BLUSTERY: Sean George demonstrates the wind strength using his towel while Troy Malofy (left) and Brodie Cleverly bang in a few more tent pegs. PHOTO/MICHAEL CUNNINGHAM
BLUSTERY: Sean George demonstrates the wind strength using his towel while Troy Malofy (left) and Brodie Cleverly bang in a few more tent pegs. PHOTO/MICHAEL CUNNINGHAM
I recently returned from an East Cape round trip exhausted, broke and certain that rest, relaxation and the perfect summer holiday do not lie beyond the Brynderwyns.
Given the purpose of holidays in general is to relax, any 1700km trip is more like a punishment. After such a trip, onelongs for a shower, soft bed, nourishing food and cold drinks.
My husband and I drove in 29C heat to Gisborne and set up camp at some modest grounds outside the city.
We found a dusty field, a lack of loos, noisy, banjo-playing Germans in the tent next door and my shampoo spilled all over my pillow.
As well, blood-sucking mozzies abounded and I'd run out of my favourite teabags.
A chopper passed overhead three times in the night, while familiar, terrifying buzzing could be heard within the tent. Wide-awake insects do not make good sleeping companions.
As the sun began heating up, so did I. I had become the meat in my own Kathmandu canvas hangi.
We showered and got out of Gisborne, vowing never to drive so far from home again.
