Farmers Market

We braved the heavy rain and cold conditions to visit the Kapiti Farmers Market in Otaki – it has definitely turned into rain jacket weather, and a wooly hat was needed for those of us who don’t have much hair on top of their heads.  We were told that this market is a fairly new venture, so still has lots of room to grow.

Luckily, by the time we had arrived, the rain had stopped, and most of the sellers had sensibly relocated indoors.  The market was held in the Otaki Race Course grounds, dotted with many lovely mature trees.

I’m always rather taken with tasty treats, so we gravitated to the cheese stall.  After several tastings we had made our choices, purchasing one of the cute little round smoked cheeses at the back, and a piece of blue vein cheese, so yummy.  The owners told us that the make the baby smoked cheeses themselves, and all the other large rounds are imported from Italy.

Lots of lovely cheeses here

I love cheese and Robin loves honey, so he just had to purchase some local honey from the next stand – that will keep him happy.  The particular honey he purchased is from hives on Kapiti Island - one of the largest accessible island bird sanctuaries in New Zealand, set in one of the nation’s most valuable nature reserves.

At the honey stand

One of the local market gardeners had a stand, very handy as I needed some more fresh veggies.  With our shopping done we stopped off on the way home to our friends home, phoning through first to ensure that they were home and that the coffee was on.  Thanks very much,  hot coffee was just what we needed on such a chilly morning.

Searching for the Big Blue Bus

It’s around here somewhere – the GPS told us so.  We’re on the right road, and look, there’s some bunting fluttering in the wind over the driveway.  And those signs prove that we have made it to our destination.  The car park was full to overflowing, so we guessed that others had already discovered this Te Horo secret.  We met up with Geoff and Eileen in the car park as they were joining us on this quest.

Walking up the concrete path we rounded a corner and there it was, The Bus Café – a handsome 1964 Bedford.  A queue was snaking out of the bus.  With Eileen settled down to save us an inside  table (they were in short supply, we noticed)  Geoff joined us in the queue and we boarded the bus to make our purchases.

The Bus Café at Te Horo

What to have – that’s always the question.  We decided to have an early lunch, and home made pies, a toasted sandwich and the last of the Eccles Cakes plus coffees were soon delivered to our table.

The friendly ladies at the Bus Café

As we sipped our Flat Whites we were amazed at the amount of customers walking down the path for refreshments.  Some bought take-aways and soon departed while others decided to eat on site.  There was a variety of seating available, some al fresco out side in the fresh air plus extra seating under gazebos or in the wooden cabin.

Lots of room at the Bus Café

Dog parking available for man’s best friend

It started to drizzle but we were snug and cozy inside the Summer House, which also doubles as a show case for various items for sale.  Here we were, sitting amongst the arts and crafts, and the jars of pickles and jams.

Eileen, Robin, Jenny and Geoff

As we were not too far from the beach, of course we wanted to check it out.    The skies were grey, the shingle beach was covered in driftwood, and the the air was bracing.  There was a different view of Kapiti Island, with it’s top obscured under the clouds.

Kapiti Island seen from Otaki Beach

A group of equestrians waited for us to depart before they rode down onto the beach, giving us a cheery wave as we drove past them on the way home.

Waiting for their ride along the beach

As we made our way homewards we reflected that it had taken us a very long time indeed to track down the Bus Café.  I first read about this café in a copy of “NZ Life and Leisure” magazine back in 2014.  The bus had relocated a time or two and it’s thanks to Geoff (and the local newspaper) that we found out where the bus had finally ended up.  After three years we have finally made a visit, and it was a most enjoyable morning.

A Passion for Tractors

What a treat for the blokes during our weekend camping at Lutz Farm.  Farmer Carl Lutz (Dad to Max and Erwin)has a real passion for tractors and invited us to view his collection.  He related the story of when he was a young man, working on his father’s farm, and he saved up hard till he had accumulated 50 pounds  to buy his first car.  But the car purchase never happened, and he came home with his first tractor, the start of a love affair with Fordson tractors, which is still going on to this day.

There were tractors galore inside the purpose built shed, but first we admired his shiny 1946 V8 Pick Up truck.  These were manufactured between 1942-46 and were known as the “Jail Bar Model” because of their distinctive bar grill.

