Our first day without our surrogate parents, started well, waking to the sun rising across the raw beauty of Maturi Bay from under the norfolk pines. A pre-breakfast run took us steeply up the cliffs to the memorial to the Rainbow Warrior. Under the pretence of taking in the amazing cliff top vista we caught our breath before returning to the beach for an envigorating dip in the waves.
Breakfast was a strange affair without Olivia and Isabelle so Bob took it upon herself to eat the remainder of the Ricies whilst I continued to hunt for the spare wheel kit as our front left tyre bore a close resemblance to my forehead.
We were soon winding North on the coast road, with our next stop at Whangaroa Harbour for a speedy ascent of St. Paul's volcanic plug. The summit, reached after a short scramble vertically skywards dangling off chains embedded in the rock, called for many superlatives to describe the 360 degree view of the island studded inlets amongst the steep ridges of impenetrable bush.
I finally stamped all over my masculinity and pulled in to a garage in Maghawani to ask if they knew where Toyota had decided to hide the wheel jack. I was suspicious that as a weight saving measure, to maximise its performance, this upgraded enema model may not carry one, however, the intolerably pleasant 22 year old surf bum mechanic humoured me only briefly before pulling the elusive kit from behind the drivers seat with a flourish and a charming smile...
Lunch started well in Cable Bay, but rain soon stopped play and we swiftly booked a table for 2 in Cafe Enema to devour the remains of our packed lunch, courtesy of Mark and Fi. A few miles after setting off, our afternoon route was blocked by an accident, but Sat-Bob easily arranged a sneaky detour along un-metalled back roads, arriving at Pack'nSave in Kaitia where we restocked before setting off for the far north!
At Waitiki Landing we left the comfort of the tarmac and, with the promise of Spirits Bay a mere 15km ahead, we plunged deep into the forest on a logging track. After at least 20 suspension smashing kilometres, through utter stunning wilderness, we were spat out into the idyllic sand dunes, with an imposing volcanic peak looming over us and thundering surf a stones throw away.
The campsite was un-manned, probably due to the presence of cold showers, lack of electricity and composting toilets, though these 'facilities' appeared to be successfully run by a pair of very cute jet black rabbits.
There were very few other people who shared our disregard for our vehicle's well-being, and the near solitude of the kilometres of pink and orange shell sand was epic. Perfect cresting waves barrelled against the gentle off shore breeze as we raced hermit crabs in the volcanic rock pools and watched the native coloured foals whizz around their mothers on the mountainside above us to the east. Brought back to Earth by the threat of rain I set about battling with our supper, removing the beards from two dozen monster green lipped muscles. An appetite inducing sprint along the dunes culminated in a blissful cool down in the crystal clear surf whilst Bob made final meal preparations.
I will never forget the meal which I am digesting as I write this. Huge NZ muscles steamed in local Sav Blanc with garlic and cream, green beans and hunks of fresh bread, all eaten out of the pan in the front of the Enema as the rain battered the windscreen. We listened to a whole album of Tracey Chapman whilst watching the sun set in the wing mirrors amongst the advancing rain clouds.
A brief let up in the precipitation was all Bob needed to produce 2 steaming mugs of hot chocolate and we set off over the dunes in the dusk. Swiftly beaten back by the rain I finished my delicious hot beverage in the driving seat and settled down to record what has truly been a perfect day.