Chapter 20 - a different approach to travel downunder
The first major trip down to the south Pacific after retirement was distinctly different from those made when the Dickason’s parents were still living. Feeling no further obligation to head immediately to visit relatives, the 2000 flights to the south were planned to stop in Auckland, then Perth.
Collecting the reserved rental car at the Auckland airport proved to be a minor hurdle. The company admitted they had no cars available for us. Instead they offered an SUV at no extra charge and invited us to inspect the KIA Sportage out in the lot. Our immediate concern was that, as we would be acting as tourists, while driving the luggage would be exposed in the trunk/boot which had no covering. The agent provided a large blanket to cover the luggage, and not wanting to have to change rental companies and try to find a sedan, we accepted, and drove north from the airport.
Still feeling jet-lagged, and knowing that we would be too early to check-in to the B&B we had booked for the first two nights, we drove around the Auckland harbour with no expectations of stopping because the America’s Cup was being hosted there and traffic and crowds were predicted though no race, only practice was to be held that day. Once across the bridge, we found a parking spot by a beach, and had a short nap on the sand. After a sandwich lunch, and having collected some more tourist materials at an information kiosk, we drove north to Albany to report to the booked B&B.
We were delighted find that the B&B was located in a 10 acre garden complete with a natural looking swimming pool adjacent to the garage building above which our room was situated. For our first morning there, we took the advice of the owners and drove west to Murawai where there was a spectacular view over a gannet colony and para-sailing taking place at nearby Takapu. Our first real picnic lunch of the trip was eaten at a table in the lush gardens of the Matua winery - with one of their wines of course.
One ex-colleague from Les’ days in the Curriculum Resource Centre had married a New Zealander, and was living not far from the B&B. A quick phone call confirmed what had been arranged earlier by e-mail, and following directions, we soon had afternoon coffee with Lynne on a deck overlooking the dam on their small hobby farm. Lynne boasted of ‘her ladies,’ about a dozen sheep she kept for their wool, which she sold to local weavers.
Lynne and the Dickasons met Phillip at a restaurant in Long Bay, which was on the east coast, just 10 minutes from Albany. A fine seafood meal was enjoyed with a view of the ocean providing a fine setting for this reunion years after we had first met Phillip in Nanaimo.
Our B&B hosts assisted us in booking a place north on the peninsular in Paihia in the Bay of Islands area, and we left for the drive the following morning. It was less than 300km from Albany, but we soon realized that roads in NZ were a challenge compared with Canadian [and even most Australian] roads. Although the speed limit was 80kph outside residential areas, there were very narrow sections with little or no shoulder, bridges [some having only one lane] with sharp turns before and after, and long stretches with speed restrictions. While we were accustomed to roundabouts from our English driving, many tourists, especially those from the US, were not. Consequently we entered them with caution not knowing what other drivers [especially those with a rental car company sticker on the fender/bumper] might do without giving signals.
Arriving too early to check in at the B&B the Dickasons continued to Kerikeri, a little further north, to take the recommended walking trail in to the Rainbow Falls. We also toured the Mission Station, established in 1819, and photographed the oldest wooden house in NZ and the historic fig tree nearby.
The B&B in Paihia was on a hill overlooking the beautiful Bay of Islands area. It was purpose-built as an inn, and had a residence for the owner and his family at one end, and four guest rooms along the other arm of the building, with a wide covered verandah linking the two sections.
The owner, a retired Royal Navy man with a cockney accent, was the perfect host, and in showing us the facilities, suggested we could use the laundry any afternoon, and were welcome to join in the social time on the verandah, informing us to put our supply of wine and beer in the large fridge shared by all guests - there was quite a supply already there. When we arrived back from our dinner at one of the Paihia pubs, the other guests were on the verandah, ‘buying’ drinks for the host who was happily telling navy yarns and eventually led a singalong.
Our days in the Bay of Islands area passed quickly - picnics at wineries, walks on the trails, a visit to historic Russell on the other side of the Bay, and a most entertaining cruise on one of the tourist boats plying the waters on this idyllic coastline. A highlight of such cruises was to go out to the famous “hole in the wall” and wait for the boat’s turn to go through the hole. Our boat was large enough to counter the swell and we succeeded in passing through the arch, but some of the smaller boats did not go through that day.
