Mount Ngauruhoe is apparently still an active volcano, has been for 2,500 years or so, and last erupted on 19th February 1975, and reportedly has erupted around 70 times since 1839.
The mountain is usually climbed from the western side, from the Mangatepopo track.
This photo was taken in summer from the Chateau Tongariro carpark.
In late autumn, on one of our many visits to the area, the mountain was covered with a light sprinkling of snow and ice.
On our most recent visit, this year, in winter, it was fully covered in snow.
Or to be more precise, the homestead at what is now O’Reilly’s vineyard, where there is a pleasant lawn out back running down to the river for picnics, an alpaca farm next door, and the homestead plays host to functions, and wine tastings.
My interest was that we had assumed there was a restaraunt, and we were going to have lunch. There might be one, but not the day we visited, it was just cafe food or a picnic available.
I was more interested in the old homestead, because it was a fine example of the homesteads built in the ‘outback’.
…
Today we are having lunch in the Platypus room, in the O’Reilly’s vineyard farmhouse, which, if you close your eyes and let your imagination run free, could see it as the master bedroom of a homestead.
Certainly the building is old, made completely of timber, inside and out, with the traditional high ceilings to keep the heat at bay.
At one end, a large bay window, which would be ideal to sir and view the outside, past the sweeping verandah. There is a small lawn and a rotunda, but beyond that what might have been extended gardens, is the vineyard.
The homestead is in an ideal position midway between the main road and the river, has the traditional surrounding verandah, and shows signs of being extended on almost all sides.
On the other side of the wide corridor that leads you to the bar, and, coincidentally, down the centre of the house, is a smaller bedroom, also used as a dining room, and ubiquitously named the library.
It may be small but it does have a fireplace. Which the assumed master bedroom does not, but now I’m thinking that room might have been the morning room.
Behind the room we’re in is another bedroom, or perhaps this might be the master, because it does have a fireplace and is quite large. And a name, the Ambassador room. Now it serves as the pick up place for picnic baskets.
There is another room on the opposite side of the corridor called the Drawing Room, but is not open to the public. But, going into the room with the fireplace adjacent to it, you can sell the aroma of pizzas, so it’s probably an extension of the kitchen, and, walking around the outside that side of the house proves it to be case.
After all, they do catering for weddings and need a very large food preparation area which I discovered runs down the whole of that side of the house.
At the end of the corridor I’d the bar and spare space, and running off that and behind that is where there is a large dining area, perhaps prior to COVID, the restaurant.
It’s not hard to imagine that area as a very large entertaining area, either for very large dinner parties, or dancing.
As for the food, it’s either a picnic basket, or pizzas. We chose the latter, not realising the bases were not home made, but bought in.
The toppings however were both plentiful and tasty. It could have been hotter, because it was a cold day, and it was cold in the room.
As for something to do other than taste the wine, and buy a few bottles, you can get up close to the vines, which, at this time of the year gave been pruned back and look quite dead, look at or walk an alpaca, even feed it, or all of them, or go down to the river and see if you can spot a Platypus.
Perhaps next time we’ll have a picnic down by the river.
I was poking around on the gallery on my phone and found this
It was the rear of the club house for a golf course that was adjacent to the resort we were staying at before COVID shut down the country and all travel.
It was a bleak day with rain falling from drizzle to a heavy shower, and I had to wonder what it would be like on a fine summer’s day.
The club house also had space for conventions and weddings, and I could imaging having the wedding in the rotunda as the the sun departed leaving behind shades of yellow, orange and red.
Having a fountain in the wedding photo would be so hard to take either.
Perhaps we could renew our vows one day in just such a location.
It’s a thought.
…
But as for a story…
…
It’s a bleak day with constant drizzle, the sort of day to fuel introspection.
A day to spend in front of a fire with a good book instead of chasing a white ball. The thing is, you never quite know when the weather is going to interfere with the best laid plans.
A week before, the forecast was for clear skies, and perfect blue skies.
Jake was going to meet up with some very influential people on the golf course to discuss business. It was not the sort of business that was conducted indoors, in a conference room, or an office.
But the weather was not going to play ball.
As the murky darkness dawned into a grey soggy morning with constant irritating drizzle, Jake was looking out the window of his room that overlooked the parkland when there was a knock on the door.
