Paihia
We spent most of this week in Paihia. The easy going beach town of Paihia was a stark contrast to the bedlam of World Cup finals week in Auckland. We took the "must do" day trip to the most northern part of New Zealand, the sacred Cape Reinga. It is at this point where the dark blue Pacific Ocean and the turquoise Tasman Sea crash into each other creating massive waves and even crazier colors. It truly looks like the end of the earth and is easy to see why the Maori believe this unworldly scene is where your spirit travels to depart the earth. It's hard to believe they still let us in.
Being at the end of the earth, Cape Reinga is not particularly accessible. You have to take a organized bus tour, which we've been trying to avoid in general, to get to the tip of the island. The highway of choice is literally the national Ninety Mile Beach. Our huge charter bus, no kidding, actually drives the entire length of this public beach which New Zealand has also zoned as Hwy 10. Waves crashed on shore and under the bus as we clipped along, being sure to avoid the numerous quick sand areas. The driver assures us of our safety as the rules of the road still apply to this sandy highway, such as the leisurely 100 km/hr speed limit. Safety First! It is quite a contradictory feeling to lovingly gaze at the serene, blue-green ocean all the while my butt hole was securely clenched, willing the bus to stay on course.
As you guessed, we made it, but not before stopping at the Te Paki Sand Dunes for a little sand surfing. Essentially you haul your ass up a huge sand dune, gasping for breath while you try not to let the 60 year old bus driver beat you to the top of the god damn K2 of sand. About the time when your calves feel like they might explode, you're there. Jump belly first onto your body board and launch yourself down the sandy Mt. Everest, face first. The only instructions are don't bail (because it hurts really bad) and dig your feet in to stop before you hit the soggy quick sand pit at the bottom. Kelly diligently followed one of the two directions. It was a good looking run, sticking to the board as she zipped down the dune, hair blowing in the wind. By the end of the run, part two of the instructions were completely ignored as she sailed past the end point into the slop below. This was much to the delight of the Asian tourists who, perhaps smartly, forwent the sand boarding part of the tour and were still at the bottom of the hill to see the splash down close up. Though the hilarity was recognized by good-natured Kelly, it was quickly forgotten as she had to spend the next six hours exfoliating herself in her wet, sandy clothes. And I still say Paihia is more mellow that Auckland.
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