Branching off from Wimbledon, we soon arrived at our next stop, at Herbertville Campground on the coast. The sites were nice and roomy but…….”Where is the water tap?” Peter asked. The reply stunned us. “We don’t have water taps. If you really need water, fill up a bucket from the kitchen”. What is this, a camp with no water? That is a bit like a pub with no beer, don’t you think? And we were paying $25 for the night. We really did expect an easy to reach water supply.
One of the camp residents told us that the camp was now in joint ownership. To prevent the camp ground going the way of so many other sea side properties and being bought by developers, the campers banded together and bought shares to retain their own camp sites. Most of the permanent structures have water tanks to collect rain water for their own use. There is a manager to run the camp for casual campers, and over the Christmas holidays the camp was full to bursting, we were told. Wonder how they all got on for water?
Herbertville was named after early settlers Joseph and Mary Herbert. They arrived in New Zealand in May 1842 on the “London”, and settled in the area in 1854. The commemorative plaque on the beach was erected by their descendants 150 years after their arrival to these shores, in 1992.
Herbertville beach is beautiful, broad and wide and 10 miles long. The sea vistas go on and on. We spotted a lone angler trying his hand at surf fishing, but all he managed to catch was seaweed, he told us.
The deserted beach stretched for miles with Cape Turnagain far off in the distance. A few seagulls flew away squawking as we walked up the beach, and we noticed a solitary black oystercatcher in the water. We were surprised to see many Welcome Swallows on the beach. A check in our New Zealand Bird book back at camp told us that these pretty little birds collect their insect food near the surface of water, so they live close to lakes, rivers, swamps and the sea shore.
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The wind must be particularly fierce in this coastal region. Take a look at what the winds have done to this shelter belt of trees. There are no guesses to which way the wind blows around here.
One of the local gardens had an interesting feature. Can you see what these clipped bushes are spelling out? Keeping a garden looking nice so close to the sea side must be difficult for keen gardeners in such windy conditions with poor coastal soils.
Back at camp the still evening air was a riot of sound. The black swans which we had seen earlier on our drive around the area made a great din as they settled themselves down for the night on the sea side of the camp. A whole swag of magpies chortled away to each other from a stand of trees next to the camp in the evening, and woke us up again early the next morning doing the same thing. Adding to the sounds of country living was the barking of sheep dogs as they moved a mob of bleating sheep down the hill into a lower paddock in the morning. Life is never quiet in the country.
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