Camping, Day 2: Hyperactive

About camping: as soon as the sun rises, you're slowly roasted awake. Or maybe that's just our tent. Anyway, come 7.30am I was battling for air, and decided to emerge into the dewy morn. The inflatable mattress had bestowed an unexpected pleasure by retaining its air through the night, and so as I boinged out into the open I felt strangely refreshed.

As part of the no-plan plan, Cowboy had grudgingly agreed that we at least ought to try and plan accommodation one night in advance, so it was necessary to proceed into town to the i-site and try to book a Department of Conservation campsite.

Camping is full of new experiences. One of those experiences is being awake, packed back into the car, fully breakfasted and showered, and outside the information office long before it opens. Fortunately there was a coffee dispensary in the area, and thusly energised, we returned to find that stupidly, it is not possible to book a Department of Conservation campsite through the information office. Even more stupidly, the Department of Conservation isn't open on weekends so it's not possible to book directly with them either.

Never solve a problem now that can be put off until later. After all, there weren't any concerns about having to camp on the roadside, are there? So, we went on a walk in the bush around the bottom half of the mountain.

I felt a certain sense of doom during the drive. The mountain grows ever-larger in the windscreen as you drive towards it, and the weather becomes more moody.

At the start of the track, mother nature let her feelings towards humanity be known:


I think we should have taken this as an omen. But we saw this walk as training, so we ventured deep into the dense bush. The track leads to Dawson's Falls. Who knows, maybe somewhere downstream there's a Dawson's Creek.

It was not an easy walk, because much of it consisted of enormous steps which are like going up hill and down dale writ large. At least we'll be fit for our upcoming actual mountain hike, about which more later.

Eventually, after fighting off various hobbits who helpfully tried to feed us second morning tea, we made it to the waterfall. The falls were so sadly disappointing that all we could do was sit down and eat lunch. Apparently, they weren't worth a photo.

However, this was:


A cave weta, usually resident in dank and dreary caves. This one is in blazing hot sun, gauging the temperature of the river. If it had looked more receptive to a rescue mission, I might have attempted it. But those things can give a nasty nip, and I am no fool when it comes to not interfering with wildlife. It has a leg-span of around five inches. Believe it.

By 1.30pm we were done walking, and ready to embark on the Forgotten World Highway, which is a road that runs from Taranaki through to the centre of the North Island. The name alone conjures up images of ghost towns and misty glens, populated by ancient peoples who've never seen Oprah and certainly don't know that the Olsen Twins are three people.

I am sorry to report that it's really quite dull. It's picturesque, in the manner of everything in New Zealand, but there are no prehistoric temples or long-extinct creatures. There is, however, a small republic known as Whangamomona.

This is the hotel/cafe. We stopped for a cup of tea and admired the silence. The town is in the middle of the Forgotten World, and has taken on something of a downtrodden appearance which I believe adds to its charm.

In 1989, the relevant authority shifted the district boundary, plunging Whangamomona into the Manawatu-Wanganui region, rather than the revered and preferred Taranaki region. Presumably, pronunciation difficulties abounded, and the locals determined that if nobody was going to listen to their plight, they'd action the constitutional equivalent of throwing a tantrum, and declare themselves the Republic of Whangamomona.

There have been four Presidents:

Ian Kjestrup (1989-1999)After being put on the ballot without his knowledge, he became the first elected President.

Billy Gumboot the Goat (1999-2001) First elected animal. He won election by eating the other challengers ballots. He died in office after serving for 18 months.

Tai the Poodle (2003-2004) Tai retired after an assassination attempt left him a nervous wreck.

Murt "Murtle the Turtle" Kennard (2005-present)T he local garage owner fought off strong competition from former president Kjestrup and a cross-dresser called "Miriam" to become the 4th President.

Status as a Republic is celebrated on a bi-annual basis:

We would have liked to stick around, but sadly reality got in the way. We decided to go and see the longest-drop waterfall in the North Island, Mount Damper Falls.

We turned off the main road to a gravel track, the length of which the map wildly misrepresented - it appeared to be no more than a few minutes' drive. Half an hour later, we were cursing map-creators everywhere, and loudly declaring that this had better be the single best waterfall experience in the Southern Hemisphere. Fifty minutes later, after we'd been walking through farmland for 10 minutes in search of the damn thing, we were rewarded.

It is pretty cool. Just probably not cool enough to warrant a visit when the sun is setting over the yardarm and you've yet to figure out a place to rest your weary head. Back on the main road we decided we'd go to the Department of Conservation Campsite a further 45 minutes on, to check out the lie of the land.

The sign at the site informed us that having not booked a space, or obtained something called a Hut Ticket in advance, meant that we would be levied a $60 penalty should the warden catch us camping. Normally, camping without a booking or having paid, in a pinch, wouldn't have bothered us, and we could just have made a donation equivalent to the tickets later on, but:

1. It is peak camping season in New Zealand, and over the Christmas break I imagine that the wardens actually do check.

2. This is not just any campsite, but a "great walk" campsite, particularly revered.

3. I have been conditioned by years of watching parking wardens in London swoop from the rafters of nearby buildings to levy a fine which makes your eyes water.

4. I am not prepared to pay $60 to use a field and a compost toilet when there is a perfectly good campsite further up the road for a fraction of the price.

We proceed to Taumaranui, where there is a holiday park, and camp next to a four-lane road between a family of four thousand kids and an overly talkative aged couple. It has been a long day, and we're conked out by 9pm again.