DEAL. Kent Coast. England

            Deal, is a pretty seaside town, in Southern England. Eight miles from Ramsgate in the South, and eight miles from Dover in the North East. A mere twenty fives miles to France, across the English Channel. Situated not far from the Goodwin sands, which offer both a danger to shipping, and a safe barrier for Deal. It was always one of the busiest ports, although it has no harbour. At one time, it was said, that hundreds of ships could be seen from the shingle beach.

             As as small fishing village, so close to France, it long held the reputation of being a smugglers haven. As did many of the seaside towns along this coast. So much so, that in 1784, William Pitt, the younger, then Lord warden of Walmer, close by, sent in the troops. Positioning a navel cutter off the beach to stop any boats escaping, he ordered all boats smashed, and burnt. As well  as smuggling, later on, the boatmen, as members of the Chinqu Ports, had rights under charter, to import goods for services to the realm. Defending the coast, and rescuing shipwreck survivors, which they did bravely.

            Today, there are a still good number of public houses along the sea front, far more than one on corner, as was once attested. Many are also small hotels, or Bed & Breakfast places today. As befits a seaside, holiday town on the South coast, all offering a selection of good food, with some excellent fish dishes amongst the smartest of them, The Dunkerley being one of the prettiest. All are of some historical significance, none of them being modern, this fishing village, mentioned in the Doomsday book. With many other mentions through history. Many of them uncomplimentary, as recently as 1823 a writer of guide books described it as 'a villainous place, full of filthy looking people' It's no wonder England is an interesting place to visit, is it? So brim full of history. For those visitors from new countries, like America, and Australia, it is walking into history, so much of it remains. Why, I was born here, and I love it's history.

                           The small parlour of one such small hotel/public house. 

                                          Opposite the site of the pier.

   

       The pier, 311m long,  is centrally located, along the main sea front of the town. This is the third pier in its history since the first in 1838.  It is long, said to be as long as the Titanic, in fact, the ship was marginally shorter, but not by much. It boasts a restaurant at the end, although better known as a favourite place for local fishmen. Being well known for fishing competitions. If you are not a fisherman, you could sit on one of the many sheltered benches along its length. 

    

                                         The current pier, built in 1957

         This is quite an artistic town, with a good community of artists. I have spent some happy afternoons there when they are  holding their annual open studios. As do a few other coastal towns of the area, but theirs was the friendliest. I think the shops reflect this too, with more than a few shops, with both artists materials, and retro painted furniture, gift shops, and some recycled  fashion outlets. I find it a lovely little place to spend a day. What makes it nicer, is the growing assortment of cafes, and eating places around. This last weekend I discovered another new one, well new to me. In the high street, open on a Sunday, with some fine home cooked fancies. It is called the 'Pop Up Cafe,' only small, and simply furnished, but with classy touches I appreciated. A little timer to ensure the tea is brewed right, home made cakes, and two very pleasant people in charge. I suggest both you, and I return often, to see what they have new on the menu. See them on Facebook.

             The castle located almost on the beach there is very unusual. One of the original coastal defences, built by Henry V111, is an amazing place to visit.  Built in the rose pattern, which is six sprawling curved petals, enclosing six smaller petals, enclosing a circular centre, each one higher than the last. It needs to be seen from the air to appreciate its charm, and beauty. Although until recent years, the Queen Mother, I was told, used it regularly as her holiday destination by the coast. Someone, on reading this, says, ' no, it was to Walmer Castle she went' this a only a very short distance away. It is possible to tour the Deal castle most weekends, being open more days in the summer months.

          A barracks was located in nearby Walmer, with the troops familiar in the town. Called the Deal barracks, it was the Royal Marine school of Music. As was a Naval shipyards, which helped the town prosper. The site of the Timeball Tower, a museum today. The Royal Marines were active throughout the last war. Although in 1989 the IRA bombed the barracks, killing 11, and wounding twice that number.

          The town is old, as you would expect of such a varied history. Although today, with large mansion blocks of the Victorian, and Georgian era built along the seafront,  it has a grander appearance than a mere fishing village. The flotilla of small boats are still drawn up on the beach, keeping that fishing flavour to the place. With its small narrow, and crowded streets, from earlier centuries, it is a charming place to visit. With plenty more still to discover.

