Just looking for a repository for some baby photos hopefully with in the next week.
03/15/2012
05/05/2008
04/02/2008
First milk, then bread, now pictures...
"A picture is worth a thousand words" Napoleon Bonaparte
Inflation - it's raging here in the land down under and I wondered how this economic force might have altered the above relationship between words and pictures. Since your reading this on a website on the Internet it seemed the logical thing to do would be to see how this panned out in the online world. Storage and bandwidth make up the majority of online costs so I figured it all related to how big each of these were. Firstly I made a simple web page of 1000 words using MS Word and even with all the overheads involved it came to a size of just 8kb. This would mean on average each word would equate to about 8b. Next up was to see how big the average picture might be. This is a little more problematic as different web sites use different sizes depending upon what resolution they want it to appear at, so I took a bit of a guess. Lets say on average about 200kb. Thus it appears our average Internet picture is worth 200000/8 or 25000 words, not the one thousand they used to be. Seems like inflation has had a marked effect and pictures have made a remarkable increase in value since Napoleon met his Waterloo. This could explain why people are stealing pictures from all over the internet and why so many pictures are now branded or watermarked (pls don't look too hard at the above photo of Napoleon). Maybe I should have invested in pictures before the boom instead of purchasing Telstra2 shares. Oh well, all is not lost if you believe what Charlie Chaplin had to say on the matter, but then again he was a clown.
"Words are cheap" Charlie Chaplin
False advertising at Coles Express!
I'm thinking about suing Coles and Shell on the grounds of false advertising. What is so "express" about their combined fuel outlets anyhow? Wiktionary defines "express" as "Moving or operating quickly", and sure there are a couple of other interpretations but this is the implied meaning in this instance and I'm afraid they just don't measure up.
When was the last time you drove up, pumped your particular choice of fuel into your car, paid for it and then drove off in a reasonable amount of time. Oh yes, that’s right 2:02 am last Sunday, but what about in daylight hours? Seems nowadays it takes 10-15 minutes to refuel while paying an ever-increasing amount of your hard earned for the pleasure of doing so. This is a very long time especially when compared to formula 1 drivers who can have their fuel and all four tyres replaced in less than 10 seconds.
Are Coles entirely to blame for this? Well yes and no. They have caused the problem but they have been very much assisted by a group of people none of us belong to or even know, the general public. These guys are either ignorant of the fact that they are holding people up or are absolute arseholes that just don't care. The first activity of actually filling the tank is general undertaken without too much of a problem. It's quite simple really, get out of the car, open the filler cap, select the right pump from the bowser, place it in the hole, pump in the petrol, replace the pump on the bowser, then replace the fuel cap. It's from here on that it get's quite difficult for them. Upon entering the building to undertake the simple task of paying for their fuel they become sidetracked.
Wow, goodies. Potato crisps, cold drinks, chocolates, cigarettes, ice-cream, chewing gum, hot dogs (well maybe not hot dogs because I don't think I've ever seen anyone buy one), a whole variety of products full of either sugar, fat or other compounds that are usually not that good for you. Instead of going straight to the counter they spend an eternity choosing which products they might consume to help them contribute to our growing rate of obesity. (Have you ever noticed when driving or walking around cities that when you see an obese person it’s more likely than not that they will have some sugar drink or fast food in their hand**). I'd be surprised too if they weren't also paying a premium price for these pleasure foods compared to purchasing them at a normal Coles outlet. I can't understand this, as it's these same "working families" that are doing it so tough, struggling to pay their mortgages and that monthly bill for that "free" dial tone that they had to have and got suckered into downloading.
All this time, outside, I’ve been waiting in a queue still short of reaching that elusive fuel bowser. I selected the shortest queue, the bowser even being on the wrong side of my car, just to save time, but it is all in vain. I sit and wait wishing my little Hyundai had the horsepower to simply push the vacant cars ahead of me out of the way. Eventually the starving masses start their journey back to their vehicles. “At last” I think but then I notice the pace of these large animals. It’s slow, unbelievably slow. Has the average walking pace of Australians decreased with our ever-expanding waistlines? A recent study suggests that it has actually increased, but I for one am seeing evidence to the contrary.
After watching the local version of the elephant walk I finally get my turn to fill up. Then it’s in to pay where I join the long queue at the cash register. Everybody around me has extra items, all of which take time to be scanned into the cash register. Am I the only one just purchasing fuel? Is there something wrong with me? Am I immune to the advertising, the bright colours or the chance to partake of the fabulous flavours these products offer, or am I just too tight to buy this crap? I wait and even a glance at today’s headlines or the girlie magazines fails to relieve the boredom as I ever so slowly progress toward the counter. Hang on, the person in front of me has just come to buy these supplementary goods and hasn’t even purchased petrol. There should be a law against this sort of behaviour, especially when the real Coles is less than a five minute walk up the road. I pay and leave in disgust 12 minutes of my life wasted.
As I drive off I start to wonder, is it really worth 4c per litre discount to suffer all this?
** I'm sure some of you who know me or have seen my pot belly on my avatar are thinking "people in glass houses" etc but hey my belly is heriditory and while I might eat the occasional cake (not purchased at a coles express I might add) I don't as a habit eat or drink the other crap mentioned here!
03/31/2008
Waitangi Wander
In February Leepback and Mapgirl two of Newcastle’s finest orienteers
represented their club at the International “Waitangi Carnival”
on the North island of New Zealand.
Here is the belated journal of their exploits.
Day One
Wednesday 30th January
With the three previous work free days to pack, Mapgirl is hardly surprised that we only just manage to leave our fair city on time but still require a visit to Big W to purchase some last minute footwear. Thongs in our language, flip-flops in Kiwi speak. I decide the $3.00 pair more than adequate and we recommence our journey. The trip to Sydney goes well. Even a 6-car pile up fails to slow our progress. Perhaps the fact that it’s northbound and we are southbound has something to do with that. Seven are injured but I decide they probably all deserve it, as they were all more than likely participating in our national pastime of tailgating - Dickheads! Eventually we arrive with oodles of time to spare at our departure gate, number 58. Just before boarding Mapgirl decides she might sample the “eau de toilette” at the duty free shop. I panic a little as the queue shortens and she is nowhere in sight. On her eventual return we are near last to board. I needn’t have worried as once seated on the aircraft we all await a Mr Edward Warren (or was that Mr Warren Edwards). Our departure is delayed as they search in the cargo hold below us for his luggage so it can be extracted from the plane. Finally he arrives stating that he has had hassles with customs. From his look and demeanour (and his cap) it seems to me that he has had hassles with Jack. “Jack Daniels” that is. The bastard is half pissed and has cost us all half an hour as we have been pushed back in the queue of taxiing aircraft. After take-off we check the in-flight magazine and notice the “the Simpson’s Movie” is to be screened on this flight. "Cool" we both say as it looks to be one of the better ones on offer and neither of us having seen it, but we are both bitterly disappointed when the entertainment commences and it is “Rush Hour 3”. Watching it is marginally less painful than having teeth extracted and only slightly more interesting than watching the screenless headrest in front of us.
