Maungaturoto and return to Hamilton

 

Saturday 3^rd October.

The next morning, I showered, made myself some plunger coffee and then went out to look for something more substantial. I had only ridden about 100 metres when I saw a French “Bistro” on the corner. Absolutely ideal. So, I parked again, grabbed all my valuable stuff and went in. There was a lovely menu but I did not want to spend too much, and just contented myself with a café au lait, and a croissant with butter and strawberry jam. Perfect. Very civilized. The woman who served me in “Le Bistro de Paris” said that she and her French husband and daughter had come to Whangarei a few years earlier and that they had a steady business, in part because their cafe was quite unique in the city.

I set my NavMan to the school I planned to visit when I finished my repast. The NavMan was perhaps a mistake because it instantly set me a course and I felt obliged to obey the machine, so rather than pootling around Whangarei to see some sights, I was soon out onto the highway heading south again. I was soon on the flat road that does a semicircle by Marsden Point and Ruakaka. I glanced over at Uretiti Beach, where there is a campsite. I had thought about camping, but it cost $20, the same as the backpackers’ hostel. Some camping would be good practice, especially if travelling in Australia, but I need to decide what to do about cooking and food. I was recommended a petrol cooking stove since the V-Strom uses petrol too, but I cannot find anything in the so-called camping stores in Hamilton. So-called because they are mostly about stylish clothes, rather than anything else.

Before I knew it, I was back curving up and down the Brynderwyn Hills and enjoying myself. I turned off State Highway One to number 12, and was soon at Maungaturoto. I took a sharp turn at the top of a hill and rode down a few kilometres to the school. It is a little curious that the high school is a few kilometres from the town along an underused road. The school is attractive in a slightly ‘rural poor’ style; painted in a pleasing white and sky-blue colour, with wooden buildings dating back fifty or more years. There was a football pitch and various outdoor netball and basketball courts, but no rugby pitch. In the snobbishness of New Zealand schools, the lack of a rugby pitch is not only indicative of the declining interest in rugby for teenagers, but also shows that other schools nearby are aggressively competitive, so smaller schools drop rugby in favour of the less violent and more enjoyable football.

It looked a good school. The principal wants to grow languages, which is where I might have a role. Still, rural New Zealand and Spanish? Thinking positively, a teacher could be respected and a part of the community. I remounted and continued along the road, which turned to gravel and petered out, then returned to the town of Maungaturoto. There is a small supermarket, a café, a post office, several real estate agents and various rural supplies. The house prices are depressingly prohibitive at the $650,000 plus and TradeMe has no rental properties. Perhaps a government will one day make lots of new houses and people can afford them, or people could rent at reasonable rates … No, I don’t think so either!

 

I bought some postcards and stamps in the post office and continued. I thought about a cup of coffee, but I had already had several this morning. 

I continued on Route 12, and, on a whim, followed the road to Whakapirau, which was a beautiful little holiday home township. It did not look like there was much to do, except enjoy retirement. There was a small port for Aucklanders to load and unload their fishing vessels. I took some pictures and returned to the main road. I thought about riding to Dargaville, but it was quite far, and I felt I would do better to return south and eat something in Auckland.

The road south was largely empty in the direction I was travelling, but many cars were travelling north for a day in the country. I stopped to put in some petrol in Warkworth and it seemed to be a meeting place for large Indian families who greeted each other with enthusiasm, and then rushed in to get curries in the restaurant attached to the petrol station. It was perhaps the first time I had seen an Indian restaurant attached to a petrol station, but there was also the more traditional McDonalds.

I fuelled up the motorbike, checked the air-pressure in the tyres, and skipped on any fuel for myself. I saw the signs for the toll road and noted that it was $2.40 for both cars and motorcycles. I was tempted but decided to stick with the coast road. Once again, I enjoyed the views of the Auckland Harbour Bridge and turned off to the harbour itself. I had an idea of a place to go, but soon found myself by the backpackers’ hostel C and I had stayed in several months ago. I parked the motorbike, locked it, and went into a food hall. I had some Vietnamese food, though the prawn chilli did not have much chilli. I then wandered the street and had a coffee. I wrote some comments in my journal, thought about future possibilities and watched people. 

Time to continue! I was soon out into the Auckland traffic, and rode south. It was a pleasant ride and I turned off at Taupiri so that I could take State Highway 1b through Gordonton and back home. Another enjoyable trip on the V-Strom. I have not solved my life’s problems, but at least I saw a potential school, visited Northland, and had a good evening in the backpackers’ hostel. 

I can see how backpacking can be a life for people.