          

              

                                    The flotilla of boats is still found along the beach

                 DEAL, is varied, and interesting, with far more going on than I can mention here today. I heartily recommend a visit. It's a place, I almost bought a place to live a few years ago! I often think of repeating the excercise. It has a more gentile reputation than many other towns along this coast. Well deserved I think, with a fine stock of houses, from all eras.

                Post script to this blog.

                When first published, the people of Deal replied in great numbers to me. Certainly not seen in reply to any other town I have written about. It says to me, that there are many people there who not only enjoy being part of the town, but are also dedicated to its well being, and it's future.

                 I thank you all, it gave me a real buzz.

      

Sandwich...Medieval town. Kent

           Sandwich, is a lovely example of a true Medieval town. Situated north of Ramsgate, on the main road to Dover, it lies beyond a piece of low wetland, the East Kent marshes, not far from the sea. Once the town was on the sea, until a serious storm of 1287 silted up the channels. As it did with the river Wantsum, when it reunited the isle of Thanet with the mainland of Kent. The Port of Sandwich is now two miles from the sea, beside the river Stour, still with a small, but busy marina. It is one of the Cinque Ports, of Dover, Hythe, Romney, and Hastings. The present port, inland as it now is, is dated around 1760.

                             Present day port of Sandwich, on the river Stour

         

          The name of Sandwich probably came from the Saxon, meaning sandy place, or trading place on the sand. First mentioned in 664AD. It was probably founded before that in early Roman times. Sandwich being the place well known for famous landings over the millennia. The roman general Claudius was one such. Just up the road, is the famous Richborough Roman Fort. Many sailings went from there to the New world of America. The most famous being 'The Hercules', taking sixteen brave souls across the sea, where they settled. There are towns named after the original in Massachusetts, Illunois, and Ontario, Canada.

           The town was a major trading port, during the 11th, through to the 13th Century. As such, was attacked by the French many times. Despite many heavy losses, the French were repulsed  time, after time. Today, as it's still a market town, whilst the French no longer attack, but trade. There are annual French markets, and it's twinned with its major protagonist Hornfuer, in France. It being the biggest, and last  of the attacks on this busy port. It needed its gates, and it's walls, for its own security. The gate still there, is a good example of the sophistication achieved in defences of its people.

            The town is scattered with evidence of its long, and vital history. A fine 13/14 Century church,  St. Peters, sits in the centre of town. Whilst the Tudor hotel, The Bell is situated towards the harbour. Across  from there is the wonderful Barbican gate, of 1536, which is still part of the exit to the town. Beyond the gate, and over the river, is the old toll bridge, still in use today.

                                        The historic Barbican gate

            On the town side of this gate, are many fine houses, dating from the settling of the Flemmings here in the 1560's. These Flemish weavers made themselves an important part of the town, living in streets adjoining the harbour. Convenient for the shipping of their goods. The red bricks, used to build many houses from that period, were bought back in the  empty ships as ballast, from the continent. So that full ships could be taken out again. The town being conveniently placed for reaching the Continent.

                      The street of the original Flemish weavers, all houses are in use still.

          This smallish town, is surrounded by three, or four, lovely villages. All worth the time to explore. Today, the town has a pretty park, next to a historic, three and a half acres of cultivated gardens. The Salutarion Gardens, the finest example around. It boasts a tea room, and Bed, and. Breakfast, in huge main 1911/12 Manor house, and several cottages. There many public houses around the town, as all ports are renowned for, each offering something different, and simple in the culinary line. Of these, most are at least a couple of hundred years old. There are shops of every description, fitted in the most interesting, and historic buildings. A fine town hall, sits next to the market place, with a small cinema, and a railway station nearby.

           The town holds a few good fairs during the Summer months, when stalls, and side shows throng the streets. Each one is well organised, and interesting. As with many medieval towns, the width of the streets presents a problem for modern traffic. However, as it's mostly one way, and only 20 miles an hour, there is still room to walk around the town, and explore. There is much to see. I have been there many times, and don't believe I have discovered more than half of it yet.

