Opotiki (Mis) Adventure – Off the Beaten Track

Maori Church at Tikitiki

Detail

After the motel at Wainui Beach I can’t help but think we’d better be scouting a new motel. I’m losing faith in the East Cape hosts. We spend the first part of the day on an inland winding road through farmland to Tikitiki where we stop just off the road on a hillside to admire a Maori church - a memorial to Maori soldiers who died in World War I. It’s a beautiful peaceful spot after a rainfall, and we’re glad we stopped to admire the elaborate red, black and white Maori carvings inside the church.

Upon reaching the coast we stop at Te Araroa, the location of the East Cape Lighthouse, the most easterly in the world. If we have time there is a famed walk here that we’d like to take, up 700 steps to the lighthouse. The East Cape of NZ is 86% Maori, and they own 86% of the land. And I am certain of one thing, about 99% of New Zealanders have never visited. The region is very sparsely populated and as on Moloka’i in Hawaii, the locals like it that way. This hamlet has a cafe, one of the few in the whole area, and a store. It also boasts the oldest (350 years) and largest Pohutukawa tree in the world. Two important world landmarks in one little hamlet, I’m suitably impressed and glad we came here.  We stop to use the public loo and note the alarming Tsunami warning sign urging the public to seek higher ground in case of an earthquake! Some local Maori youths, also at the loo, are kind enough to warn us that there is a beer bottle under our left rear tire that we might want to remove before backing up. We thank them, and they wave goodbye. We’re grateful; a flat tire in this location could be a serious problem

The only cafe is closed so we go to the Te Araroa Farmers General Store to see what we can rustle up for lunch. We select some yogurt and ice cream bars to add to the fruit we have in the car and go to the cash to pay, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone working in the store and there is no visible means of attracting attention, so we stand reading the newspaper headlines about the flooding in the Nelson area. After a short while a young Maori teen glides in silently from somewhere out back, and we mention the flooding. He tells us Te Araroa narrowly missed flooding LAST NIGHT when they experienced “torrential rain” (his words). We relate that we’ve recently come from Nelson and seem to be lucky at dodging these storms. He seems quite a gentle soul for a Maori teen and when we mention that we might take the drive to the lighthouse, he affirms that we would probably get a good view from up there today in spite of the clouds all around. He wishes us a good holiday. The people we’ve met here seem really nice.

 We decide to eat our ice cream first before heading to the lighthouse so we sit on a bench next to the rescued beer bottle and watch the world go by. We see only two girls lost in their own little world, singing and swaying to an iPod while pushing a small baby stroller. When we head for the car a frisky mixed breed puppy runs up and tries to join us in the car! It seems the Maori let their dogs run free like people did in Toronto before the poop and scoop laws were legislated. Throughout NZ we’ve seen signs forbidding dogs from public parks, beaches, coastal areas etc. Compared to the rest of the world, New Zealanders are not “dog crazy”. In our Toronto Beach neighbourhood alone, we have two dog bakeries, a dog day care, numerous dog beauty parlors, a dog taxi service and a dog funeral parlour “Pets at Peace”. It’s a bit “over the top” if you ask me. I like dogs but hey, they have their place.

We start to drive up the hill at the edge of town to reach the lighthouse.  When we reach the end of the sealed road and see a vivid orange sign warning us the distance is 20 km. to be driven at a speed of 20 km per hour,  we chicken out and back all the way back down the hill to a point where we can turn around.  We’ve had enough of these terrifying coastal roads on this trip, and I wonder what we’d do if we met anyone coming down the cliffhanging road since we only have a 2WD vehicle. “Anyway we don’t have two hours to spare,” Duncan remarks; we have a long way to go before we sleep, I think silently.

We opt to finish our “lunch” on the driftwood strewn “beach” sitting on a beached bleached log looking out at the pounding ocean. I can easily imagine the tsunami danger here; this tiny village is backed by very high cliffs. One would probably run up that terrifying road we’ve just backed down to get to higher ground, it’s the nearest place of refuge.

Coastal Pohutukawa



Pohutakawa Flower

We miss the only other tourist attraction in Te Araroa, the Maneuka Oil Factory; we decide we’ve lingered too long , and we haven’t even begun to drive this section of East Cape Highway. The views of the sea and roads lined with the coastal Pohutukawa trees in full bloom are inspiring, and I do begin to get into a Christmas frame of mine. Who needs fake decorations when the natural environment is so extraordinary? It’s interesting to note the differences between this area of NZ and everywhere else we’ve been. It reminds us of Moloka’i in Hawaii where the Polynesians want to keep their island unspoiled by tourism. There was only one scenic lookout on the entire drive, and it was too overgrown for us to see the coast across the road. There are no souvenir shops, few restaurants or cafes. We stop to see a beautiful little Anglican church at Raukokore, and it reminds us of Father Damien’s church at the leper colony on Moloka’i. The view of the pristine white frame church backed by the sea is unforgettably serene.  A notice outside the door apologizes for the “fishy smell” near the baptismal font - penguins are raising their chicks underneath! Outside we peer around trying to figure out how they got there because the font is at the rear of the church furthest from the sea. Those little blue penguins amaze us once again.

