It got slightly chilly through the night, so I pulled up the fleece at the bottom of my bed, but it wasn’t uncomfortably cold.
This morning, we actually got up about 7.30am. And I’d actually slept soundly enough that Pen hadn’t woken me when she’d got up at one point, which is unusual as I’m quite a light sleeper and would always hear D.C. get up. In that case, I’d always say: “I’m awake” so that she’d know that she didn’t have to tiptoe around.
I cut my toenails this morning. This isn’t such a big deal, except that I’d held off cutting them until today. The ants that walk past our door absolutely love toenails. Fingernails they could take or leave, but they fight over toenails and it’s fun to watch them hoist this big Big Toe toenail over their back and stagger away with it.
After last evening’s adventures, we decided to take it easy this morning. So, after breakfast (chocolate twist, kiwifruit, OJ) we went for a walk through Kidney Fern Glen and Kowhai Grove.
Kidney Fern Glen’s not as easy to traverse as it used to be as, during the big storms of 2018(?) a lot of the ground beneath some of the root structures across the path had been washed away. This is leaving a net of roots with gaps between and beneath them, which means that that that track was slow going. Which didn’t worry a whole lot of pīwakawaka/fantails as we were kicking up insects for them to munch on for longer. (And we also saw and heard tūī, saddlebacks, and grey warblers.)
Kowhai Grove is a lot more forgiving as far as walking goes – even with the steeper bits. But, of course, it didn’t have the kowhai in flower and the tūī partying/scrapping amongst themselves. (That was the reason why I visited Rangitoto during September. And, I had been lucky with the week I chose, as the weather turned to custard the week after.) However, we did find a bamboo orchid(?) in full flower, as were the epiphytic orchids.
When we came out on the coastal track next to North’s/Trainer’s, I decided to shift the Christmas card I’d attempted to post through their door. As there could be a thunderstorm moving in, I shifted it to above the door where (hopefully) it’ll be sheltered from wind and rain.
Something else that Pen wanted to do that she’d never had the chance to do before, was have a paddle, in the sea, on Christmas Day. (She’s already done the same on her birthday on the 15th, so this was a bonus.) We went down North’s boat ramp, she took off her shoes, took up her penguin, and got her feet wet whilst I got photos. (Which I hope I’ll be able to post here, but for some reason WordPress has made displaying and captioning photographs more difficult than it used to be.)
Like yesterday, the sky was clear and blue…
That was to change as the day progressed.
We came back to the bach, and worked on our blogs before enjoying our lunch of cheese on crackers and fruit salad. And watched a guy paddle slowly on a boogie board out to the boat in the bay. Watching him was entertaining because, just as he was approaching the boat, the current caught it and it seemed to decide to run away from him at a speed that was faster than he was paddling. And then it turned and appeared face him down. Eventually, he did manage to climb aboard.
In the afternoon we did some more relaxing, and I even almost nodded off. I didn’t quite as I was analysing… something that I can’t remember now, but I was on the edge of falling asleep.
This afternoon Pen gave me a hand to put a tarpaulin that I’d bought down in September on the long drop roof. It hadn’t been fun sitting in there with water dripping onto me, but it would have been difficult to have installed the tarp without her help, as it involved sweeping down the roof, removing rocks that were acting as weights, and then removing the sheet of corrugated iron and the bit of tin that was protecting the old tarpaulin that was protecting the old corrugate iron roof. Once I’d swept the roof clear of leaf litter, I put the new tarpaulin on (over the old), replaced the corrugated iron and non-corrugated tin, and returned the rocks to their original weighing down positions.
So, something else Pen had never done at Christmas.
The weather was starting to close in, and we decided to try to get in a short walk before it did. (Thank heavens we did our big walk to the summit yesterday and stopped to do a bit of stargazing on the way.) And so, we walked along the coastal track and past the largest Black Back Gull colony in New Zealand. And the Black Back Gulls do not like people walking past their colony when their chicks haven’t fledged. Try to step off the path and you’re likely to get dive bombed. Scientists studying them have to wear protective helmets.
We had planned to walk until 6.00 pm, but it was starting to spit, so when we got to Tomcat Bay we made the decision to turn back. And came across a couple of wary Black Back Gull parents and their three fluffy/gangly chicks. Of course, we had to get photos.
I stopped off at Darren’s to say thank you for fixing the dry rot on my bach, but he wasn’t home. (Probably at Happy Hour at Rick and Vick’s, but I did see him walk past our bach later and was able to shout a merry Christmas and thank you then.)
We came home and I put our Christmas dinner on to cook. That is, I put the kettle on to boil. Tonight’s tea was freeze dried roast chicken and potato and “fresh” salad, with sparking apple juice. (I thought I was buying grape juice.) Whilst I don’t think the roast chicken smelt as much like roast chicken as it had the first time I had it, it was still tasty.
I had a little surprise for Pen. There is a company called Waste Free Celebrations, and they paid Afghani women to make reusable Christmas crackers. I’d bought two, with a New Zealand bird patterns on them, and had installed Christmas cracker snaps, Thunderbirds’ jokes (one I’d got from the Internet and the others from the 2004 travesty of a movie’s joke book). Plus, instead of Christmas cracker paper crowns, I’d made felt International Rescue uniform hats, that I’d just managed to squeeze into the crackers. For the gifts, I gave myself a cat pen holder like the ones featured in a YouTube video dancing a polka, and for Pen I gave her a smaller “Quiller/Scott” luggage tag. This one, I had been pleased to discover, fitted in the cracker. That was until I realised that it fitted in the larger segment, but not the smaller interior one. So the luggage tag got wrapped up beneath the Mug Rugs that Sue Green had made for us.
A ferry came into the wharf this evening. Don’t ask me why, as there weren’t any during daylight hours.
We did the dishes, and then had a go doing a 100-piece WISGIJ jigsaw that I think Jan Doherty had given me years ago. And then, before we did the dishes and cleaned our teeth, I had a go at teaching Pen how to play Yahtzee.
It was a good Christmas Day and a very different one for Pen.
Breakfast for me was a freeze-dried Back Country Cuisine “Supreme Porridge” (which has apple apricot) with some sunflower seeds and cranberries thrown in. Which I find really tasty. I also had a caramel yoghurt that we’d bought last night. Pen had yoghurt. Guess I’m more of a guts.
When we checked out of the room, we left most of our bags in the left luggage room. Most we were planning on collecting before we started heading down to the port, but Pen’s big suitcase we were leaving there until we check back in again on Friday.
We went to the Woolworths supermarket, which wasn’t as manic as I’d been expecting, and stocked up on some fresh fruit and other consumables that weren’t likely to last as long. Then I checked my shopping list that I’d created the last time I was on Rangitoto, along with some items I’d been unable to get at the supermarket.
Leaving Pen bear and penguin sitting and scrolling through her phone, I dashed into the Warehouse in Elliot Street. There, I wasn’t able to score everything I wanted, but what I was pleased to find was a four pack of gas cylinders. Over the past few years (since pre-Covid-19) there was nowhere in town where we could buy them, which is silly as these power the single hob emergency burners that are ideal for emergency kits. We’d had to resort to asking one of the other bach holders, who had a boat, it they’d mind getting us several packs and bringing them down. (Envisaging getting them from The Warehouse or one of the hardware chains where it would be possible to get four four packs, and he’d get them from his local hardware store where he could only get three for the same price.)
