s a bit melancholy to think that classic NZ scenes like this - irresistible Insta-material for tourists - are becoming less common. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ttK8yW3Mw6ijKIhkOv9_rayX9nFRBq-DN-yyKkJ5T7sj_T-O0BMlnKCpURUml18EWCzrIxdfNqsxkHzidc8P5jPRQ7CnHYhtxrnHKET-1Unyu22H8UkTv9pJla6gIscIlqESreo_eIWXmB1DyAsYV4I9FLQ3KCOOX_4R1c_DxvRc8ZCtjf-HOdmSYQ/s4608/P2190286.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2023" data-original-width="4608" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-ttK8yW3Mw6ijKIhkOv9_rayX9nFRBq-DN-yyKkJ5T7sj_T-O0BMlnKCpURUml18EWCzrIxdfNqsxkHzidc8P5jPRQ7CnHYhtxrnHKET-1Unyu22H8UkTv9pJla6gIscIlqESreo_eIWXmB1DyAsYV4I9FLQ3KCOOX_4R1c_DxvRc8ZCtjf-HOdmSYQ/w640-h280/P2190286.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Actually top of the world-wide list, by the way, though much lower-profile, are the Falkland Islands, with a whopping sheep population of 200-1. The mere fact that I scarcely noticed the sheep while I was there, instead being blown away by all the penguins and albatrosses (and literally by the wind), tells you all you need to know about the dominance there of the wildlife - including over the small population of humans, who cling gamely on, politics and rugged environment notwithstanding. Good thing counting their sexual partners helps them get to sleep at night.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWC2QABoXUjy-dliJMBtlCI-KOUnjg2ntSShRWcTCDjzybf_jH1KNj1a72y89v7irMOE049qiTMVDRIqixuZRFOYNHcmI4pHBAOssXULNtx9P4zg3_smoECkvDILsq_EjIWmU2Kq2M7kBSCylZ-iSl7c7UpakWnvl6UpnLouTShkBcmmLNKXsfIz6ffA/s4608/PC200278.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2592" data-original-width="4608" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWC2QABoXUjy-dliJMBtlCI-KOUnjg2ntSShRWcTCDjzybf_jH1KNj1a72y89v7irMOE049qiTMVDRIqixuZRFOYNHcmI4pHBAOssXULNtx9P4zg3_smoECkvDILsq_EjIWmU2Kq2M7kBSCylZ-iSl7c7UpakWnvl6UpnLouTShkBcmmLNKXsfIz6ffA/w640-h360/PC200278.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-25343443111235387082023-05-15T13:40:00.008+12:002023-05-16T16:50:05.254+12:00Naturally superior<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Jerked rudely awake at 3am <strike>last night</strike> this morning by an almighty double thunderclap, which was disappointingly not followed by the consolation of a lightning show, I lay for several wakeful hours afterwards reflecting on nature's unexpected gifts. These have been the unplanned and unplannable, totally chance weather and/or wildlife events that have happily elevated what was already a fun travel experience into something properly special.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">This morning's no-show lightning, for example, reminded me of the best display I've ever seen, or will ever see, that happened late one afternoon on a cruise along Western Australia's Kimberley coast. It was epic: <i>six</i> hours of non-stop forks, squiggles and flashes, as we gazed up from the deck first with our pre-dinner drinks, then eating dinner at sunset, then wallowing in the jacuzzi in the dark. No rain, no thunder, no sense of danger - just awe and amazement, and some personal frustration at not being able to capture the perfect shot. But we had Jarrad Seng on board, so that was ok.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0pNdEbfDFM6Rls84mQrvsZJeONnHPgxiOLZV1xdEKmNWee1zNS1K8Ttpe99b-FtkjCod4SxsolvSTakTPtCu1MP7IDtJsm6xvTv2NIO39sz4w0gpSs-kbseilHnifVef2_8WAv4eqviJZ9KnDtUwkr0Z_SI6U9apdXTp1tx_z2tmJVnpECR2gir5geA" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="640" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj0pNdEbfDFM6Rls84mQrvsZJeONnHPgxiOLZV1xdEKmNWee1zNS1K8Ttpe99b-FtkjCod4SxsolvSTakTPtCu1MP7IDtJsm6xvTv2NIO39sz4w0gpSs-kbseilHnifVef2_8WAv4eqviJZ9KnDtUwkr0Z_SI6U9apdXTp1tx_z2tmJVnpECR2gir5geA=w461-h640" width="461" /></a></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It was in northern Australia too that I saw an immense cloud of fruit bats flying overhead at sunset, as I sat beside the artificial esplanade lagoon in Cairns, enjoying the sight of big silver fish sculptures against the coloured sky. They came in their thousands, from their roosts somewhere inland, streaming out over the town centre towards a headland across the bay where the mangoes were ripe. Apparently it's a nightly occurrence, but for me it was an unexpected and very memorable gift. Which I wish I had a photo of.