I’m starting a series of posts that revisit the northern most point of New Zealand. This is made of the expansive Ninety Mile Beach (which is actually only 55 miles long), accumulating in the impressive Cape Reinga.
We’ll start at the southern end of Ninety Mile Beach, at a town called Ahipara. This is a bit of a surfies hangout because of the good waves rolling in off the Tasman Sea.
Sunset is a good time to explore the nearby rock platform.
It was very late in the day when I entered New Plymouth. I was so exhausted that I went straight to bed. I did make an effort to see the town the following morning. I walked the foreshore walkway alongside pebbly beaches. Just think that across that stretch of water is Australia.
That’s the end of my journey down the Forgotten Highway. Not quite forgotten, at least not by me.
The unsealed road eventually ends where the rainforest meets pasture land, and circumnavigates the mountain. I take the road north into New Plymouth, but not before I make a little detour to get a closer look at the mountain. It sure is snow-covered, and only mountaineers attempt to climb to the top in August.
Over yet another saddle, and I got my first glimpse of Mt Taranaki, with its distinctive cone. Reminds you of another mountain, a famous one in Japan perhaps? Well you’re not the only one as the producers of The Last Samurai thought exactly the same thing and hence shot most of that distinctly Japanese film in the Taranaki region. I stopped for a late lunch at a hilltop cafe not far from this point, where Mr Cruise and family apparently helicoptered in for afternoon tea one day. Such Hollywood excess.
The unsealed road winds its way through the dense NZ bush. This is typical North Island wilderness – dense temperate rainforest, peaty rivers, jetsam and flotsam from the logging up river. No wonder the early settlers found it hard to get going. I found it difficult enough to drive through that day.
The Forgotten Highway is a 150km road linking the two volcanic regions of Ruapehu and Taranaki. It’s a bit of an adventure because it traverses thick rainforest, a few mountain passes, and a one-way tunnel. To top it off the middle 30km or so is unsealed.
I must say that I couldn’t really enjoy the drive that day because I was coming down with the flu. It made the trip even more interesting as I was trying to get to New Plymouth as quickly as I could without driving myself off the road. But I did take quite a few rest stops.
The first was at the top of Strathmore Saddle, which gave me a great view of the volcanoes in Tongariro National Park (namely Mt Ruapehu, Mt Tongariro, and the cone-shaped Mt Ngauruhoe. Being early August, the peaks had a good covering of snow on them.
I’m starting a new sequence of posts today about one journey I took through New Zealand back in 2004. Yes, there’s certainly a wealth of photos from that trip (as with all my trips to NZ), simply because it’s such a stunning country to photograph.
This journey was in the west of the North Island, from Waitomo to New Plymouth. Waitomo is famous for its extensive cave system, many of which contain glow worms. Seriously, you’ve never seen glow worm caves like these before, because they are large, and they are very, very wet.
Access is via a number of means. The more adventurous go caving, which includes abseiling 20 or so metres into an abyss, or white water rafting. I went via the most placid form, on an aluminium boat, but the caves were still spectacular.
Of course, it’s almost impossible to take photos of glow worms, but here is one of the tributaries of the Waitomo River that runs through the caves, which made just as pretty a picture.
We’ll finish off with a view of the hamlet and the surrounding countryside from Rangikapiti Pa. A Pa is an ancient Maori hill fort. This one in the middle of Doubtless Bay, is very strategic indeed.
Aside from fishing, Mangonui Harbour and Doubtless Bay is a great place for sailing, and there were quite a few sailing boats moored too.
That’s all from NZ for now. The next post will be from much closer to home.
Near the wharf was this oddity of a house on stilts. It might have absolute waterfrontage, but one hopes that the sea levels don’t rise too much in the future.
I might not be too steady on the water (I get seasick very, very easily), but I do like to look at boats. These dinghies may be stock-standard, but whitewashed and upturned by the blue water they are absolutely picturesque.
Static and Silence 