"That's going in…" I said.

"YES!" shouted Katy, leaping in the air.

Ok, right,…we'll come back to that later…

One of the most well-known tourist guides over here is the "101 Must-Do Things in New Zealand" and residing at number 95 are the "Hundertwasser Toilets" in the small town of Kawaka. Toilets? Oh well, we thought, maybe they really were something special? "Hundertwasser" translates as "hundred waters" - perhaps there were 100 cubicles, or 100 streams providing the water to flush the toilets with?

As Kawaka is close to Paihia, we decided to take a trip that way to see what was the 95th most important thing for Kiwis to do before they die. Oh dear. If that is the case, then we really, really don't want to see numbers 96 through 101. The Hundertwasser toilets - named unimaginatively after a Mr Hundertwasser - proved to be merely some public loos with ceramic tile decorations. And although there was some kind of movie about them playing at the town's cinema, we decided to give it a miss in case we hyperventilated at the excitement.

Fancying a different kind of culture, we had planned to go to Waitangi, where the British and Maori had signed the historic agreement which effectively allowed the former to take over the whole country - though we don't think the Maori quite realised at the time that that would be the end result! We discovered, however, that it would cost NZ$20 each, plus extra for various exhibits and shows - though New Zealanders got in free! In a fit of parsimonious xenophobia, we therefore drove onwards.

This meant we were headed for Kerikeri, which was one of the earliest places in New Zealand to be settled by Europeans. It's a nice little town, though we made the mistake of arriving a) on a Saturday afternoon, and b) on the particular Saturday afternoon when someone with lots of friends was getting married. This resulted in most of the shops being closed - the town's main department store even had hand-written notices in the window apologising for the fact that all the staff had gone to the wedding!

We did, however, get to see one of the earliest stone buildings in New Zealand and a nearby replica of a Maori village in pre-European times. As we were leaving these sites, we saw a church which was obviously hosting a wedding - at least we had located 90% of the town's shop assistants.

Our camp in Kerikeri was nothing to write home about, though we were more hopeful of our next choice, a beach-side location in a small town called Hihi. But when we arrived, there was no-one at reception and when we looked around it was definitely on the scummy side of acceptable and well overpriced at that.

We decided to backtrack a few miles and ended up in Taupo Beach (a long, long way from the more famous Lake Taupo). The beach was a classic curve of white sand with surfers trying to ride the rather inadequate waves. The sheer number of people indicated that the surf that day was not as strong as usual, or they wouldn't have gone there in the first place. The only other item of note was that the campsite had free videos for guests to watch in the lounge. To my astonishment, Katy decided she wanted to watch Harry Potter And the Philosopher's Stone - I was doubly amazed when she admitted she had quite enjoyed it.

From Taupo Beach, we continued up the coast to Mangonui, an historic fishing village with lots of quaint houses and picturesque views. We climbed up Rangikapiti Pa - a large hill which used to be the home of a local chief called Rangikapiti (Pa being the name for fortified hill).

We also had a wander along the nearby beaches and were puzzled by numerous long white strands which were blowing in from the sea. They looked a like a cross between cotton thread and spider webs and though we asked the woman in the Information Site, she had no idea what they were. Any suggestions anyone?

By the way, many brochures refer to Mangonui's "world famous" fish and chip shop. Readers, do not be fooled. This is just cheap hype dreamed up by someone who belongs to the "if we say it often enough, it must be true" school of advertising. I began to realise that the reality might not match the slogans when a) I had to pay way too much for a very small piece of blue cod, and b) the ticket I was given had a McCain's advertising logo on it. Yes, the self-styled "world famous" chips were frozen!

It made us wonder how they had the cheek to claim such an elevated status when half their product is no better than can be bought in the average supermarket and heated up at home. How much more would it have cost to cook proper chips made from real potatoes? It's lazy and dishonest. No-one who reads this blog is allowed to eat there, ever. Ok?

Rant over…

After Mangonui and its decidedly "world average" fish and chips, we drove on to Tokerau Beach. As both of us have been feeling fat (well, I've been feeling fat and Katy has been feeling unusually 'normal') we've been trying to get back into the walking. This meant driving miles down a gravel and pothole track in order to climb vertically up a mound called Mount Puheke.

If you ever come to this part of New Zealand, forget the 'Mount' part. Just get to the foot of the hill and spend some time on the near-deserted, gorgeous white sand beach which sits alongside the sparkling blue waters.

In fact, this whole area seems to feature similarly spectacular beaches. We drove to another at Matai Bay, which was at the end of another of the gravel roads which Blanche dislikes so much. We walked along the curved beach which was, as usual, deserted right to the end where we had to shelter briefly from a shower. After returning and having a picnic lunch in a picture-postcard bay, we discovered yet another idyllic beach just the other side of the headland.

While at Tokerau, we decided to play pitch and putt at a local course which we saw advertised at nearby Whatuwhiwhi - or Wantaweewee as we christened it. Now the word 'course' is a slight exaggeration. The town (if it can be called that) is full of new housing and it is no exaggeration to say that the pitch and putt course was in someone's back garden.

Most holes were around 50 yards, some of them quite a bit less, and it was quite difficult to play delicately enough and not overshoot the greens by miles. The course was beautifully kept, however, and some of the pin positions were quite devilish - on the apex of a curve, for example, so if you went an inch past the hole the ball would trickle away to about five feet past.

We played in the evening and the only other people there were the owner and a few of his mates. There was some kind of competition going on where part of the green fees went into a pot and the lowest scorer of the night took the prize. We knew we weren't in the running for that, but something unique did occur.

And that is where this blog started…

On the fifth tee, Katy hit her tee shot… The ball headed straight for the flag… "That's going in," I said - though more conversationally than confidently. But once on the green the ball continued on its direct path - and straight in the hole. "YES!" shouted Katy, jumping up and down and celebrating her first ever hole-in-one (apart from crazy golf, of course).

In fairness, it should be pointed out that the shot was an outrageous mis-hit. Instead of looping elegantly up in the air, bouncing once and dropping into the hole like a proper golf shot, the ball scuttled across the fairway and up onto the green with all the elegance of a cockroach heading for a dropped slice of pizza. But hey, they all count. (And just for the record, I've never had a hole-in-one. Grrrr.)

The owner and his friends must have heard Katy's shout, by the way, because as we came close to them when we played the next hole, one of them said something. I told him about the 'ace' and they were all suitably impressed. Several of them watched Katy's next shot (a delicate chip onto a horribly sloping green) with great interest and they nodded in approval as she put the ball within 18 inches of the hole. On the other hand, I suppose they could have been nodding in approval at the skimpy pink shorts she was wearing…

Richard