So I bought a four pack. If this means that I can get a pack every time I go to Rangitoto, that should take a lot of stress out of making sure I’ve got fuel for boiling the kettle.
Back to the hotel where we got our bags, (I nearly took Pen’s as well), slipping a foldable carryall of mine over my case’s handle. I hadn’t gone very far when I felt it swing round onto my legs.
My old Rangitoto bag had a N-shaped retractable handle, and that went someway to stopping the bag from rotating. But, now that I’m having to bring everything myself, it’s not big enough to carry all my gear and food. My “new” Rangitoto bag (which I’ve had to bring in case we wind up having to walk to Islington Bay to catch the ferry on Friday), whilst the same model as the old one, has a T-shaped handle which allows any bags slipped over to pivot around it. I had hoped that strapping it to the top of the case with a bungy cord would hold it in place, but that wasn’t working. So, we made some adjustments. Still wasn’t working. And again…
One other disadvantage of this style of case, is that the top slopes a little, meaning that anything sitting on it doesn’t have a flat surface to rest in. In the end, Pen carried my bag and I strapped her, more structured, carryall onto my case. Which worked a lot better.
We made our way (using the shortcuts that I know that stop you from having to haul your luggage down the steepest part of Hobson Street) to pier 14 and I sat with our gear whilst Pen went and got me an ice cream (Movenpick chocolate. Yum!) and herself a milk shake. As I sat, I was able watch those for whom this was their first trip to Rangitoto, do the wrong things. (“You can’t go down the gangway yet. They’ll have to give you a biosecurity briefing first…” “Don’t forget to scrape your shoes in the brushes to get rid of any seeds that may be on them…”)
When the two Fullers staff members did arrive, one gave the biosecurity talk, whilst I stood next to the one with the ticket scanner. “I’ve got a bach down there. Do you want to scan my friend and me now?” So she did, the scanner not liking Pen’s ticket as much. And then let me go down the gangway on the left side. I gestured with my head for Pen to follow me, but she didn’t see me, and then, when the briefing was over, wondered where I was.
I’m at the head of the queue, Pen.
During the journey, we left our gear in the cabin and went up to the second level deck. From here I could point out the sights of Auckland (that I knew). “That hill’s a volcano. That hill’s a volcano. That bay’s a volcano. That bay’s a volcano. That gap where there should be a hill was a volcano…”
And then we approached the biggest, newest, volcano of them all.
With no need to rush, we let the day trippers off first and then, after wishing the crew a merry Christmas, took our gear around to the “Pole House” information centre. Once again I left Pen there guarding most of our bags, whilst I took some of the smaller lighter ones around to the bach and opened up.
Our lock is a padlock. The code is a date. I entered the wrong date. Slight tweak to correct the day and I tried again.
Nope.
Final tweak to enter it in another format and…
Yay! I was in.
It was a quick dump of my gear, hello to the toys that help identify “Whare Taare” as the “Doll’s House”, taking Rudolph the solar powered fairly light reindeer outside to start charging, and it was back around to help Pen with the rest of our bags.
We’re only staying three nights!
Rudolph, sadly, is a waste of space now. One string of lights stopped working years ago – I think they snapped – so I added another string. September, when I put Rudolph out for a quick recharge, only one worked. And, last night, none of them worked. When you consider that we used to put so many lights on our bach that it could be seen from Archilles Point across the water, our neighbours have put us to shame this year.
And talking neighbours, for the first time in years, maybe the decades that we’d been coming down here on Christmas Day, we weren’t the only people on the island. Quincy was picking up a load of Book-A-Bach people off our boat – but I think they went around to Islington Bay. Darren, who got rid of the dry rot on Whare Taare for me, appears to be in residence. (Getting off the wharf I could see that he door was open and flag flying.) Bobby and his family next door in Buchanan’s are (with their generator) down. (Fortunately they only operate the generator intermittently and never any later than 10.00 pm.) All the Book-A-Bach baches are occupied, which means that the one on the other side of Buchanan’s. And, we discovered at the beginning of our evening stroll, Vick and Rick Shaw are in Little Coogee.
We slowly got everything and everyone sorted in the bach. We had to set up “the fridge” so we could keep our food cool. In other words, I put one plastic Sistemia container into a sink filled with water (once I’d found the plug that bunged it up), put a microfibre cloth over the top, hung a curtain in front to keep the sun for shining directly onto it. And that was our fridge. For keeping the kiwifruit and “baked” goods fresh, they went into the safe that hangs in the room that used to house our kerosene fridge. (And everything in it used to taste of kerosene.)
As Pen’s sleeping in D.C.’s bed, and D.C.’s mattress was rock solid kapok, I’d planned on her using the airbed that we had. Finding the airbed was no problem, I’d reminded myself where it was in September. It was the foot pump I couldn’t find. I was pretty sure that it was on top of the wardrobe, but I couldn’t see it. I checked a few other likely places, but they didn’t reveal anything. (Shades of the camera battery.) Then I tried on the wardrobe again and found it. Firstly, I’d been looking for the air pump by itself, and it was still in its box. Secondly, that box was standing on end, not lying flat.
Once found, and readied, it was much quicker and easier to inflate the air bed than it would have been blowing it up manually. And she slept with it on top of D.C.’s mattress and didn’t find the extra height too much of a bother.
When we’d finally got to the stage where everything was liveable, (windows un-shuttered and open, kettle boiled, beds made, mosquito nets in place, toilet disinfected and cleaned), I suggested that we leave for a walk at 4.00 pm, and looked at my watch to see what the time was.
4.40 pm.
So we grouped together the things we’d planned on having for tea – pasta salad, egg and potato salad, fruit salad, six-pack of muffins, chocolate, water bottles – and divided them between our bags – along with ensuring that Scott and Kally were on board, and set off.
Pen had decided that she wanted to go along the “coast” to Mackenzie Bay (which I’ve always called Mackenzie’s Bay), and then walk up to the summit for our dinner at sunset. I’m not sure that I’ve ever walked to the summit that way (I tend to take the direct route), so I was amiable. And we started walking.
It was a nice evening for a stroll. Not too hot, although I think our salads were all stewed by the time we got around to eating them from the heat generated by my back. We chatted away about the state of the world, and how stupid some politicians are from a variety of countries, including our own and got to Mackenzie Bay. It was so nice there, with the sun low in the sky and the water calm, so we decided to sit on a “comfortable” rock, and have the two savoury salads.
Having sat, enjoyed the scenery and the food, and taken the obligatory Scott and Kally photographs (I wish WordPress made it easier to insert photos and caption them. I’m tempted to go back to Blogger – if it still exists), and a toilet stop, we set off for the summit.
