Sick Chicken and Presidential Debate

 

When we came for Betsy’s wedding in 2007, Sally, Spaulding and I, with my nieces, took what we fondly called the Bus Ride From Hell, a long day trip up to Cape Reinga and other stops, driven on rough roads by a young maniacal driver.

I definitely wanted to repeat it because I wanted Grant to see where the Tasmanian Sea meets the Pacific Ocean. It is the most amazing thing I have ever seen, these two bodies of water, different colors, have bumped against each other for millions of years, yet the color line holds. I was and am amazed. 

This time, we were taking a 44-passenger bus rather than a 16 seat van. Our driver, a 72-year-old Māori who told us to call him Huey, had been driving for 40 years. And the roads have been upgraded. 

Only 14 people on our tour including us: Fiona from Ireland, a Japanese couple and a single young woman from there, a young NZ couple, and 3 couples from Australia who have rented RVs and are touring around. It was raining as we left.

The weather deteriorated as we drove north. The fog got thicker and thicker. Surely the sun would come out. Nope.

Huey sang us a Māori song of welcome and entertained us with his take on the passing scenery, NZ government, and Māori family life. We could barely see 15’ out our windows. 

At Monganui, we stopped for tea, coffee in our case. I tried a blueberry and custard muffin. Grant opted for a pesto and bleu cheese scone. Odd.

At the cape, the fog was so thick we couldn’t see pass the retaining wall. It muffled the oceans. Nevertheless, we walked down to the lighthouse to see nothing, absolutely nothing. 

According to Māori, no matter where they die, their souls all travel to Hawiiki via the roots of Te Aroha, an 800-year-old pohutukawa tree clinging to the farthest cliff side. It too was invisible in the fog.

We trudged back up to the car park.

Wall panels at the building are enlargements of native maps of what we could have seen looking out from the cape.

Back on the bus, we tore down the road. The fog lifted slightly. Along the way, I peered down at a mud flat and saw 8 royal spoonbills. Happy, happy.

 

Lunch was at the Lucid Cafe. I’d chosen 1 meat pie which came with fries and 1 fish and chips (fries). Good fries, but I repeat, I’m over fried food. We bought 2 light hazy IPAs. Meh. I did see an Australian rosella parrot and a variable oystercatcher while we ate.

 

Next was 90 Mile Beach, along which the cattlemen drove their herds to market in the good old days. We rode along the beach, then stopped so some of our party could try sliding down the sand dunes on bogey boards. I passed. My knees thanked me. Huey dug tuatua which we ate raw. Good, but a little sandy. I definitely would come and dig them if I could rinse them better. Huey, one of 14, said his family often had tuatua.

Legend has it that a group of fleeing Māori warriors were saved when they found these clams on the shore, ate them, and got enough energy to continue their escape. 

Afternoon tea, or in our case, local IPA in a pub, in Awanui. 

The fog cleared, the sun came out. I Whatsapped Betsy that we could walk up the backroad when we got dropped off. She picked us up, because it was raining there. 

Another Bus Trip From Hell? No, we had a wonderful day, even if we didn’t get to see every thing I’d hoped. 

Steps Today: 6,752