Although we have laid down some temporary roots in our little Auckland cottage, rest assured our stone has gathered no moss. Five seconds after unpacking, Britt sat down with her mountain of travel books (and any brochure that Ciel hadn’t chewed through yet), and compiled an Auckland Region Must See List covering everything from volcanic island hikes and idyllic beach strolls to Sunday markets and playdays in the park.
We’ve since dedicated our days to systematically completing every task on said list.
Our daily agenda is pretty consistent. We’re up at the crack of dawn,
Ensuring time for a hearty breakfast.
Then we hop on the ferry and head downtown,
Where we can walk/ferry/rental car ourselves to our objective of the day.
It doesn’t seem to matter where we end up; almost every destination seems to involve an epic underwear-drenching, mountainous tramp, up, over, and around rugged terrain;
Whether it’s trekking up Rangitoto volcano and through its lava caves,
Cruising the quaint streets of Devonport and the tunnels of the now defunct North Head and Mt Victoria Naval Posts,
Exploring the West Coast and untamed Karekare and Piha beaches,
Or attempting a leisurely stroll through the park in our neighbourhood.
All epic.
Britt has since revised her opinion on what constitutes “hardcore” when it comes to tramping. Hiking boots, khaki shorts, walking poles, water-filled camel packs, protein bars and GPS devices are for wimps. Try tackling the rugged New Zealand terrain in six-dollar plastic Thai flipflops, a nursing bra and denim short shorts, a 20 kilo stroller, your Baby Bjorn, a few cardboard-flavoured teething rusks, and a half-chewed, disintegrating trail map…now THAT’S hardcore!
We have managed to balance out our trekking with some more leisurely activities.
We met up with Britt’s uncle’s sisters (Val and Glenys), for lunch last week.
Then, on the weekend we rented a car, and after a stroll through the historic Bohemian town of Puhoi,
We headed to the “Waiwera Infinity Thermal Spa Resort” in anticipation of a relaxing afternoon soak.
Turns out the place is less “tranquil spa” and more “wild water kingdom”, complete with waterslides, waterfalls, running/screaming children, oh yeah, aaaaand an Elvis impersonator…
Ciel loved it, and quickly got to work making friends with (i.e. trying to gouge the eyes out of) anybody within arm’s reach.
We were there most of the day, and probably would’ve stayed longer, but we were forced to make a hasty retreat when somebody (I’m not gonna say who) pooped in the pool…(again).
We also found time for a stop into the Hallertau Brewpub to sample their wares along with some local live music.
All the excitement mandates frequent stops for Ciel to recharge.
By late afternoon, the shakes start to set in, signaling that it’s time to head home for happy hour and a splash in the clamshell.
Before wrapping up with a tasty steak dinner.
Next thing you know another day has drawn to a close.
Not to worry, we can do it all over again tomorrow...