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWTNzQidQ0Viru9PgPviyKAL3MloKARUZCYLxOec0Vu2aOjmmUD13a8Jx9Y2pfjQgf3VywsDHMj2iIiicYQpV3agukFfFTa8AQKh812foC7Pplcw-I-Y3SOZ4lo69B71NKI2QD8eDUAOK1kkZQ1yE1MLdruivDomCn8uA9tipFcrqa13ccnwHUbAO9rg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="320" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiWTNzQidQ0Viru9PgPviyKAL3MloKARUZCYLxOec0Vu2aOjmmUD13a8Jx9Y2pfjQgf3VywsDHMj2iIiicYQpV3agukFfFTa8AQKh812foC7Pplcw-I-Y3SOZ4lo69B71NKI2QD8eDUAOK1kkZQ1yE1MLdruivDomCn8uA9tipFcrqa13ccnwHUbAO9rg=w640-h336" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Again, in Australia (I have been there <i>a lot</i> for </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">work), I was on a cattle drive through the Outback when, in the middle of the night, a dust storm swept through the camp. The walls of my tent billowed and shook, my ears popped, but I stayed hunkered down in my swag, tired enough from a day's riding after the cattle to get straight back to sleep. It was only when I emerged in the morning that I saw how lucky I'd been - several tents had been blown over, </span><i style="font-family: arial;">everything</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> was covered in a film of fine red dust, and our cluster of tents was now cupped in the protective curve of the drive's big trucks, gallantly moved by staff during the storm to block the wind.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbBt41PlsXRqHbnSwMgQgZUffRnIccAH_WWy_0_BFt_3pb2q7Uf_jz-rysCUzt0ftiIjwyggLkWtNsHukCAbFklhv1NZqPvWsl8akJW9xpny7Ot8KgKAMt0XMq9R5gCs9dboVaPTOdjcO7EVzgX86c2LnpeLUNzM_wVGWt9Jk5Mv21FKhY0urn7kl1A/s3522/IMG_2680.CR2" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2348" data-original-width="3522" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbBt41PlsXRqHbnSwMgQgZUffRnIccAH_WWy_0_BFt_3pb2q7Uf_jz-rysCUzt0ftiIjwyggLkWtNsHukCAbFklhv1NZqPvWsl8akJW9xpny7Ot8KgKAMt0XMq9R5gCs9dboVaPTOdjcO7EVzgX86c2LnpeLUNzM_wVGWt9Jk5Mv21FKhY0urn7kl1A/w640-h426/IMG_2680.CR2" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>For travel writers, it's a gift when things go </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">wrong on a famil, though they usually don't because we're being hosted by professionals. But nature doesn't respect that - so when I did the iconic 3-day Milford Track down in Fiordland, and it rained and rained on day 1, the guide was very apologetic. I didn't mind, even though at one point the track was flooded thigh-high with freezing water that we had to wade through. It was great material - and besides, the downpour stopped just before we had to be helicoptered onwards, and thereafter the weather was brilliantly sunny.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJh7DV0SKOtUd-LL20hPSiwOCqmgIJLnvd1Lov5UmPJTcuYNLtf0x1w0ap_4qeTtUzqJrpBDk78YC7UdIg_o9pFyjwvj0BOThnV8Nvce6ngAN5-uTzJy1dDdb9mEfduRykA1Q21Rbp88JkoQCvNTAhoSyyI9gF39kNtpkpmH8VlXZgNIh7ZVIKCF4fRQ/s1028/wading.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1028" data-original-width="757" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJh7DV0SKOtUd-LL20hPSiwOCqmgIJLnvd1Lov5UmPJTcuYNLtf0x1w0ap_4qeTtUzqJrpBDk78YC7UdIg_o9pFyjwvj0BOThnV8Nvce6ngAN5-uTzJy1dDdb9mEfduRykA1Q21Rbp88JkoQCvNTAhoSyyI9gF39kNtpkpmH8VlXZgNIh7ZVIKCF4fRQ/w472-h640/wading.JPG" width="472" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Running aground on an uncharted rock in a bay </span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">on a Rakiura Stewart Island cruise was a diversion, too. Yes, the scenery was gorgeous, our hike up to a viewpoint went ahead anyway, and the detour afterwards back to Oban for hull checks just gave us a different, and equally enjoyable, itinerary - but feeling the sudden shudder and stop, having to wait for the tide to float the ship off, and seeing scuba divers arrive to inspect underwater? Priceless.