Day Two
Thursday 31st January
Touchdown Hamilton International airport. It’s 12:40 in the morning. Our O-shoes and tent need to be checked by customs for any Aussie nasties. Mapgirl goes ahead to check if our rental car man is still out there waiting for us with our wheels. A quarter of an hour later I too exit and find all is well. All I have to do is sign here, here and here. The car looks good, not new but good. It is dark! We drive to the city and eventually locate our pre-booked luxury accommodation at Hamilton City Holiday Park. It is now 1:40am. The cabin key and code to the boom gates will be taped to the office door. They are not. We check the cabin and find it is locked. We decide to press the red button at the office door that reads “Before 9:30pm or emergency only”. This is an emergency after all. Nothing! We press again for a longer period. Still nothing. Realising that we will not raise anybody we drive off. We find a nice nice park with houses opposite which seems safe so we park the car and spend what's left of the night . The car seats are surprisingly comfortable. I get 3 hours sleep, Mapgirl only about 1. This cannot be good preparation for the gruelling carnival that awaits us in another day’s time. We head back to the campground to confront the owners. I was very specific about our date and time of arrival but the after midnight date change has thrown them. They claim they have just arrived back from holidays and that the temp actually took our bookings and are horrified that we were left out in the cold so to speak (actually it was quite a warm night). I’m actually less worried about the situation that took place than the fact that they themselves had holidays. I hadn’t ever thought about camping ground owners taking their own holidays (especially in the peak to shoulder season). Where did they go for their holidays? Do they have a swap system with other campground owners? They’d been at the Bay of Plenty and actually have their own holiday house there. Previously they’d staying at campgrounds but found it to be too much like home, which for them equated to work. I suddenly plan a change of career path, as these guys must be making a packet considering the Bay of Plenty isn’t exactly cheap in when it comes to real estate! Leaving the camp we get some provisions, gourmet muffins at 99¢ each seem to be the perfect training food, and then head north-east through rural NZ. We pass through Morrinsville, Te Aroha, an old spa town where we find an ancient treasure* in a local opshop, and Paeroa where the “famous worldwide in New Zealand” L&P drink originated**. Just pass this is the “Karangahake Gorge” #51 on the 101 must-do list for Kiwis). This offers us some light training opportunities with some walks set amongst beautiful scenery and historic gold mining relics and tunnels. We also get the chance to swim in the pristine river and later under a small waterfall. Oh did I mention there were chooks here at the car park and picnic area? Mapgirl loves chooks. We push on as it is now fairly late in the day and we need to secure lodgings for the night. On our arrival at the coast “Waihi Beach” we find that there is bugger all accommodation of any type available. Not even tent sites! It’s still very busy here with tourists everywhere. We head inland a bit and discover a small independent campground. It’s not in a great location so consequently has vacancies - NZ$60 for a cabin, or NZ$20 for a tent site. We only bought the tent along for the all night relay or emergency use and intended to stay mostly indoors on this trip, but I’ll let you guess what we selected. We figure we’ll sleep indoors with more comfort tomorrow night. Did I tell you we left the therma-rests at home as a space saving exercise and only have the crappy blue rubber mats as bedding?
* Ancient treasure – an illuminated Sydney snowdome.
** Sadly, the L&P brand has been sold to the multinational Coke.
Day Three
Friday 1st February
Morning arrives and we have had overnight rain showers. This is the sunniest part of NZ receiving the most sunlight per year but it is cloudy and threatening to rain. Our trip up this way suggested that there was drought with the usual NZ green scenery replaced by brown fields more reminiscent of Oz just a few months back. Is this going to be a wet holiday? Are we drought breakers? It rains during the drive but begins to clear as we arrive at our first stop, Mt Maunganui a suburb of the city of Tauranga. We decide to break our “training taper” with a quick ascent of the towns namesake, an old seaside volcano #50. At 232 metres high it doesn’t sound too big but being adjacent to the beach magnifies its stature. We find many other “athletes” also utilising this geographical feature with most appearing to be surf lifesaving types here for tomorrows “iron man” style events. Later that evening at dusk three of these young lifesavers will rescue a family of drowning children while the children’s mother sits in her car blissfully unaware of what is happening in the surf. Say’s a lot about a mother’s intuition doesn’t it. Next we try our luck at a campground at Lake Rotoiti just prior to Rotorua. They have nothing at all and the owner suggests we will get no accommodation in the entire Rotorua district due to tomorrow’s “ragamuffin”. Thirty thousand people are expected. “What is a “ragamuffin?” I hear you ask. It’s a concert featuring UB40 and other reggae type bands. We press on toward Rotorua itself. Upon arrival the air is heavy with the smell of the sulphur that is produced by the volcanic activity of the area. This place is surely the “refuge of the flatulent”, but remember, it only masks the smell, not the sound. The Ragamuffin has thrown our plans. We think about who actually attends these concerts, Hippies and Bogons. Why? Hippies because they love this crap music, (you might by now have worked out I’m not fond of this form of music), and the bogon male because it’s a great opportunity to get pissed and he also thinks he might score with a spaced out hippy chick. Both are dreamers in the extreme. We leave immediately and head to Lake Taupo #66 which after all is our final destination for the commencement of the “Waitangi Carnival”, our sole reason for being here. We stop for a bite of lunch at a roadside picnic spot. Once again we notice chickens. Along the way we check out a thermal generation field and “Huka Falls” to confirm our official tourist status. Taupo is booked out as far as cheaper indoor accommodation goes so it’s another night in the tent. We end up at Acacia Bay Campground. Our tent is pitched behind the house/office. They have a small sectioned off yard at the rear of their building. I picture their children asking if they can pitch a tent in the backyard on a warm summer’s night as we used to. Don’t suppose they would enjoy quite the same misplaced sense of adventure that we did considering all the other campers that would be surrounding them.
