The Long And Winding Road

Well actually the road between Napier and Wellington isn't that winding but most on the island are just that. The Romans clearly didn't get this far south but if they could of they would've had a field day here. But apart from roads what have the Romans ever done for us? 

When you ask a Kiwi how far is it between two places the answer invariably comes back as a time. A typical conversation would be thus;

"Where is the nearest petrol station?"

"Head out of town and after ten minutes you'll come to a set of traffic lights. Opposite the Coundown supermarket. Take a left here and head up the road for about five minutes and you'll see it. You can't miss it."

Or,

"How far is it from Napier to Wellington?"

"Oh, about four and a half hours. Five tops."

There are two reasons for this. Firstly is that the roads in New Zealand are not direct and so distances become almost meaningless. Add to this the tortuous bends, speed-sapping hills and predominately single carriageway and it's not difficult to see why a 60km journey can take nearly two hours.

Secondly, there is very little traffic. Apart from the major cities, there is hardly any hold ups. With the total population of the country running at around four million, two million of which live in Auckland, congestion is really not a problem. So distances between town, cities, bars or supermarkets can confidentially be quoted as a time. Sweet as, to quote a common phrase heard around these parts.

And it doesn't really matter how long a journey takes. With a country as beautiful as this, it is well worth taking the time and not rush to the destination. Sometimes it is how you get there that matters and not the final destination. Which is a good job because everything in New Zealand takes it's own sweet time. This is not a country in a hurry - which is a refreshing change from the rush and bustle in the UK. Sometimes.

Take supermarkets, for example. Here the checkout operator scans your purchases through the till and then packs then into a bag, whilst the shopper stands and watches. Each item is carefully placed into a bag before the next is scanned or weighed. It takes an absolute age and you can only begin to picture the look on my travelling companion's face during the whole process. It's a nice thought for them to pack bags but I can't help think that Kiwis must have better things to do with their time than stand around at supermarket checkouts.

The journey today was still a 'long' way and so needed a mid-point break, for the loo if nothing else. Typically we'd passed numerous opportunities; cafés, supermarkets etc. before we decided, or rather our bladders, that we needed to stop. As soon as it became apparent that his was the case, the opportunities dried up. Unlike our bladders. Mile after mile of countryside rolled by but not even a sniff of rest room. Where had they all gone? We could have course popped into a steam engine museum, spoke to someone about buying a reliable ram to impregnate our flock of ewes or bought a much needed avocado (2 for 1$ if you are interested). But no toilet. Then, just as things were turning decidedly painful, not to mention potentially messy, we passed a hand written sign with the magical words 'Cafe next left'. Saved....

....except not quite. What the sign failed to convey to the passing motorist was that, whilst the next left was the correct turning, it wasn't exactly 'handy'. So after several kilometres, sorry fifteen minutes, of bouncing down the equivalent of a farm track we decided to turn back.... just as the cafe homed into view. Fantastic. Although it didn't look much from the outside we were desperate. 

Our worries were thankfully all for nought as the cafe, particularly the view from the patio, was worth the detour. And it had a working toilet. Heaven.

Refreshed, refuelled and emptied we were soon on our way once more. Next stop Wellington....