We finally find a combined general store, cafe and holiday camp. Though there is a sign that warns Beware of Dog, I enter the store which is in front of a fence where I hope the dog is tethered; we see no sign of it. This is emptiest store and cafe I’ve ever been inside. A few camping supplies and canned goods line the shelves; there are freezer chests advertising commercial brands of ice cream, but these are unfilled. However the soft drinks cooler and snack food displays are reasonably well stocked, too bad I’m not in the market for these.  I ask the Maori lady of a certain age who is working in the kitchen if the cafe is open, and she replies in the affirmative, though it certainly doesn’t look like it. I order two flat whites with double shots, and she replies that she doesn’t know what that is, but she will make us two flat whites. Feeling sheepish I ask her to make the coffee strong, and she really does make decent coffee though I note that she doesn’t use her espresso machine.

A young Maori girl enters, and they discuss a work roster that the lady says she hasn’t set up yet. They tour the kitchen area, and I realize that this is probably opening day. The lady is gearing up for the Christmas rush when people come to camp and fish; the young girl mentions that she got her sunburn when fishing for eels. This location seems as remote from the rest of New Zealand as it could possibly be. I ask the lady how long it will take us to drive to Opotiki (Maoris pronounce it O POR ti key). I laugh at her reply as I exit the store, “It will take YOU about two hours to drive.” I wonder how long it would take her!

Realignment

I take the wheel of our sporty red Peugot and enjoy driving for an hour and a half until I reach the site of the Maraenui Realignment where there has been a slide caused by an earthquake about five years ago and the road is under reconstruction. Luckily it is Sunday and there is little traffic, because while looking out for heavy vehicles to which I must “give way”, we must drive 2 km on a rough gravel road that wraps the mountain and narrows to one lane in places. I feel a rush of relief when we come to a sealed road again and can enjoy even more twists and turns on to Opotiki, remembering that Duncan said scenic drives in NZ are always windy.

In checking our arrangements for tonight, Duncan realizes that the owner of Oariki Farm asked us to confirm the reservation, and he would send us detailed directions to his “secluded location”. We never received the directions, but we have Google directions that send us to a main road in Opotiki, and we look out wearily for his Oariki Farm sign; it’s been a long day.

It’s raining and approaching dusk and the directions are unhelpful so Duncan goes into a small 4 Square Supermarket to see if anyone can direct us. He is in the store for about fifteen minutes so I know there must be a problem. By the time he comes out, it is raining even harder and getting dark. The good news is the clerk was able to contact the farmhouse, the bad news is  that I must drive (it’s still my turn) 30 km back along the road we just came on past that dreaded stretch of tortuous gravel. Thirty km back means another forty five minutes, and I must negotiate the Maraenui Realignment in the dark this time. If it weren’t for the fact that we’ve also booked dinner, I think we would have checked into the nearest motel in Opotiki, but I picture the disappointed wife with her uneaten dinners so back we go.  We can’t let these nice Kiwis down.

Beach Along the Farm Track

Our revised instructions tell us to turn at the school, go all the way down to the beach, turn left and follow the road to the end. Oariki Farm is at the beach! I manage all that but turn toward the local Marae  (Maori meeting hall) because that seems to be one of the only buildings around on this isolated beach. Duncan says, “No, she said turn LEFT at the beach”. So we turn and head down the deserted track trying to find this farm. We pass a house on our left that is obviously not a farm, the rain increases in intensity with the road becoming even harder to drive; at one point it’s very nearly a sea of mud. Duncan yells “Don’t keep going. Stop!” and I yell, “I have to keep going there is no bloody place to turn around!” Meanwhile the ocean is thundering on the too near beach and black mounds of driftwood give this place an eerie sinister air. In the distance I see a car approaching and I have no place to go. Exasperated I say, “That’s it. I give up.  You drive!” and I exit the car in the pouring rain. Duncan jumps out to flag down the approaching SUV to see if the driver can provide directions to the elusive farm cottage. The driver leaps out and shakes Duncan’s hand. I can’t help but think, boy these Kiwis are so friendly and helpful, even in a rainstorm on a lonely track. It turns out the man is Chris Stone, the farmer renting us the cottage, and showing concern because we hadn’t arrived, he came out to look for us! He whips his SUV around and continues up the track with us behind - through the gate, up a steep gravel slope.  We veer left and enter a beautiful garden. How did this oasis appear at the end of this deserted track? It seems we are at the end of the earth. I exit from the car with, “Well this is an adventure!” and the jovial Kiwi laughs and shakes my hand too.  He says he put dinner on about half an hour ago and to get settled and come over to the house. His farmhouse cottage is really a holiday house that sleeps seven! How do I find these places? I seem to remember there was a dearth of cottage accommodation in the area.

Oariki Farm Cottage

After my shower we head over for dinner to the welcoming farmhouse and Chris entreats us to help ourselves to cheese and crackers while he pours generous glasses of NZ wine. He is on his own here tonight; he explains that his wife died sixteen years ago and his current partner is working in Rotorua and will be away a few days. Well “good on him” for being such a capable host in such an unlikely place. We pass a very enjoyable evening with Chris surmising that he is in his seventies, having emigrated from North Finchley in the fifties when he was in his teens. He hasn’t been back to the UK since, though he has been in BC, up to Alaska and down to Mexico, where he was robbed twice by the police! I can’t help wondering again why Kiwis travel at all. They have everything they need right home and it’s a lot safer... except for the earthquakes.

Duncan trying to understand directions from Chris