There was no way anyone was playing golf in this weather, so he was hoping it was his assistant with the alternate arrangements.
It was the assistant, but with a look of disappointment on her face.
“What news?” he asked.
“McDonald’s PA just called. He had a heart attack last night, and just died.”
Huka Falls is located in the Wairakei Tourist Park about five minutes north of Taupo on the north island of New Zealand.
The Waikato River heading towards the gorge
The water heading down the gorge, gathering pace
until it crashes over the top of the waterfall at the rate of about 220,000 liters per second. It also makes a very loud noise, so that when you are close to it, hearing anything but the falls is impossible.
Hotels can be one of the major letdowns of a holiday.
They can also be extensive fodder for writing material. For the main stories I write, hotel stays feature prominently, and so each experience, no matter how insignificant, is another paragraph in my book of experiences.
So…
If you are going to use a travel agent to pick a hotel for you, make sure you check as much as you can before you see them, because no matter how it is described, seeing it, in reality, is always completely different than the pictures in a brochure and sometimes on the Internet. It requires research and a good look at TripAdvisor.
Or word of mouth by someone you know and trust who have stayed there.
Take, for instance, staying in a five-star hotel, the usual stomping ground of the rich and famous. It is always interesting to see how the less privileged fare. Where hotel staff is supposed to treat each guest equally, it’s not always the case. Certainly, if you’re flashing money around, the staff will be happy to take it, though you may not necessarily get what you’re expecting.
We were once lucky enough to be in the highest hotel loyalty level and this gave us a number of privileges; at times working in our favor, but even then not always.
Privilege can sometimes count for nothing. It often depends on the humor of the front desk clerk, or the guest services manager, and woe betide you if you get the receptionist from hell.
Been there, done that, more than once.
Then there is the room.
There is such a wide variety of rooms available, even if the hotel site or brochure has representative pictures, the odds are you can still get a room that is nothing like you’re expecting or were promised.
Believe me, there are rooms with a view, overlooking pigeon coops or air-conditioning vents. And if you’re lucky, at Niagara Falls, it might be that six inches of window space that allows a very limited view of the falls.
Still, why should I complain, you can see the Falls … can you not?
A bone of contention often can be the location of the hotel and sometimes parking facilities, not the least of which is the cost of Valet parking; given the extortion some hotels charge, it’s better to just forget a car.
It is nothing like the movies, you just do not drive up to the front entrance, get out, hand the keys to the concierge, and expect everything else to happen by magic.
It doesn’t.
One time we waited for over an hour for our luggage to be delivered, and that was after three phone calls to the concierge desk.
Sometimes you can be reasonably near transport, yes, if you could walk the distance (which feels like the length of a marathon) to the nearest bus or tram stop.
The problem is we both have trouble with knees and ankles and walking distances are difficult at the best of times, and for us, it is a long, long way when you can’t walk and that’s when the hotel starts to feel like a prison. Taxis may be cheap but when you have to use them three or four times a day it all adds up.
Also, be wary when a hotel says it is close to public transport. While that may be true in London, anywhere else and especially in Europe, you could find yourself in the middle of nowhere.
It’s when you discover your travel agent didn’t exactly lie but it is why that weekly rate was so cheap. In the end, the sum of the taxi fares and the accommodation turns out to be dearer than if you stayed at the Savoy.
So, those front line experiences are fodder for the travel blogger, and people who are also known as road warriors, the true frequent flyers.
There is a very large gulf between five stars and three and sometimes three can be very generous. And of course, l now have a list of hotels l would never stay in again, the names of which might surprise you.
I thought since it is Winter here, we could do with a breath of fresh air and colour that comes with the change if season
Living in Queensland, Winter never quite seems to be as cold as it is in the southern states, which are closer to Antarctica.
We have had a relatively mild winter this year and I didn’t have to light the fire once, though we did use the reverse cycle sir conditioning.
But, from now the temperature will be rising as well as the humidity and will hang around until April next year.
Normally this would mean that a large proportion of the population would be planning their summer holidays, but with Covid restrictions, we may not be allowed to leave our state, or only visit states that have no or few cases like us, and definitely no overseas travel.