Carl’s V8 Pick Up truck

Then we were taken around the shed, admiring one tractor after another, all lovingly restored. And not just any old tractor, it’s Fordson tractors all the way, as far as Carl Lutz is concerned.  He told us the history of each and every one, him memory never faltering as he rattled off facts and figures, and pointed out special items of interest on his much loved collection.

Part of the tractor collection

Tractor and Hay Baler

The Fordson F tractor was originally designed for agriculture use.  But with a belt pulley and  various wheel options found it’s way into many other uses, such as a bush tractor on railway wheels as displayed here in the shed.

Fordson F used as a bush tractor

We all gathered around an old workhorse, with it's sturdy steel wheels, now at the end of it’s working life safe and sound in the shed.  And it was interesting to see a photo on the wall from many years ago of Carl hard at work on his farm plowing furrows with this tractor. 

A real vintage workhorse

Next we walked up the hill to see a few more models.  Carl Lutz may well be a 90 years old but he is still as sprightly as ever and energetically cranked the engine and then hopped on board and took this old beauty for a quick spin to show off it’s paces.

Carl on one of his many tractors

The adjacent paddock was chock full of old tractors.  All ready to be restored? we asked.  Oh no, was the reply, that's his spare parts division.  Tractors are a real passion and Carl Lutz established the Horowhenua Vintage Machinery Club some years ago.   His Ford tractor museum attracts visitors from far and wide.  Groups like us, and plenty of visitors from overseas who put the museum on their "must see" list.

Spare parts for future restorations

Carl Lutz moved to Otaki in 1935 when his parents bought a 150 acre town supply dairy farm with 30 cows in the Rahui valley. After a year at Horowhenua College, he left school to work on the farm. He developed an intensive town milk farm, despite there being no electricity until 1945. Carl expanded the farm by purchasing five neighbouring properties, increasing it to the 485 hectares farmed today. Now aged 90, Carl Lutz still actively farms with his two sons and grandson on a farm recognised by Fonterra for its excellence in milk quality, one of only five farms in New Zealand to achieve the standard.

This hard working farmer was honoured with a Queen’s Service Medal in 2009 for services to a number of organisations, and was awarded a Paul Harris Fellowship from Rotary.   In 1999 Mr Lutz became a founding member of Friends of the Otaki River, and the group has planted 30,000 trees along the river, including totara, kahikatea, toetoe, cabbage trees and flaxes, and created a four kilometre walkway from State Highway 1 to the sea.  "Retirement's not on my agenda," says Lutz who donated 12 hectares and helped develop stopbanks to prevent flooding on the Otaki River which borders his farm.   Carl and his family have a love of the environment and are doing their darndest to protect this beautiful area. 

It was a privilege to spend the weekend on their farm, and meet these inspiring, hardworking farmers.

“Boom” went the Cannon

We made good use of the “plastic fantastic” gazebo during our weekend in the country at Lutz Farm.  It was just big enough for us all to set up our folding chairs for morning teas and in the evenings.  Our very hospitable hosts, brothers Max and Erwin came to welcome us to their property, and to make sure we were all settled in.

Camping at Lutz Farm

There was a new rig to be welcomed into the club.  Charlie and Lorraine had just purchased an UCC motor-home, so a steady stream of club members went to check it out.  And very nice it is too.

New motor-home in the club

Erwin took a group of us for a walk  through the adjacent native bush, and pointed out notable trees to us.  The bush has natural springs slowly bubbling away, and is such a beautiful, peaceful place.  Years ago, cattle were allowed to roam through this area, but the family have now fully fenced it off to protect it for the future.

 

Reaching for the sky

A remnant from earlier times

We walked along the track through the bush, and over little bridges across the springs.  Its not hard to see how easy it would be to get lost in the bush, it’s like another world in there.  We weren’t too far from our caravans, but could hardly see them.

Natural spring in the bush

Max drove up on Saturday evening to show off his new cannon.  Not many people have a cannon, so it’s no wonder he was rather proud of it.  Cast and built by his friend, the toolmaker, this is certainly not something you would often come across.  The ball was inserted, the cannon was primed, and we all moved a safe distance away while Max lit the taper.  Its only a little cannon, but it went off with an almighty “boom”, shattering the silence of a country evening, and making our ears ring.  What a great demonstration, we were most impressed!

