Having put our time in in the garden yesterday, we decided that today would be a lazy day, and the morning was spent relaxing over coffee and the Herald on Sunday. But as I looked out of the window and gazed up at the blue sky, I started to get restless, and Debbie found herself agreeing with me, so we packed the three of us into the car and drove a couple of miles down the road to Pohuehue.
Pohuehue is, essentially, a wide place in the road and little more — there’s a scenic reserve, with a lay-by at the side of the road, where a family of wild chooks live and, recently, a mobile coffee counter has taken to parking up and selling, well, coffee; these latter characteristics have given Pohuehue its alternative name, the Coffee and Chicken Place (which, in all likelihood, is what Pohuehue means in Maori).
We parked between the chicken and the coffee, and headed off down the footpath. It was…well, let the photos speak for themselves.
All this, just moments from State Highway 1. The forest looks positively primordial — a stunning wilderness, and yet there’s a trail leading through it, a pathway that’s been carved from stone and shored up with planks and, in places, rubber webbing.
New Zealand never ceases to amaze. They know, here, what they have, and they seem to treasure it. It’s a Good Thing.