Up Front: The Home Straight
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My favourite thing on that stretch of road is an old abandoned barn on the left as you're driving north, just south of Ashburton I think. One day I'll get around to stopping and taking photos...
I've never lived in South Canterbury by my parents moved back to Timaru (Mum grew up there) almost 15 years ago (I think! getting old...) and we used to drive back and forth when I was a kid living up North.
We used to stop in Temuka for ice cream on the way to the Rangitata Huts. Mmm goody-goody-gumdrops..
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My mother comes from Oamaru, and very basically, we are a south South family.
My father was born in New Brighton, and a *lot* of my childhood was spent driving between North Beach (I was born in Burwood/Otautahi)
and Oamaru. My first real driving experiences were from there to there. (In "Stonefish", that experience is encapsulated in a short story called: "Some Times, I Dream I'm Driving" (which a really bad critic, Siobhan Harvey, mananged to twist into "Sometimes I Dream I'm Dying" with an equivalently stupid review - she'd obviously never read the story - or the book.)In it- that story- you'll come across the Rakaia Bridge. You wont come across "The Teapot" in Temuka which later, after my father died, became the family's waystop.
I travel that route at least 70 times a year- know it as well as the ingress road to the beach here-
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strangely when I think of that drive I don't think of pasture, but of the tree plantations, and the year we went by and they had all been blown down - as an adult the drive seems so much shorter, as a kid it went on and on forever.
When I went to Uni in ChCh I had the opposite experience - having grown up in Dunedin where the city is always around you as its own reference map - in Chch I felt lost there was no there there - I never actually got lost, it wasn't until I moved to the northern hemisphere I discovered that somehow navigate by the sun - there are still bits of LA that are backwards in my mental map
One year, coming back on holiday from the US we were driving down through there in a rental, still dazed from the plane flight across the pacific the night before, heading for the turn off to Lindis when we turned on the national program - Kim Hill came on and announced that Nirvana would now play "Smells like teen spirit", we'd been away for a long time, things had really changed ... at the end there was a moment of stunned silence and Kim announced "well we're never ever playing that again" - we couldn't stop laughing, almost drove off the road
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A lovely. evocative piece, Emma. That stretch of road has different meaning for me as I would sometimes bike from Chch to Ashburton whilst I was at UoC--largely to ingratiate myself with the mother of a girl I lusted after, in my golden years when first at university. I used to sometimes bike to Geraldine too, battling headwinds on an old clunker before the days of mountain bikes (and possibly even gears).
Indeed it is a dull road to travel but there are duller (the Foxton Straight?). I guess it is more about the destination.
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holding your breath across bridges was a family tradition for us too - the ultimate being the one lane bridge (with passing bays) across the mouth of the Haast
Dad used to drive slower and slower toward the end of bridges just to taunt us, eventually I figured out that it didn't really matter and learned to puff out my cheeks and breathe thru my nose - a bit like the way I learned to silently 'sing' in high school assembly and avoid the ire of the music teacher and my neighbours for being painfully out of tune
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As soon as these holidays clear up, I'm of down there scavenging your good rust-less steel. Well, doing a reconnaissance mission at least.
You can see the car pile on Google Earth. I guess it's easier to look after than a couple of thousand hyacinth bulbs.
hat stretch of road has different meaning for me as I would sometimes bike from Chch to Ashburton whilst I was at UoC--largely to ingratiate myself with the mother of a girl I lusted after, in my golden years when first at university.
My gods, that's dedication. I'd either find that touching or slightly creepy.
The headwind's not as bad (IMO, of course) as the nasty buffety side-wind that likes to play 'let's blow you out in front of a sheep truck for kicks'.
You wont come across "The Teapot" in Temuka which later, after my father died, became the family's waystop.
That's where we used to get an ice-cream when I was little. The Temuka by-pass completely infuriates my partner with its startling illogic.
The Rakaia bridge gives me the heebies a little now because my mother narrowly missed having a very nasty accident on it last year. There is nowhere to go when someone crashes right in front of you.
Still, it's not as cursed as Hinds, where we've broken down four times. It's always Hinds. I think that's where caycos's barn might be, just south of Hinds?
strangely when I think of that drive I don't think of pasture, but of the tree plantations
I seem to remember an incrase in trees, a bit before the vinyards started appearing, which was before the cows. There were very few pine stands this trip, and only a couple of those blasted heaths where they've obviously just cut everything down.
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Cows and vineyards. What worries me about the vineyards is the vast amounts of spraying done in HB for grapes, fruit & crops. All pumped into the air and the water.
My "I'm nearly home' stretch of road is the Takapau plains in central Hawkes Bay. Then a left onto SH50 - still more sheep than cows there - but vast acres of grapes closer to town.
I stood on the verandah of my brother's house and looked across the valley to the old Napier hospital. Standing on acres of prime ground on top of the hill, it's uneconomic for property developers (shame) and slowly decaying. A total waste.