Day Four
Saturday 2nd February
Competition begins, time for a shave? I’ve been trying to get back to nature since we arrived by not washing. As a matter of fact I haven’t changed any clothing since we left Oz. Mapgirl is appalled but I’m also trying to lessen my carbon footprint. I guess nobody realises just how close to the tipping point the earth really is. I think the undies might go after this first event, which is middle distance and adjacent to the airport. After searching a Taupo supermarket for our daily training cakes we head to the event. We arrive fairly early and are greeted by Nick a kiwi we met on the south island on our last trip. Next up Hugh Moore and Ted van Geldermalsen arrive to swell the Aussie numbers. (Well Ted is a bit of a half-breed having been born a Kiwi but immigrating to Victoria after realising his misfortune). Shortly afterward Nicolay the Russian we met at our Christmas 5 day rides in on his bicycle. We register and pick up my “Waitangi 2008” souvenir T-shirt and begin preparing for our starts. On course it is warm and the terrain is mostly open and very undulating, but not steep. My preparation has suffered with the lack of sleep and soreness from sleeping on the ground but I find the navigation mostly easy, the only complexity being that not all fences are mapped, only those that represent map boundaries. We find that this is to be standard for the carnival and it does take some getting used to the fact that there is something significant in the field that is not on the map. There are quite a number of fence crossings to deal with and not having them mapped also means a bit of guesswork as to where the best place to cross is so as to minimise the number times needed to cross. Mapgirl has a problem with one control. Both of us are in the top half of our classes, but I’m upset 3 women have beaten me. We head off to the lake and have a swim. It is relatively cool compared to the ambient temperature of the air so it is probably helping our muscles. A couple of cakes later we head out of town and into farmland that turns out to be almost adjacent to our campground of the previous night. This is the location for this evenings “Katoa Po” an all-night 7-person relay. We set up our tent and I notice that I do not seem to have my souvenir T-shirt anymore and cannot remember it making it’s way from the previous assembly area back to the car. Mapgirl is unimpressed. She had forgotten to pick it up as we left the assembly area but as usual blames me. I go see the organisers. Fortunately these Kiwis are very honest and one in particular, Tane Cambridge has handed it in. “Thanks mate”, you saved me from a lot of nagging. Back to the competition and the 7 legs start with the shortest and continue progressively up to the longest. We make up a team of leftover Aussies as all the OZ elites are put into 3-person teams running courses 5, 6 & 7. This means we have to run the longer courses with old blokes. Mapgirl is given the “white” course due to her “white hot” run earlier in the day. “White” is Kiwi for “Blue” and she has to set off with about 35 ankle biters. We feel confident she will bring us in somewhere near the top. They start about 500m away just on dusk and manage to get the first few legs in fading light. From the tagging/finish area we can see two lights well out in front and are certain she is one of these. She is not and we start to wonder what has become of her as the next few bunches finish. She arrives about midfield and informs us that she could not match them as the little blighters just keep on running fast all the way. She tags master mapper Eric Andrew who heads out on the “yellow” (read green) course. He has a bad back and thus has to walk all the way. He hands over to central coast runner Emily Prudhoe on the “orange”. Yes this is where we finally agree on course colours with our antipodean cousins. While Emily has a good run we are dropping back in the pack. Liz Bourne takes over on the first red course. She is happy with her run but those dastardly officials list her as having miss-punched. It is now Paul Prudhoe’s turn on leg 5 as he reckons that because I beat him at the airport (by 52 seconds) I must do the longer leg 6. Paul seems unwilling to start as he stands and studies his map just near the “map tent”. Eventually we watch his light climb the large hill away from the start. We then wait it is now after 1:00 am. Eventually Paul arrives at the floodlit spectator control and heads out on his last loop. I ready myself, and head to the start. The officials are concerned that I have not already started as Ted van Geldermalsen our number 7 has already commenced. They want me to start prior to Paul’s arrival. I’m sure he wont be very much longer but start anyway. After picking up the map I now understand Paul’s hesitation. What looked a piece of cake in the daylight now looks very tricky. I try and remember where I noticed the first control during the daylight hours but on these huge hills with their many smaller undulations it is quite difficult. I take it easy, especially as the incline makes running quite tough, and find my first control. I have 7 controls in my first loop, up the back in no mans land. There are few others around in these early hours of the morning and it is quite eerie out in these hills. Surprisingly I get through the first loop with minimal problems but admit that it is a fine line between managing to keep contact with the map and being lost altogether. Coming through the spectator area I hear Mapgirl cheering me on and advise her I am going well and have completed about 40% of my course. I’m surprised she is still awake but she wants to see if I can match the elites running up the facing hill. She is surprised how well I do it but I do have to walk part of it. Perhaps I have over exerted myself as I muck up the next leg and lose about 5 minutes. I see another guy here and figure I haven’t gone far enough. The next leg also causes me problems. Another few minutes lost and I am now beginning to fall over quite often in the knee length grass and uneven footing. Finally I find it but when I go to punch I discover my e-stick has fallen off my finger. I go back 50 metres to where I just had a big fall to see if it is there. After a few minutes I realise how futile it is looking for this needle in a haystack and decide to continue on regardless. Later I find that a penalty time is added for each missed punch but I do not bother punching my map at all from here on in. I have one more pass by of the spectator area but now find nobody left to cheer me on. I continue on regardless. On this last loop there are some spectacular views toward Taupo from the large hilltops. After a little bit of trouble with the penultimate control I finally finish with a time of 104 minutes. It’s 3:10 am but I am not last in as two others remain on course. I remove my shoes and crawl into the tent with my gear still on and fall asleep.
Day Five
Sunday 3rd February
We awake and shortly after Mapgirl and I head back on course to locate my e-stick. I let her navigate and while it is still not easy it is extremely easy compared to last night. We spend some time looking around but even in the full light have no chance of finding it. At least Mapgirl got a chance to see this area. We pick up 3 controls for the organisers and save them a wee bit of time. Arriving back it is time to attend the presentations for last evening’s event. I discover there is actually an award for last finisher but I would have had to wait another 20 minutes to “beat” him! Today we have a “Games distance” event about 30 minutes drive away. The finish is in a natural amphitheatre and our cars are parked in a semi-circle above it. The start is 1km away to make use of the unusual terrain. Today we have chasing starts based on event 1 results. I have to start 52 seconds ahead of Paul Prudhoe and end up running most of the course with him, something we could do quite easily and more economically right here at home. This will not be the last course I run most of the way with Paul on this trip. After starting we have a longish leg and are then taken to a pivot control, which we visit 3 times via small loops. This area is amazing with heaps of nicely grassed little hills and hollows forming corridor like gullies. I am untroubled navigationally but Paul is gradually gaining. We head away from here on a longer leg and I realise I have lost touch but have a rough idea where I am. Paul is on the other side of a watercourse and we are level pegging. I make a guess as to where we are and head toward a control near a rock feature. It is not my control but rather the next on about 80 metres away. Paul has gone to the right one but then unexpectedly heads out at the wrong angle allowing me to regain the lead. After this it is a long rather linear run back toward the finish, once again with many unmarked fence crossings.