On the way we had discussions about why the lava fields had formed the way they did, why there seemed to be more vegetation at the summit than on Rangitoto’s flanks, (my theory is that when Rangitoto was in its death throes, it was burping out small amounts of fertile ash, not steaming great lava flows), and why did the summit seem to be so far away? I also pointed out the stretch of uncolonised lava that the Fuller’s tractor train guides called the rugby fields. On of our locals John Walsh, used to drive these tractors and he told this story, embellishing it with “that’s why the All Black rugby union team’s so tough.” The next thing he saw members of the Auckland Blues Super Rugby franchise on a training run. “See.” (I remember that day and I thought the Blues were even mad than I think anyone who plays rugby is. But then I found out that their next stop was Adeliade and 40℃ temperatures, so it made sense then.)
It was starting to get darker when we began the final climb up the steps to the crater rim, but we still kept on going, stopping to have a couple of photo stops and then breather when we reached the crater and were able to walk onto the platform and look into it.
That was when we were invaded by a group of people. We hadn’t seen a single soul since we’d left Little Coogee – with the exception of the guy rowing his dinghy from his yacht at Mackenzie Bay. This party were part of the tour group that kayak across from the mainland, hike to the top, walk down in the dark, have a bite to eat, and then kayak back – their beacons looking like little fairy lights on the water. We didn’t get to see this as we left them to take the shorter, but more strenuous walk up the steps to the summit, and took the long way around, circumnavigating the crater.
They were still there when we got to the summit. But we were all able to enjoy the oranges of the sunset (and Pen and I enjoyed a muffin each.)
They, red headlights glowing, headed back to wharf before we, with one white headlight and two torches, took a much slower trip down the hill. In full daylight we could have done it much quicker, but with the darkness, and the headlight running out of charge, we were much slower – and possibly safer.
We did take a detour along the boardwalk that lead to what is known as the “Lava Caves Lookout”. Except there’s plenty of lava and no caves. But from here we could sit and admire the stars, which Pen seemed impressed with. Of course, they’re all upside down from what she’s used to – “Orion’s Belt” is “The Pot” down here (in the northern hemisphere it must drain all its contents) – but we were far enough away from light pollution to see a few more than she normally would. But that’s going to be nothing compared to what we’ll see later in the trip – if the weather gods are kind.
Finally, we arrived back at the bach. At least, I did. Pen, for some reason, would rather use the public toilets rather than the ratty, grubby, spider-filled old long drop that’s full of holes and covered in dust and rust up the back.
It must have been 11.00 pm by the time we were both home. And we were ready for bed. Although Pen found the sound of crickets annoying. I’m going: “What crickets?”
My watch tells me that we walked 12.37 km around Rangitoto and a total of 32,051 steps for the day.
I didn’t have a very good sleep last night. Probably because of the unexpected coffee in the Starbucks gingerbread drink I had.
Pen, however, had a good sleep. And a sleep. And a sleep. She did get up to go to the toilet, but then went back to bed and back to sleep. She didn’t finally wake up until 8.30am. Which was about when I was going to start waking her up.
Me, in the meantime, had had a very quick shower and had gone back to bed to surf the web. Hunting out the bus information for getting to MOTAT.
When we finally got out of the room, we went to one of the many local convenience stores (no dairies around here) and bought a ham and cheese croissant and juice for breakfast, which we brought back to eat.
Before we set off for the day, we contact Ali who’s a mutual Thunderbirds friend and arrange to meet up when we come back from Rangitoto.
Because of the City Rail Link new underground rail network, and the wastewater upgrades that are going on, the bus stop has moved. We went down Wellesley Street and up the other side, but bus 18 wasn’t there (and the bus stop I was expecting wasn’t there either). Pen got on her phone and discovered that the bus stop we wanted was outside St Mathews in the City… In other words, over the road from the Auckland City Hotel.
For anyone who doesn’t know MOTAT, it’s proper name is the Museum Of Transport And Technology. And for anyone who’s wondering why Pen would choose to come halfway around the world to see such a museum, it was because I’ve written about it in my latest, so far unfinished, Thunderbirds story. Not that that had anything to do with it in the end, as we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves and almost had to be kicked out at the end of the day.
When we went in, ready to pay, I asked if there were any discounts for people with Heritage New Zealand membership, thinking that I might get $5 off the $19 adult entrance fee. Pen had $10 available to pay for her Senior (overseas) ticket.
He let us both in for nothing. So I gave them a $20 donation.
We were looking for a steam train that I’m sure I remember MOTAT having, but couldn’t find it. But we did see the model train set and we got a ride on one of the Melbourne trams to the Sir Keith Park Station and the Aviation Hall. And we saw the beam engine, pump house, telecommunications, road vehicles, how sound and light works and the technologies that use it, and all sorts of stuff.
Lunch was a Cornish Pasty and then an ice cream.
We both really enjoyed ourselves and still hadn’t seen everything when it was time to leave. And this was despite the fact that most of the live displays weren’t operating. They were probably saving up for tonight’s Christmas lights; something that we had considered going to, but was sold out. (The one time D.C. and I went, we rocked up and got in no trouble.)
We caught the bus back to Queen Street (Central Auckland, not Thames) and got some photos of the Smith and Caughey’s Christmas window. Pen wanted to check out souvenirs, so I left her to mooch down Queen Street doing this, whilst I hared down the street to Photo Warehouse. I told you that I bought a second camera battery when I bought my new camera in September, and that I can’t find. I’ve now bought a third camera battery, so I’ll be sorted for the future. (And I’ll probably walk into the house in a month’s time, and there it will be.)
Pen and I had arranged to meet up alongside the Christmas Tree in Te Komititanga, (formerly QEII Square), but there was a busker setting up, so I stopped at watched him, with occasional glances over my shoulder for Pen. She turned up just as he was getting ready to start his act.
And he was good. “Jack Flash” was originally from Queenstown but had come down from Whangārei. His first trick was to crack a bull whip (to try to whip some enthusiasm out of the crowd.) Then he juggled five balls. Then he went back to his roots and did some cocktail shaker juggling. And finally he “bettered his Guiness World Record” of juggling three flaming torches, whilst blindfolded and balancing on a rola bola. All whilst he was joking with the audience. Pen was a bit iffy watching his final act, but I was okay with it. If, however, it had been knives or something equally sharp…
I enjoyed his show so much, I gave him a $10 donation. And he gave me a handshake for getting into the show.
Pen and I then came back to the hotel, had a bit of a rest, did some downloading and charging, rearranging our bags so that my case/backpack is the only one required, and then went out for some food. We were thinking of getting takeaways and going to Albert Park or Viaduct Harbour, but ended up eating in at a wood fired pizza place over the road from TVNZ, before going on a hunt for some yoghurt and fruit juice for breakfast.
And then we came back, had a bit of cake and a drink, and typed up our blogs.
Tomorrow we’re off to Rangitoto Island where we won’t have a lot of Internet or power, so don’t expect to hear from us until Friday.
Smith and Caughey’s story of Hutu and Kawa.
And my watch tells me that I took 16,793 steps today.
If I can believe my smartwatch, I walked 21182 steps over 15 kilometres today.
Most Saturdays I walk to Kuranui Bay and then on the way back I stop at D.C.’s tōtara tree to give it a weed. I attempted it yesterday, but it was raining, so I apologised to it, and Chris’ pōhutukawa, and returned home… Drenched, but in full sun.