For people who like to travel, this is a bitter pill to swallow, and especially so for all those retirees who have worked all their lives, and decided to wait until retirement to see their own country and the world at large.
To me, the adage ‘don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today’ seemed appropriate and we decided once the kids were old enough, we would travel far and wide while we could. It was a wise decision because neither of us are as agile as we used to be.
Seems we were the lucky ones.
Now we are content to see our own country which no doubt will be able to manage Covid to the extent that life might return to a form if normal sooner rather that later.
And if it doesn’t, then I have enough to amuse myself at home. I’m sure we are all familiar with the expression ‘spring cleaning’. We have decided to clean house, and do some renovating.
And it’s a surprise when cleaning out those cupboards, drawers, and boxes, the stuff you’ve accumulated over many, many years. Last I heard, we were taking about getting a large skip, so I suspect this culling is going to be savage.
But, just to be clear, no books will be thrown out!
You would think it is a relatively simple thing to get to the snow.
Of course, there are a few necessities like skis, boots, poles, and warm dry clothing, but that can all be bought or rented when you get there, or if you are an enthusiast, you already have the gear.
So, you get in the car, set the navigator, and off you go. Till you get within 20 k of the ski field, it’s all plain sailing, everyone is excited, and mentally preparing.
Then it all starts to go sideways.
Those last few kilometers to the top are going to be arduous particularly if it’s been snowing and the roads are icy, but the weather is fine with blue skies and no recent snow falls. Were expecting a slow drive and a parking spot.
The road is open.
But…
So late in the morning, a sign at the bottom of the mountain warns all the car parks at the ski field are full, but we venture on anyway.
As you can see, the cars are parked so far away from the ski fields, the prospective skiers have to almost run a marathon before they get there!
And for some odd reason, we picked the very day everyone in New Zealand also wanted to go up to the ski fields so parking, even near the Chateau Tongariro was gone and there were endless cars looking for parking spots and traffic wardens had their hands full trying to keep traffic moving So, for us and everyone else, everything stops at Chateau Tongariro, and from there the only vehicles allowed up are buses.
It’s about 10:30 and we are advised the only way we were getting to see snow was to take a bus
Now, there are two types of busses. You can go up on a local bus, from Whakapapa Village that costs $20 a person which in the context of the cost of skiing not very much, but if you’re not, it’s quite expensive.
The second, one we were advised to use, operates from a place called National Park, about 9 km away, a snow shuttle that costs $6 each. The trouble is by the time we were ready to go there, to catch a shuttle, there were no more shuttles.
We did not know what to expect when we got to ‘National Park’, but being a railway station makes sense. It’s the only place with a very large carpark!
Hotels can be one of the major letdowns of a holiday.
They can also be extensive fodder for writing material. For the main stories I write, hotel stays feature prominently, and so each experience, no matter how insignificant, is another paragraph in my book of experiences.
So…
If you are going to use a travel agent to pick a hotel for you, make sure you check as much as you can before you see them, because no matter how it is described, seeing it, in reality, is always completely different than the pictures in a brochure and sometimes on the Internet. It requires research and a good look at TripAdvisor.
Or word of mouth by someone you know and trust who have stayed there.
Take, for instance, staying in a five-star hotel, the usual stomping ground of the rich and famous. It is always interesting to see how the less privileged fare. Where hotel staff is supposed to treat each guest equally, it’s not always the case. Certainly, if you’re flashing money around, the staff will be happy to take it, though you may not necessarily get what you’re expecting.
We were once lucky enough to be in the highest hotel loyalty level and this gave us a number of privileges; at times working in our favor, but even then not always.
Privilege can sometimes count for nothing. It often depends on the humor of the front desk clerk, or the guest services manager, and woe betide you if you get the receptionist from hell.
Been there, done that, more than once.
Then there is the room.
There is such a wide variety of rooms available, even if the hotel site or brochure has representative pictures, the odds are you can still get a room that is nothing like you’re expecting or were promised.
Believe me, there are rooms with a view, overlooking pigeon coops or air-conditioning vents. And if you’re lucky, at Niagara Falls, it might be that six inches of window space that allows a very limited view of the falls.
Still, why should I complain, you can see the Falls … can you not?