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhscWVXuEgcWf2Kn46sX_CXhFo_3zuYkgynBl-xAqcvhTEhc_NniTDJyVZDRw2o2NoHAdC9T8IAQ7E6G6W_gq46Ye14-KfM3EavQGtjqCgUXsgrfVFV-3Z6Eee8LHDBDWsVgbuAUU9O9fM2R6I9GTYE_gp7AUC8hCqc32f4vu_khcx2iOltSb5mrYiw/s4608/P7130307.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3139" data-original-width="4608" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhscWVXuEgcWf2Kn46sX_CXhFo_3zuYkgynBl-xAqcvhTEhc_NniTDJyVZDRw2o2NoHAdC9T8IAQ7E6G6W_gq46Ye14-KfM3EavQGtjqCgUXsgrfVFV-3Z6Eee8LHDBDWsVgbuAUU9O9fM2R6I9GTYE_gp7AUC8hCqc32f4vu_khcx2iOltSb5mrYiw/w640-h436/P7130307.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then, back in Australia again, I was thrilled on a lovely stroll through the bush on Lindeman Island, in the Whitsunday group, to find the path covered in hundreds of cute little brown froglets. Honestly, they were everywhere, and so sweet that I couldn’t bear to risk treading on one, so I minced and tiptoed along like a giant heron, taking great care not to cause any harm. It was years later that I learned they were in fact baby cane toads, a poisonous introduced pest that is as huge a problem right across Australia now as possums are here, and that I should in fact have trampled on as many as I could.</span></span><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHXByoQM_as2OrvOzfy5UhCDFjhefMUCOpj0ahwX0IqzbylPeRwuHMA1cnWXCW-44-hocORmLE72o0Wsi4UxCbkYFZwjPtum-jJuK03tR_RTHGNSeiPPprA2STaBf4rnOrFeOGy_A_4GHZibSVDxE43ge2_1UFXwtE1qm417eq9qYTjJMqwdzD7DmXA/s1704/125_2545.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="965" data-original-width="1704" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHXByoQM_as2OrvOzfy5UhCDFjhefMUCOpj0ahwX0IqzbylPeRwuHMA1cnWXCW-44-hocORmLE72o0Wsi4UxCbkYFZwjPtum-jJuK03tR_RTHGNSeiPPprA2STaBf4rnOrFeOGy_A_4GHZibSVDxE43ge2_1UFXwtE1qm417eq9qYTjJMqwdzD7DmXA/w400-h226/125_2545.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">Then there was the stowaway Cook Islands lizard that I discovered with horror, back home, had sneaked into my suitcase; the rhino that charged the van where I was sitting fully exposed alongside the open door in the back; the bear in Yosemite that suddenly appeared on the track eyeing me up speculatively. </span></span></div><div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And finally, there was the glorious gift of Drake Lake - our two days of smooth glossy seas as we crossed the most rambunctious bit of ocean on the planet, on our return from Antarctica to Ushaia. That was nature at her most generous and beneficent, and I will always be deeply grateful for the best trip I've ever been on not being ruined on the last bit.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPK2kVTQgoByw4jY5Rgx5XwtH8U1K9TuUN-ZuiulMYDjZA3kMIwjbHkKXcVl_eGpIq531OuQDCvbNsiIh0KjwQdv2bflKGkb-XemYcy6l9MaCtYcgEg0KntSTVaXNqz0hJOk798jDbKaeMrd3Mgb1UiWuhkZ5u38qN35_Hc_yfqnQ7t7YOMoPyPIkOhw/s4443/P1030944.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3332" data-original-width="4443" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPK2kVTQgoByw4jY5Rgx5XwtH8U1K9TuUN-ZuiulMYDjZA3kMIwjbHkKXcVl_eGpIq531OuQDCvbNsiIh0KjwQdv2bflKGkb-XemYcy6l9MaCtYcgEg0KntSTVaXNqz0hJOk798jDbKaeMrd3Mgb1UiWuhkZ5u38qN35_Hc_yfqnQ7t7YOMoPyPIkOhw/w640-h480/P1030944.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>UPDATE: As a bonus double connection today, when I went to browse Insta, what do I find but the latest post from super-photographer Daniel Kordan -</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs6FRsR6k11xVPyaIz3euh5UUBJSWx-7dzUga20sVv5JHXC5gRELk9M7ccI7rmumq9ZA70aH2v5M-ThdVC4YFlJK6iyZBCZu7K4OuLBI7Hwx-Vx0sNZmRHURuGggXGNbtawfJUze5w-pOnYfj_DJXYncDAtaLixM5E2x4PLsTAarjGzjUvaaRBjIgLg/s1421/IMG_5606.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1421" data-original-width="960" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs6FRsR6k11xVPyaIz3euh5UUBJSWx-7dzUga20sVv5JHXC5gRELk9M7ccI7rmumq9ZA70aH2v5M-ThdVC4YFlJK6iyZBCZu7K4OuLBI7Hwx-Vx0sNZmRHURuGggXGNbtawfJUze5w-pOnYfj_DJXYncDAtaLixM5E2x4PLsTAarjGzjUvaaRBjIgLg/w270-h400/IMG_5606.jpeg" width="270" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="font-size: xx-large;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">And that sailing ship, the barque <i>Europa</i>, that he was clinging on to, as it took </span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: arial;">five days</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> to make the crossing? </span><a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2018/01/silver-explorer-day-15-best-new-years.