           Do visit sandwich, it is quite unique. It is still possible to take a boat trip from there, out to sea, and go seal spotting for the afternoon. On your return, you can have some of the finest fish, and chips in the area, on the Quay side, next to The Bell. Or, in the Bell itself, you can dine well, in pleasant surroundings, sometimes by an open fire. Very welcome in the winter months I can assure you.

           Sandwich, awaits you, comes see some true, living history. As you can do in few other places.

www.visitsandwich.co.uk/ 

www.sandwich.stulight.co.uk/ 

www.secretgardenofsandwich.co.uk/

Canterbury, Kent. England

         Canterbury, sitting on the River Stour, is a mere 55 miles South from London. It is firstly, a World Heritage site, and a university town. This fact, especially in term time, is the most noticeable, swelled as it is by some 17,000 people. Even though this number is spread about a little in both Broadstairs, and Gillingham, two towns within twenty miles. Some 41% of that number are part time too, although it's still a bustling population. The whole place throngs with young, and vibrant people. I just love the energy of all those young people, just starting out on their life.  The town has a buzz, and an energy around its narrow streets, its crowded buildings. 

         This ancient town, is especially interesting at the times of the years when the students are awarded their degrees. Which, they receive within the famous Canterbury Cathedral, located in the very centre of it's partly cobbled streets. The cathedral where in 1170, Thomas Becket met his untimely end. After which, it became a place of Pilgrimage. Giving rise to the famous 14 Century, Canterbury Tales, written by Geoffrey Chaucer. It is one of the oldest of all Christian structures, dated from 597 when it converted to Christianity. In the U.K. a town only becomes a city, when it has a Cathedral. This church, is a particularly large, and beautiful one, as are the buildings around it. If visiting the city, allow time to fully explore every side of the grand building.

      

   At that time of graduations, the students stroll the streets with their families, wearing their traditional loose gowns, and mortars. Each subject, or discipline a different colour flash around the cowl of the gown. Sometimes, I sit for hours watching the casual procession passing. An easy enough thing to do in the centre of town. A place where, the mainly pedestrian streets, are scattered with small pavement cafes, where you can sit, snack, and drink coffee to your hearts content. As the many students, of assorted ages, and their proud families wander the town, having lunch, or merely being seen, and seeing. On their way to, or from, the ceremonies within the Cathedral.

         Of course, you cannot fail to notice the town itself. A mixture of mainly medieval, and Tudor buildings. The centre surrounded by the remains of the city wall. A wall where you can walk around the top, well above the town. The area of city is some 130 acres.

The wall, when complete, held seven gates, some, like the one above, still survive. If you are a lover of either History, or architecture you will love Canterbury. 

           The town is a tourist hotspot of course, with above 114 hotels. There are so many things to see, and do, a theatre, tours, and river trips, old pubs, and a wealth of restaurants. With regular fruit, and gift markets held in the town centre, complimenting the range is shops available. The town is surrounded by rolling farmland, and country lanes. The whole of a Kent being called the Garden of England, because of its rich soil, and abundant fruit orchards, and hop fields. Many old Oast houses, with their distinctive pointed cowl, remain scattered around the countryside. Places, where once the hops, were dried before being made into beer.

          Canterbury, is the icing on the cake, a city so rich in history, it cannot fail to interest. 

          www.tripadvisor.co.uk.....Canterbury 

          www.canterbury.co.uk/thedms.aspx? 

          #(canterburyccuni) twitter

          #wonderful maps of Canterbury. 

The Isle of Thanet, Kent, England.

         The very furthest point of the Kent coast, lying on the southwest corner is Margate. This quintessential seaside town, is the largest of three towns that makes up The Isle of Thanet. The other two, are Ramsgate, and Broadstairs. They are all coastal towns, each one quite different in character, from the other. However, all three are blessed with wonderful sandy beaches, and are good holiday destinations. I say blessed, because much of the beaches  along the south coast, including towns like Brighton, are shingle. 