Boom went the cannon.

Weekend in the Country

It was a caravan club rally with a difference, a weekend travelling  not too far away from home to stay at Lutz Farm in Otaki. Most of us hadn’t been there before so first we had to find the correct property on the narrow country road (look for the orange balloons we were told).  Then we drove, and we drove, past paddocks and farm buildings, and equipment lying here and there, round past the bee hives, all without seeing a soul.  And finally, turning a corner on the farm track, there they were, some of our caravan buddies who had arrived a little earlier and were getting themselves organised.  Camping on a farm paddock was a test to find a nice flat area.  Although the dips and hollows weren’t really huge, it certainly made a difference to where to put the caravans. Admittedly, there was a big power pylon sharing the paddock with us, but we weren’t under the power lines, and only staying a couple of nights anyway, so we shouldn’t come to any harm.

Romany Rambler at Lutz Farm

It was a very pleasant site, bordered on one side with a lovely area of protected native bush, with paddocks over the fence and hills away in the distance.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the cicadas were doing their noisiest best to attract a mate.  Only male cicadas “sing”, to court females. The sound is made by membranes known as tymbals on each side of their abdomen. The tymbal is pushed out, causing a burst of sound, then it pops back in. By rapidly repeating this, the cicada makes its song.

The rally family had brought along a large gazebo for us all to use in the evenings, and Barry offered to help assemble it.  He worked away on his own for quite some time, putting this pipe into that one until it was almost done.  It all looked a bit of a mystery to me.  Then others came to help put the roof on and attach the sides.  The blustery wind didn’t help matters at all, as the light plastic walls fluttered this was and that as people were trying to attach them to the poles. 

Barry and others putting up the gazebo

Ever milked a cow?  That was to be our test on Friday evening – this was a dairy farm after all.  We had visions of poor old “Bessie” being led into our camping area, tied up safely with a handy stool for us to perch on, and then man-handled by a bunch of townies as we all tried to milk her!  Luckily our Bessie was a little different, and Dennis brought her out and introduced her to us all with a flourish!

Dennis had cleverly made his own version of a milking cow.  Our Friesian cow may well be headless, but she had lovely markings, a nice tail, and an interesting udder!  We all got to have a go for one minute, and the results were measured and diligently recorded.  I should mention that this cow only produced water, which was regularly topped up during the competition.

Robin milking the cow

And the winner was – surprise, surprise – me!  Goodness knows how I achieved that, as I hadn’t milked a cow before.  Although I did get up close and personal to a goat several years ago.  Our ladies took 1st, 2nd and 3rd placings, with Derek getting the best male result.  Poor old Bessie came in for quite a bit of rough handling during the competition from one of our members in particular, and if she was a real cow, she would have required some veterinary care after her ordeal!

 

The winner of the milking competition

It was certainly a fun activity, and one we had never done before.  Who knew life on a dairy farm would be full of laughs.

On the way to Te Horo

What could be nicer than a nice long holiday weekend coming up away in the caravan, especially as the TV weatherman has promised good weather.  We hooked up the caravan and left home in the afternoon, with our ultimate destination being down SH1 at Te Horo.  But why not overnight at Otaki, we thought, especially as we had been especially invited to stay at Geoff and Eileen’s rural property.  So after a short 24km trip we backed the caravan up the drive and got ourselves settled for our short stay. 

Staying in Otaki for the night

We spotted some tail swishing going on through the trees at the next property, so I went to investigate.  And sure enough, there they were, several cattle enjoying their life in the country.  They weren’t too concerned with me creeping up on them to record photographic evidence of the “secret lives of cows”.

The neighbours next door

A group of Rosellas were busy flying in and out of the grove of fruit trees, calling happily to one another as they  pecked at the fruit.  Although I would dearly have loved a photo or two, the birds were having none of it, and scattered when I approached.  They are regular visitors to the property, we were told.