So, as the sun was shining this morning, I walked up the steps to The WWI Monument. On the way up, I could hear this sound that is often heard in the town, but no one really seemed to know what it was. I thought it was a conche shell, but I’ve never managed to track down its source. Until today. I (almost) crawled up the last steps to the top, and found a guy with his ratty van, builders crack, and three conch shells. He admitted that he travels around the Coromandel Peninsula, playing his conches wherever he stops. After thanking him for clearing up that mystery, I circled the Monument and then walked down the road, along Queen Street/Tararu Road to Kuranui Bay, back along the waterfront track and to the dog park. I gave both trees a good weeding, in the hopes that it’ll keep the kikuyu at bay until I get back this time next month. If anyone’s wandering past and fancies a spot of weeding, I won’t complain.
When home I tried to decide what order to do everything. I wanted to have a shower, and wash the towel used so it wouldn’t be hanging around damp, so I needed to give that plenty of time to dry. I wanted to have my breakfast, so I could get the dishes washed and the tea towel in the wash. Everything seemed to be dependent on everything else. In the end I air dried the dishes in the sun on the kitchen bench and washed everything, with it drying in good time in the carport. (I do like my “new” carport. It’s almost like a conservatory.)
I even found time to change my sheets so they’ll be cool and fresh when I next use them. I washed the pillowcases, but the sheets will have to wait until next year to be cleaned.
When I bought my new camera in September, I bought an extra battery. Important for Rangitoto, but also very handy in other situations. Do you think I can find battery two? I looked where it should be. I looked where it could be. I looked where I doubted it would be. And I looked where there was absolutely no way it would be…
I’m going to have to go to Photo Warehouse and buy a new one tomorrow. But, at least I don’t have to buy a charger for my smart watch and one for my laptop. I remembered that I didn’t have them last night. If only all these things had the same charging system.
I took the food that’s going to spoil around to Janice’s along with my food scraps for disposal on Thursday. But I forgot the eggs in the back of the fridge. At least they’re in nice little airtight packages and won’t be walking out the fridge to meet me when I get back. Which may have happened with the yoghurt that I nearly forgot to take over.
Janice kindly picked me up at 2.00pm and took me to the Thames War Memorial Hall / Civic Centre to catch the bus. I told Rocky – the only dog that I’ve got any time for – that he was to look after his mum, and that included not getting sick or injuring himself so that she wouldn’t have to worry over him.
I was at the head of the queue and the driver commented that he hadn’t seen me on the bus for a while. I said that my mother had died and I hadn’t really felt like going anywhere. He replied that he remembered her and that we’d always sat next to each other. (At least we’d tried to. It wasn’t always possible when the bus was already full with people coming from Tauranga.)
Aside from being hot because we were driving straight towards the sun across the Hauraki Plains (I’d managed to score a front seat), and my tablet refusing to play any Christmas songs or any other song other than on repeat, it was a good trip. Every now and then I’d get a text from Pen saying where she was on her journey from Whakatane.
Getting to Auckland, I had my first drama. I got to Auckland City Hotel okay, checked in okay, found my room okay…
We had a double bed when I’d booked a standard twin.
I got on the phone to a very apologetic receptionist… Who shifted us from room 807 to room 308. There will be at least one night when we’re going to have to share a double, (on our last night in Auckland. I did ask that we be considered for a twin if one comes available), but we don’t want to have to share a bed any more than necessary.
Once that was sorted, and knowing that Pen was still on the road, I went searching for a Chemist Warehouse. I object to them as a matter of principle, being a foreign chain that’s driving out long established local pharmacies, but they’re the only place that I’ve found that sells travel hairbrushes. So, I set my timer to tell me when to head back to the bus terminal to meet Pen, before going hunting for the one at 155 Queen Street. I’d found 136 Queen Street, but no Chemist Warehouse, when my watch vibrated that it was time to head back. It turned out that I’d overshot 155 Queen Street… Not that it mattered. The only evidence of the Chemist Warehouse was an overhead sign saying it was at the end of a crooked arrow.
I gave up and headed back to the SkyCity InterCity bus terminal.
It turned out that I could have taken my time to find it, as Pen’s bus was running about ½ hour late. Something she and the rest of her bus knew, but not the rest of the InterCity network. The online tracking was saying it was on time, and when I checked at the office, they said they hadn’t had any notification of any delays and that the tracking wasn’t working for them.
I sat and played games on my phone until the bus arrived. Or buses, as there were two turning up at the same time. Pen was in the second one.
We went back to the hotel, and had a discussion about where we were going to go for some tea. We’d sort of said that, as we’re going to have freeze dried roast chicken for Christmas dinner, we’d try and get the real deal now. The best, closest restaurant I could find that served this, for a reasonable price (and with good reviews) was a forty-minute walk away. I know where it is, but, as it was getting late, we weren’t sure that the return journey was a good idea.
So, we ended up walking just as far to find a place to eat. We ended up, having been all the way down to the bottom of Queen Street, to check out the “new” Commercial Bay, eating at Tony’s Steak House just around the corner. We shared a deep fried camembert, and sticky pork ribs with “fries” and asparagus. The camembert was an entrée and the single dish of ribs was enough for two. I found it all a little too sweet and the ribs had too much gristle (and bone), but the sauce was tasty and I enjoyed the asparagus. For my drink, I had a non-alcoholic eggnog ($18 *ouch). I’ve never tried eggnog before and I enjoyed it – even though I’m not that much of a fan of nutmeg.
When we’d finished our meal and paid half each ($40) we went to Starbucks (stopping off to look at Smith and Caughey’s Christmas window. Must get photos) for a hot chocolate for Pen and a gingerbread frappe for me. It had coffee in it, so that’s going to be another sleepless night.) I paid for this, as it made up for my eggnog being dearer than Pen’s Pink Panther.
And then we retired to our single beds, and worked on our recordings of our days.
What’s this? A new blog entry? Yep. That’s because my English pen pal, Pen, (and I always want to write Pen pal because of it), has decided that she wants to see the pōhutukawa in flower and is heading Down Under for a Kiwi Christmas. Of course, you don’t come halfway around the world for a couple of days, so she, and I – and, of course, Scott of the Antarctic and Kally – are going to Tiki Tour about the place, seeing parts of New Zealand she didn’t see last time (and some of which I’ve never had the opportunity to see at all.) We’re calling it the SCALLYwag Safari.
So? What’s our plan?
Pen flew in on December 5th, recovered overnight in Auckland, and caught the bus to Thames. As I was still working, I had an early afternoon tea and met her bus, before taking her home and leaving her to catch up on her sleep, get herself sorted, go exploring, or whatever took her fancy whilst I returned to work.
Saturday was the Thames Santa Parade, so she watched as I, dressed as an elf, accompanied the Friends of the Historic Kōpū Bridge float down the length of Pollen Street. After that, there was a whānau (family) day at Thames South School/Te Kura o Te Kauaeranga, where we got our lunch and some hangi for tea.