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">I saw it while I was in Antarctica</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> -</span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKx-6t12LN8Gu5AVwaAirOo2VyHNFZhlv68oT2EXHUrp2BjmRyduAImWLZFGR_kEAyhzhEqa57bMCwNJckvubBRZc_lcMP71qSeirUyanuqZfT7KY7XhozFJ6rvdm_G3dlLG3SrBde418Ozt_O74AFc4oDW3qCEkE59dQxctADV6FkMMByq6XrfXk0ig/s1600/P1010671.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1058" data-original-width="1600" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKx-6t12LN8Gu5AVwaAirOo2VyHNFZhlv68oT2EXHUrp2BjmRyduAImWLZFGR_kEAyhzhEqa57bMCwNJckvubBRZc_lcMP71qSeirUyanuqZfT7KY7XhozFJ6rvdm_G3dlLG3SrBde418Ozt_O74AFc4oDW3qCEkE59dQxctADV6FkMMByq6XrfXk0ig/w640-h424/P1010671.JPG" width="640" /></a></div></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-7816000869430762012023-05-09T17:05:00.006+12:002023-05-10T22:32:45.760+12:00Vivat Rex! Good boy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">(Coronation photos stolen from The Times)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpcDQLLRjR3ECSjw8CMv7tAzbCG0ydUpyEnOA59_ZsrQV1jIdBRR84I0XW8bueVoYl3605tItmslPSl2z-EmUUnDp3XuY9-OyVVO4irxOeKH7HSu-wf9YtLnRGISYF3P9CU6xuQLbIYMOmfGWCNXkBlwGIetfVVNdD2q0EAEs3_nM-8CBSnCwDkyXmg/s2048/IMG_1506.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1147" data-original-width="2048" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrpcDQLLRjR3ECSjw8CMv7tAzbCG0ydUpyEnOA59_ZsrQV1jIdBRR84I0XW8bueVoYl3605tItmslPSl2z-EmUUnDp3XuY9-OyVVO4irxOeKH7HSu-wf9YtLnRGISYF3P9CU6xuQLbIYMOmfGWCNXkBlwGIetfVVNdD2q0EAEs3_nM-8CBSnCwDkyXmg/w640-h358/IMG_1506.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Since Rex was the name of our family dog, that chanted phrase meant something a bit different to me, during the Coronation. But he was a spaniel, so there was a connection to King Charles. Sucked in to watching the whole event (on TV, natch, but live) my main impression, as with I'm sure most people, was - What a load of old codswallop. </span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31xTw2oMmUCTIaC4DE_226Rf-IW34D_uFQLc-Mu4Yyv-h8ugpGCQ-PEZWbOoLpjpOx2FJpiTMzyiVxMcYXlxQ9u4yPLRsXFKJGqTIAfzagCRQ7ZNmuA7L9kXso1qZlkJrWHdcZaBHy78nrjyRdSg8y_aJj7NHN3Wk59bC6ZbTQAE7bucg4p9jHJNu9A/s2048/IMG_1507.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1362" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj31xTw2oMmUCTIaC4DE_226Rf-IW34D_uFQLc-Mu4Yyv-h8ugpGCQ-PEZWbOoLpjpOx2FJpiTMzyiVxMcYXlxQ9u4yPLRsXFKJGqTIAfzagCRQ7ZNmuA7L9kXso1qZlkJrWHdcZaBHy78nrjyRdSg8y_aJj7NHN3Wk59bC6ZbTQAE7bucg4p9jHJNu9A/w640-h426/IMG_1507.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I mean, all those fancy costumes, every stitch of them loaded with tradition and meaning. All that silly ceremony - did you </span><i style="font-family: arial;">see</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> the ring presented fitted onto a pink velvet dildo? - and juggling with unwieldy crowns that were so impractical, despite/because of all their huge jewels, that both king and queen shook them off as soon as possible. All the parading, the hours of practice it all took, the swords, the medals, the patently ridiculous and vision-blocking bearskin hats. It was daft, the whole thing, truly. And yet - of course there's an 'and yet' - it was a pretty gobsmacking spectacle.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQo8mMf-gashkZA6kxvgTNbPKy-Vne6jTu7RwCpwGKwqNBYC0QkePCrhd6KBSt_tYdgN3SAz5dI-RdGw7p61VcAM3mgy-FQ0ps5Oj_CHeWO0m2-jsF9jveoa36D9M3JLXwBlhaKipXSrPFA_HPpNAxG4Jpi2xLj4fxVBaRHTDYz7Sb6pTwo6KmCmTDuA/s2048/IMG_1505.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1259" data-original-width="2048" height="394" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQo8mMf-gashkZA6kxvgTNbPKy-Vne6jTu7RwCpwGKwqNBYC0QkePCrhd6KBSt_tYdgN3SAz5dI-RdGw7p61VcAM3mgy-FQ0ps5Oj_CHeWO0m2-jsF9jveoa36D9M3JLXwBlhaKipXSrPFA_HPpNAxG4Jpi2xLj4fxVBaRHTDYz7Sb6pTwo6KmCmTDuA/w640-h394/IMG_1505.