It was the cooks night off from kitchen duties, so it was fish and chips all round for our evening meal.  Once the orders had been rung through, the blokes  drove down to collect our meals, and soon arrived home with fish fillets and chips.  And very nice it was too.

Now, what’s this all about, I wonder what’s happening here?  I came outside to find Geoff holding the ladder, while Robin was peering at the roof with a tape measure in his hands.  It’s all to do with the solar panels, I was told, measuring to see how big they are.  Ours are adequate for our holiday needs, but certainly not as big as some of the people who live permanently in the vans have on their roofs.  Especially those who run coffee machines, and all sorts of electrical appliances off their batteries.

Whats happening here

As the evening drew to a close, the sun sank down in the west, colouring the clouds over Kapiti Island.

Sunset over Kapiti Island

Tomorrow we are heading on to attend the Regional Rally at Te Horo, organised by the Wellington Caravan Club, with the grand total of 4kms to travel.  We certainly won’t be jet lagged travelling that distance, will we?

Over-nighting in Rural Otaki

As we pulled the caravan into the driveway at rural Otaki, it was rather like a moment of déjà-vue.  We had previously stayed at this property (in the caravan)  for 3 months while we waited for our new home to be built.  With cow paddocks on one side, and a commercial rhubarb growing enterprise on the other, it really does seem to be in the heart of rural farm life.  But in reality, it is only a a couple of minutes drive to the Otaki shops on SH1.

Late afternoon in Otaki

We were heading south for a weekend caravan club rally at a little further along SH1 at Paekakariki, and had planned to go a day early – just because we could.  Instead, said Geoff and Eileen, why not stay the night here?  So we did, thanks very much.  The weather is glorious, lovely blue skies and nice and warm – perhaps Spring is not too far away?  Whatever the weather, it is always great to catch up with our caravan buddies, we are looking forward to a great weekend.

Otaki and back

Otaki is about 20kms south from where we live and is a town divided into three areas.  The shopping area along State Highway 1 is known as Otaki Railway, and has become famous for it’s many “outlet shops”.  Midway to the beach is Otaki township which contains more shops and residential areas, and finally, Otaki Beach which is mainly residential.  We took a trip to Otaki township to stock up on some “real” sausages made by one of those good old fashioned butchers, none of those tasteless supermarket sausages for us.  And I couldn’t resist buying a piece of pickled pork either.  Then we drove back Otaki Railway to pop into one of those outlet shops which always seem to have a sale – you don’t really need to know what undergarments I purchased there.

We had a look around the historic Otaki Railway Station which has served the community since 1886, and was a major link between the town and the outside world.  From the 1940s onwards, the local market gardeners flocked to the station to load up their produce onto wagons.  Trucks lined up with tomatoes, pumpkins and greens, bound for markets in Wellington, Palmerston North, Wanganui, Napier and New Plymouth.   But times changed, the roads improved, and now the produce is moved by truck.  Sadly, the only train stopping at the station these days in the Capitol Connection commuter service which runs one service morning and night on week days.

The historic Otaki Railway Station

Another local historic building a little further south is sadly no more.  The century old Red House Cafe at Te Horo went up in flames a week or so ago and I wanted to see what had happened to the building.   Starting life as a general store in 1911, it became the Red House Cafe in 2004.  Some years ago while still trading as a store, the owner caused quite a stir in the neighbourhood when he accepted an offer from Coco-Cola to paint the building red.  The locals were quite upset and some wanted to club together to buy some white paint and change the colour back.  But the bright red paint job made the building a State Highway 1 icon – everyone knew where it was.  We have enjoyed many a lunch and a couple of evening meals there.  The food was always delicious, and the old timber building had a lovely warm old fashioned feel to it. 

The Red House Cafe that was

Sadly, all that is left now is a pile of rubble.

The demolition team were making short work of the rubble, there is not much left now to be loaded up on the large truck and taken away.  It was just as well that we drove down to have a look when we did – probably not long now till the site is completely cleared.  It is very sad indeed to see such a wonderful old building which was the hub of the community for so long totally destroyed.