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I drove that road nearly every week for months, escaping to Christchurch for the weekends in the year I worked in Timaru.
I remember little enough of the route now, but a few of the journeys stand out:
The night I drove back from Christchurch with a bootload of free firewood. The Morris 1800 never handled better than it did that night.
Heading north to surprise Fiona for what I thought was her birthday (right day, wrong month), catching a lift with the local record shop guy, who got me so stoned I didn't straighten up for hours -- including the two, aching hours I spent making polite conversation with my mate's mum in Christchurch, waiting for him to get home.
Coming back on the back of Fiona's 185cc trailbike. That felt like an achievement.
And leaving for the last time, for a new job and a new life in Auckland -- crook as a dog after my boss, then my mates, got me drunk. I'd blown it with the girl who (I had been informed by her friend) was going to give me a glamorous goodbye shag, I'd thrown up in the garden, and I'd just left all my dirty kitchenware behind in the morning. But I wasn't looking back.
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Oh gods... the worst family trip we had was in Wee Jock Silly McPlop, our bright yellow Suzuki Carry Van. The battery kept going flat really quickly, but we figured the long open-road drive would charge it up nicely.
And it was fine on the trip down, but on the way back, with our fourteen month old son, and me five months pregnant, we ran out of luck in Hinds. The battery was arcing across the cover. We got a jump, but we didn't have enough power to run the headlights. So we drove from Hinds to Christchurch in the dark, with one and a half kids, and no lights. That was one of the scariest things I've ever done.
Or it was the time when I was sixteen and we headed for Grassy Banks and ended up driving to Chch for a feed and I got completely wasted and had to be poured onto my mother's hall carpet at about two am.
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Nice writting Emma
I guess for any of us living south of Christchurch that stretch of oh so boring road has memories
Our sons all went to Otago so the way south is much more familiar now but my university days meant I knew that raod to wellBut I do remember the lifting of heart when you reach the rolling downs of South Canterbury, home at last
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Lovely post. My road of childhood is the one that links Milan to the southeastern corner of Lombardy, and you're dead right, what is it about the searing heat of summer that fixes that seasonal image in the mind? Except I also remember it every few winters under an impenetrable blanket of fog, when we could traverse it only because my fater happened to have memorised every single turn in the 200km route. (GPS my ass.)
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I've never driven that road, save in a very badly sprung shuttle at ten pm on a cold winter night (a rather different experience, needless to say) but your post is incredibly evocative of summer, especially the kind I've come to know in Christchurch.
My own childhood road, summer or winter, was State Highway One from Wellington up to Turangi, along the Kapiti Coast. I have vivid memories of endless traffic jams around Paekakariki (and the extremely memorable time we got to Ngauranga Gorge heading out one 23/12 and then had to go back for the ham we'd forgotten) and the boredom of the Manawatu before we finally got to the Desert Road and Ruapehu rose up before us. I haven't been that way for a good seven years now, but that landscape still has a hold on me that no other part of the country can manage, no matter how beautiful or grand.
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My gods, that's dedication. I'd either find that touching or slightly creepy
Well, it proved worthwhile but, on reflection, I think I should have courted the mother with the same vigour. As I recall, she was rather tasty.
Growing up in South Taranaki (Hawera), the options for a long road trip in our Big D Citreon were south to Wanganui or north to New Plymouth--trips of equal distance. The New Plymouth trip offered more diversions but the Wanganui trip was longer,emptier of habitation, and a little scarier.
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"Sometimes I Dream I'm Driving" is a lovestory to a Humber Super Snipe (what really got up my nose apropos Harvey's review was that she called it 'violent' - geeeez!!) The first time my mother adjudged me sufficiently capable of driving the entire family in the Snipe was when I was 14 (ok ok it was the v. early 60's.) We were going nicely until the Dunsandel railway turn? Somebody veered towards me and I turned to the left & hit the brakes. And...it was freshly shingled. The Snipe spun right round and hit the grass side...missing oncoming vehicle.
It was very quiet in the back, where my erstwhile sleeping sibs had come abruptly awake-
my warrior Mother, bless her, let me drive to Rakaia until she took over the wheel.
There was another near miss while I was young, but nothing like Emma's dark drive!
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Well, it proved worthwhile but, on reflection, I think I should have courted the mother with the same vigour. As I recall, she was rather tasty.
...and you just upgraded yourself on the creepy-meter there.
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on reflection, I think I should have courted the mother with the same vigour. As I recall, she was rather tasty.
Oh, dude, that's... you know, my ex father-in-law looked and sounded just like Sean Connery. I'm just sayin'.
the boredom of the Manawatu before we finally got to the Desert Road and Ruapehu rose up before us
Heh, I was actually born in Taihape. When you're three getting snowed in every year is the best.
