End of Day 4. I am writing this posting in a temporary campervan park right on the Wellington waterfront, after a very trying day of travel.At least I am replete with good food and beer(Leffe) from a Belgian pub and am sipping a consoling dram of Laphroaig before I tuck myself in.
The drive from Raglan involved many miles of sub-standard single carriageway roads in middling state of repair which big trucks and farmers utes treated like the Le mans circuit. But the real challenge was gale force wind from the South. On several occasions I was almost blown into the roadside ditch and into oncoming traffic-a high, light-weight vehicle is not to be recommended under such conditions.
Thanks to several toilet and replenishment stops at Wi-fi capable McDonalds I was able to keep up with some correspondence and bill paying. No matter how remote a farm the Black flag with silver fern badge confirmed All Black territory but also accompanied by flags of the other nations-even the French tricoleur-they must have forgiven the Rainbow Warrior sinking. Whilst the Maori have a treaty which establishes their rights-The game from a remote English school still holds them in its thrall and the management of the national team and some key players names confirm their Scottish ancestry. Rugby has seduced them completely. As devout protestants they love to play the game they play in heaven(but for some of them,never on a Sunday)
As in Australia the population is of many nations but most unifying and assimilative is the pressure/obligation to support the All Blacks.To some extent AFL achieves the same in Melbourne and perhaps soon in Western Sydney. Outside one hamlet was a prominent poster with a picture of an All Black player and the cautionary caption.
"Before entering......leave all your round balls in the bin provided!" (you heard guys).
Just before I turned off to cross a high national park road that connects with the main North-South highway, another sign announced proudly that the next town was the home of Colin "Pinetree" Meads ( for the uninitiated he is the greatest living captain of the NZ Rugby team.)
The next challenge was the high desert road which despite being sign-posted open and snow free was soon blotted out by a horizontal snow flurry.On the summit was an army camp and military museum.
Out of the mist loomed tanks on display and as the road descended, various armoured cars and other fighting vehicles, came on heading,no doubt, for a testing time on the army range.
My tech savvy friends will be impressed that I was able to book a campervan space on the Quayside in Wellington and my Inter-Island ferry ticket from a Maccas 200klms north of the capital. When I found the unmanned spot and parked the van I was required to insert a code from my computer booking confirmation into a wall mounted touch screen, which spat out a ticket with the access code for toilets and showers. Before realising this and being desperate for a pee, I begged help from a man who had just left a toilet. he was French but I was relieved to find the Trois Trois,Cinque Cinque,Trois Trois-did the trick and saving me from wetting my pants.Sometimes school French has its usues
The pool game between Italy and Russia accompanied my meal-what an improbale set of opponents-result? Italian flair outdid Russian grit and muscle. Speaking of which, another excellent casserole dish full of mussels and a real French waitress to serve them.Even at the end of the earth there are standards to uphold.
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