          All beaches along the southerns stretch, are backed by the well known white chalk cliffs, a continuation of Dover. It is possible, at low tide, to walk from Ramsgate to Broadstairs, along the wide beach, following the cliffs eastward in the general direction of Margate. It is a brisk walk of perhaps forty five minutes. On leaving Broadstairs again, you could walk part of the way to Margate, at least to Joss Bay. The rest of that coastline is too rocky, and uncertain. The stretches between exits from below the cliffs, too long to hazard. You could walk the cliff path instead for this portion, as its truly wonderful, meandering along a stunning cliff top, by a broad expanse of the English Channel. These same paths follow the cliff top from Broadstairs, to Ramsgate too. 

                                   The isle was once a very real island

            These three towns, making up the Isle ofThanet. Was once a small island, cut off from the mainland of Kent by a wide sweep of the sea. Over the last one hundred years, sand has clogged the waterway, until it is no more than a narrow stream. Named the River Wantsum. The main road crosses it still, on the way onto Thanet, although all you can see is the sign stating the name of the river. Being isolated for so long before this, resulted in the population having their own quirky character. The locals call the place, 'The Planet of Thanet'. Of course, the population is more fluid today, with Europeans coming in, and always people like myself, discovering the area. Make of the name what you will, it's still worth a visit, with each town so accessible to the other.

                                           The off shore wind farm, margate

             There is an offshore wind farm near margate, built over the last couple of years. It is the third largest, off shore wind  farm in the world. Local opinion is divided on its efficiency. Publicity asserting the case both for, and against the site, abounds. Some locals going so far as to assert the farm creates a windy environment for the whole area. Although, as an inhabitant of the area, I must say I have noticed no drastic changes in regard to the wind. Any coast in England has it's fair share of windy conditions, being on an island as we are. Someone said to me yesterday, it being now December and the midst of winter, that 'the wind does not so much go around you, as through you.' Well, that's coastal living for you. Although this last summer, it was like the Riviera here, hot, and sunny for month, after month.

            Margate is, or was the playground of Thanet. In the sixties, and seventies it had a booming holiday industry. With its own grand fairground, a sort of Cony island of the south. Then in the eighties, it hit a decline, from which it has never recovered. Only now, is there concrete plans to rebuild, and reopen the complex. Even without this, it is still a place worth a visit. It has a great curve of beach, where donkeys still offer rides to children in the summer, and shell fish stalls, and cafes sell snacks, and food. It has a nice little harbour arm, retaining the charm of the Victorian era. To walk around its crowded streets, is to catch a glimpse of earlier times, with little squares, and old shops. In the past few years, the very modern Turner gallery, has been built. Celebrating the life, and works of the great painter Turner. Who lived, and worked for long periods in the area.

                                                         MARGATE BEACH

       Broadstairs, is a far more genteel place, with its own pretty bay, and sandy beach. Enclosed by a nice little breakwater, and small harbour. A mooring place for many small fishing boats,and dingies. The housing stock is grander overall, and with a grand hotel,The Albion. One of the many places around the town that Charles dickens wrote his famous books. A small castle sits on the small hill top overlooking the sea. The original Bleak house of the book of the same name, another favoured lodging house of his. His study, can still be visited, after you have taken tea in the garden below. It is run as small hotel, one of many in the town. Yet if you see it there in the winter, when the mist, and fog swirls around its un-sheltered walls, you can see how it got its name, of Bleak House, for bleak it is. You will find many mentions, and names from Dickins books around the town.

                             BROADSAIRS BEACH, WITH BLEAK HOUSE AT THE REAR.