Sunday, Stephen, took us up the Kauaeranga Valley, and we had a look around the little magic spots that only someone who lives there could know. We were even allowed to go onto a farm so we could enjoy the view away to Table Mountain in the distance.
Monday, I took the (first of many) day off work and we travelled with Jan D. to Coromandel and the Driving Creek Railway. We did the railway part of this experience the last time Pen was out here, but since then they’ve added a zipline/flying fox and we all zoomed down the hillside at the speed of gravity, with native bush flying beneath our feet. (Kally was buttoned up in my pocket.)
Once we’d recovered our equilibrium, the original plan had been for Jan and me to head back to Thames, whilst Pen stayed in Coromandel and explored parts of the peninsula more extensively.
This is where plans started to fall apart.
Firstly, the bus between Coromandel and Whitianga is no longer running and there are no other services available to transport passengers between the two towns. After much email chasing, Pen finally managed to find a taxi company that was willing to take her… for a price. That price needing to be paid in advance using internet banking – which, naturally, I did.
Second issue. Pen had planned on doing a Coastal Walkway Tour out of Coromandel. Only to discover that one of the two tourist operators had closed up shop and the other only worked on certain days, but the certain day Pen wanted to tour on was fully booked with a private charter!
So, she decided that it was either kick around Coromandel with nothing planned until she caught her taxi, or come back to Thames with Jan and me, spend the night at my place, and then head over to the other side of the Coromandel Peninsula via State Highway 25A – a road which had lost a section down the hill during storms and wasn’t due to reopen until December 20th… Last year. At least that’s one thing that’s worked in our favour.
I got my money back.
Whist Pen was Tiki Touring about the Coromandel Peninsula, I was at work, being glad that my stomach didn’t have to deal with our windy roads. Note: Our local information centre once told me, when I was on their committee, that the Thames/Coromandel/western side of the Coromandel Peninsula was for bush walks and history. The Eastern side of the Coromandel Peninsula was for beaches and trying to kill yourself… through the joys of adventure tourism.
Because her plans had been shifted back one day, Pen’s came back to Thames on Saturday 14th December (The bus was early, so I had to chase after her as she’d started walking a different way to me.
That day, Carolyn kindly took us to the Goldmine Experience, where we had three different tour guides show us the stamping operation, through the mine, and then Russell showed us a part of the complex that regular visitors don’t get to see. (Loved to see his enthusiasm. Then we went up to the site of Tōtara Pā (aka Tōtara Cemetery), as Pen had seen the model of the pā at the Thames Museum. After that, we went to check out the Historic Kōpū Bridge (naturally). Unfortunately, due to the trustees not getting back to me, we were unable to show her the swing span in action.
Sunday, (which happened to be Pen’s birthday) I had keyed up a couple of friends to take us up to the Waiomu Kauri walk as this was something the three of us had planned to do a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, something else cropped up and they weren’t able to take us on this date. Instead (as it was her birthday and she’d always spent it in the cold, Pen wanted to go paddling in the sun – so Janice (and Rocky) took us to Waiomu Beach.
Monday 16th, Pen went Tiki Touring again – this time to Matamata/Hobbiton and Whakatane to see Whakaari/White Island not blow its top too severely. And Ispent another week in relative drudgery at work getting things finalised for the end of the year. With two cases of Covid-19 in house. (They both kept well clear of the office, once they realised they were potentially infectious.)
Sunday 22nd December (i.e. tomorrow) I’ll be heading to Auckland to meet up with Pen at the Auckland City Hotel. We’ll spend a couple of days enjoying the sights (MOTAT’s Christmas lights, Smith and Caughey’s final ever Christmas window display?) before heading to Rangitoto Island on Christmas Eve.
Christmas Day will be spent in peace and quiet on Rangitoto. Pen’s going to get a shock. Especially with freeze dried Christmas dinner.
Thursday 26th we’ll head back to Auckland.
Our plan to head south was to catch the Northern Explorer train service on the 28th and ride the Main Trunk Line from Auckland to Wellington. Thoroughly looking forward to the experience (I’m going to ride a TRAIN!) I went to book our seats…
The last passenger train of the year left on the 23rd.
What!? During the summer holidays!? When people wanted the chance to relax and enjoy the scenery!?
You will be pleased to know that I did write emails to the Minister of Transport (no response), Minister of Tourism (automatic email response), and my local MP Scott Simpson. To Scott’s credit, he did respond with a personal email (in politician speak, of course), and then forwarded my concerns to the Minister of State-Owned Enterprises. And then, when he got a reply to that communication, forwarded it to me. This email suggested that I write to KiwiRail, which I did. And was told that, being a quiet time of year, this was the best time to do maintenance on the rail network. And that there are only three trains a week because that’s all that’s viable.
Gee. I – wonder – why.
(I’m still considering writing to our newly installed Minister of Rail.)
Now what?
Option one: Bus. Having to rely on the skills or otherwise of a bus driver, my stomach might not appreciate this.
Option two: Fly. Not unless absolutely necessary. I’m not going to be responsible for putting more greenhouse gases into the atmosphere.
Option three: Drive down. As I don’t drive, Pen would have to do this and that would mean she’d miss the sights.
Option four: Night bus. Still not ideal (see option one), but at least my eyes/balance organs won’t have that disconnect – especially if I manage to get to sleep.
So, I booked us the night bus. (Wish me luck, everyone.)
We had thought about being in Wellington for New Years, so that we could watch the fireworks, or better still (environmentally speaking) drone display. But, one of the things we wanted to see was Wētā Workshop’s/Pūkeko Pictures’ Thunderbirds are Go display, but that doesn’t exist anymore, so it’s not an option.
If we’d taken the train, because of the lack of Thunderbirds, we’d planned on sailing the following day. Because we’re taking the bus and may want some real sleep, we’re spending the day in Wellington. There’s plenty to do there if we’re wide awake – Zealandia, Te Papa, Wellington Museum, etc.
So, on the 30th, we’re heading further south. Wish us luck that the ferries are running and haven’t broken down or jammed themselves on a rocky outcrop.
Here we’re coming into another of our pre-journey dramas. Pen was keen on heading to the Abel Tasman National Park and doing a kayaking trip. I wasn’t sure that I had the upper body strength for this, but she assured me that the tour company took this into consideration.
But what the problem was, was that it seemed impossible to get from Nelson to Motueka in time for the tour’s start, and even if that was possible, there was nowhere to stay.
So, we’ll see the New Year in at Picton, and then catch the Coastal Pacific train (yes, it is running… At the moment) to Kaikōura.
As you know, Kaikōura’s main tourist attraction is their whale watching tours, which we did the last time Pen was on this side of the globe, so we’re going to enjoy other activities. We’re ziplining again!
We were also going to do an escape room that, instead of “locking” us in a room, sent us on a walk around the town. A week ago I got notification that the app that provided the experience wasn’t working, so our visit had to be cancelled.
Kaikōura’s recently been made a Dark Sky Reserve, so we’re hoping to get a good look at the Milky Way in all its light pollution-free glory. Clouds permitting. Plus, the last time we were there, we just enjoyed the town, so we’ll spend some time chilling on the beach. We’ll probably need the time out by then.
