Having spent the entire of my first day walking, I chose to spend the remainder of my time in Auckland just lounging. Feb 8th started with a great cup of coffee and an AMAZING cinnamon rhubarb bun at Cereal Killa on Dominion Rd. Open for only 9 months, this bright and groovy little café is owned by Sam, another of the not-BBQ BBQ people. I don’t know who is responsible for the baked goods, but that little morsel from heaven was the best bit of baking I had while in the country – and I had unofficially made it my mission to find the best. I sat at a table, savouring every bite, read through one of the cookbooks in their stack of reading material (yep, eating great food while reading about great food), and generally enjoyed being a spectator of the goings-on in a burgeoning little place like that one. Hard to get a better start to your day than this.
Back at the hostel, I mused on life, read my book, lounged on the lawn, marvelled at hostel life and how I’d forgotten how random it can be (trying to bake a cake in an oven set to Grill; fridges that got unplugged and went unnoticed until, once re-plugged, read 17 on the thermostats), talked to my Mom, and had a cruisy cooking session, the spoils of which were shared with the culinarily-incompetent (yep, that’s a word as of now) and very grateful hostel manager.
On the 9th, it was time for the next mission – after another stop (and another coffee and excellent bit of baking – chocolate berry muffin this time) at Cereal Killa: renting a car and gettin’ the hell out of Dodge. My plan for that day was to get the car, get out to the eastern shore’s suburbs, travel along the coast, then up the western side of the Coromandel, stopping en route for some exploration of the Mussel Kitchen’s menu (which turned out to be delicious-looking and very reasonable prices, but out of my range courtesy of my brand new tire), the Coromandel Oyster Company’s offerings (ditto) beach time and the sunset. Well. I should’ve known I’d gone wrong as soon as I made a plan. My trusty iPhone mapped out the location of the car rental, so I hopped on a bus and got myself there. No problem. I collected my car – an aged Nissan Sunny of such vintage as to have only a cassette deck and radio as music options and, gosh dang it, I seem to have left all of my tapes at home – and then I made my way out past Orakei on the eastern side of the city. No problem. Got around the basin and got a great view of the harbour near the yacht club, so decided to pull over. BIG problem. As I pulled the car into the parking lane, I nudged the curb and tore a hole in the tire’s sidewall, causing the tire to release air and flatten faster than a poorly baked soufflé. Dang it. But, with every bad news story that has happened to us on this trip, there came some good news (minus the lost cooler, which would be good news in its own way to someone, just not us). I’m in New Zealand, which means there’s always SOMEONE willing to help. Good news, Part I: a guy at the yacht club gave me a hand changing the tire and showed me on a map where to head to get a replacement so that I wouldn’t be wheeling around on the dinky spacesaver currently adorning my front passenger side. Good news, Part II: made it to the garage 10 mins before they shut, got a tire change by one of the fastest mechanics in the city (seriously – he won a couple grand in a competition because of it).
Back on the road again, I now had directions from the mechanic so that I could get moving and get out to the Coromandel on something resembling my original time frame, even if it did mean missing out on part of the coastal drive. I managed to see the road he said to take…just in time to cruise past it. Twice. So I went back to my plan and figured I’d meander my way out of town. I had my map app, so it shouldn’t be that hard to find my way, right? Ha. Some days, it’s a wonder I can find my way out of the house without getting lost, and this turned out to be one of them. Time after time along my route, I carefully checked the roads on the map, so that I knew EXACTLY where I was when I drove past them. But, determined to enjoy the rest of the drive, I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter – I didn’t have a particular route in mind, so it was fine if I didn’t know where I was. All roads would lead south eventually… Well, I made my way south about 30 kms after it was economically sound to do so, but with a stop at McDonald’s for directions (I was now hopelessly turned around and a bit desperate to just find ANY road that would lead to the highway), I learned that I was on the right road – well, right road in this case – and that I would get to the highway if I just kept going straight. Wasn’t that easy?
I made my way out of the Auckland area – because I think I was still technically in the Auckland suburbs, three hrs after setting off – and got to the Coromandel with no difficulty (previous experiences excluded). Rich and I drove this road on our way to the Bay of Islands the week before, but because we were on the inside lane of a road that seemed to simultaneously veer left AND right every 40 metres and because we were also distracted by the extraordinary number of Ferraris, Corvettes, Lambourghinis, and sticker-clad souped (suped??) up cars heading the other direction on some unknown mission, we missed out on a great deal of spectacular scenery. It was all I could do to not come to a screeching halt in the middle of the road when I rounded yet another hairpin bend in the road only to be faced with one of the most spectacular vistas I’d seen. Crisscrossing hills (verging on mountains), pastures, sea, sailboats, late afternoon sun… It was all there. Absolutely breathtaking. It probably took a good hour to travel 40 kms because I kept stopping to get out and enjoy the views, leading me to offer up silent thanks that Rich wasn’t with me on this drive. As good as he has suddenly become at willingly stopping or doubling back so that we can take a look at something, I think this would’ve pushed him beyond the limits of his much-appreciated patience.
I reached Coromandel with a silent whoop of glee that I’d gotten that far without further incident, then scoped out the coast before settling on a shoreline picnic table at which to enjoy my picnic dinner, and a spot further along from which to take in the sunset. I used the break from driving to spend a bit of time thinking, as I’ve been doing on a daily basis, of family back home and my grandfather, and how much he’d enjoy the trip I’m on and the view I was taking in at that moment.
I watched the sun set on the west side of the peninsula and then climbed back in the car to head, via the twisting, turning gravel-filled 309 backroad, to the eastern shores. My plan was to sleep in my car overnight, in an attempt to make myself uncomfortable enough that I’d be willing to get up and drive to Cathedral Cove to catch the sunrise, but I’d had a bit of a rough day and was desperate for a bit of comfort, so after a hair-raising pitch-black drive on the gravel surface of the 309 that included a stop to let a bunch of pigs cross the road, I found myself back in Whitianga and parked once more in the Eccleses’ driveway, suddenly willing to take them up on the offer of adding yet another extra night to my stay that was meant to start the next day. With no one home, and knowing that they weren’t expecting me till the next day, I debated my choices, but figured that I couldn’t be moved along by police or anyone else if I just camped out in their driveway. Fortunately for me, their son, Ryan, arrived home a very short time later, while I was across the road doing some time lapse photos of the stars. We had a quick catch up, I found out that the next day’s dinner would be crayfish and scallops that he’d collected while out on a dive that morning, then I had a quick visit with Graham and Diane when they arrived home. Time to call it a night, I set my alarm for 5am and tried to catch a few hrs’ sleep.
Grateful for: a bed!
Grateful for: a bed!