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. . . a lovestory to a Humber Super Snipe (what really got up my nose apropos Harvey's review was that she called it 'violent' - geeeez!!)
Super Snipe - powered by a Commer truck engine, and with the mass to match. Many Snipes met their end in demolition derbies, where their bulk gave them a distinct advantage. Perhaps Harvey should be cut a little slack for making a subliminal association between the Super Snipe and those bygone bogan-pleasing highlights of stock car seasons past.
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Heh, I was actually born in Taihape. When you're three getting snowed in every year is the best
I am somewhat ashamed to admit my first thought was "wait, people reproduce in Taihape?"
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I believe my first trip on the road up the coast from Thames to Coromandel and points north was in 1977 when we lived in Hamilton. From that year until 2002, with only 2 exceptions, I was passenger or driver every summer, either to Waititi Bay, Stony Bay, or Whangapoua, sometimes more than one trip. 23 years out of 25 leaves a bit of a mark.
In 1977 the family still had a Austin 1800. My dad would toot before going around blind corners in case an oncoming delivery van cleaned us up. The bread must get through!
My sister and I each had a "side". If you sat on the right going north, you were spared the anxiety of looking down the sheer drop to the rocks, which from a child's point of view seemed immense and dangerous. On the way back we would have the right lane to cushion us, so it wasn't so bad. After we bought a large mahogany ply dinghy, the car wallowed and groaned. I think that's what spurred the purchase of a Mazda 626 when I was 12 or so.
I don't remember when they sealed as far as Coro, but I'm in two minds about it. It's a nicer drive, but it would have helped keep the northern parts of the peninsula free from people who weren't really dedicated.
Later, I grew too old for nuclear family holidays, but by that time I had friends with a bach at Whangapoua, and then my ex's parents bought a section there, and still every summer I headed up past Tapu (ice cream!) and Waikawau (the tram-baches) and Manaia (thank god we're over that hill) and smelled hot dust and thunderstorms and seaweed.
Another road I used to know like the back of my hand was Hamilton to Raglan across the deviation (from what? when did the old road fall into disuse? Well before I was born, I'm sure). A friend claimed to have done it in 30 minutes, which seems barely possible even with the current road state and a new car. I know I almost died an ignominious young fella's death when I foolishly let my 40kg dog ride in the front and she fell in my lap going round a tight bend.
Hamilton to Waititi Bay seemed an enormous drive when I was little, but now I go from Wellington to Hamilton to see my Dad without turning a hair. I enjoy that drive too, but I can't see it will ever be stamped in my mind like those first long trips to the beach.
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I am somewhat ashamed to admit my first thought was "wait, people reproducein Taihape?"
When you're the nearest pub to an army camp? Hell yeah.
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The Snipe got big points with my mother's brothers - hoo, thing's got a Commer truck engine! & I mentioned that in the short story - it literally did dig itself after running out of thick mud-
I loved that car.
I loved driving it.
I loved driving that road.
Siobhan Harvey - know I actually loathe you?
And know I've had Snipe fans buy "Stonefiah" *just* for that story.
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What's superior to a Super Snipe? The preposterous Humber Pullman.
King George Tupou V rides the tapa highway in his late grandmother's Christchurch-restored royal limo.
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I am somewhat ashamed to admit my first thought was "wait, people reproducein Taihape?"
You ought to have been, Taihape is lovely.
Admittedly, though it's where we break the trip back from the Waikato, so pretty much any place would look like a utopian dream city.
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Wonderfully evocative post, Emma.
I remember that stretch of road from "doing" it as a commute between the ferry at Lyttelton and varsity in Dunedin, usually by motorbike (small & underpowered for such a journey). So I have seen in in most conditions except for high summer.
I would get the overnight ferry from Wellington to Lyttleton, have a broken night's sleep and be off in the early morning light, skirting Ch'ch and trying to find the main road south. (I assume it is more clearly signposted nowadays). The breath-holding on the bridges was always a challenge - guaging the black-out point was important and I think the Rakaia bridge beat me every time.
One time it rained the whole way & I broke my trip south at a friend's place a bit south of Timaru whereupon his mother insisted I stop and get into a hot bath to stave off the incipient hypothermia while she dried my clothes. I eneded up staying a couple of days with them...
My darling and I wil be heading down that way in a few weeks - doing the full South Island tour (the 'Once Over Lightly' tour) as I haven't been back in teh mainland since 1976.
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Jo S,
The road trip I remember most is the one my family took several times a year from Paremata up to Te Kauwhata to see the grandparents.
My folks used to get us up at 4 in the morning, and pile us into the back of the car, packed in with pillows, so we'd go back to sleep and my Dad would get a couple of hours of driving in peace (given it used to be a 7 hour drive if you don't stop).
Nothing like waking up and watching the sun come up way out in the NZ countryside as you go ...
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