Nowhere

Listening to: Hot Rocks, 1964-71-The Rolling Stones

Labour weekend involved a crew visit to Waitomo, Wanganui, and The Bridge to Nowhere.
See also here for another perspective.

After visiting the caves at Waitomo on Saturday, early on Sunday morning it was primary reason for the trip time, most of us having oohed and aahed at Waitomo at least once before. Although Fi and Lauren singing in the Cathedral room was pretty cool.

To meet our jetboat we had to get to Pipiriki. Not quite the middle of nowhere, but you sure can see it from there. The country and journey inland left me slightly uneasy. I felt a long way from anywhere, and a long way from home. I felt like the hills were watching.

That feeling might have been in part supplied by the road we travelled to get there, the end of which is shown below. Note: the sign says 64 Km, not 6.4. Half of it is one lane gravel, great if you're in a four wheel drive, not so cool if you're in a heavily laden Corolla. Had we known better we would have gone in the other less direct way which is much easier, as we discovered when we used it to leave. Right, so the pics are totally out of order then. Bear with me. We seemed to be forever passing through Raetihi. Approaching fom the south this is the sight that welcomes you.

Behind the sign is a graveyard. I'm not sure if the placement is intended to be ironic, or we have a slightly black sense of humour, because we all found it funny.

Anyway, back to the bridge. 40 minutes jetboat ride from Pipiriki, is a landing, and 40 minutes walk after that you get to the bridge. This is not an easy place to get to. It arrives suddenly. You walk around a corner and it is there. Its a lonely place. The names of the families who tried and failed to make this place work are recorded along the track. The bridge is their monument.

We were served a fine meal while our guide related the story. My tea was good, and I had cameo cremes for the first time in aaages.
After something other than a generic shot, I carefully scrambled down the bank to get underneath the thing.
On the way back from Waitomo on Saturday we stopped at the crest of the Wanganui-Ohakune road for photos. From the side of the road I saw something amiss. The object in the rectangle is a crumpled and wrecked car.
With no other visible means of arrival, it looks like it came from the road above. Somebody had a very bad day here.

Even for NZ, the countryside north of Wanganui is rugged.

The Whanganui river itself feels timeless, like it has never changed. Signs of people are few and far between.

At Waitomo there is an interesting sort of motel. You can sleep in a boat, hobbit house, or a plane:

What is it with me and sunsets? Somewhere between Bulls and Wanganui, Friday night.