February 20: The East Cape

Tiptoeing about the Backpackers' hostel so as not to awaken the young, Speedy and the "mule" quietly slip out of town, heading for the rugged east cape and 5 days of rocky headlands, isolated beaches and only the occasional vehicle. Atop Maranui Hill (all of 218 meters high, but quite dominating) we are passed by Oliver, our British friend from last night, and Dimitri, a 30 y.o. Greek who has just about completed 4000km of New Zealand's roads and looks as fit as a god can be. We ride together for a stretch before the young riders leave us behind (such a metaphor for life...).

We stop for lunch by the Motu river in the intense sun (can feel the burning right thru our shirts and sunblock, for NZ is covered by a large ozone layer "hole"), then descend into and climb out of Whituare, Whitianga and Omaio bays, slowly grinding our way to Te Kaha, which we reach after 44 miles in a misty rain.

We'd called ahead and made reservation at the gorgeous Tui B&B, run by Rex and Joyce, and a cool drink and hot shower greet us. We wander the 3 acres of garden and green lawn, pet the blind and deaf 14 y.o. white dog-mop Dicky, and glimpse Nelson, the majestic black and white cat, who, alas, does not reappear during our stay. Joyce and Rex give us a glass of Sauv Blanc before dinner and then treat us to fresh fish, salad, 3 kinds of veg, mainly from their garden, and a dessert of cake covered in local rhubarb-strawberry sauce. They can grow about anything here -- not only are we getting gorgeous, ripe tomataoes and seeing tons of kiwi farms, but the garden here has bananas, mandarin oranges, and lemons. But the Chardonnay at dinner was Aussie -- Rex thinks Australia might just top NZ in that varietal and in affordable reds.

Words of the day: 'papa'. the first part of many places we have passed through, means 'flat' in Maori. And 'maori' means 'normal, ordinary'. The term wasn't applied to the people til sometime in the 19th c., probably to diffentiate them from white settlers.