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">What made it more appealing was that so much of it looked so familiar. Though it almost feels like another life - it was certainly in the Before Times - I was last in London in 2019 and spent a wonderful day visiting most of those sites, from Buckingham Palace to Westminster, and many points in between (and beyond). It was a big, big day, and I wrote </span><a href="http://www.travelskite.com/2019/08/big-big-day-long-long-post.html" style="font-family: arial;" target="_blank">a long, long post</a><span style="font-family: arial;"> about it. It is a great city, and despite the very typical rain, it was the perfect setting for all that pomp.</span></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaql1DSinmAfgJybQNwIsVsRfIE-dIdLaRWh2Qbv34wsRib2kNzopM5MEqZOgamdIsJvqJOywUiIjBiBGBAsClcB8I_rZfRx9fq6Fbbq7nU8BQkLr-Dff7lKD7Ra9EB8VyXh52SaGsyWgFHmd_5K9IWwYpguyK1cGetJHuqj27DSTpsJX76qd4RqpQg/s2048/IMG_1508.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1361" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJaql1DSinmAfgJybQNwIsVsRfIE-dIdLaRWh2Qbv34wsRib2kNzopM5MEqZOgamdIsJvqJOywUiIjBiBGBAsClcB8I_rZfRx9fq6Fbbq7nU8BQkLr-Dff7lKD7Ra9EB8VyXh52SaGsyWgFHmd_5K9IWwYpguyK1cGetJHuqj27DSTpsJX76qd4RqpQg/w640-h426/IMG_1508.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Though everyone else looked like they were having a good time, Charles did appear somewhat sombre throughout. The weight of royal responsibility, I guess, even more than the actual weight of all those robes and crowns, heavy though they must have been. I reckon, despite a lifetime's preparation and waiting, he would much rather not have been the centre of all that attention. And who could blame him? I too prefer to be just one of the crowd, as was he the first time I (failed to) notice him, at Badminton Horse Trials, many years ago.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORWP03hDmud_yS992llNIGR5qUwwdhoRz35IAyeeh08sWhe11mQKm1iFZ1XaMHZhUaolSSsCLr2OuhRAS6Kilse6UpVWVs7gxBlpBPKeL7JFafaXVgly_FJCQ8Ku9egStrk502ApWL_WwNaq-AHtbNvoDSxDTO0IKjA2OqVndqRysdVJlBGyDsZxCUw/s1600/P6030020%20(1).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1108" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORWP03hDmud_yS992llNIGR5qUwwdhoRz35IAyeeh08sWhe11mQKm1iFZ1XaMHZhUaolSSsCLr2OuhRAS6Kilse6UpVWVs7gxBlpBPKeL7JFafaXVgly_FJCQ8Ku9egStrk502ApWL_WwNaq-AHtbNvoDSxDTO0IKjA2OqVndqRysdVJlBGyDsZxCUw/w278-h400/P6030020%20(1).JPG" width="278" /></a></div><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-38410146975014465922023-05-09T16:03:00.007+12:002023-05-11T15:39:11.953+12:00Going to the tip - or rather, coming down from it<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU39igPy5nNJsEC7xKutguU4kTn53NV-4OYy-8R3ztBA8D121OYrMSxDg47uA0dKKVbp5u-oWnO-hnzjyFkn8GSLzKoXgWc6aW0tns1Dl2lwExsHP9a-M0xfTV4uPvx4tfPvpq-3UACkXvAAtlLu6OW_QJabzCj4pX3gXfUj3L4G0InTEbhjWLpJdKrA/s3504/11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU39igPy5nNJsEC7xKutguU4kTn53NV-4OYy-8R3ztBA8D121OYrMSxDg47uA0dKKVbp5u-oWnO-hnzjyFkn8GSLzKoXgWc6aW0tns1Dl2lwExsHP9a-M0xfTV4uPvx4tfPvpq-3UACkXvAAtlLu6OW_QJabzCj4pX3gXfUj3L4G0InTEbhjWLpJdKrA/w640-h426/11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Still thinking (see the last post) about my Cape York trip in 2006, it was really most notable for its ruggedness. Though other operators offer something similar, the company I did it with, Wilderness Challenge, doesn't seem to be in business any more, and I hope it's just because of the difficult times, and isn't a victim of TripAdvisor sniping.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmjLkg3HYyyVwn26A1MlTkWg15RliHQZAOJs2xqE07Ua8-BsirtGd_UdZuVieSphK2jvVhrR6adOky0W7xAGc55AiHQsvzVDepl0rewJGE-QxuYZk2s26RPGFyMa2NNx26gdqK9Ttzr6ZMKSD0kUeJUaetFn0i1p5eWjkPM9Lkr4t8Q2bHy9n_RzRPQ/s3504/10.