After that, we’re off to jail!
As we did last time, when we reach Christchurch (by Coastal Pacific again, of course), we’re going to be staying in the Jailhouse Accommodation, aka the former prison in Addington which is now a backpackers’.
While in Christchurch we’re going to catch up with my school friend Mary, the doctor who was such a help when D.C. was in hospital. So, that’s something I’m looking forward to. We’re also going to do the TranzAlpine trip across to Greymouth and back. (Naturally.) It will also be an opportunity to see how Christchurch is recovering, since we were last there just after the earthquakes.
After Christchurch (sadly by bus as the trains no longer go south of Christchurch – except for special runs for four days in May), we’re heading to Oamaru and then on to Dunedin. After Dunedin we’ll still be heading south to Bluff and then across the infamous Foveaux Strait. Wish us luck, everyone!
Our plans, when on Stewart Island (a part of the country I’ve never been to before), are to (hopefully) see kiwi in the wild as well as visit Ulva Island. Stewart Island is also a dark sky sanctuary and that, coupled with the fact that we’ll be entering a “solar maximum” creating the Aurora Australis, should mean that we’ll being seeing some spectacular, and very late, night sky vistas.
I hope.
After Stewart Island we’ll be heading across to Te Anau and then to Doubtful Sound to spend a peaceful night on a boat on the water. Following that it’s back to Te Anau – a place that I really liked as a child, but I now have no idea why and may rediscover, and then on to Queenstown.
Ah, Queenstown. The adventure capital of New Zealand and winter resort town. There won’t be anything much happening in Queenstown in mid-January, right?
Right?
My job was to book the accommodation for this part of the trip, so I went to a Queenstown web site and one of the first names that popped up was the ABBA Hotel. The name attracted me, plus they had a dog, which would appeal to Pen. However, for that time of the year, they would only accommodate people for a stay of a minimum of four nights.
So, I went hunting. But it seemed that every time I found a place within walking distance of the town centre that had twin rooms, the rooms were booked out. I found Haka House backpackers (which I liked the look of because it’s got a lovely mural with a couple of NZ birds on it) and they had a twin room with shared bathroom. Not 100%, but about 99%. I started confirming the booking and then decided that, since the twin room was roughly the same price as a hotel, I’d do another search. Nothing was available. So I went back to Haka House, only to find that the room had gone.
“What’s happening in winter resort Queenstown on the weekend of the 18th/19th January that’s got everything booked out?”
There’s a Greenstone Entertainment Summer Concert on the 18th.
So, out of desperation, I booked the last two beds at Haka House. It’s a six bed, all female dorm. And the other four ladies are probably all going to the concert and will come back at some ungodly hour giggling and making a noise. But at least we’ll have someplace to lay our heads for the nights.
Then I started thinking about Te Anau. I booked a twin cabin at a campground for the 14th, as it was not too far out of town and, naturally, cheaper than a hotel. The problem with that was that the cabin didn’t have an attached toilet. So, I decided that we’d be better staying at the Fiordland Hotel, more expensive, but it would give us a couple of good night’s sleep before Queenstown. Then I wondered about our bags. The Doubtful Sound trip we’re doing only allows an overnight bag, so we’d have to leave our cases somewhere. We’d have a better chance doing that at a place we were coming back to. So, I cancelled the cabin (10% cancellation fee), and booked the hotel for the 14th (No cancellation fee – Why can they do it and the holiday park not?) Then I emailed the Te Anau Lakeview Holiday Park, and they kindly cancelled the booking for no charge. (Which I was grateful for as I’d only made the booking about ten minutes earlier.)
Once we’ve spent a couple of days in Queenstown, we’ll be flying back to Auckland for the last little breather before Pen and Scott fly back to England (a flying penguin!) and Kally and I head back Thames… And work.
And I’ve determined that the following weekend, which is coincidentally Auckland Anniversary weekend, I’m going to crash. I may not even look at my photos. The only thing that I’ll be prepared to do is meals on wheels on the Monday – if we end up swapping our run from the previous week for Auckland Anniversary day.
So, that’s the plan, and we’re taking the attitude that it’s “bad dress rehearsal, great opening night”.
My other plan is to write up each day’s activities in the evening, so that you all can follow our adventures. But be aware that some entries will be made the following day if it’s a late night. After all, we’re heading almost as far south as we can go, in the middle of summer, when the sunlight hours are longer, and we’re going to be looking at the stars. So, I don’t think I’ll be wanting to come back to our accommodation and type until the wee small hours of the morning. I may try to dictate the day’s activities into my phone, which always throws up some interesting anomalies when the word processor transcribes them. Also, please be aware that proof reading will be secondary to the actual writing process, so don’t be surprised if you find a multitude of errors and garbled text. (Especially if dictated.)
And it’s been so long since I’ve written my blog, I’ve forgotten what to do!
Okay, first bit of good news. I have a job. I’ve had it for almost two months, and they’re a great bunch of people to work with. Second bit of good news is that, as she’s a volunteer at the hydrotherapy pool at the hospital, my mother’s had both of her Covid-19 inoculations. I’m in group four, the low risk group, so I won’t be getting mine until late July or August.
But that’s not what’s exciting. I’m going to tell you about something even more important. Saturday 30th May, I met a New Zealand icon.
One thing I’d like to say here. If you call the brown, feathery fruit with green – or occasionally gold – or now, I think, red flesh, a “kiwi”, you can change your linguists now. That is a kiwifruit – said and spelt with one word – like passionfruit. A kiwi is the colloquial term for a New Zealander; a member of the men’s national rugby league side; our currency; or a bird that is more like a mammal than something with feathers.
At this point I’ll also point out that kiwi is a Māori word, and that, because the Māori alphabet doesn’t include the letter S, the plural of kiwi: is kiwi.
Another fact about the kiwi, is that its nostrils are at the tip and not the base of its beak, which makes it different from most other birds. (“All the better to smell you… erm… worms and other soil-based invertebrates, with.”) Technically, because the length of a bird’s bill is measured from its nostrils to its tip, this gives the kiwi the shortest bill for the bird’s size of any species. Don’t you love science?
Remember that New Zealand is a land largely free of mammalian species, with the only land mammals being two species of bats. As a result, New Zealand’s animals evolved to fill the niches that mammals fill in other parts of the world. They also evolved to be unlike their original, ancestral, forms. The kiwi is nocturnal with a keen sense of smell and whiskers to help it feel its way about. It’s flightless, so its wings are almost non-existent. And its feathers are almost more like hairs than the traditional feathery appendages.
It’s the male that broods the egg. (Do you blame the mum? When you’ve laid an egg that’s equates to 15% to 20% of your body mass; and takes up so much space that you’d fast the last few days before laying because you had no room left for food; you’d want to take a break too.)
Kiwi do have large claws and powerful legs, which, when it’s old enough, gives it something to fight back with.
But, because of its lack of flight muscles and associated strong skeleton, doesn’t have the chest strength to withstand even the most gentle grip – of, say, a pet dog. Chicks are especially vulnerable to predation by introduced mammalian pests like rats, stoats, ferrets, and possums, which means that, without the work of groups like TCKC, the bush was filled with an increasingly aging population.
