547 - 667 Clevedon
I think the way we emerge from tents is all wrong. The current thinking appears to be that we should crawl out of our tents onto the wet grass. I think it would be better, both symbolically and for general morning moral, if we could wake in the morning and tear open our tents like emerging butterfly's ready for the sunshine.
This doesn't happen of course.
In fact I didn't even really sleep much due to Tuis thinking the lighting at the Top Ten Holiday Park meant that they should continue their territorial wars throughout the night.
The original plan was to get up and make my way to the end of Whangaporoa Peninsula to catch the ferry but luckily a talkative visitor had cast doubt on the ferries running on a Sunday so instead I caught the bus and then the train to pick up the car in Oratia.
Oratia is a wonderland. Chiefly because Barb and Dave live there, but also because they have a tram (working with a small track), a traction engine (I once spent a somewhat horrible night restraining a child who thought it was Thomas and was hell bent on throwing himself into the mechanics), an Austin Seven (now with brakes), and decent coffee.
After that it was off to Living Simply to sort out a replacement for my mattress and the movies to see Dr Strange. Good movie. I like it.
Dad arrived in Glen Eden the next day and we ensconced ourselves at Bethells with the fire going while wind, rain, and large sweeps batter the coast. A good time to be out of the weather.
I will meet back up with Ken in Clevedon and continue. Having lived in Auckland I don't particularly feel like walking across it and a couple of days R&R is an excellent idea.