Once again our results are OK but not up to the high standard we are used to. We head off toward Hamilton visiting a beautiful lake for lunch. Our arranged indoor accommodation at “Narrows Park” is fine but a bit crowded. Seven guys plus Mapgirl share the one bunkroom. Some of the guys arrange a different room and Hugh decides to erect his tent leaving me, Mapgirl and Ted sharing the room. This is much more civilised. Unusually I snore during the night. Ted takes his mattress outdoors, leaving just us two. (Ted later gets revenge by snoring on the third night)
Day Six
Monday 4th February
It’s time to be tourists again so we head for the much heralded “Hamilton Gardens”. Soon after leaving the car park we come across a lady and her young daughter feeding hundreds of ducks. She has a couple of huge shopping bags full of bread and bread rolls and is throwing them whole. The ducks are fighting and trying to bite smaller pieces off them. Mapgirl grabs one (a roll not a duck) and finds they are actually frozen solid. Is this woman a sadist tormenting these creatures? She throws another roll and I’m worried this icy solid projectile will kill the duck trying to catch it. Hey wasn’t there something like this in “about a boy”? I’m positive there was. Either that or I’m suffering déjà vu. We move on and are quite impressed with the different gardens open for viewing. Our favourites are the “modern American”, “Indian” and “Italian” pavilions. It is getting quite warm and we head back to the narrows to have lunch prior to our run. This afternoon we have a sprint at Hamilton University. Arriving at the Uni we park the car and follow the tapes to the assembly, which is also the finish, and close to the start. This is a beautiful area with a covered row of cafes and shops adjacent to a green-grassed area that transforms into a boardwalk beside a nice sized lake. Today we have one minute start intervals. My course looks quite long on the 1:2500 map but the controls come up alarmingly quick especially at my athletic pace. Route choice needs to be instantaneous as time taken to decide between two almost similar length routes could be greater than their differential. I punch the wrong last control and run straight past the correct one into the finish chute. Luckily Paul Prudhoe yells out to me and advises me of my mistake and I backtrack with only a few seconds lost. Apart from this small mistake I am happy with my run, which twisted between and around buildings, walkways, three lakes and even small pockets of almost bushland. At the finish I chat to Jean Paul, a New Caledonian in an attempt to practice my pathetic French. There are quite a few of them here, well over 20 in fact. “Aller, Aller, Aller” (go, go, go) he yells to a finishing New Caledonian woman. Is this your wife I ask to which he answers “oh no”. When I see her close-up I notice that she is actually quite a bit older than he and I hope I have not offended him. He will pay me back. Mapgirl and I watch the elite races and then head over to the campus pool for a swim. We manage to score a freebie as it’s about to close in five minutes and the attendant tells us to just go in. We jump in wearing our running gear and have a 5-minute cool down. From here we head across to the sports bar where there is a social arranged. Here we score a “Waitangi 2007” Frisbee, one of the many spot prizes handed out during the evening. We do not risk our luck ordering food, as there seems to be quite a wait due to the large turnout of orienteers. Instead we leave with the Prudhoes, Ted and Hugh and consume a nice dinner at a nice Thai restaurant.
Day Seven
Tuesday 5th February
Today we head out past Cambridge for a “loop” race. Our destination is a sheep farm consisting of mostly large cleared hills. There is a gale blowing outside so we sit in the car looking at a small flock of sheep in the adjacent paddock. Mapgirl wants me to select my favourite from among them. Of course we disagree as her selection looks like a dumb outcast. I’m sure my pick is considerably more respected by the flock. Secretly I suspect they are looking at us and selecting their favourite. I'm sure they all select Mapgirl rather than me! Eventually we have to leave our ovine friends and go to the start. It is a mass start for each class in our case with three maps attached to one of the unmapped fences. We watch Red1 start. They all head off to the south. Our group start a few minutes later and we all grab our first map. We all expect to head off the same way as Red1 so it takes several seconds for our brains to compute that we have to run in the opposite way. Legs and arms fly everywhere as the group quickly head downhill to a pivot control that we will visit many times, then branch out on different loops and back to the fence for another map. I’m fairly tired already and as I look around me I see my central coast buddy Paul Prudhoe running alongside. We have drawn the same loops and once again run the whole way almost together. It’s a fun event but the hills and numerous fence crossings take their toll and reduce the experience slightly. Mapgirl has fewer loops but complains that her pivot point was much further elevated and thus she has had much more climb involved in her course. We once again watch the elites then head back toward Hamilton stopping off at a farm stall to buy some scrumptious, cheap, golden corncobs, which we will eat for dinner.
Day Eight
Wednesday 6th February
Today event is halfway to Raglan, #82, which is a beach town on the west coast. On arrival we find the assembly/finish area is in the edge of a beautiful pine forest. The forest floor is open and very runable, but it is quite steep. We are learning that most Kiwi maps are far from flat. The aroma of the forest is very non-Australian, rather more Euro or Scando and a delight to our noses. Just outside of the forest, directly across the access dirt road is a pleasant running stream. The start is quite a walk and a reasonable climb but it’s lovely to be in these surroundings. Arriving at the start I meet my New Caledonian friend, Jean Paul. After a few ca va’s and some idle chit chat he casually asks me if I am travelling with my daughter. Jean Paul and I are now even on the unintended insult register. Note: this pleases Mapgirl when I later relate this to her. After starting I have little trouble with the navigation. On the way to my fifth control I head downhill and across a marsh which would normally in OZ present no problem but suddenly the grass below me sinks and I’m over my knees is water. I do not wish to deviate but do not know if I will sink further if I continue. I consider it this problem for a few seconds then spread my weight and crawl for about ten metres across this floating mass of grass to the other side and continue. I’m going well but am a little low on control ten, losing up to a minute. The climb doesn’t seem as bad as the stated figures and landform would suggest with contouring options available over the last third of the course. After finishing we wash our lower limbs in the stream and once again watch the elites come through the spectator controls and eventually into the finish sprint. We leave the event and continue west to Raglan and it’s famous beach. The sand is grey and there is about 200 metres of flat beach to reach the water. It is crowded but we still meet a few other Oz orienteers here.
We have a pommy swim, that’s where you just go in up to your knees, as I have forgotten to bring my swim kit and Mapgirl is not too happy to swim where there are waves anyway. Tonight is our last at our “Narrows Park” accommodation and we have a proper swim here in the pool.
