The Epic Tale

Following links from other bloggers I happened upon Mark J’s blogspot a couple of days ago where he described the ritual family expedition from Dunedin to Westport to visit with grandparents. He reminded me of my North Island Version … so here goes. Thanks Mark for the inspiration …




Destination Algies Bay ...


Once upon a time in a land far far away, I think they called it the seventies, Mum, Dad, Tina, Bode, Scooby Doo and Horse all piled into the Morry bound for a week or two with Nana and Poppa. No, we didn’t just do this once - we did it almost every Christmas holidays and then when the parents got smart they started putting us on the bus to Welsford; Nana and Poppa would pick us up from the bus stop, and Mum and Dad would have some well needed space for a couple of weeks.



God knows how, but they piled the four of us into the back of the Morry and off we went to Algies Bay.








On a good day, the trip was 10 hours long (slight hyperbole); surely I remember leaving at 5am in the dark arriving in time for dinner usually. Following the North Taranaki Coast to Mokau, we could look back on a clear day and spot Mt Egmont across the sea. It was then we knew we really had gone “overseas”.

Yes, it was Mt Egmont still in those days, it was the Mt Egmont that Ed Hillary used to climb several times in one day and then bike back to Stratford afterwards. It was the Mt Egmont that eventually went back to it’s pre-European name of Taranaki. To us it was simply “The Mountain” and a huge part of our lives. We clambered all over it, Mum, Dad, Tina, Josie, Suzie and Carlos – yep the lot of us… but that’s another story - back to state highway three, this was the only traffic jams we had….

With the Mountain in the distance we did not stop until absolutely necessary, for farting & burping were not good enough excuses, unless of course the burps were of the liquid variety, which they often were and is the reason why Burp Hill is named as such. Most other people know it as Mt Messenger – but we know it as Burp Hill.

It was a dangerous journey through Dinosaur Country …













and Tiger Country …


Two hours into the trip we usually got to stop at Tiffany’s in Te Kuiti. It was a very posh affair where one could get a cup of that brown instant stuff they called coffee.... But we got to stop at the “rest a rears” on the other side of the road with our home made sandwiches; probably cheese and pineapple, and some of the brown stuff for Mum and Dad in thermos flask.

Even though it was summer time, it often pissed down and I vividly remember sitting in the back seat trying to be good - it wasn't easy - while Dad had to get out and change a flat tyre on the boat trailer in the pissing down rain on Pack-a-Sad Hill, just north of Otoro-bloody-hanga.

I felt like we were getting real close when we got to Huntly – but I think it was only half way really. It was about this time I probably fell asleep because the next thing I remember we is going through Orewa north of Auckland. A little back water it was then, now it is practically part of Auckland’s poshest spots.

Once we got to Warkworth we had to hang a left and not far after that this is the view that awaited us from Nana & Poppas balcony…

It was the seventies, that wonderland where we could have every kind of adventure all kids should have, catching my first fish, catching frogs at 5am, burying Uncles in the sand up to their necks, panning for gold and eating fresh fish and chips - fish that someone in the family had caught that day on Poppas boat and cooked up in butter by Nana.