Our original plan was to drive to the top of the North Island but others staying at the B&B suggested it was a long drive for little interest, so we stayed one more day in Paihia, and enjoyed a relaxing day taking two of the recommended walking trails, listening to birdsong, waterfalls and bubbling creeks on the side of the paths.
When we left the east coast, we cut across the peninsular to the Waipoua Forest area. This wooded area featured the mighty Kauri tree, and the well-marked paths provided a great view of this very useful tree, which had provided raw materials for NZ for centuries. The dense shade on the walking trails forced the Dickasons to wear jackets despite the sunny, warm day outside the forest.
The Kauri Museum just south of the forest showed, through photos and videos, the history and uses of the Kauri. Display cases held huge pieces of the ‘Kauri gum’, a fossilized resin historically used by the Maoris for chewing and tattooing, and more recently for jewelry. The gum diggers, it was suggested in the museum, may have been the source for the term ‘digger’ given to NZ soldiers in the first world war, and which spread to ANZAC soldiers from that war onwards.
Our accommodation that night was on a farm further south. The family, which included two teenaged children, operated a B&B in the farmhouse. The farmer’s wife obviously excelled at quilting because our bed, the walls of the bedroom, and most other furniture featured patchwork quilts in a wide range of colours. Breakfast was early, the children having to eat and catch the school bus. The meal featured fresh and tasty ingredients from animals on the farm, and the baking of the farmer’s wife.
Our final night before returning the KIA to the airport was in a very distinctive B&B. Alongside the main house in Kumeu was an apple orchard and a huge greenhouse from which the B&B owners ran Foremost Fruits. They cultivated Italia grapes, picked them, packed them and exported them as single bunches to Japan as very expensive treats for those who could afford them. Their orchard featured apples which were also carefully maintained, sometimes with designs burnt on the skins by carefully placed ‘stickers.’ These too were picked, packed in single apple containers and exported to Japan.
The picture shows the owners checking grapes for ripeness. The bunches were huge, and only the very finest, without blemish, earned the right to be packed one bunch to a packet, and shipped air freight every second day.
One other comment concerning NZ is warranted before moving to the flight to Australia. The Dickasons agreed over a really fine dinner that night in a restaurant near Kumeu that they had been pleasantly surprised by the standard of cuisine available on this trip. With the exception of one pub, the other hotels and restaurants visited showed a rebirth of interest in culinary matters. In discussing this with the B&B owners, they agreed, and pointed to the introduction of culinary institutes, and the return of Kiwis to their native land after experience in England or France. It was
reassuring to find cuisine capable of holding its own with the famous wines of the North Island.
It was a short drive from Kumeu to the Auckland airport the next morning, but when the Dickasons reached the rental car drop-off terminal, things seemed chaotic. When Les placed the rental papers on the front desk, the agent there rather brusquely said we should take a seat. As we looked around the waiting area, all seats were occupied. Les took a walk around the two rooms trying to determine what was the cause of the staff’s agitation, and realized that all returning renters, mainly couples in their 60s and 70s, were accompanied by a rental car agent, and they were poring over police and accident reports.
Les went back to the front counter and informed the agent that the KIA he was returning had not been in an accident, and there were no insurance reports. The agent breathed a sigh of relief, rolled her eyes and said the next agent would see Les at the front counter in just a minute or two. She was right - and literally within five minutes an agent and Les were out inspecting the undamaged KIA. This agent explained that every car or camper-van being returned that morning had been in an accident. Apparently, the seniors from the US, when under some pressure on the narrow roads or on a roundabout, reacted by turning the wrong way, and so fender benders, broken mirrors and worse were common.
Dickasons and luggage boarded the next shuttle to the airport and checked-in without delay for the flight to Australia..... but not to Sydney/Melbourne/Brisbane as on all other previous flights into the country.... this time to Perth. After one night in a hotel downtown, the Dickasons collected a rental car and drove off to explore the tourist sites of the south west corner of Western Australia.
