Did you miss me dear reader? We have ventured into Zombieland. Well, not really, but we did drive past it leaving Rotorua this morning. It
exists. Here is the link. Coromandel may not be zombie land but it almost the
end of the earth and internet access is very patchy, to the extent that this
post was written in Word before being dropped into Blogspot. I am not even sure
when it will be uploaded – possibly not until we are ensconced in Auckland.
I have resisted the urge to make jokes about rotten egg gas
and the sulphur smell that has contributed to the legend that is Rotorua. The
reason? It hasn’t been that noticeable. It was quite pervasive on the way into
town, but we were driving past a geothermal pool and geyser. It was also very
strong at the park where we found the boiling lake and bubbling mud. Beyond
that, it’s like trying to remember something, and it just keeps to back of your
mind, just out of reach. It’s a shadow that is always with you.
That was until this morning. My scratchy, raspy throat that
I have attributed to the bushfires and terrible atmosphere in Sydney before we
left, was worse today than it’s been. I woke early and the first thing I
noticed was the sulphur smell. It was extremely pungent. The shadow had morphed
into a ring wraith and it had its hands around my throat. Whether the sulphurous
air made my throat worse, who knows? It is not something you can avoid but
today I had no tolerance for it and couldn’t get out of Rotorua quickly enough.
Yes quickly dear reader, an adverb, I know, an Australian who knows how to use
an adverb!
To avoid the demonic GPS leading me astray, I actually researched
the route to Hobbiton. Obviously, she was aware of this and so there was no
attempt to steer us from the most direct route.
On the drive to Coromandel (Coro to the locals) I saw a sign
for a “working gold mine”. I quipped that we had just left a working gold mine
at Hobbiton. I am getting ahead of myself.
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| No-one home. The Bagginses are out on adventure |
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| Bilbo's pipe and book |
I neglected to state that all tours are guided tours. There
is a car park and then you join a tour and are transported by bus to the start
of the tour. You are also returned to the same spot, where, if you have
unlimited spending power, you can waste your money in the gift shop. No really.
These guys have price gouging down to an art form. Despite having a Tolkien addicted
child, we could not justify paying what they were asking for things we could
probably buy cheaper elsewhere. Not that we looked, sorry Dave.
The video that was played on the bus ride into Hobbiton
features Sir Peter Jackson, movie director, talking about finding the perfect set
location while reconnoitring the area in a helicopter. He espied the farm
owned by the Alexander family and, after some negotiation, the earth movers
rolled in to create Hobbiton in the middle of the property. The place remains a
working farm and Hobbiton was deconstructed following Lord of the Rings.
After the Hobbit Trilogy was made, the permanent sets that had been constructed
were preserved rather than being abandoned again and Farmer Alexander and Sir Peter formed a business partnership that is now the “working goldmine”. Farmer Alexander
could quite comfortably live off this small portion of his agricultural land
holding and treat the real farm like a hobby.
And then it was back on the road to Coromandel. It is a very
long and very winding road that leads to our door. It was etched out of the rock
that is the peninsula and wound around the coast like a string. In a typically
NZ way there were sections of unrestricted speed limit, with no speed sign
corner posts – some of which needed to be taken at around 30 km p/h or less.
That was not the challenge. No. Other drivers, who should
never have been issued with a driver’s license, were the challenge. It was 54km
of snaking road that needed to be negotiated before we reached our destination.
In all seriousness I could write a separate post about the guy in the blue Corolla
that we followed for the first 20kms. OMG.
We arrived in Coro a tad early and went to spec out the
town. That took all of five minutes. It is a testament to urban geography and
ribbon development. The shops stretch the length of two blocks on the main
road. It has everything required, 3 pubs, numerous cafés, a supermarket, a
local craft market, 2 bottle shops and a number of ‘gift’ shops where the tourists can
support the local economy and buy stuff they don't need and will later wonder why they bought it.
The only sustenance I'd had so far was my glass of stout at the
conclusion of the Hobbiton tour, so we set about finding something to eat. Coro
pies (sorry, no website). Slightly off the main street, selling from a semi-industrial unit, Coro
Pies is worth discovering. There are a few picnic tables out front where you
can sit to enjoy their wares. The range of pies is a bigger number than the
local population. And very tasty they were. It was the best pie I’ve had in a
very long time.
Our accommodation in Coro is a miner’s cottage in the garden
of Quail Cottage, not far from town. It is walkable if the weather is
agreeable. It’s a quaint, rustic little place with a comfortable verandah from
which to watch the local bird population come and go. A very pleasant place to
while away the afternoon. The bathroom is separate from the cottage, only about
5 metres, but not for the feint-hearted in winter I should imagine.
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| There is no reason for this photo to be here, but here it is anyway. |
Rather than fussing about dinner, we opted for cheese,
salami, peanuts, crisps and a bottle of chardonnay on the verandah and watched
the sun move slowly across the sky. Very pleasant and very relaxing.
We were woken around 4am by a most unfamiliar sound. In
fact, I wasn’t sure what was happening. Is that rain? No, the wind is picking
up. No. It was rain. Reasonably heavy too and it continued through till around
7am. It was still misty when we headed into town for breakfast, the planned
walk postponed in favour of the car. The Weta Café is recommended (again, no web site). Great coffee
and a really interesting menu that goes beyond the usual fixation with eggs.
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| See previous caption. Afraid of heights? Me? |
Yes, my inquisitive reader, of course we staked it out to
see who was driving. All I remember from yesterday is grey hair (not that there
is anything wrong with that). We were enjoying our lunch and fending off the
sparrows. Don’t laugh, they were seriously aggressive and arrived in number. I
made several air swipes to send them away to no avail. They did finally decide
there were easier targets when I connected with one. All the while we were
watching the Corolla.
Then it happened. They arrived. I had been speculating about
which grey haired man would get behind the wheel. I was wrong. She had grey
hair and he a bad dye job. They got into the car and wasted 5 minutes playing
with the GPS. Glasses on, glasses off, Karate Kid style, check notes. Adjust.
Discuss. Repeat. I am amazed they made it to Coro. Then, blinker on she
carefully moved the car onto the road and then stopped to do a U-turn. OMFG. I
will have nightmares forever.
The weather continued to be capricious, so we made the most
of the afternoon and alternated our time from inside the bach to the verandah
and enjoyed some of New Zealand’s finest grape products.
You've made it to the end of a marathon post my persistent reader. Well done. The title? Well, a classic number form Split Enz to reflect the fact that Coromandel may well be for locals, but the time and effort required when you are touring was not, in my opinion, commensurate with the reward. My choice, my mistake.
Tomorrow is Auckland. City life. A strong internet
connection and a change of scenery.
Until then.
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