Day Nine
Thursday 7th February
Officially today and tomorrow are rest days, but Auckland orienteers have their weekly summer series event today at “One Tree Hill” #91. After six events in five days should we be sensible and rest up, maybe do some sightseeing, or should we push on and continue this orienteering odyssey? John one of the Kiwis from Wellington needs a lift to Auckland and as we are one of the few cars with some space we decide this is a good excuse to visit the big city and compete at the afternoons event. On our journey to Auckland we see an amazing sight. An unmarked police car has someone pulled over. What that’s not amazing? Well it’s a wagon! Still not amazed? We it’s not only a wagon but it has an aluminium ladder on the roof and looks all the world like some DIY bloke in his family wagon. Well-done cops. I can imagine the complaints we’d get if it happened at home. Anyway we travel on to Avondale Caravan Park, which is reasonably close to the centre. We miss the last cabin by only five minutes so it’s back to sleeping in the tent on hard floor. At least we have had soft beds for the last four nights. We drop John at the YHA and look for cheap parking. We head at toward “K road” the seedy but cool side of town, a sort of combination of Kings Cross & Newtown on a smaller scale. We find 2 hour parking for $3 an hour just outside the domain but continue on. Just around the corner it is only $1 an hour and we feed the meter three hours worth. We later check and find it is free in the domain itself so if your ever in that part of the planet then save yourself a couple dollars by parking there. It is a ten-minute walk back to K road. Mapgirl likes the retro shops where she buys a daggy hat for four dollars. She is so happy with it you’d swear it was the most expensive designer hat available. She is not hard to please when it comes to most things, as many would say referring to her choice of life partner. We dine at “Food for Life” the local Hare Krishna vegetarian restaurant and both supplement the $8 regular 3-course meal of soup, lentil stew, kofta, rice, and semolina pudding, with a curd steak, vegetable samosa and lassi. (I can just see you salivating at the thought of such scrumptious food.) It’s great food but we end up overdoing it. This will no doubt affect my run at “One Tree” later on. We leave and head to an Internet den, one of those seedy places filled with Asian types playing games and the odd tourist checking on what’s happening in their homeland. There’s also some weird old guy beside us looking at Saddam Hussein videos on YouTube as well but I couldn’t tell from his continual mutterings if he was a fan or foe of the once swinging (on a rope) leader. A quick check of our email suggests that none of you mob miss us in the slightest, but it’s good that there are no chores waiting for us online. Time goes quick so it’s back to the car so we can beat the traffic on our shortish trip to “One Tree Hill”. The build up has begun and it’s worryingly slow at first but thins out to be acceptable for the rest of the trip. We are first to arrive, just as the organisers are erecting their club camper trailer. We debate our choice of footwear and unanimously we select to run in joggers rather than studded o-shoes. Our Russian friend Nikolay arrives on his trusty metal steed. I’m tired from just driving here, how does he do it?
We both opt out of the 7 km settling for just 4.2 km. It’s pre-printed maps here, but a wide choice of courses. Not sure how they go at guessing the correct numbers. Mapgirl heads off 10 minutes prior to me. When my turn comes I head straight up the hill. It’s open parkland with some tree groupings, roads containing drivers that are travelling way too fast for the safety of others, playgrounds and buildings and of course the obligatory sheep, cows and heaps of fences. As I head further up the hill I notice that my lunch has failed to clear customs and is still in transit between my upper stomach and the rest of my digestive tract. This is not good and it slows me considerably. The controls are little 15cm squares (orange and white of course) on short stakes each having a plastic punch attached. Initially they prove quite hard to spot until you realise they won’t be standing out like the proverbial db’s even in this fairly open environment. After two successful controls I’m totally stuffed, but near the top. Luckily I now having a contour option available on the next leg facing. Wow the steep grasses hills are a bitch to traverse or even go down. It’s slippery. Hugh will later have a fall on one incline taking some bark of his shoulder causing “the red water to come out” (I knew I’d be able to work in a “Salad Fingers” reference somehow). We should have stuck to our o-shoes as there is hardly any “road running” at all and the steel spikes would have been of great benefit on these slopes. I pussyfoot along locating the next few controls eventually coming to the safety of the flatter part of the course. This is a pretty area but the lack of rain means it is a little browner than one suspect it might usually be. The return leg passes by an unusual hazard, an archery range. It doesn’t look particularly well segregated and I’m pleased I’m on course and up in the hills above it. Hopefully I’m clear of any errant arrows but a closer inspection reveals that there are no potential Robin of Nottingham’s anywhere to be seen on the range. Today I will pass by unscathed. Arriving back at the finish it is obvious what an impact my late large lunch has had on my usual mercurial time. I’m a bit embarrassed but I still have a chance to make an impact today!
There is a 1.7km sprint available. It’s mostly elites and junior elites from New Zealand, but Mapgirl and I love a challenge. We sign up and wait for the start draw. All up over 40 entries spread at 30 second start intervals. Mapgirl is in the earlier part of the draw, myself the later. I line up behind man of the carnival “Ross Morrison” and can sense he is uneasy about me starting so close behind him. Perhaps he will crack under this intense pressure. Were off and I’m feeling a bit better than I was earlier, perhaps my lunch has now passed into the intestine. The legs are short (that’s the course leg’s not Morrison’s) and there is no chance of respite anywhere on the course. Morrison has kept his composure and beaten me and all others today. I’m surprised. I have placed equal 7th in this impressive field (disclaimer: equal 7th on leg 8-9) and I’m pretty happy with myself. This is our 8th event in 6 days and we are tired so we head back to Avondale and the “comfort” of our tent for the night.
Day Ten
Friday 8th February
What no events today. What’s wrong with these Kiwis? We head north west out of the city and hope to drop by the beach featured in the film “the piano” and possibly used in many “Xena – Warrior Princess” episodes. Personally I preferred Hercules (the show not the bloke) but enjoyed Xena whenever Callisto or Joxer graced the screen. At each exit I enquire if we should be leaving the north West freeway. All my enquiries are greeted a negative response. Eventually I realise that Mapgirl and I aren’t on the same page so to speak and we have actually travelled past our exit so we head back through some suburbs. This quickly becomes tedious and we decide abandon it and visit another beach a bit further up Auckland’s west coast #56. Luckily this turns out to be a good choice as Muriwai is a beautiful beach, uncrowded except for a few surfers, and it has it’s own Gannet colony on the headland. Two senses advise you that you are approaching the colony. The noise is not so bad but the smell takes a bit of getting used to. We spend quite some time watching and enjoying the antics of the birds and their juvenile chicks. Continuing north we have a quick stop in Helensville and then back northwest through Parakai, continuing on to Shelly beach for a swim. This beach is aptly named with an infinite number of small shells standing in for the usual sand. We decide to stay here at this pleasant place. It is a very small camp with limited facilities and limited spaces. We have just finished pitching our tent when the other campers open their car doors and start blasting what they consider to be mood enhancing music to anyone in the near and not too near vicinity. It’s still rather early and we know it won’t get any better. The guy at the shop has already stated that our camp neighbours should have already left the park but because they are big Maoris or Pacific Islanders he is too scared to move them on their way. We are too scared to say anything either. I’m sure they often take advantage of this lack of gumption by others around them but would be first to play the racism card if somebody did act. We get a refund and head back to Parakai Camping ground. It’s right beside the Parakai Springs thermal aquatic park and as is actually part of the complex but driving by you’d never know there was a camping ground here unless you had previous knowledge of it. We drive past the water park and over to the campground entrance and the caretakers cottage. There are two seemingly uncompatable signs on the cottage fence, “Beware of the dog” and “Enquiries” with the later having an arrow pointing toward the open gate. Mapgirl ventures in and finds that there is an old guy out back hanging his washing. He advises her we need to book in at the water park ticket office. Later we see many people going to this cottage – all being directed back to the ticket office. Hugh tells us the old codger has become a bit irate with all the visitors and wasn’t exactly pleasant when he met up with him. This must be an ongoing problem with what seems an obvious solution - better signage. We pitch the tent for a second time that day in a nice green parklike environment that has large scattered trees. We watch as other orienteers arrive in preparation for tomorrow’s recommencement of the carnival, cook our dinner and take it easy.