              With ramsgate, the beach is just as good as the others, with a couple of beach cafes, and a few rides for children. Once, there was a railway track, and station which ran down to the beach. Relocated a few decades back, it illustrates how popular was this beach in Victorian times. Above, on the cliff top was a grand, spa hotel where every type of water treatment was available. Today, the grand building is converted into flats. Accross from there is a small theatre, cinema complex. Apart from that, there are a couple of small hotels, and a whole raft of bed and breakfast houses. The small town has all amenities, with a newly built public swimming pool, and gym. What's special about Ramsgate, is it's large harbour. Until last year, it was a ferry terminal, running to Europe, and I think, is likely to be so again in the future. Besides this, is the Royal Yacht Harbour. By the side of this busy harbour, are a string of more upmarket cafes, and restaurants. A very pleasant place to sit in either summer, or winter when they are warm, and cosy. The whole centre of the town has a Victorian feel, with many interesting buildings. These networked with the old alley walk ways common to many parts of London. To the west of the town, towards the main roads to London lies Pegwell. Once a village, it is now a place where the local annual fairs are held on its grass headland, near the old Priory. That area holds a couple of large blocks of apartments, and is a pleasant place to walk, with wide esplanades. A nice hotel, with interesting clock tower, and two pubs with good food, sit furtheralong  the cliff top, in Pegwell proper.(not officially part of the original Thanet?)

                                   Ramsgate esplanade and main beach

            Continuing on, into the distance brings you into the harbour, past the old casino. Along by the marina you will discover a whole range of cafes, most with outside, and inside eating areas. Between the two places, is a building site, where one day?, so they say will stand a modern complex of apartments, and shops right next to the beach. How that will cope with rising seas in the coming years,  I do not know. Except the plans are very upmarket, and desirable. Becasue of the recession, the whole project has been delayed many times. I think fair to say, beset by problems of all kinds.

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                ON THE SEAFRONT, OLD HOUSES BUILT INTO THE CHALK CLIFFS, 

        In Ramsgate. Above this, on the clifftop, you will find the Granville Theatre, a working theatre, and cinema still. Overall, Thanet is worth a look, being diverse, one town from the other. All having their own unique character. Once, it's locals were unique too, being an island, the  people tend to be different. Not so much now I think, after the last decade or so, the influx of london evacuees, and latterly Eastern Europeans flooding in, have inundated Ramsgate the worst.

          Despite this, ramsgate is overall, slowly dragging itself upward, and onward. Good luck to it I say. Why is it that politicians can never see that swamping any area with with too many outsiders puts eveyone under extreme pressure. Be it local, national, or international, an influx in great numbers is impossible to absorb. Especially if they are mainly unemployed, or unemployable. I know you won't see me wandering about in town at night times. It's not the kind of atmospher I enjoy, I prefer a more relaxed and friendly atmosphere altogether. Sorry Ramsgate.

      

The UK. THE WHITE CLIFFS OF DOVER

        The White Cliffs of Dover are quite famous, symbolising the fist approach to Great Britian. From films, songs from the war, and being so amazingly visible as you approach this small, overcrowded land, it is hardly surprising. They are actually chalk cliffs, which stretch for mile, after mile, around the curve of the south coast of England. For those of you who don't know, and I am always staggered about how often I see mistakes on TV, or in films on this. England, is only part of Great Britain, or the United Kingdom (UK). The whole, consisting of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales. To be precise, only Northern Ireland, not Southern Ireland are part of the the UK. The south being under independent rule. The historic reasons, being political, and mainly religious at the core. I must admit, Ireland's history is complicated, of long standing feuds, anger, and the fight for freedom from English rule.

        I realise, as I begin talking about Ireland, that this is a whole full, and vital story for another time. A fascinating, and bloody tale, of which my own ancestors must have been involved. My beloved grandmother, came from a  red headed Irish family. Her father, being nothing less than a little fiery headed leprechaun, come to life. She herself, had the most magnificent, wavy dark red, chestnut, hair. Their family name was Keilly, as you might suppose. I myself, like to think that some of my more artistic gifts come from those same Irish ancestors. They being renowned for their story telling abilities, as well as musical talent. That aspect inherited by my brother.

           For now though, back to the White Cliffs. They must always have been a formidable sight, as well as a barrier to invaders. To Hitler, in the last war, they became the symbol of defiance. The British are rather good at defiance. Not always a clever response, but they can be a belligerent race, and very determined. Illustrated, by how they spread so far around the globe. Good, then, at sticking two fingers up to the world. The sign showing the backs of the fingers, not the front, as in Winston Churchill's famous V for Victory sign.