They are remarkable – and endangered.
Now for a bit of more recent and human history. How did this wonderous day happen?
I’m on the committee of our local branch of the Royal Forest and Bird Protection Society – aka Forest and Bird. We decided to donate some money to a local group who are doing their best to preserve kiwi on the Coromandel Peninsula – Thames Coast Kiwi Care. They were thrilled; which, when you consider that it costs them $70,000/year to do the priceless work that they do, it’s no wonder.
$70,000. It sounds a lot, doesn’t it? But you’ve got to consider what that goes towards. They do pest eradication, using manual methods like trapping and laying bait. They tag the birds with electronic trackers so they can find them. They retrieve eggs so they can be reared in safety. And then they release the chicks again. And they do all this in a hilly, blush-clad area that covers approximately 2,300 hectares. In doing so, they’ve increased the local population from about 80 to roughly 200 birds, which is an amazing achievement, but depressing when you consider the thousands of kiwi that would have originally wandered the Coromandel Peninsula and beyond.
They have had help from the Department of Conservation, but with literally hundreds of worthy, grassroots, volunteer-run organisations in New Zealand, the government department can’t support everyone as much as they deserve. So, the rest of the $70,000 is raised with grants, sponsorship, fundraising (read raffles, concerts, and stalls), and donations from everyday New Zealanders.
So, Thames/Hauraki Forest and Bird donated several hundred dollars to TCKC and, as a thank you, TCKC asked two of our committee members to join them at their last release of the season on the 8th May. It was decided that the two who should attend would be my mother, in her role as the chairperson of the branch, and the treasurer.
This was a real privilege as very few people get to see wild kiwi. I’ve seen them in captivity, and I remember that one of the cutest things that I’ve seen was a kiwi at Auckland Zoo. It was pressed up against the glass barrier having a snooze, with its bill tucked underneath its wing. I tried to get a photo, but there wasn’t enough light. (Remember these are flightless nocturnal birds), so you’ll have to make do with a terrible sketch.
Arrangements were made and, as my mother doesn’t have any transport of her own, the Forest and Bird treasurer said that he’d pick her up on the day.
He forgot.
We were concerned that he’d been ill, especially when we later heard that he was in the hospital, but it turned out that he’d simply forgotten.
Naturally, my mother was disappointed, but resigned to missing out on this once in a lifetime experience.
Then, on the 27th May, I got home from work and she said to me: “listen to the answerphone.”
It was the Thames Coast Kiwi Care saying that they were releasing one additional kiwi on Sunday and that they’d pick my mother up and bring her to the release site, but that the treasurer would have to make his own way there. So, she emailed back and said that she’d love to take them up on their offer, but, as it was the treasurer forgetting that had made her miss out last time, asked if I, as a member of the committee, could go in his place. They were happy about this.
And I did a happy dance.
I wasn’t sure what to wear on May 30th. The weather forecast was for thundery showers, or else showers increasing in the afternoon. It’s also been quite cool lately, since it’s almost winter, and I didn’t know how far we were going to go into the bush. So, I ended up wearing a merino skivvy, wool jumper, rain jacket, merino leggings, merino socks, and polyester slacks. And took my waterproof overtrousers, and poncho for extra rain protection.
And I was too hot whilst I hung around at home, waiting for the magic moment to arrive.
We were picked up at 2.20pm by Joanne Richards, community relations for the Thames Coast Kiwi Care, and taken up the coast to Te Mata Point Reserve to meet the rest of the group.
And Ollie.
We were originally in three vehicles, but packed ourselves into two for the short trip further on. When we got to the end of the rural side road we all piled out and took a short walk over a small bank (taking care to not trip over the remains of some wire fencing) and into a bit of pine plantation.
Then Neil brought in the man of the hour.
In a box.
Neil pulled Ollie out of his travelling carriage and held him gently as we oohed and aahed and took photo after photo.
Neil John – TCKC’s ONE kiwi handler bringing Ollie out of his box. ONE = Operation Nest Egg
All the time Ollie sat quietly in Neil’s arms (shivering slightly), but as he wasn’t blowing bubbles nor losing his feathers, those in the know were quietly confident that he wasn’t stressed.
Ollie was supposed to have been released with the others on the 8th, but had banged his bill and developed at blood blister, so they kept him back to ensure that he was in tip-top condition. When he was weighed that morning at Rainbow Springs in Rotorua, he was 1.2kg, which was above the 1kg that they like to release birds at. A weight and size to hopefully be able to fight off stoats and rats.
He’s had quite a journey; this little man. Born on the Coromandel Peninsula, he was taken as an egg to Rainbow Springs where he hatched. After a few weeks, when he was big enough to fend for himself, he was taken to Rotoroa Island in the Hauraki Gulf.
And today, after the detour back to Rainbow Springs, he was going to be released onto his home turf.
Being nocturnal, Ollie spent most of his time with us with his eyes shut, although he did open them on occasion to check what we were up to. Probably wondered what all the odd clicking noises were.
Finally, it was agreed that it was time for him to be left alone, so Neil put him into the nesting box that most of the other kiwi released were put into. This happened that quickly, that none of us saw Ollie take off; only realising that he’d gone when Neil packed the end of the box with brush to keep the light out.
A chance to sleep and recover until it’s time to get up and explore.
And that was that. We wished Ollie good luck in his new (old) home, and returned to the vehicles for the ride back to the reserve.
As we waited for Neil to lock the gate behind us, we could see black clouds raining down on the far side of the firth. It didn’t advance whilst we were having our celebratory chat at the reserve, but started to rain when we were on the ride back into town. We were so lucky. We could have been miserable and damp, and unwilling to get our cameras wet, but, instead, we were warm and dry, and all of us, especially Ollie, happy.
Thanks to everyone involved with the TCKC for a wonderful, memorable afternoon. To learn more about their work you can go to their facebook page and web site:
Taking a break from my novel writing, I decided to create a picture that honoured our essential heroes in this time of crisis.
Scott and Virgil courtesy of Big Chief Studios. Gordon and Alan courtesy of body doubles. John didn’t take part as he had decided to take social distancing to new heights.
On the morning of April first I got things ready. FAB-e’s battery back in the bike and FAB-e outside ready to go. Dirty washing in the washing machine, with soap powder and disinfectant. Coat hanger within reach hanging from the rafters in the carport.
All ready for when I went to give blood at 2.00pm.
The roads were quiet. Not totally deserted, but quiet. Even the cop car that drove in front of me around the roundabout was quiet. So quiet that I didn’t originally realise that it had its lights flashing. It pulled over to the side of the road, as I went around the roundabout and down the service lane behind the Thames War Memorial Hall / Civic Centre. I parked in one of the shop’s carpark a) because the shop is now empty. And b) because all the shops are shut.
It was so quiet, that I was wondering if the blood donating was still going on today, (April Fool’s?) but there was a labelled car and a trailer parked in the service lane, so I was able to relax.
Those of us waiting stood our mandatory 2m away from each other (me with my full-face helmet on) chatting. And watching as a “plain clothes” car joined the police car that I’d seen earlier. Then the police took a woman out of the car the police car had been following into the service station on the corner and put her into their police car. Three big police officers and one woman in the car. No social distancing there.