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEmjLkg3HYyyVwn26A1MlTkWg15RliHQZAOJs2xqE07Ua8-BsirtGd_UdZuVieSphK2jvVhrR6adOky0W7xAGc55AiHQsvzVDepl0rewJGE-QxuYZk2s26RPGFyMa2NNx26gdqK9Ttzr6ZMKSD0kUeJUaetFn0i1p5eWjkPM9Lkr4t8Q2bHy9n_RzRPQ/w640-h426/10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Because, though the experience with WC was definitely rough and rugged in parts, it felt appropriate for the environment. I mean, we had several breakdowns in their beaten-up old OKA 4WD - two fan-belt failures, another with the aircon, then the steering and finally a suspension problem. That meant some sweaty, oily repairs by driver/guide Ossi while we paddled in cooling rivers. Said suspension was so primitive that he promised us at the beginning that anyone with back problems would be cured by the end, after a week of jolting along corrugated dirt roads - and so it was.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But everything else was great. Ossi, despite being a Finn, was a great interpreter of everything we saw; we stayed in a variety of comfortable and unique accommodation; the food was excellent; and the experience overall was terrific.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZe3bn_7FIOn0V0-fE8HM5eDkRAVkVbKphbKBeXrKgKWEkuhx4TrbWViM-k0s5urIZ_OmsTzaUbXuRdoQBlJcRokLvYHwqltIXdSq3Wzn55PPT42qJVCSKQHY6yzYToYtWSryp54efmJ5TzZGZvrkWoFS6g3sTmHtUYjQv6NevHJrCWgSNP-vLBbufhg/s3471/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3471" data-original-width="2288" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZe3bn_7FIOn0V0-fE8HM5eDkRAVkVbKphbKBeXrKgKWEkuhx4TrbWViM-k0s5urIZ_OmsTzaUbXuRdoQBlJcRokLvYHwqltIXdSq3Wzn55PPT42qJVCSKQHY6yzYToYtWSryp54efmJ5TzZGZvrkWoFS6g3sTmHtUYjQv6NevHJrCWgSNP-vLBbufhg/w422-h640/2.jpg" width="422" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I mean, we stood at the tip of the continent. We travelled along empty red-dirt roads, we splashed through fords and crossed a river on a car-ferry. We walked along a boardwalk out into the gloriously peaceful Red Lily Lake, full of lotus flowers. We learned some fascinatingly colourful history, especially about the Jardine brothers' epic 10-month cattle drive south from Rockhampton (42 horses reduced to 12, 250 cattle down to 50 by the end). We saw fabulous clusters of tall termite mounds, a 1.75m deadly taipan, the rusty and dramatic wreck of a DC3, crashed in 1945, and followed the famous Overhead Telegraph road.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pl_dOIJeBpCiViYVh6jQyEFIxHFB5ifZ2HPQSYGux9Rt_gZZnLE61_ZuMzoMUnz_2SUAabECbhMPdNijOAeMqbSKryP0qwAbXzespmjMOjIGsUnT6vlB894sfUyGmFeIAOpU2DuaCM7DD4EB3bBtZBgUH0pa1AYVCyU6YIJvMBa-mLXQ0uEUMazrjg/s3504/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_pl_dOIJeBpCiViYVh6jQyEFIxHFB5ifZ2HPQSYGux9Rt_gZZnLE61_ZuMzoMUnz_2SUAabECbhMPdNijOAeMqbSKryP0qwAbXzespmjMOjIGsUnT6vlB894sfUyGmFeIAOpU2DuaCM7DD4EB3bBtZBgUH0pa1AYVCyU6YIJvMBa-mLXQ0uEUMazrjg/w640-h426/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We saw beautiful beaches, passed through lush forest and over grassy plains, and had a satisfying swim at the picturesque Fruit Bat Falls ("where there's rocks, there's no crocs"). There in November, the end of the Dry, start of the Wet, we were still startled to see, above a river 5m lower than usual, a sign in a tree reading "14.5m we were here in a boat". There was a frog in my shower that night, and silent lightning outside.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WCTS0etu3iVLXGYkp-XYVAC6PH6yM7j5njvbHuQ5blY5uzrFg5mbS3hUNHgDSZOY7IyjEbAZCS7rBitfevT1nypy9hmsB2WSzTw7amwjQcQhvh6GMt52f5Hc33Ccg3bxUCKqc9LLExIwdCNfjqxCWMRVtAhto6WsJtfej-WyA-uNHWyXL_G0n6qETQ/s3504/12.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6WCTS0etu3iVLXGYkp-XYVAC6PH6yM7j5njvbHuQ5blY5uzrFg5mbS3hUNHgDSZOY7IyjEbAZCS7rBitfevT1nypy9hmsB2WSzTw7amwjQcQhvh6GMt52f5Hc33Ccg3bxUCKqc9LLExIwdCNfjqxCWMRVtAhto6WsJtfej-WyA-uNHWyXL_G0n6qETQ/w640-h426/12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We saw a Santa Gertruda cattle ranch, a Comalco bauxite mine and a photo at the camp ground of a croc eating a caught shark on the beach. We got fussy about spotting roadkill, sneering at one day's tally of just two snakes and a feral pig - though the eagle eating it was a pretty special sight. Most alarming was seeing a massive road train tanking along a dirt road towards us.