Heading Home

Our ICA Rally had come to an end, and everyone headed off home.  But not before Robin pulled a very large, and rather expensive motor-home off the sodden grass.  With that job done and dusted, we headed south.  The weather report was a worry, with warnings of cold weather, snow, and high winds arriving over the next couple of days.  We stopped at Tokoroa to use the dump station and came across two trucks back to back in the large car park.  There was a lot of noise going on, and the stamping of hooves as they endeavored to transfer cattle from one truck to the other.  We had never seen that happen before.

Wrangling cattle

You know it’s winter when all the leaves have been blown of the trees.  What we didn't expect to see were all the birds nests up in the bare branches, that’s an awful lot of nests in one tree.

Seen in Tokoroa

It was decided to take the scenic route around the western side of Lake Taupo.  This took us over the Whakamaru Dam, that was certainly interesting.

Driving over the Whakamaru Dam

Friday night was spent at Turangi NZMCA Park.  Plenty of room here and we decided to park on the upper level.  The night was cold, wet, windy, and freezing cold – no wonder Gemma spent her time cuddled up to us on the bed.  What would the morning hold, we wondered, hoping it wouldn't be too windy for the final part of our drive home.

Not nice here at all

The weather conditions were checked the following morning – we should be fine to travel, we decided, although snow was expected on the Desert Road.  We’ll just take it easy.  We saw several groups of snow ploughs parked up on the Desert Road, ready and waiting for the snow to fall

Snow ploughs at the ready

The snow did fall as we drove along, falling  soft and sludgy on the windscreen.  And the temperature dropped lower and lower, right down to –1C.  Goodness me, that’s rather cold for us.  There was no chance of getting a glimpse of Mt Ruapehu in these conditions with the clouds so low.

Brr, it’s cold outside

Once past Waiouru the temps started to slowly rise and we left the low clouds, rain and sleet  behind us.  We decided to stop at Flat Hills for lunch, but a bus load of passengers beat us to the lunch counter, so we tagged onto the end of the queue.  This is just one of three buses which stop here each day for lunch, we were told, which must make such a difference to the turnover, I imagine.  As it was such a chilly day I was so pleased to see soup on the menu.  So it was pumpkin soup for me, a steak and cheese pie for him, a nice hot coffee each, and we shared a piece of carrot cake. 

Lunch break

The name Flat Hills is certainly a strange name.  The painting hanging in the café tells the story.

“Flat Hills is the dreamland of the high country shepherd and his dogs, exhausted from climbing the steep rocky mountains.  Flat Hills is a curiosity, it’s a geological impossibility, a pipe dream of simplicity brought to reality”.

Flat Hills

Driving through Bulls we were getting much closer to home.  Statues of black bulls are dotted throughout the town, and we wondered what strangers think when they see a large black bull standing on the street.  The unexpected glimpse must give people a bit of a start, I imagine.

I don’t know how Gemma always knows when she is almost home, but she does.  The caravan was unpacked and put away in its parking area, the first load of laundry was put on, and we sat and had a cuppa.  It was good to arrive home safe and sound, and luckily the expected bad weather did not arrive during our trip.