Big blue trucks to take the debris away

Sunny Otaki

We had a day in sunny Otaki today – or it should have been.  After all, that’s what the sign said.  In actual fact, it was a cloudy day, but without any pesky wind.   The first European settlers were ex-whalers turned traders. In the late 1890s the large areas of alluvial soil at Otaki began to be used for market gardening. In 1912 Otaki was created a town district and was constituted a borough in 1921. The name is said to mean “the place of a staff stuck in the ground”, when the tohunga Haupipi-a-nanaia was on his way southwards in search of his wife, as an indication that he wished to rest there.

Otaki is a 20km drive from home and has turned itself into one of those popular “Outlet Towns”.  People come from far and wide to visit a number of the big name brand stores which line the street.  Bendon was one of the first companies to open an outlet in Otaki, which is now one of their busiest stores in the country.   (And yes, I just had to go into this intimate apparel shop and came away with some of their good quality bargains.  And new shoes as well, lucky me).  As it was Friday, the streets weren’t too over-run by shoppers, but it certainly would be a different story over the weekend.

And we couldn’t visit Otaki without a visit to Harringtons, an interesting butchery which specializes in hand crafted small goods.  We came away with black pudding, bacon, and Cranksy sausages.   Yummy, there will be several nice cooked breakfasts out of that little lot.

After all this shopping, it was soon time for lunch at one of the local cafes.  Big breakfast for him, and pea and ham soup for her – all very tasty, even more so with a Gold Card discount.  After a quick phone call to see if our friends Geoff and Eileen were home, we whiled away another hour or so with them, before heading back home.

Saturday Night Pub Quiz

To tell the truth, we didn’t actually go to a pub.  Does it count if our Pub Quiz really took place in a school class room during our caravan rally?  Of course not.  And all that thinking certainly gave the old grey cells a bit of a shake-up, I can tell you.

A busy old day

The first quiz had a decided political flavour.  Our team of four had to list the 15 political parties that contested the 2014 General Election.  We started well, National, Labour, NZ First (good old Winston who gave us OAPs the Gold Card), The Greens, and the Maori Party.  Then we ran out of steam a bit.  What’s the name of that fellow who always wears bow ties, we asked each other.  And that awful millionaire Kim Dot Com – the name of his political party escaped us for a while, even though it was in the news night after night.  The minutes kept ticking away, and there was no way that we could remember the names of all the fifteen – so there was no way our team was coming first.

Then we were taken back to our childhood days when we were asked to recall Nursery Rhymes in a two part quiz.  First we had to work out the first line from the clue:  Little MMSOAT.  Easy – Little Miss Muffet sat on a Tuffet.  Then we had to recall the second line of the nursery rhyme.  No trouble in this case – “eating her curds and whey”.  Some were easy, and some not, and if we couldn’t get part one there was no way to work out the second line for part two.  We were asked to repeat this exercise 44 times – goodness, who would even know there were that many nursery rhymes.  Geoff and Eileen won this quiz with a wonderful effort of 39 correct answers.

We were blessed with lovely sunny Autumn weather over the weekend, with just a little rain on Sunday.  The school was surrounded with large trees and we listened to the chortling songs of magpies.  And somewhere up high was a tui hiding in the trees who kept us entertained with his singing.   Tui are endemic to New Zealand and belong to the honeyeater family, which means they feed mainly on nectar from flowers of native plants. Occasionally they will eat insects too.  They are important pollinators of many native trees and will fly large distances, especially during winter for their favourite foods.  We finally spotted the tui up on the topmost branch of a large Macrocarpa tree.  Although they appear black from a distance, tui feathers have a beautiful iridescent blue and green sheen.  In this photo you can just make out the curled white feather tufts on the throat.  Because of these white feathers early settlers called the tui the Parson bird.

Tui on the highest branch of the tree

And to show you the lovely colours – photo from the internet

It was a great weekend with our caravan buddies, with plenty to keep us entertained, from disc bowls to the pub quiz.  And the blokes were very interested in the cricket match of the day when the Black Caps played the West Indies.  They all huddled together in a group – Barry kept everyone informed with updates on his phone.  But there is nothing wrong with listening the old fashioned way – Dave had his radio tuned to the game and they all listened intently.   Sport is well ingrained into the  Kiwi  male psyche, and there is nothing more serious than international sport.

Listening intently to the cricket game