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjTXzKr5CnNMLdX6Hg0cHAWvYbXxiOPf4Bu6sTfjFjpn9aQrTJLHYPJw3UefrfQuI5QuqSdnpx6H2X6HFSw4qy1kE3R0kbNnt5ZjTDkZKj7egvLNeckAkcfEA7Jc3U2oJNukXH6Yzj2umdbFVju65k2w_tLpZvVrU5jwlU7A3EbKjcxZsYhBIIEESTA/s3504/7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNjTXzKr5CnNMLdX6Hg0cHAWvYbXxiOPf4Bu6sTfjFjpn9aQrTJLHYPJw3UefrfQuI5QuqSdnpx6H2X6HFSw4qy1kE3R0kbNnt5ZjTDkZKj7egvLNeckAkcfEA7Jc3U2oJNukXH6Yzj2umdbFVju65k2w_tLpZvVrU5jwlU7A3EbKjcxZsYhBIIEESTA/w640-h426/7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">We noted that, despite converting to metric last century, Aussies still measure their crocs and sharks in feet, because the number's bigger. "We moved a 12 footer away yesterday," we were told at Lotus Bird Lodge, where we stayed in cabins reassuringly perched on stilts (because of flooding). We walked around the billabong there spotting, d</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">espite Dibdib, our Great Dane escort, </span><span style="font-family: arial;">many species of birds, as well as half a snake on the path (always better than a whole one). There was another frog in my shower that night.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Approaching Cooktown on the coast, we enjoyed the novelty of tar seal on the road, though we all regretted the loss of remoteness. I made the private discovery, after fossicking for windfalls along the town's footpaths, that you can eat too many mangoes. At the museum, we learned about the hideous history of blackbirding, and the very special nature of the Daintree rainforest.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">And finally, after passing tea plantations and sugar cane fields, we arrived back in Cairns, where huge swarms of fruit bats flew that evening over the big man-made lagoon on the esplanade, towards a distant peninsula. The lagoon has been provided for public use, the sea being out of bounds because of crocs. Which we never actually saw. Not one.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeDp1dxukuFagXpHfb6WGwHy8PKb73uf8RmBjURFgKMkZ3VsJXn6PjU4XPRWxrf49hD8DjeQkEzzIkyT6RPlIulmQqknxcG22iX3CGs-zQrYFWPJpmqt-DbuoU_L1RpNV4m1Z8gJKA51dcuq1obuCKIjit-Yj39c-jvZIeMZuc--imhRnSCThXoG-jw/s3476/6.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2295" data-original-width="3476" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCeDp1dxukuFagXpHfb6WGwHy8PKb73uf8RmBjURFgKMkZ3VsJXn6PjU4XPRWxrf49hD8DjeQkEzzIkyT6RPlIulmQqknxcG22iX3CGs-zQrYFWPJpmqt-DbuoU_L1RpNV4m1Z8gJKA51dcuq1obuCKIjit-Yj39c-jvZIeMZuc--imhRnSCThXoG-jw/w640-h422/6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5545866386110188741.post-69264286866364145542023-05-04T13:27:00.005+12:002023-05-05T20:57:07.522+12:00So anyway, it's Thursday<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnh17HL_Mrczkgu5cERFMI6R6PHki0fsr_U1ks9BOCEoTgIIeoKVS-gklYbur6u6mwpQo3kxkUqmhTRwX1IO-rB0lgLr1uTHRwcgySU7WUeSinCiLnI97JeZGuWzLcxi4Z7mxhx5uYUKte-gY04KbY8WmU9giWruLoCaBqn-P4hQa3VprOkEO0EoEFQg/s1438/IMG_1500.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="1438" height="594" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnh17HL_Mrczkgu5cERFMI6R6PHki0fsr_U1ks9BOCEoTgIIeoKVS-gklYbur6u6mwpQo3kxkUqmhTRwX1IO-rB0lgLr1uTHRwcgySU7WUeSinCiLnI97JeZGuWzLcxi4Z7mxhx5uYUKte-gY04KbY8WmU9giWruLoCaBqn-P4hQa3VprOkEO0EoEFQg/w640-h594/IMG_1500.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The only remarkable thing about this report is that the photo of the unfortunate - and prophetically nicknamed - Stumpy shows him proudly holding a fish that is not, for once, a barramundi. Honestly, you'd think barramundi are the only fish they have in Australia - in the sea, in rivers, on the menu. But that's by the by. What this story really reminded me of was my Cape York trip way back in 2006, before this blog began.</span><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It was exciting to be invited because, like most people, including Australians, I'd never been to this bit of Oz before. It turned out to be a proper expedition. It started in Cairns with a flight to Horn Island, one of the Torres Strait islands, from where we chugged on a ferry to Thursday Island, naturally - this is Australia - known as TI, the smallest in the group. It was unimaginatively named by Capt. Bligh for the day he sailed past it, but some have called it Thirsty Island because it had no reliable water source. During WW2, the soldiers garrisoned there were allowed only a pint of water each a day. Ten degrees from the equator!