           The story of the two fingered salute, ( showing the backs of fingers to the world) is an interesting one, and not unrelated to the cliffs. It comes from the past, when the bowmen of England were renowned for their skill, with long bow, and arrow. Before the days of guns, and bombs, when war had something of chivalry in it still. Although, no less bloody. The best of the English bowmen, the foot soldiers of whichever King held the throne, came, traditionally from Kent. The Kent Coast stretching down to the cliffs, and for a good stretch along towards the East of the land, past Dover. This county reaches right from the cliffs, up to london via the east coast. 

         When these bowmen held sway, then it was the law that every man must practice on the village green, every week. The yew bows, were not small, they were as tall as the men themselves, needing considerable power, and skill to pull, and shoot. Throughout those generations, it was common for the enemy, who feared, and resented these accurate, successful battalions, to take prisoners. When they did, the two fingers the bowman needed the most, the first, and second fingers of the right hand were removed. These are the fingers that hold the arrow steady on the string, for aiming, if you like. The hordes of bowmen, as they advanced, would, in defiance, hold up these two fingers, as they held them on the bow. It was an aggressive gesture, pretty much as used today, a 'f... you' kind  of response. See, we still have these two fingers, nothing will stop us dropping you where you stand. A formidable force, taking the opportunity to show nothing stops them. 

         Much as the message, the sight of the white cliffs would have delivered. Especially if, as a foreigner, you did not know the coves, and beaches where you could gain access to the land. Those chalk cliffs, are not as solid as they appear, being honeycombed with passages. Some naturally made by the ingress of water, filtering down, and along. Some either partially, or totally dug out deeper, and wider to provide easier access to men. It is still possible to see cave openings in many of the cliff sides. In the last war, whole communities lived, and worked in networks of these tunnels around Dover. Hiding, and holding troops, and vital communications to the war effort. As well as being used for protection during bombing raids. You can still visit, and walk through many of these today, some accessed from Dover Castle, high on the hill overlooking the harbour. Which today, is a bustling ferry port, running regular trips for vehicles, and passengers to the continent.

          Long before this, by some hundreds of years, were the smugglers. These enterprising sailors, both stored, and  ferried illegal goods through hidden tunnels, from beach to cliff top. The entrances hidden behind bushes, or rocks. All in an effort to avoid the customs men, and the taxes. Their spoils being mostly, alcohol, and tobacco from across the channel. Today, many of these tunnels still run under the towns, and villages. Easy to dig out, they have been traditionally used for storage, and cellars under many houses. One famous resident of Ramsgate, even lived in one, becoming a recluse, under a house which was actually, quite grand.

            With that, you see there is more than meets the eye when it comes to the White Cliffs of Dover. Both famous, and adaptable. Who knows what might be their use in the future.

           

Warkworth south of wellesford, north of Orewa NEW ZEALAND

         Warkworth is a proper country town. It is situated on a good sized river. One that ends in a wide, and beautiful weir. This flows down from under the main bridge in the middle of the town. Leaving behind a small stream that meanders through quite town, and countryside. The water, after falling down the several rocky, and stepped levels of the weir, flows into a wide, sweeping, and curving Mahurangi river. One that takes you, eventually out to the Mahurangi harbour, and then to sea, several miles distant. The wide river is over hung by a thick fringe of trees, and foliage, making the edges sometimes dark, rather more than shady. 

        The centre of the river, rushes, and swirls, busy with sunlight, and birds after insects, movement urged by the pull of the distant tide. The river, at high tide, is deep enough to get a fair sized sail boat up to the sturdy, quite new, dock. This being only perhaps fifty yards from where it becomes impassable, as it meets the weir upriver. Downstream, the river, meanders through the countryside around Warkworth. Cutting through past a distant Snells Beach, and to the harbour.

