Down to Wellington

We really wanted to go to Tongariro National Park in the morning to do some of the great walks, but we were told about this other great gampsite in Vinegar Hill which we would drop our stuff off first, then head out there. Unfortunately this campsite was about 80km past Tongariro and not all that so we had a decision to make, go back or head down. Down it was and driving along the roads in our new Toyota Corolla was a pleasure. Its not the worlds best selling car for nothing. When we eventually made a stop in Otaki on the west coast towards Wellington the temperature had dropped significantly. I must add that Celia, unbeknown to me, thought that New Zealand was as warm as Australia so never brought one warm jersey with her. We found a really great Clothing shop called Norsewear, apparently famous for their socks, they also had some pretty nice merino and possum wool clothing. The salesman sweet talked us into a ridiculously overpriced merino zip-through jumper for Celia which I hope she keeps for life :

Now possums are a pest in NZ we learn and not the cuddly creatures Aussies think they are. You see possum roadkill all over the roads here as some clown introduced them years ago along with the rabbit, both which have no natural predators. This leads me to another funny story, over easter every year they have an easter bunny hunt in NZ which usually yields about 40k dead rabbits.

Back to the road and we looked all over for a great campsite to stay. I was looking for the mountains and Celia the beach. In the end we found neither as in Tararua national park they had no BBQ facilities and the beaches we found were not great. In hindsight they were a whole heap better than the one we ended up in. Up on a hill in one of the worst parts of Wellington. Not the end of the world as all we need is a place to rest our heads before we catch the 9AM ferry to the South Island.

Traveling for the last 4/5 months as we have we have met people from various nations, but the majority of them are Dutch. Celia and I love the Dutchies, their humour, tales and just their kindness (gag) are all quite endearing. The Dutchies here were an exception though apart from monopolizing the kitchen, they then went on to criticize the way I was cooking my boerewors. Wrong fight to pick dutchmen. The boerewors was cooked to perfection. Do you see me telling them how to make pancakes or croquetes. The fact, it you have been paying attention to the dates on the blog that I bought the wors 3 days ago and we have kept it unfrozen in a car since then is another matter. The greenish tinge made it an interesting meal, so interesting Celia would not touch it, so I scoffed the whole lot - and lived to tell the tale.

Those dumb drunk Dutchies (hows that alliteration) kept us awake all night and luckily we left before they woke up or I may have given them a piece of my mind, or even worse, some green boerewors.