In four days of staying in motels, following WA Royal Automobile Club maps and guides, Dickasons were able to visit Margaret River wineries, have picnic lunches in Bussellton with its 3km long jetty, and drive out to the lighthouse at Cape Leeuwin where the Indian Ocean meets the Southern Ocean at the very tip of Australia. The photograph shows tourists at this significant geographic point.
The Dickasons also explored the national parks and beaches near Walpole on the southern coast. A highlight was a recently opened Tree Top Walk taking tourists at or above the tree line for a view down at the forest and bringing us face to face with the bird life in the tree tops.
Also while based in Walpole, the Dickasons boarded the Rainbow Lady and took a WOW Wilderness Eco-cruise which explored the Walpole Normalup National Park, visiting deserted beaches, and at one landing, all cruisers and staff enjoyed morning tea which included the famous Tingle Cake. The guides accompanying us were extremely informative, and had many ‘tales’ to tell of the history of the area.
Once back in Perth, we explored the Botanic Gardens and Kings Park with lovely views of the skyline of Perth, and met a long time friend of Pat’s [one of the crowd she ran with BL - Before Les]. Derek and his partner were living in a suburb of Perth and we visited their apartment, and they came into Perth for a final dinner before we returned the rental car and went for our rendezvous with the Indian Pacific - the cross continental train from Perth.
Since taking the train across Canada with the Young Voyageurs in the early 70s, the Dickasons had put the train from Perth to Sydney high on the top ten list. This was the opportunity to do it, and a small compartment had been booked before we left Canada.
At the Perth station, we walked the full length of the train, and after the passenger section saw the final open cars of the train loaded with two decks of the automobiles owned by passengers who had decided not to attempt the long drive across the continent but were shipping their vehicles instead.
The railcars were labelled with alphabet designators, and the Dickason compartment was in car I - seats during the day, bunks at night, with a tiny bathroom with basin and shower for the four day, three night trek across the width of the continent.
After leaving Perth, the train climbed through the scenic Avon Valley and crossed the wide wheat belt before the
vegetation disappeared and the view from the window was of desert - flat, covered with mallee scrub, with the occasional kangaroo being the only life visible.
The train reached the city of Kalgoorlie, famous for its gold-mining, in the late evening for a scheduled stop of two hours. The Dickasons, researching on the internet back in Canada, had purchased advance tickets for a “Whistle Stop Tour” and were soon an an air-conditioned bus travelling to a Superpit Goldmine site which was floodlit and gave great viewing from the lookout for tourists. The rest of the bus tour was through the historic downtown and our guide provided a very comprehensive history of the ‘red light district’ - Kalgoorlie’s other claim to fame. Originally named Brookman Street, but later changed to Hay Street so that when a citizen reported a brothel on Brookman Street, the police informed the complainer that no such address existed. We heard details of Leigh, the transsexual brothel madam who was elected to Council - only in Kalgoorlie?
When the train left this city early in the morning, the Nullarbor Plain crossing began. For hours, the train sped across the desert, and most passengers stopped looking out the window and read or socialized in the bar car between the surprisingly good meals [with well-known Australian wines] served in the dining car. There was a stop at the ghost town of Cook for a crew change, and once the train began travelling east again, the p.a. announcement was made that the Indian Pacific was now on the longest straight stretch of rail-line in the world - 478km in length.
Moving again, and crossing this long straight stretch, the only real interest came from seeing a small group of camels in the distance, and some puddles. There had been a shower of rain the previous day, and some water was still evident.
The following day, the monotony of the scenery was broken, first by small trees or scrub in western South Australia, then by the appearance of a large salt lake. There were low hills in the distance as the Indian Pacific reached Port Augusta at the head of the Spenser Gulf, and the train stopped for a re-arrangement of its cars. Some were uncoupled and shunted to a siding where they formed part of a train to Adelaide, and the remaining cars continued east for the remaining section of the Sydney itinerary.