</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFM4r4Mdwo7nlLTWsYXLpukdIC6zmd0P5E2k7sjTc0E9Mqz7bSkXlpZ7t-oGsYnXa-2JcRZZHGXbMOZNNeVsLzp5suLvdPG_n3vMHJEQ7f68SHQdMsxxyvl8xcdnfoCWeMlBMZZA6ACbWJlQadN3I09B-IzvSV2i93eVnr-5gJziTX4nckrick7ciSw/s3504/gun.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIFM4r4Mdwo7nlLTWsYXLpukdIC6zmd0P5E2k7sjTc0E9Mqz7bSkXlpZ7t-oGsYnXa-2JcRZZHGXbMOZNNeVsLzp5suLvdPG_n3vMHJEQ7f68SHQdMsxxyvl8xcdnfoCWeMlBMZZA6ACbWJlQadN3I09B-IzvSV2i93eVnr-5gJziTX4nckrick7ciSw/w640-h426/gun.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">It's a quiet place, mostly because everyone is driven indoors for the air con. It's had a lively past, though. There's a fort built in 1892 on top of a hill, with big guns installed to repel a Russian invasion (which never came). A test shot landed in the schoolyard of a neighbouring island - at lunchtime. In the cemetery are 700 graves of Japanese pearl-divers, who actually dived for the shell rather than the 1:1000 chance of a pearl. It was the main industry in northern Australia for about 60 years until the invention of plastic for buttons. TI also claims the world's smallest cathedral, a </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;">cute wooden building with excellent stained-glass windows memorialising even more tragic events. Most notable was the sinking in 1890 of the </span><i style="font-family: arial;">RMS Quetta</i><span style="font-family: arial;">, which hit an uncharted rock and sank in five minutes, drowning almost half of the 292 people on board, mostly British migrants.</span></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuSkMo-iF-uE5SnMivewB-n9cVhTPp51Aa8_PRpXmBQi4dBljuGuHAdmCZnlDoEcyekAvX8DMDTylpz2tqGZ2TeIg0VSfqP4l7SWtCeQZ4PTLj_ey7yHNUOkUBlxb8HxXDQrPU5WNvESdT-_C29V4wpjmkNCdbfjaBuCW8xZczDtUeBFt46hIRZ40Jw/s2694/IMG_1345.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1753" data-original-width="2694" height="416" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsuSkMo-iF-uE5SnMivewB-n9cVhTPp51Aa8_PRpXmBQi4dBljuGuHAdmCZnlDoEcyekAvX8DMDTylpz2tqGZ2TeIg0VSfqP4l7SWtCeQZ4PTLj_ey7yHNUOkUBlxb8HxXDQrPU5WNvESdT-_C29V4wpjmkNCdbfjaBuCW8xZczDtUeBFt46hIRZ40Jw/w640-h416/IMG_1345.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">The crocs probably couldn't believe their luck. Estuarine, or salt-water crocodiles - aka salties - rule the waters here, and there are graphic warning notices right across northern Australia wherever people are likely to be tempted for a dip. Wandering around TI's little town, I ended up on the beach and watched with interest as a couple of burly workmen stripped to their</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> grunds and took a tentative splash in the shallows. Later, when we started our week-long tour down from the tip of Cape York back to Cairns, our laid-back guide got very insistent on beach strolls - "Please, please, </span><i style="font-family: arial;">please</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> stay</span></span><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> away from the water!"</span></div><div><p></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">But people, even old hands like Stumpy, get careless all the time, and the crocs are always there, waiting.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0l7RVy37vtmh8lasReDDeOCs5rtRtQIo6bt1pw7BJ9AAA6kafnr7q701VijWdL0Tx5875YRR8XTH65MHbQ96ZZ6ssNbmlTWeNQ3Lmq7c7Z4mSra9HOVP_N8PGKPF68_jpAiLWxl9y3-BbVvdjt0i8aNrfCmKT0suJ46fqanH41w4Km8PjkvMlrLvH_A/s3504/croc%20sign.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2336" data-original-width="3504" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0l7RVy37vtmh8lasReDDeOCs5rtRtQIo6bt1pw7BJ9AAA6kafnr7q701VijWdL0Tx5875YRR8XTH65MHbQ96ZZ6ssNbmlTWeNQ3Lmq7c7Z4mSra9HOVP_N8PGKPF68_jpAiLWxl9y3-BbVvdjt0i8aNrfCmKT0suJ46fqanH41w4Km8PjkvMlrLvH_A/w640-h426/croc%20sign.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div></div>TravelSkitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06178678532534472910noreply@blogger.com0