Mussels Maori's and Artemis
Total Gridlock In The Town Centre
The point of my journey around these parts was not only to visit places I have not seen before but to experience life in these parts and meet people who might interest me, New Zealand has given me all these things in spades.
Thursday saw me meeting my Mothers sister Maura and who would have guessed that the most drunken I would get on this entire trip so far would be with my 63 year Aunt!
We met in Auckland and went straight out to Waikiki Island, about a 30 minute ferry ride from Auckland Harbor. Here we hired a cab and did a tour of the wonderful island, took in all the views and still had time for a visit to a a vineyard. Apparently the Island used to be a hippy commune until the builders and estate agents discovered it, they have moved on but their spirit remains.
Our exertions were rewarded with snapper and chips followed by a few beers. A few beers turned into a fine wines a few whiskies and before you knew it we were bribing the barman to serve us aftertime (he did). We said our goodbyes and ended a great day both absolutely lashed.
After nursing a hangover most of Friday I did manage to pull myself together by the evening and went to meet Ade (Sarah’s husband) and kicked on from the pub to Eden Park, home of the Auckland Blues and a test venue for the mighty All Blacks. I decided to spice up the evening by enjoying a little punt; I managed to track down the Dragon for his views and a little handicap and half time full time voucher was ensconced in my pocket by kick off. A tight first half was the order of the day and that’s just what we got, a few tasty tackles and the odd elbow had things boiling up nicely. Sadly the second half got away from us with the excellent Isaia Toeava scoring two tries and destroying my betting slip in the process.
A decent game, a few more beers, another fish n chips and it was off on the town for another night out. Watching rugby in New Zealand is akin to visiting a Buddhist temple in Nepal and I enjoyed the buzz around the stadium. In Auckland town centre they have not one but two clocks counting down the seconds to the kick off of the Rugby World Cup. The All Blacks have surprisingly only won the world cup once and they are obsessed about winning it again, more than even Australia were about winning the ashes and if Ireland don’t win it I will funk hard for them.
Saturday I hired the cheapest car possible (about a tenner) and took a 6 hour drive up past Whangarei, past Kaikohe and then got lost at Mangamuka Bridge where I took a 12 kilometer drive up and around a gorge before turning round and descending it. I eventually turned up at my desired location of Kohukohu about 30 minutes late after having driven past some of the most amazing landscapes, no wonder they call it ‘God’s own country’.
I walked into the remotest bar I think I have ever been in and met up with my old muckers Hugh and his partner Hera. He is a good friend from my years in Rochdale, she is a Maori Princess and one of the loveliest people I have had the pleasure to meet.
I got stuck straight into the local brew and proceeded to have one of those nights you can only imagine. I really didn’t know what to expect when I had arranged to meet Hugh but I hoping for an adventure and I most certainly got one. The town (if it can be called that, it consists of one shop, one pub and a post office, that’s it) is predominantly a Maori town so most of our drinking companions were Maoris which suited me just fine. I was chatting away and followed a couple of the chaps outside where I was offered a cigarette, I refused explaining that I no longer smoked tobacco; they both laughed and commented that “there aint any tobacco in there cuz”. Being a firm believer in the ‘when in Rome do as the Romans do” school I took a drag on the ‘herbal’ cigarette and immediately understood why this particular bar was so chilled out. Everyone it seemed was in a chilled mood, from the bar staff to the animals roaming outside whilst we drank, chatted, smoked, played pool and had a most fascinating evening with Mozza, Billy, Vance, Pete South (Pete North had gone east for the weekend) Glen and Ricki-Lee. I felt honored to be in these peoples company, listening to Maori tales and folklore from Staf, a local who was also entertaining everyone with tales of his youth, “I was a bit of a rogue at 13 and my 14’s and 15’s were a bit of a blur” should give you some insight into how the night was going.
After closing time we had to drive to Hugh and Hera’s (H&H) place, drink driving was not an issue as the road was private, what was an issue was we were driving up a mountain road covered in gravel and with no crash barriers. Somehow we all made it (Glen the local bee-keeper had joined us) and sat on the veranda overlooking green mountains that had been lit up by the full moon smoking the local leaves. It was here I got to meet Artiemis, H&H’s pit bull terrier cross; she was barking mad and we got on famously.