After the agriculture and hills surrounding Port Augusta, the train was back into flat ‘outback’ in no time at all. The only excitement before Broken Hill occurred when the porter pointed out the platforms on the telegraph poles provided for wedge-tailed eagles to use when building nests. If the reader stares at the two right poles the platforms and nests are visible and so are some small clouds which excited the locals when we reached drought-stricken Broken Hill.
There were tours available during a whistle stop in Broken Hill, but given that the Dickasons had visited previously, we walked on the station and nearby streets to provide some exercise after the days of sitting and slow strolling on the train. Buying a newspaper gave us the opportunity to catch up with news of the outside world - the India Pacific was a very isolated place as it raced across a remote part of the world. The following morning, the train had already passed through the Blue Mountains and was approaching the outskirts of Sydney and suburbs and stations were a drastic contrast to the flat plains of the previous days.
Although due to reach Sydney by 10.15am after the 4350km trip, there were several long delays with our train stopped in the suburbs as local trains and freight trains seemed to have priority. Our arrival in Sydney was closer to midday when farewells were made to other passengers and crew, and luggage was claimed.
To start the remainder of this different trip to Australia, the Dickasons caught a taxi to a downtown Sydney rental car agency where our reserved wheels for the next week awaited.
The first days were spent driving back to the west to explore the Blue Mountains. With a motel in Katoomba, we had an easy walk to the lookout for the Three Sisters, and photographed them in early morning, midday, afternoon and evening light. As can be seen in the photograph below,other than the rocks of the sisters, the mountains really are blue.
In this motel, and in others in WA, the Dickasons were re-acquainted with a very Australian invention - the hole in the wall serving of breakfast. It had long been a tradition downunder, that when staying in a motel, guests would complete an order for breakfast and take it to the office before a deadline in the evening. At the designated time, a tray would be pushed through the servery - like a double cat door - and on it would be the cutlery and crockery and the menu items ordered. Included of course, if toast was part of the order, were small servings not only of butter, marmalade or jam and peanut butter - but Vegemite as well.
From the Blue Mountains the rental car was driven on a sort of ring road around Sydney and on to Newcastle and to Salamander Bay. Lest the readers are worried that on this trip to Australia the Dickasons neglected their friends and relatives, there was a lightning visit to Marje and David in NSW, and a short visit to Melbourne en route to Perth where in a few days we touched base with relatives on both sides of the family, and a made trip to Geelong for a re-union and Grange dinner with the Queen’s Road hostel gang. After Salamander Bay the Qantas jet took us via Honolulu as usual and so back to Nanaimo.
There was one other trip of note that year in our widening range of activities in retirement - a trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake for the Shaw Festival. A B&B about 1.5km from the town centre resulted in a long walk each time we had tickets to the various venues of the Festival. In another link with the past, the Artistic Director of the Festival then was none other than Christopher Newton - shades of Dawson Creek, WADE and Vancouver Playhouse days.
The Millionairess [definitely Shaw], Picnic [Inge], Peter Pan [Barrie] and The Mystery of Edwin Drood [the musical version], were all fine productions, and
between those we walked to orchards and wineries, found delis at which to buy picnic lunches, and took a history cruise on the lake and up the river past the various state parks with forts still standing from the war between the US and Canada in the early 1800s.
At the B&B, there was a cage with two grey parrots - described by the owner as “the perfect mix of brains and beauty.” These two birds did not talk, but they were excellent mimics, and had a huge repertoire of noises. At breakfast, if any other bird sang outside, one or both of our two greys would imitate the song perfectly. If we took a break during the day and returned to the B&B in the hot weather, we heard their versions of car horns, blender whirrings, the flap on the front door from mail delivery, doorbell chimes and much more. On just the second day, when we returned from the night’s festival performance, even though the cover was on the cage, Les heard a laugh, and drew it to Pat’s attention. She heard it, but was puzzled until Les explained that they were imitating Pat’s distinctive laugh - perfectly - and they had developed it in less than 48 hours.
The biggest adventures of the early retirement years were yet to come and planning began in earnest when the Dickasons returned to Nanaimo.
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