                                    Typical rolling hills found North of  Warkworth

        The town is set pretty much in the flat. Although there is a good rise from the centre of the town, to the road out, heading south, past the two petrol stations  supporting it. There are a couple of supermarkets of good size, a dozen cafes of various sorts, and a collection of pubs, with a thriving RSA (returned service men's club) You can find a few dress, and gift shops, a fancy underwear shop, showing hidden depths to farming Warkworth perhaps.....and a hardware store, library, church hall, furniture shops, and a couple of charity stores. The thing you always remember the most though, is the number of chemists. There must be three, all large, and seemingly thriving, almost next door to each other. I have never really understood why, and how they all survive. Perhaps the farmers, like to dose themselves, rather than sit, and wait for the doctors.

           It's the kind of place you might head for a snack, or to feed the ducks, the wide expanse of water, with plenty of seats beside the dock. Regularly, perhaps small boats moored, all a pretty nature break  from the busy shops nearby. It's pleasant sitting beside  the river. Giving a strong  flavour of early settlers, coming upriver to the town. Building their wooden houses, tucked a way in the tress, or atop the slopes. Today, in the sun, hundreds of ducks are around, calling, squabbling, and ready to be fed. Most if them ordinary brown Mallard ducks, but again, doing very well, thank you, obviously prolific, with plenty of food, both natural around the river, and begged from random pic knickers.

           Ducks are notoriously bad mothers, but so busy. Unthinking, they have their routine, which ducklings cannot disrupt. This means they travel up, and down, and along the side of the river, searching for food, I suppose. Of the fourteen or thereabout, ducklings they produce each hatching, generally fewer than two, or three survive. It's a sad sight to see the mother sailing off, leaving yet another duckling to become lost, or food for something bigger. Hawks in particular, know exactly where they are. Or sometimes eels, which grow to a large size, will pluck them off the river, with barely a ripple. It is a sad sight, and one I try to avoid. I did once try to reunite, ducklings with mothers, but it's impossible. Both, seem set on going in different directions, and away from me. Most of it happening down the side of the steep river bank. You realise, like those who travel to Africa, you must allow nature to take its course.

            Farming is the mainstay around those parts. Mixed with a bit of tourism. With mostly dairy herds, as with the vast majority of NZ , being the most common. When you think of New Zealand, you think of sheep, don't you. Yet passing the fields, all you see are cows. Either dairy, going back to the milking sheds twice a day for milking, and quite a few beef cows. There are smattering of other things, llamas, deer, ostrich, a few pig farms, and chickens. It's a country town, and people farming the surrounding acres, have had a go at anything, and everything over the years. Anything in order to keep the money flowing, and the fields productive I know. This is not a large agricultural area, more meadowland, and grazing. Or, as they call them here, paddocks.

           The people are typical country town folk. You know, it has that feel, flip flops, or wellies in the wet, casual clothes, a few hippie types.They like their mates, their booze, and their music, not necessarily in that order. They tend not to overdress. They are not city types, nor do they want to be. Both their dress, and their attitudes, are pleasantly casual. It impossible to dislike, only realise it no good being in a hurry.  So casual is it, it's sometimes possible to feel overdressed, although go to a dance, and the post frocks come out. 

          It really feels like you expect a small friendly town to feel. People like to help, so you can ask almost anything. The way, the time, make a passing remark to someone nearby, or exchange views. It all seems relaxed, and easy going. Even the youngsters, give you a smile. Even though, like many small towns today, there is not much for them  to do once they leave school. You discover, most New Zealander, try for a O.E., a big trip abroad. Even if they don't all make, most plan to go. I thInk, more adventurous  than most ordinary kids in the UK. 

        To reach Warkworth, from Auckland, in the North island, you head further North still. Passing Albany, then Silverdale, past the red beach entrance to the Whangaparaoa peninsular, and on past the little sea side town of Orewa. The even smaller spa town of Waiwera, is nestled at the base of a large hill, on the sea. Nothing much more than a few houses, a pub, and a petrol station, and a few miles of mangrove swamp. With its large, and busy water park, and it's spa facilities, it offers relaxation,an d massages. As well as a days food, and fun in the sun for all the family, you can  even watch an outdoor screening of the latest film as you soak in the naturally hot water. They boast a small crazy golf course, a church hall, a nice little beach with a. Couple of small hotels. it does OK.

