Psycho Chicken Crosses the Road
Created | Updated Nov 25, 2004
New Zealand; The Longest Possible Journey - Part Five
Grog Shops and Penguin Soup
The story of Russell starts so sweetly. It is said that a Maori chief, injured in battle, had been taken in by the townspeople to aid his recovery. When asked what he would like to eat, the chief asked for some penguin broth. When he was finished, he complimented the chef on his soup by remarking 'ka reka te korora' or 'how sweet is the penguin', and the town was named Kororareka, or 'Sweet Penguin' thereafter.
Whilst New Zealand was becoming a right little war zone in the 1830s, the town grew into a busy port, but not a nice one by any means. It was said to consist of nothing but 'grog shops and whore-houses' and it's easy to imagine what a town full of visiting traders, whalers and pirates could get like on a Friday night. The Bay of Islands was earning a reputation as 'the hell-hole of the Pacific' and, by and large, it deserved it.
Technically speaking, when the Treaty of Waitangi was signed, Kororareka was the capital of New Zealand - it was by far the largest European settlement on the islands, but Hobson didn't feel that it was the sort of place he wanted to represent the new world back home, so he purchased land and started the building of what is now Auckland. The locals weren't happy about that at all and, to make matters worse, some of the local Maori were beginning to think the treaty was a fraud and didn't represent their best interests at all. They conspired to cut down the flagstaff at Kororareka (which bore the Union Jack) not once, but four times, each time it being re-erected by the British. The fourth time, however, was the last straw and the first of the Maori wars began resulting in the all-but destruction of the town which, by all accounts, wasn't a great loss. Once relative peace had returned in 1844, a new start was made and the town was renamed Russell, although it still bears the little blue penguin as its mascot.
Russell is now a tranquil village with a population largely either in the tourist trade, the fishing business or no business whatsoever. The large houses cling to the hillside as if piled on top of one another and enjoy fabulous views of the beautiful Bay of Islands.
In particular, The Gables bar sits right on the sea front and serves mighty decent sarnies. I'd recruited a couple of folks off the boat to enjoy a beer or glass of wine (delete as applicable) and a spot of lunch and frankly we sat and got a little squiffy in the sunshine. By the time the time came for our bus tour of Russell we were three sheets to the proverbial wind, which only helped to enhance the experience - there not being all that much to tour in Russell. Our guide (who made a tour of an essentially un-remarkable but very pretty town splendidly worthwhile) drove us around the town in his faithful bus, showing us such sights as the local police station (unmanned), the site of the first pub on the island and his own house before we arrived at the top of the hill on which the town sits for some amazing views across the bay.
Keri-Keri and The American Embassy
Well that was a bit heavy on the history, so time once again for another story, courtesy of Crazy Dave the Kiwi bus driver. Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin...
The town of Keri-keri in the Northland of New Zealand holds the superb honour of being the only place in the world where a branch of McDonald's has actually gone bust. Branches of fast food chains come and go, but seemingly the branch of McDonald's (which became known as the American Embassy, a name still used to refer to the house of the golden arches in parts of New Zealand, and now in my home) is the only one in the company's history ever to close due to financial failure.
It's interesting to note that while the residents of Keri-keri had the good taste to reject the Big Mac, the town does in fact support four (count them) branches of KFC in relative financial security. It's the Colonel's secret blend of spices, obviously.
The Picnic at the End of the Universe - Cape Reinga
Where the North Island peters out into the sea and the Tasman and Pacific meet is Cape Reinga; the destination for day 2 of my pre-packaged tour of the Bay of Islands. It meant another early start, and another long bus journey.
The journey North took our bus on many roads that really weren't designed for it, especially when we weren't the only bus doing that tour that day. Coming and going of the buses down the minor roads is all carefully co-ordinated on 2-way radios, to the point where the two tours each day by Fuller's actually do the loop in opposite directions so as not to get in one another's way (we waved and cheered at the other when we did in fact pass it just after lunch) By the time we reached Cape Reinga, the sun was beaming down and the nation's wasp population had declared the day a national celebration.
The main thing to look at in Cape Reinga is the lighthouse, which is now fully automated, but still helps ships to not hit the North Island by accident. The surrounding countryside, however, is absolutely beautiful and I was well pleased with our choice of picnic spot, in a secluded little bay with a sandy beach, and an already smoking barbeque. I had high hopes for the beer content of the massive cool boxes piled up on the shingle too.
Bus Racing on The Ninety Mile Beach
A couple of snags and a tinnie or two later and we were back on the road, on more non-bus-compatible roads, around the North tip of the Island. The landscape was mostly rough native bush; spiky, hardy looking plants carpeted the rolling hills and a sort of greenish blue haze hung lazily over them, blurring the line between the horizon and the clear skies. The air was damp and sweet, and buzzed with insects.
Until we turned a corner and arrived in the Sahara desert...
The Ninety Mile Beach, I was disappointed to discover, is in fact a mere 68 miles long. There have been a number of possible explanations put forward for this inaccuracy, including the co-incidence the 68 miles is around 90 kilometres, but I think perhaps it just has a better ring to it than 'Sixty-Eight Mile Beach'. The scene on the beach is quite surreal, with sand dunes blocking out the landscape on one side and the crystal blue Tasman Sea on the other. The bus stopped for a while for us to survey the scene and the braver of us (well, it would have been rude not to) sampled the Kiwi insanity of sand-boarding.
Sand-boarding is a little like tobogganing but, instead of snow, it's done on sand. You take your four-foot long piece of styrofoam, hang on to the front for dear life and fly down the dune on your stomach. It's best when the sand is a little damp and tightly packed to get a smooth running surface, but today the sand was bone-dry meaning that while the spray of sand behind your feet was very impressive, the speeds achieved were substantially lower than desired. If wet was what you were after, however, there was a convenient stream at the bottom of the dune which it was entirely feasible to skim all the way across using the momentum gained on the dune (as demonstrated here by Crazy Dave)
The beach is officially a highway at low tide, but you have to have your wits about you to drive it safely. For example, contrary to what your survival instinct tells you, you should drive right at the high water line, as the sand is tight and safe there; any further up the beach and you face being lost in loose dry sand and never being able to get back out. There is quite a 'car graveyard' in places, including one car in particular which is perfectly intact, just buried up to the wipers in the sand. Apparently the driver left his lights on too, and when the car was underwater, they could be seen, shining out of the ocean.
The drivers of the many bus tours that travel this surreal highway know the rules well though, and can reach speeds of up to 80mph on the straight stretches, making this one of the fastest stretches of travel I did for the entire tour. At one point another bus joined us and we raced down the beach for a couple of miles, side by side. Eventually the beach gave way to bush, and we turned inland towards Paihia and Russell, via the great Kauri forests of the North Island.