The perfect place for Mussel fishing
Sunday saw us drive to Mitimiti and have an afternoon on the beach which we had to ourselves, no better time to put Artie through her paces; she ended up chasing our four wheel drive on the beach for about 2 hours. Hugh had heard that this might be a good time to go hunting for mussels (due to the full moon, providing exceptionally high and low tides) and when two local Maori’s turned up with buckets we knew he had heard right. We waded into the ocean and were taught how to pick green lipped mussels from the sea by our new neighbors and not only did we pick them, when we were offered a knife to cut them open with I got stuck straight into eating them. Slurping raw mussels and washing it down from a bottle of Deutz (a champagne type drink that Hera had kindly bought) I had the gourmet experience of a lifetime. We picked a huge bucketful and went back up the mountain to watch Hugh prepare a spicy tomato sauce and a garlic onion sauce for us to mix with the mussels and dip our fresh bread into. Finally stuffed full of both raw and cooked mussels we hit the sack.
HMMMMM cooked or raw
Monday saw us drive to KeriKeri, more leaves, lunch at a winery was a magnificent plate of antipasto and of course a tasting of the wines to see which one would suit lunch most appropriately. This was followed by a refreshing swim in a lagoon and then a walk in the mountains followed by another swim, this time in the sea. We had built up an appetite and so dinner was in the town itself, Lamb culets; Lamb Shanks and Venison were all devoured as was the sumptuous bottle of local red. We were still enjoying the benefits of a full moon and sitting on outside listening to H&H’s travel tales I found a sense of tremendous peace and wellbeing. More leaves and more history on the Maori followed before I crashed into my tent in the early hours feeling wonderful.
Tuesday was my last full day in Kohukohu so it was only fitting we sat around chatting, smoking the leaves and drinking coffee. Artie lived up to her namesake (the goddess of hunting) by catching then slaughtering a possum. The possums are pests and everyone is actively encouraged to kill them, which perhaps explains the multitude of possum carcasses on the road in the mornings.
He didnt look this cute after Artie had got hold of him
I awoke at 6am on Wednesday to make the long journey back to Auckland but it did mean I got to see the legendary mist smothering the mountains. It’s been hard to write and clearly explain what a fantastic time I had at H&H’s, I cannot thank them enough. I saw a part of the world not readily accessible to many and was fascinated by what I saw and experienced. I always thought Australia was where I should have settled but New Zealand has overtaken that spot already am I not even in Queenstown yet. Every single person I have met in New Zealand has advised me to get my ass to Queenstown ASAP and who am I to disagree.
Finally, as im missing an Artie so much, here’s a link to my favorite youtube clip featuring a dog, don’t worry, its not that kind of link. What I find amusing yet frightening is why do they feed him on a tile floor? You work it out. 
Until next time Kohukohu
HMMMMM cooked or raw
Monday saw us drive to KeriKeri, more leaves, lunch at a winery was a magnificent plate of antipasto and of course a tasting of the wines to see which one would suit lunch most appropriately. This was followed by a refreshing swim in a lagoon and then a walk in the mountains followed by another swim, this time in the sea. We had built up an appetite and so dinner was in the town itself, Lamb culets; Lamb Shanks and Venison were all devoured as was the sumptuous bottle of local red. We were still enjoying the benefits of a full moon and sitting on outside listening to H&H’s travel tales I found a sense of tremendous peace and wellbeing. More leaves and more history on the Maori followed before I crashed into my tent in the early hours feeling wonderful.
Tuesday was my last full day in Kohukohu so it was only fitting we sat around chatting, smoking the leaves and drinking coffee. Artie lived up to her namesake (the goddess of hunting) by catching then slaughtering a possum. The possums are pests and everyone is actively encouraged to kill them, which perhaps explains the multitude of possum carcasses on the road in the mornings.
He didnt look this cute after Artie had got hold of him
I awoke at 6am on Wednesday to make the long journey back to Auckland but it did mean I got to see the legendary mist smothering the mountains. It’s been hard to write and clearly explain what a fantastic time I had at H&H’s, I cannot thank them enough. I saw a part of the world not readily accessible to many and was fascinated by what I saw and experienced. I always thought Australia was where I should have settled but New Zealand has overtaken that spot already am I not even in Queenstown yet. Every single person I have met in New Zealand has advised me to get my ass to Queenstown ASAP and who am I to disagree.
Finally, as im missing an Artie so much, here’s a link to my favorite youtube clip featuring a dog, don’t worry, its not that kind of link. What I find amusing yet frightening is why do they feed him on a tile floor? You work it out.
Until next time Kohukohu
posted by lionel hutz at 3/08/2007
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