           Big things were planned there in the way of hotel resorts, but with the dive in the world economy, it has never happened. One day it will, it will be picked up, and continued. it's bound to happen. From there, it's up hill again until Warkworth. With it's even more county neighbouring town of Wellesford, even further north. 

         Small, or larger houses are scattered over the paddocks. So termed, Lifestyle blocks.

           Now, we have just about covered all the major places from major town to small country so you run north from Auckland. It's a journey worth exploring! and, you will find even more than I can mention here. Cinemas, at Albany, garden centre at Silverdale, an Art centre at Orewa, in fact the whole area is chock full of artists. I know. I had some happy years there, as a practising artist, at the time the art centre was being set up. Artists always flock to beautiful places, so you will see many small studios, and galleries advertised as you travel. More, and mor of the sloping hills, are being transformed into wineries,  beyond Waiwera. if you get the chance, to explore, and enjoy this lovely country, I know you will find more than a few places of interest every day.

         Once more, I have left it's shores, I miss it already, lovely New Zealand. Except, the world beckons, does it not. So many places to see, and discover. So many people still to know.

         After the UK, I intend to explore more of Europe. With being so close to the Dover ferries, travel there can be inexpensive. I have plans, and dreams already. Once you take off, who knows who, or what you might meet on the way. Only that, there will be stories to tell, places to fall in love with, and new vistas ever beckoning.

          Enjoy all the world has to offer. If where you live, is not giving your soul, or body what it needs, explore, explore, explore. You will, for ever be surpised at what you find, at the diversity of this world of ours.

A photo of the rolling land between beaches, and coves.

Going towards Ruakaka ( two birds)

Ruakaka (two birds)

         This a little township, if you can call it that, situated north of Auckland. Yet still about an hour south of Whangarei, the biggest northland town. To be honest, there is very little here. A small grocers, a small chain grocery store, cafe, a newsagents, butchers, dollar shop, and a estate agent. I thnk there is also a doctors, and a dentist a bit further along. Oh, and a hole in the wall.

         The amenities then, are OK. But it is the countryside that makes the north special. This a mere stop on the way to main holiday place of The Bay of Islands. Which, is just what it says on the tin. A collection of islands just of the coast. The sea is magic of course, the whole of the northern coastline, is one little bay after another. Some with sand dunes, some with cliffs, and some with flat easy access. The sand is mile, after mile of flat, white tropical scenery. To walk any of it, is like entering a film set. The warm, balmy air, or sometimes, searing heat endorsing the effect. Often the sand is too hot to walk with bare feet, so come prepared. Although swishing along inside the water of the lapping waves, is always an option. Rocky headlands offer fishermen good positions to catch something without needing a boat.

          Here at Ruakaka, it is on the water, a few hundred yards down the road, perhaps 1 kl. at One Tree Point, is a newly built boat harbour. Barely begun as yet, but give it a year or two, and it will be as busy as the rest of this northland coast. The whole coastline is a boaties dream. Some of the older style Bach are not that large. It always amuses me, when you see a boat parked in the garden, often way bigger than the house itself. It give you the real feeling for the coast. The water, and access to it, is what it's all about.

             There is also a lovely little flat bit of coast, surrounded by mostly permanent homes now. As over the last few years, a lot of the little holiday places have become permanent homes. At which point people usually spend a bit of money on the, increasing the size, or the amenities.This is Ruakaka proper. You can canoe, swim, take the dingy, or the boat out with easy. Easy living, just about right on the beach.

         So when you visit NEW ZEALAND, get heading north, and enjoy as many stops on the way as you can. There is always something to discover. Some natural beauty, looking as if it came straight off the cover of a travel magazine.

           Farmland, mostly gazing for cattle, and sheep connect the little settlements, and the beautiful bays. This is all rolling hills, with some higher hills through the Brenderwns. All neatly fenced, I with wonderful trees, scattered so artfully, you would think each one was planed with the overal effect in mind. It wasn't of course. They were planted by the ultimate hand, of the big guy in the sky.

         Be prepared to motor a few miles, or kls as they say here. Every bent will offer something interesting, or beautiful. 

           Come, enjoy, because as well as natures welcome, you will find the local folks welcome. Just as good....enjoy