You’ve got to admire the dedication of those poor cops. And all the essential services.
I was the second person at the hall, and I remained in my bikie get up, including helmet. Finally, they let us inside – to stand on the crosses taped to the floor. Then it was one at a time to answer questions. A bloke in front of me got sent away as he hadn’t made an appointment. Hopefully, he’ll be able to book in for tomorrow.
I finally removed my helmet when it was time to answer questions about our potential proximity to Covid-19, before I was given a new Blood Service pen to use whilst filling in the forms. (No cross contamination.) Then it was into the hall proper and a queue of more crosses to stand on.
I was welcomed warmly by the reception lady, who’d remembered me. (How many pink bikies do you know?) I had to toss my ID card onto her table, which I managed to do upside down so she couldn’t scan it. She wasn’t allowed to touch it, so I had to flip it over for her.
Normally when you get there, you’re given a folder with laminated pamphlets which you have to read cover to cover and then fill in the form. This time we were just given the form and a disinfected clipboard to lean on, before being instructed to go and sit on one of the neatly spaced out chairs to do our ticking.
Have you ever had sex with…? No
Have you been overseas in the last…? No
Have you ever injected yourself with drugs…? No.
It’s the same every time. I create two neat columns of no ticks – aside from when I went to England, and had to tick Yes to “Have you been overseas in the last three years?”
As they’d only just opened, I was the second to be interviewed. First question: “Have you read our pamphlets?”
“Not this time.”
“Have you ever…?”
“No.”
“Any illness?”
“No.”
“Are you aware if you’ve had any contact with anyone who’s had Covid-19?”
“I’m not aware of it. No.”
My iron levels were 122, when the minimum is 120, so I don’t know if that’s good or adequate, but they were going to drain me anyway. Although, with the amount of blood they squeeze out of your finger after the pin-prick, it’s a wonder you have any left.
I was escorted over to a left-arm chair and greeted by the vampire, sorry, technician who was take my donation. She was great. Bright, and cheerful, and had me laughing. She began to tear off three strips of tape, which she stuck the tape to my blood pressure cuff, and said that that was for taping my mouth shut when I started screaming. I said I’d try not to scream.
Insertion of the needle wasn’t too painful, and then the IV tube (I suppose it’s an IV tube if it’s draining out of a vein?) was held in place by the three lengths of tape.
A few squeezes of the stress ball that they give you to pump the blood and she was happy to leave me to it. Then, as she waited for the next patient to invade her slice of pie (the two donation chairs that she was restricting access to, including mine), she began to dance along to the music the radio was playing. It’s a wonder I didn’t rip the cannula out with laughter.
The process was good and fast as I’d made sure that I’d had plenty of liquid this morning, but my friendly tech had moved onto another donor by the time I’d finished – about five minutes after I’d started. A pity, I could have told her that I needed the tape to stop me from scream as removing the tape from my arm hurt more than withdrawing the cannula. 😉
Then it was sit back and relax for a few minutes, whilst another technician offered to get me something to drink.
This was another change. Previous times, the Thames’ Lions have been on duty, keeping us supplied with drink (OJ, tea, coffee, or water) and biscuits. Of course, things being what they are, this wasn’t possible today – probably as much because most of our Lions are over 70, as for any other reason. So it meant that the techs had to get our drinks on put them on the tables for us.
That was another change. Normally two tables would be positioned with end to end and surrounded by lots of chairs so donors could sit and chat. This time it was four tables, two metres apart (of course), and with a chair at the head of each table. In the past, the bikkies would be supplied in communal Tupperware containers so you could help yourself. Today, my cup, and a little bag of biscuits, was placed for me at the end of table two. (Four biscuits! Two different styles of “plain” with cream filling, one Cameo Crème, and a chocolate bikkie! Spoilt!) While I enjoyed my refuelling, the techs disinfected down the donation chair I’d just been sitting in. (I had had a wash that morning!) They also disinfected the refuelling chairs as well.
Better to be safe than sorry. Even if the refuelling chairs were cloth and not that easy to disinfect.
And if you’re wondering, there weren’t a lot of changes made to the tech’s processes. They already spend a lot of time using hand sanitiser as a part of their job. After all, blood’s just as effective at transmitting diseases. But they don’t have masks of any sort. I didn’t like to ask, but I’m guessing they would like a bit more protection there.
One thing that I noticed was that they had a box of the soft toys that they give to people after their first(?) donation. They’re shaped like anthropomorphic blood drops. The box was called “Dudes”. I never knew that was their name. I’ll have to start calling my three Dude One, Dude Two, and Dude Three.
The last change to the day’s proceedings was the exit. Normally, I would have left my bikie gear with the Lions and then collected it on the way out, walking past the blood donors and reception. This time it was “Exit. Stage right” through another door at the far end of the hall. Once I managed to push it open. I nearly had to ask for help, until I put my shoulder to it.
I did take a bit of a detour home, just to see how busy the town was. That was a detour of one block. The pharmacies were open, as was the vet’s, and the bulk food store, and Organic Co-Op. And there was a queue outside the Four Square. I did see more traffic, but not a lot. It was kind of like a Sunday afternoon, more than a lockdown.
Speaking of lockdown: I was kind of hoping that the cops would pull me over, just so that I could say that I’d been giving blood. 😀
I got home, put FAB-e away, and started disrobing. Bikie jacket onto the carport coat hanger. Helmet on FAB-e’s rear view mirror, and gloves pinned to the carport clothes line. Shoes left outside and socks and outer clothes off and put straight into the washing machine, which was turned on. Then it was to the bathroom to wash my hands. Once I’d done all that, (and indeed, got dressed in clean clothes) I went and said that I was home.
I’m always pleased to give blood. To paraphrase a character in one of my stories, I might not be able to do anything frontline, brave, and dramatic to save a life. But I could still save a life just by spending a maximum of half an hour (if I don’t get talking to the Lions) giving blood. Last time I didn’t even give blood for a transfusion’s sake. My blood type means that I can accept anyone’s, but can only donate to the same blood type as me, but they are able to use my blood to make eyedrops for people who have excessively dry eyes – maybe caused by a side effect of some other treatment.
This was my opportunity to be essential to the essential services. And so long as it can be done safely, with no risk to myself, the technicians, or anyone else, I’ll proudly continue to do so.
Today was the last day of the existence of the company known as New Zealand Wheelbarrows: the company that I work for. Tomorrow I’m working for a new company, but I don’t know how long for. The company that’s bought New Zealand Wheelbarrows is going to continue employing us in the short term, but after that, when they move everything to another town, it’s the great unknown.
So I’m going to step into that great unknown and write a novel. I’m not going to tell anyone what about, but I hope that I find it as easy to write, and people find it as easy to enjoy, as my previous Thunderbirds fan fiction writings. And that’s all I’m going to say.
Scott and Virgil courtesy of Big Chief Studios. Gordon and Alan courtesy of body doubles. John didn’t take part as he had decided to take social distancing to new heights.
Purupuss's Purrings 