Day Eleven
Saturday 9th February
Woodhill, we’ve both done poorly here once before many years earlier. Surely we will conquer it today. Soon after our arrival a small shower sends the masses under the two marquees. This is short-lived and the weather improves. The assembly is in a paddock adjacent to undulating grassed hills. Some have varying degrees of vegetation on them but most in the immediate vicinity are bald. As usual there are many fences but the sheep and cattle are nowhere to be seen, only a few donkeys opposite the spectator area and some would say a lot within it! I’m keen to go but have a late start. I see off Mapgirl but do not travel the longish walk to the start with her preferring to psych up a bit by myself. At the start we are informed that the triangle is 60 metres straight ahead of us but we need to cross the fence away from the corner post, as there is a hornets nest here. When I do start I pick up the map and scurry off, reading as I run toward the triangle. The map looks complex and I plan to count the number of white sections on the hilltops thus negating my need for complex navigation on this first leg. Reaching the first fence crossing at the triangle I remember the hornet warning and veer away from the corner post, crossing about 15 metres from it. Whack! Something has stung me but it’s not a hornet. It’s the fence. It’s electric and the bloody thing is still turned on. It’s not a major shock but merely a smaller jolt. I might blame this for my bad first leg. My plan goes horribly awry as I forget I’m hopeless at counting past 3 and pick the wrong vegetated hilltop. A few minutes later there seems to be nobody else around except John our passenger to Auckland a few days earlier. He’s having a shocker (pun not intended as I don’t know if the fence got him or not) on this leg too but even he eventually disappears. Panic sets in and I run about crazily, something I rarely do. Stumbling upon it I head of to the next control, again without much of a plan other than catch-up. Bugger another bad one and another 5 minutes lost. Number three produces a similar result although we are now in the forest proper and visibility is drastically reduced. Actually I’m quite near it but my confidence is shot to bits. Wow three controls into this event and I’m well behind. I decide I need to start reading the map and planning a little better and taking a proactive rather than reactive approach to my navigation. This works and with the exception of the tenth control (where I lose a little time) I manage to plot my way around the rest of the course in a reasonable fashion. Disappointment is to be my companion today. I’d like to visit here again and master this terrain. “I’ll be back”, I think to myself, trying hard not to do the obvious Arnie impersonation in my head. Mapgirl has not had a great day either and we head back to Parakai. We have decided to decamp and head over to the east coast closer to tomorrows event. We are not sure what it will be like and Ted warns us of the possibility of another experience like that at the Shelly Beach camp. Better the devil you know? We stop by an opportunity shop in Helensville where we find some Tupperware corn holders. These will come in handy, as we have consumed quite a number of cobs during our NZ tour so far. It takes about 5 minutes for the little old ladies to serve Mapgirl. “What are they?” the first one asks her. “Corn holders” she replies. “Corn Holders” woman one repeats, almost with disbelief as she examines them. “What are they?” asks the second lady of the first. “Corn holders” replies the first. “Corn Holders?” the second responds once again with a tone that suggests she is non-to convinced that’s what they are. It takes about thirty seconds for the third little old lady to join in asking and repeating exactly the same way as the previous two. We hope there are no more out the back ready to join in this chorus. ”How much should we charge?” is the next question to do the full round of old ladies. Eventually, after many more utterances of the name of these said objects they decide on their worth as being 20 cents. They work hard for their money these ladies. We move on with the words “corn holders” still echoing in our ears. Arriving at the east coast we are amazed at the size of the place and the amount of traffic. Perhaps we shouldn’t be as its vicinity to Auckland makes it an ideal summer getaway and it is a Saturday after all. Helensville, not so behind us seems so tiny and antique compared to Orewa. The beachside caravan park looks full and cramped so we head further north stopping at Waiwera. This isn’t that much further north but is a lot less developed. We consider staying here but already have decided to go back to Parakai and socialise with the other guy’s camped there. We consult our maps and find a road across to the west just a bit further north. Might as well make a round trip out of it. The turn off is to the very small town of Puhoi a cheese making area. We actually have some locally produce Puhoi brand Emmental in the esky right here in the boot of the car. Emmental is my all time favourite type of cheese. Mapgirl inquires as to the suitability of the gravel road at the local store. “Sweet as” comes the reply, so we push on through windy roads populated by no other vehicle than ours. It’s scenic but our map is crap so we have some reservations as to whether we will actually find our way. As it turns out our friendly storekeeper was spot on and we have found our way back to the western road and on to Parakai. “Sweet as” we say to each other. The guy’s back at the campground aren’t that surprised to see us. We have dinner and later take full advantage of our discounted entry to the spring’s water park. Camping costs $10 per head and for an additional $5 each we can access the water park. Adult entry to the water park is $15 dollars anyway. Basically it’s free camping, our third night so far on this trip. We have left it late but the complex doesn’t close until 10 pm. I decide to try the waterslides. Mapgirl declines, as in addition to her wave phobia she is also terrified of waterslides after a bad experience at Bali’s Waterbom Park. It’s pretty dark climbing the stairs and is rather hard to see especially since I have had to remove my glasses for safety reasons. I start off on my back but somehow spin around halfway down. It’s fun although my lack of vision and accelerated movement could bring on travel sickness like symptoms very easily. I move up a notch and have another couple of rides on the “scarier” slide, before the lack of light causes its closure. We head inside to the thermal pool that sits at 39 degrees Celsius. I find this a bit warm for my liking but every one else seems to appreciate it. The other guys arrive and we variously alternate between this hot pool and the not as hot pool outside, until the complex closes.