A bone of contention often can be the location of the hotel and sometimes parking facilities, not the least of which is the cost of Valet parking; given the extortion some hotels charge, it’s better to just forget a car.
It is nothing like the movies, you just do not drive up to the front entrance, get out, hand the keys to the concierge, and expect everything else to happen by magic.
It doesn’t.
One time we waited for over an hour for our luggage to be delivered, and that was after three phone calls to the concierge desk.
Sometimes you can be reasonably near transport, yes, if you could walk the distance (which feels like the length of a marathon) to the nearest bus or tram stop.
The problem is we both have trouble with knees and ankles and walking distances are difficult at the best of times, and for us, it is a long, long way when you can’t walk and that’s when the hotel starts to feel like a prison. Taxis may be cheap but when you have to use them three or four times a day it all adds up.
Also, be wary when a hotel says it is close to public transport. While that may be true in London, anywhere else and especially in Europe, you could find yourself in the middle of nowhere.
It’s when you discover your travel agent didn’t exactly lie but it is why that weekly rate was so cheap. In the end, the sum of the taxi fares and the accommodation turns out to be dearer than if you stayed at the Savoy.
So, those front line experiences are fodder for the travel blogger, and people who are also known as road warriors, the true frequent flyers.
There is a very large gulf between five stars and three and sometimes three can be very generous. And of course, l now have a list of hotels l would never stay in again, the names of which might surprise you.
I thought since it is Winter here, we could do with a breath of fresh air and colour that comes with the change if season
Living in Queensland, Winter never quite seems to be as cold as it is in the southern states, which are closer to Antarctica.
We have had a relatively mild winter this year and I didn’t have to light the fire once, though we did use the reverse cycle sir conditioning.
But, from now the temperature will be rising as well as the humidity and will hang around until April next year.
Normally this would mean that a large proportion of the population would be planning their summer holidays, but with Covid restrictions, we may not be allowed to leave our state, or only visit states that have no or few cases like us, and definitely no overseas travel.
For people who like to travel, this is a bitter pill to swallow, and especially so for all those retirees who have worked all their lives, and decided to wait until retirement to see their own country and the world at large.
To me, the adage ‘don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today’ seemed appropriate and we decided once the kids were old enough, we would travel far and wide while we could. It was a wise decision because neither of us are as agile as we used to be.
Seems we were the lucky ones.
Now we are content to see our own country which no doubt will be able to manage Covid to the extent that life might return to a form if normal sooner rather that later.
And if it doesn’t, then I have enough to amuse myself at home. I’m sure we are all familiar with the expression ‘spring cleaning’. We have decided to clean house, and do some renovating.
And it’s a surprise when cleaning out those cupboards, drawers, and boxes, the stuff you’ve accumulated over many, many years. Last I heard, we were taking about getting a large skip, so I suspect this culling is going to be savage.
But, just to be clear, no books will be thrown out!
How many of us have skeletons in the closet that we know nothing about? The skeletons we know about generally stay there, but those we do not, well, they have a habit of coming out of left field when we least expect it.
In this case, when you see your photo on a TV screen with the accompanying text that says you are wanted by every law enforcement agency in Europe, you’re in a state of shock, only to be compounded by those same police, armed and menacing, kicking the door down.
I’d been thinking about this premise for a while after I discovered my mother had a boyfriend before she married my father, a boyfriend who was, by all accounts, the man who was the love of her life.
Then, in terms of coming up with an idea for a story, what if she had a child by him that we didn’t know about, which might mean I had a half brother or sister I knew nothing about. It’s not an uncommon occurrence from what I’ve been researching.
There are many ways of putting a spin on this story.
Then, in the back of my mind, I remembered a story an acquaintance at work was once telling us over morning tea, that a friend of a friend had a mother who had a twin sister and that each of the sisters had a son by the same father, without each knowing of the father’s actions, both growing up without the other having any knowledge of their half brother, only to meet by accident on the other side of the world.
It was an encounter that in the scheme of things might never have happened, and each would have remained oblivious of the other.
For one sister, the relationship was over before she discovered she was pregnant, and therefore had not told the man he was a father. It was no surprise the relationship foundered when she discovered he was also having a relationship with her sister, a discovery that caused her to cut all ties with both of them and never speak to either from that day.
It’s a story with more twists and turns than a country lane!
