En route north we stopped for two nights in Whangarei, Northland's biggest town - not that that's saying a lot really. It's pretty small. We were planning to eat at the smorgasbord restaurant opposite the hostel, having been reassured by our landlady that this worthy establishment stayed open late (we'd arrived at about 8.30pm). Of course in true Kiwi small-town style it was not open late, and was closing as we arrived. So we jumped in the car and hurried into town before all the restaurants in Whangarei shut, and found the Thai place also recommended by our landlady. Luckily it was still open, and they let us in, and we had a rushed but excellent meal in about 30 minutes. By the end they were closing blinds and tidying up around us but, well-fed, we didn't really mind!
After an "admin day" (translation: we didn't do very much) the next day we headed up the coast a short distance to go diving off the Poor Knights Islands. R&E had kindly decided originally that they would snorkel with me, as I can't scuba. However we found out that scuba-ing was barely more expensive, and anyway the snorkellers go on the same boat, so they went for the scuba dive and I happily snorkelled. Jacques Cousteau called the Poor Knights his favourite dive spot in the world, and the clear waters are packed with fish of all kinds. In particular the islands are known for their stingray - three weeks before our dive, a huge group of stingray had gathered and were promptly attacked by a pod of orca that steamed through for the ultimate all-you-can-eat feast.
We weren't quite so lucky as to see a sight like that, but the snorkelling was good. There were lots of colourful little fish and some less colourful big ones, all swimming around the volcanic formations underwater. On both dives I saw a stingray, which had me spluttering in excitement and made me swallow water! They are really majestic fish, whether they're lying still on the sandy bottom or gliding through the water. R&E saw one swimming close up and were thrilled - otherwise they were mildly pleased with the day rather than elated, being jaded veterans of the Milford Sound.
We had enough time in the evening after the diving to continue on our journey north. We'd chosen a hostel from our BBH Guide that sounded pretty good - Kahoe Farms Hostel, in Doubtless Bay.
Kahoe turned out to be really lovely, by far the nicest hostel I've stayed in so far. We had a warm welcome and were shown to beautiful sunny rooms - simple, but clean and positively luxurious compared to some hostels we've been to! There was a deck in the garden looking out over green hills with cows grazing in a pastoral sort of way. The owner Stefano, an Italian immigrant who is football-crazy, made us pizza and pasta which we devoured while sitting outside. It was pretty perfect.
The next day was less perfect. We had booked seats on a tour to Cape Reinga and Ninety-Mile Beach, the traditional combination for tourists to the Far North. Our bus was a rickety 4x4 affair and our guide/driver tried his hardest to give interesting snippets but did manage to repeat himself a lot and offer a lot of half-information. By the time we reached the cape R was hopping mad with frustration and informed us that "this is the worst thing we've done in NZ". E basically agreed but between us we managed to calm him down a little, enough for a photo at the lighthouse.
Box ticked.
Back on the bus we drove to a nearby beach for lunch amid the hordes - every bus tour, and there are lots, follows the same agenda. After that it was over to the beach, first for sandboarding on the dunes. The dunes are incredible. They're very high, and are beautiful golden sand which is perfect for sandboarding. You walk to the top of a slope (this is hard work and several of the people on our bus found it very hard work) and then you lie on your board and slide to the bottom. It was totally exhilarating; though predictably R&E found it less exciting than I did, being the hardened NZ tourists they are.
However I think we all agreed that sandboarding was the highlight of the day.
Afterwards came a long drive down Ninety-Mile Beach. Of course the beach isn't actually this long, being more like 90km, but why change a good name? The drive was made longer by several stops and a completely inexplicable detour through some sandy bits, which I think was mainly designed to show off the 4x4-ness of the bus.
Needless to say we were very glad to get to the hostel that evening, where we mostly collapsed and washed sand out of our hair.
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