Day Twelve
Sunday 10th February
We wake and find that last nights soaking has actually lessened the soreness in our bodies. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s raining. Not so hard but this increases as we drive toward the event area. It’s fairly ordinary by the time we park the car and we are unwilling to leave it. Mapgirl makes a visit to the conveniences and upon her return advise me that we are on a beautiful little beachfront. The area is indeed picturesque and blue skies would have made for a picture perfect day. Closer to our start time it has improved making the 2.5 km walk to the start bearable. The walk is initially along the beach and then up into the beautifully aroma of the pine forest. We soak up the atmosphere but then realise we have mistimed our walk and so have to hurry. We just make it as they call my name. Mapgirl is to start 1 minute later. So, so close to missing our starts. As I start it rains and even though I am wearing a cap I start having trouble with water on the lenses. My first control should be easy but I lose about a minute within the circle. The green looks denser than it is mapped I tell myself. Heading to number two I am oblivious to the track option which although quite longer would be much wiser than the one I am about to tread. I run around the green or so I think, and then cross a watercourse and head upward. The vegetation seems to increase as I travel up toward the ridge top. I’m either not where I think I am or this green is not mapped that well. It is wet and I am stumbling constantly. It feels like a rogaine in the Watagans, less vines but nearly as tough. Reaching the top road I have no idea where I have come out but head in the other side prior to establishing exactly where I am. This costs me as I struggle to relocate in this unfamiliar terrain. I need to stop and remove my glasses every time I wish to read the map, as they are now completely moist and often fogged. When we head back after a loop I once again go back into the same territory I previously had trouble moving through. Some people never learn, constantly pushing the straight line. Later I get stuck on a fence when my laces get tangled in the barbed wire. I’d still be there now except for the fortunate appearance of Hugh and his willingness to part with 30 valuable seconds in offering me assistance. Thanks Hugh! With my confidence and now prestige shot to pieces I struggle for the rest of the course and find it physically demanding. It is a remote, sprint finish along the beach about 200 metres from the download computer. Mapgirl has finished and awaits me. We decide to swim in our full o-kit and others do likewise. The water temperature is fine and it is twenty minutes before I download. This map has beaten me. I need to return here another time but unbelievably this beautiful cove is scheduled for development in the near future. (I wonder which council planning official is in bed with (literally) which developer in this local area?)
“The carnival is over” as the seekers once sung and we say our goodbyes hopeful that we may meet again with the many people we have met on this trip. I’m certain this won’t be our last New Zealand orienteering trip. With a tinge of sadness we head off as we hope to make our way to Thames on the Coromandel Peninsular before nightfall. The weather has been gradually improving as we drive back through Auckland toward Thames. On our arrival we find a campground that has an on-site van, oh what luxury, and although it looks crap on the outside it is as the owner says “very much better on the inside”. Mapgirl is a little put out because there are signs everywhere advising us not to feed the ducks. “What about the chicken” we ask thinking it is the owners. “No I wouldn’t encourage that either” he suggests advising us that it is feral. As you know this isn’t the first time we’ve seen these feral birds on this trip and I might add that we’ve noticed them at picnic stops on the highways on the South Island on previous visits as well. In the past I’ve postulated that somebody must place these birds there to clean up the scraps that we pigs (actually pigs are probably a lot cleaner than us humans) leave about after eating, but it appears that I have been wrong. These creatures lacking their arch enemy the fox, have spread out all over the land of the long white cloud without human assistance. Hmmm, I’ve seen plenty of chickens but not a sight of or even a peep out of a Kiwi, the countries national emblem. Perhaps it’s time for a change. Personally I think the chicken is more representative of today’s NZ than the Kiwi. Perhaps New Zealand should have the “Cock” as it’s national symbol rather than France. “Sacre bleu!”
Day Thirteen
Monday 11th February
We wake to find the weather while not initially brilliant is OK. Time for a quick check of the op-shops* and maybe even some others in Thames before we head of for some sightseeing. Mapgirl finds a shop selling all manner of strange objects. It’s small but has a weird combination of antiques, jewellery, mystical hippy stuff, character t-shirts, Viagra and “party pills”. Now I’m not into drugs at all and don’t yet need Viagra, but what the hell are these “party pills” and how can they can be legally sold in this country. They seem like they must be as much sought after as the real thing judging by the sign on the front door warning intending thieves that none are keep on premises after hours. I try to check them out in their locked cupboard but cannot make out what ingredients they are produced from. The packaging certainly implies they are some sort of ecstasy tablets and advises against taking too many. I look at the shopkeeper with judgemental eyes. I don’t like drug dealers, even pseudo ones. He’s not young either, just a businessman seizing an opportunity at others expense. Mapgirl is oblivious to my thoughts and has spied some cheap “greenstone” necklaces. They are dirt cheap compared to others we have seen in other establishments and I have a suspicion they might be made from that other famous gem, “green plastic”. It’s a personal moral dilemma. Do I stop her buying this cheap keepsake from this unprincipled man knowing that she will end up buying one at least twice as dear, or do I bite my tongue? She buy’s it and once again is very happy with her lot in life. We leave the “drug dealer” and check out the other shops before moving on. We move up the scenic west coast of the Coromandel along narrow roads carved out of the steep sides of the coastal fringe. It’s windy, (no it’s not blowing, the road has many bends) and slow but enjoyable. Reaching Coromandel town #65 we stop for a look around. There are many tourist centric shops here and we do the expected tourist thing of checking them out. There are also clean looking public toilets in an adjacent park. (Warning: those of not wishing to read about gross bodily functions should skip a few lines). It’s about time to lighten the load I think, so I head into the men’s. Entering the cubicle I’m aghast. There in the bowl in front of me not one, but two UFO’s. That’s un-flushable objects for those that don’t know. These have to be the two biggest nuggets I have ever seen, the biggest and second biggest presumably in one sitting. The guy that passed these must have a huge infrastructure. I make a quick retreat and decide I no longer need to go. Too late, this image is already indelibly stamped in my brain and will always be the first thing I think of when anyone mentions Coromandel Town. I have an equally distressing image (but different bodily emanation) brought to mind whenever I think of Dunedin due to another rest room visit in that cities railway station many years ago. We hastily leave the town and head across the peninsular via “309” road. I’m still non-the wiser as to why it’s named such. It is gravel but in good condition. After a few kilometres we stop in at a roadside waterfall for a quick dip. The water is very cool and we only fully immerse our bodies for a very short period. It’s done the job though as we have cooled down and are refreshed ready to continue our journey. A little further on is a short walk to a Kauri grove. The walk is pleasant through some nice semi-rainforest. After ten minutes we reach the grove. There are about 13 trees left here, some of them nearly a thousand years old. They are huge but the signs tell us that they can be double this size and live to be two thousand years old. It seems incredible that any living thing can have such a lifespan. I bet their health insurance comes cheap but hey they don’t get to travel much. We make our way to Hahei and once again we are demoted to using our tent, as there is nothing else available at the local campground. It’s huge with lots of campers but there are oodles of places to pitch our tent away from the crowds. The extremely important tide chart outside the office advises that low tide is at 4:57pm or 5:13am the next morning. This alters our plan as we were going to do the Cathedral Cove walk this arvo and Hot Water Beach #55 in the morning, but the hot water is only present at low tide. We grab our gear and head to Hot Water Beach and along the way I finally upset a local as I fail to observe their strange give way rules. “Sorry mate, I’m an Aussie!” The beach car park is fairly full and we know that the best spots will be taken. It’s a strange sight when we finally make our way along the black sandy beach toward the rocks that people are congregated about. They have made little pools with their shovels and lie about in various poses in the water. We twist our feet in the sand as if we are searching for pippies but there is no hot water to be found. After a while observing the goings on we realise there are a couple of springs in the sand where the hot water emanates from, and it’s hot, bloody hot if truth be known. The trick seems to be to dig your pool then direct the warm flow into it. There are a series of levees and channels people have built to do so with constant building and rebuilding of theses channels altering the flow as need be. We wait for someone to leave and take up residence in one of these pools spending quite a while in these surreal surroundings. Gradually the tide rises breaking down the walls of each pool with ever advancing waves. Eventually it is our turn and the cool seawater rushes in to mix with the hot water that has oozed from deep within the earth. It’s time to leave. We head back to Hahei on the way deciding we will have Fish n Chips for dinner. Well since Mapgirl is a vegetarian it is usually turns out to be hot chips & potato scallops. Arriving back we find we are lucky that the one shop is still open as it’s past it’s usual closing time of 7:00pm. We order hurriedly also purchasing a litre of berry flavoured icecream for dessert. Why is it that the dream of hot chips is rarely matched by the reality of it? We often dream of getting chips and will only do so once every so often as a treat. With the exception of a very nice serve of the said hot potato product from a Victor Harbour chippery on last Easter’s South Australian trip we are nearly always disappointed. Drab, pre-cooked, mass produced chips fail to satisfy our tastebuds and go nowhere near satisfying our imaginations. There should be a website somewhere that lists the best chipperys around. Is it blind nostalgia or were the chips served in newspaper in the days of our youth really that much better than that served up today? At least the scenery is hard to beat as we eat our meal while looking out over Hahei’s main beach. Superb!
