Ann-alog, a Pixel Remix, where Ann Torrence blogs about photographing for a book on U.S. Highway 89, the greatest road trip route in America. Photography tips, locations, trip reports, and real life.

The eastern edge of the Pacific Ocean, relatively peaceful as we near the jaws of doom

The University of Auckland closed for the holidays on Friday the 19th, a civilized custom. We celebrated by heading to the Viaduct, adjacent to downtown and redeveloped for the America's Cup races. Now that the races are over, the dragon boat racing clubs have made a pitch to use the sheds built for the NZ team as their headquarters, promising to boost tourism. The races we saw included both "open teams" of folks who wanted to have fun, and formally-sponsored teams, mostly companies - but one team was wearing the pink breast cancer campaign pink. Lots of fun, including a Santa Claus coxs'n who was dumped into the basin for a swim after his team lost.

Dragonboats in Auckland's viaduct

Restaurants and bars surround the basin, the races entertaining the tourists and the local crowd in mating plumage - strapless and sequins are popular even in the twilight for ladies' trolling, but the men don't make much effort. The Sky Tower is lit up only after 9 pm - it is high summer.

Christmas cheer from the Sky Tower

R has given the full report on cricket, only one day of an activity burst right before Christmas. We went to the second of a five day match in Hamilton, which ended in a draw because NZ and Pakistan didn't finish the game in the allotted time. We will likely go back to the one day match next weekend, where they wear colored uniforms and change the rules so someone wins. But we won't have seats close enough for decent photography.

Luckily our room in Whitianga had Sky TV. Rupert Murdock owns the satellite pay-for-tv and has locked up almost all of the sports. Whitanga (pronounced fit-ee-ang-a) is the focal point of the Mercury Bay area of the Cormandel Peninsula - Mercury Bay because Captain James Cook landed there to make observations of Mercury for the royal society in 1769. It is also the landing spot of the Tahitian explorer Kupe, who led the first Polynesian settlers around 950. We arrived from Auckland, led by a sad little free map that was right in the essentials, but short on details. Native forest, clear cuts to put Boise Cascade to shame, birdy shoreline, windy roads, and one-lane bridges which mostly gave oncoming traffic the right-of-way. Notable, somewhat disturbing, absence of guard rails.

Motel room with view of the harbor, lime green and navy decor, and 20 pages of rules in a binder (which does not match the color scheme). Checking into each of the now 3 different motels has included a welcoming ritual where the innkeeper gives us a carton of milk for morning tea along with our keys.

For a seaside town with lots of vacation homes, Whitianga isn't that big or commercial. But then, how many miles of developable coastline is in NZ? Enough that mere mortals can have their place in the sun, and no one is making a lot of money off of the tourist trade. We ate dinner in the finest restaurant in town, which was quite fine, but we were the only people there until after 7 pm, but in 20 minutes we counted 16 locals (including the local cop) picking up fish and chips from the place next door. Considering the thin margins, the food and services are a lot better than they have to be, and you can usually trust the recommendations of the staff - wonderful beef, lamb and oysters all on the recommendation of a college boy part-time waiter.

R was willing to give it a try, so we went on a kayaking tour the next day. The head of the operation, Nathan, was excited because the tides and weather were perfect for their wilder, more remote coastline tour, through sea caves and into an old blowhole. Weather was spectacular, sunny but not too hot or cold to be on the water, and top of the line kayaks. Which won't be top of the line much longer if they continue to run this tour, taking the paying customers through the "jaws of death" and ramming into the walls of the sea tunnel. Blessings on the ACC, which covers all accidents and in return limits the liability problems for the tourism industry, to the detriment of the lawyering crowd. All the while, the guides ran a commentary that ended every exchange with "isn't that right Artie?" and "Absolutely, Hamish". It gets "no better, Artie" out on the water.

That was a 2 boat day, because they met us at the ferry from Whitianga to save an hour's drive each way. Tapas and window shopping to follow, a warm summer evening out on the patio with local mussels, oysters, calamari and a mushroom concoction that was very tall on the plate.

Family of Whales by Brian Shields

We have provisionally bought a sculpture, but we don't think we can get it home, because the artist used Maori-sanctioned whalebone in it. The Maori iwi has jurisdiction over the stranded whale carcasses, and gave this pakeha artist, Brian Shields, from England a piece to carve. But it looks like even with the paperwork from the Maori government, we can't import it. Maybe we will go back and get the painting of the night sky instead. Even though it took us 4 hours to get home, it is possible to drive without stopping for every bird (spotted the pukeko Porphyrio porphyrio, a midnight blue rail with a massive red shield at 50 kph).

The hoards at Hot Water Beach

Won't go back to Hot Water Beach until mid-week in the winter. This is a big tourist draw - wait for low tide, take a shovel (rentable for NZ$4), dig a hot water bath next to the ocean. The part the guidebooks don't tell is that the thermal area is about the size of a NZ backyard (small) and everybody is on top of everybody else. I didn't really want to bathe with the tattooed college students and the families on holiday, esp. since it was about 85 F in the air and humid. It sounds nice, for a different day.

We had our Christmas barbeque at John and Helen's, colleagues from the University of Auckland. They prepared a Kiwi feast of mixed grilled lamb, beef and chicken, bacon-wrapped mussels, and we all added potluck dishes, including and American pumpkin pie from me. I tried real mince pies and English fruitcake, and we opened the traditional crackers and played tunes on the tin whistles they contained while wearing the paper crowns inside. We had a lot of fun, left the dishes to John and Helen, who are off to Tasmania for a holiday week the next morning at 3:30 am.

Maybe the solution to the sculpture is an apartment in Auckland... For a different day.