* Did you know there is a popular NZ band called Op-shop?
Day Fourteen
Tuesday 12th February
It has rained somewhat overnight but we are greeted by a glorious morning. We arrive at Cathedral Beach car park at around 8:30am a tad later than we had hoped but there are not many vehicles here yet. The walk in only takes about thirty minutes with magnificent coastal and Island views. It reminds me a bit of the sea views obtained from the twin peaks on either side of Port Stephens just north of our hometown, but even more grand in scale. Our destination is two coves separated in the middle by an arched foot. You travel under the arch to go between the two lovely little beaches on either side. Cathedral Cove itself also has a small apostle like rock adding to its appeal. There is one other couple here but they leave rather quickly. We look around and then have a swim in the pristine water. Later as we are about to leave a few more people come by. On our walk back we notice a gradual build up of people heading our way. We are well pleased we have been early enough to beat the mob. On our return we find a completely full car park and people waiting to take our soon to be vacant spot. Wow it’s going to be crowded down there now. After decamping we head south down the east coast of the peninsula all the time watching the weather building up and coming from the west, across the peninsulas mountainous spine. Eventually it hits and we have rain nearly all the way back to Hamilton. We arrive at our pre-booked cabin, remember the one we pre-arranged after our first night’s stuff-up, to find that everything in town is booked out due to the one day international cricket match between the Kiwi’s and rhe Pom’s. You know who we are backing but the rain threatens to stop the match. We tidy up our gear ready for tomorrow’s early journey to the airport and then get ready to hit the town. We dine at an upmarket burger joint (many levels above your usual McDonalds or Burger Kings) and then take in the latest Coen brother’s film, supposedly their best yet. (Hey it’s cheap Tuesday after all). It’s a great yarn full of violence and suspense, my favourite kind but it still doesn’t match their earlier “Fargo” in my eyes. We return to our cabin finding out that the Kiwi’s have whopped the Pom’s in the cricket and turn in for a few hours sleep. Mapgirl has a restless night still thinking about the movies menacing villain Anton Chigurh or perhaps his even creepier haircut.
Day Fifteen
Wednesday 13th February
We have a smooth journey to the airport arriving about 5:00 am. I drop the car at the adjacent hotel and we both head toward the Air New Zealand check-in counter. We know there is a $NZ25 departure fee but it’s not obvious how, when or where we should pay it. As a matter of fact while there are plenty of notices about the new $NZ5 departure tax there is no mention of this international departure tax at all. At the check-in counter we are advised to pay this at one of the moneychanger counters just opposite. We have saved some cash for this purpose but still have about $NZ42 left over. It’s always an interesting exercise in budgeting such that you have enough but not too much money when leaving that country. You don’t want to find yourself at the airport with too much local currency, especially when you are far too tight to pay airport prices for any food or drinks. Fortunately Hamilton airport has provided a solution. After completing customs you must pass through the duty free shop, it was the same on the way in. Mapgirl spots some cheap whisky we can buy her father (for his birthday of course) and we manage to offload three quarters of our reamaining $NZ. I often think that it might be similar for people trying to work out how much money one might need in their retirement. You don’t want to die having not spent as much as you can but you don’t want to run out either. It’s further complicated by the fact that most of us don’t know our final departure date (or indeed our final destination). Not long after take off I can see the distinct shapes of the Tongariro volcanoes from my window seat and soon after that Mount Taranaki is visible to the south. Mapgirl moves to the empty seat behind us so that she too can see this incredible sight. We cross the coast and very shortly New Zealand lies well behind us. Approaching Sydney we are advised that the weather is wet and blustery and I envisage the plane being thrown around like a leaf. We have one or too minor bumps but it’s not that scary even for a poor flier like myself. We pick up our hire car and take the two-hour journey home arriving at 2:00 pm with just enough time for a short nap on the lounge to freshen ourselves up for this afternoons event. That’s right, our orienteering odyssey isn’t done with yet. We have one more event to do before we it’s over. A new map of the area surrounding Broadmeadow racetrack is today’s location. The weather looks bad, apparently it’s been that way most of the time we were away. We are usually worried about travelling to NZ because we know we will lose a quite a few days to rain but much to our delight it’s been the reverse this time. The rain clears and once more we are orienteering, this time a 45-minute score course. I have a reasonable run on the mostly flat terrain but am still a little weary. Mapgirl doesn’t beat me but runs so well that she takes out this weeks handicap honour. Perhaps her recent physical activity is starting to pay dividends. That night we pause to reflect on our New Zealand Orienteering holiday. While it’s been physically demanding competing in so many events over such a short period we have thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. The Kiwi orienteers have put on a great show. Thanks to Simon Addison and Greg Flynn and their many helpers for organising this special event. It is pleasing to see so many of the younger brigade doing so much of the work throughout the Waitangi 2008 carnival. We look forward to coming over again, hopefully in the near future to tackle some more maps, talk to friends we have met on this visit, to partake of the wonderful places and experiences this country has to offer and maybe even learn a little bit of the language!
