Wagons Roll and the Squeak from Hell

Auckland to Ohope

Saturday 31 October 2020

Although we’re not exactly novices in the campervan lark, it’s fair to say that it’s been a while. Quite a while in fact. Yes, the size of the vehicle may have changed but the principals are the same. Let the road guide you and see where you end up. Bruce Springsteen would be proud.

Well he would be if we hadn’t booked all of the campgrounds in advance and had a strict itinerary to follow. Maybe Born to Run wouldn’t quite have had the same romantic feel to it if the protagonists agreed to set off next Tuesday but only after having checked their packing list, made sure the Sat Nav was loaded with their destinations and the plants had been watered. 

The last time we tried this we were in a VW Combi and headed into the Yorkshire Dales. This time we’re in a modern van with more space. Nowhere near as iconic but more practical even if it is much more difficult to park.

After a bit of faffing around; getting the vehicle from the depot near the airport, driving back into town to pack and then finally setting off, we were on our way! Free but not-quite-so-easy.

If the van was sluggish to start with, it was even more so once laden with our possessions. It wasn’t the acceleration that was a problem but the braking. It took a lot of effort and forward planning to bring the lump of machinery to a stop. Maybe we over did the wine? Ah well, who needs emergency stops anyway? And the bonus is that the more we drink the safer we get! 

Despite the modeninity of the vehicles, boy it didn’t half rattle around, presumably from pots, pans, cutlery  and other camping equipment in the back.

The rattling we could live with - it was part of the deal you could say - but there was a squeak.

SQUEAK!

And not just any squeak. This was the squeak from hell. 

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

It was as if two overly enthusiastic mice were squabbling over who took the last piece of cheese. 

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

And had somehow found a mouse sized loudhailer to inform us of their plight.

Loud music drowned out some of the cacophony and I found by concentrating on driving I could largely ignore it.

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

SQUEAK!! SQUEAK!!

“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PULL OVER!!”

Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for my co-traveller. Needless to say, I pulled over.

A quick pit stop later, we’d identified the source of the squeak. A catch on the foldaway bed. How something so small could make such a racket was beyond me. But it was. 

We were back on the road and could finally relax, and soon rolled into our first stop Ohope Beach. The beers were opened and we sat and watched the rolling sea.

Ahhh. The holiday had stated.

DIY

We’ve just had a long weekend in New Zealand, or Bank Holiday if you prefer, and for the first time in a long while we actually did some DIY. How long? Well at least six years, probably longer as our home in the UK was fully DIY’d. Well nearly. There was one room that we never got around to painting but as it was the spare guest room - it’s embarrassing to admit that we had a five bedroom house - it never seemed to warrant the effort to get rid of the bluey-purple shade that the previous owner had bestowed upon the walls.

And so, as home owners in two hemispheres, the long weekend meant that we needed to partake in the national pastime of life laundry. Or so a friend of ours reliably informed us. To be honest, I'm still not sure she was telling the truth and suspect that, jealous of our plans to head to the beach, somehow managed to convince us that we we really wanted to do was to get some home improvements done. So, even though the forecast was for a glorious spring weekend with temperatures in the low twenties, we caved to peer pressure and found ourselves in the DIY superstore choosing paint and other related products so we could tidy up our deck. The beach would just have to wait. Oh, how times have changed.

Actually, DIY has played an important part in our life as homeowners. Sure we enjoyed the end results, but it was the journey that really mattered. Think I’m overplaying it? Well let me take you back to the heady days of the early nineties as a small town kid and city girl bought their first house…..

14 Granby Place, Leeds 6, was the place to be. Well it was if you were buying your first house on a council wage. Not that we were complaining - it was the perfect location for us. Headingley had a great little shopping centre and was only a ‘short’ walk from the city centre. It had two local cinemas within easy reach and two great pubs a leisurely stroll from our front door. Oddly, they never seemed quite as close on the way back.

Bought for around £40,000 it was a modest affair, so modest that it lead to one of our friends asking when they were going to finish the rest of it! Cheeky bleeder. Despite the lack of space, we loved it. It was what was known as a back-to-back house. Typically these were built as terraces and only had a front aspect, the rear of the house being identical to the front and belonging to someone else. Except ours backed onto the grounds of the British Legion and therefore didn’t have a back property. A blind back-to-back so to speak. Confused? Well try this Wikipedia page for help.

Our first house - just before we sold it

Where was I? Oh yes, DIY. Well as the previous owner of our property had some really random thoughts on internal design - gloss painted kitchen counters being one that springs to mind - we needed to do a lot of work to bring it up to standard. With only five rooms it wasn’t a huge undertaking but there were two fairly signifiant obstacles that stood in the way. Money and skills. Both were sadly lacking in equal measure. 

Fortunately for us, we had some friends who were very keen to try this DIY lark and were all too happy to give up weekends to travel a couple of hours south from the north-east to the metropolis of Leeds, on the strict understanding that we fed them KFC and/or pizza. Oh, and provided liquid refreshments. It was a pretty sweet deal and, it has to be said, enormous fun. A great excuse to have some mates down for the weekend to have the craic and some beers - providing the second and last coat of paint was done before Sunday night and the house returned to something approaching normality. 

Usually we managed this - even if it meant putting ornaments back onto freshly glossed shelving. Well, who would notice and what were the chances of us ever wanting to rearrange stuff anyway? Exactly. Besides, we needed to get the post decorating photos done before they returned to the north-east. It did lead to some pretty late nights but schedules were schedules. 

I did have a moment of doubt when it was time to tackle the kitchen and it seemed like a big ask to get it done in a single weekend. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was small. So small in fact, that we managed to get it all of the new units into the back of a Ford Escort and transport it from Ikea safely along the M62 motorway. Sure, the steering was a little light making cornering tricky and the brakes weren’t all that effective, but we got it home. 

The next Friday night, right on cue, the team arrived and set about tearing the old kitchen out. It was an impressive sight. Bits of wood were flying out the front door as the old units were demolished. Quite how we managed it without anyone getting a lump of plywood in their eye is a miracle. Almost as much of a miracle as how we got three adults into a room the area of a small coffee table.

Wisely, my partner had decided to relocate to Liverpool for the weekend to let us get on with it. We certainly learnt some new skills that weekend. For example plumbing, electrics and how it was really important to finish any tricky tasks before you start drinking. One minor flooding event aside, caused by the wrong pipe being capped off before the water was turned back on, the kitchen was completed in the allotted timeframe. Well it would’ve been had we not misplaced a brass olive compression washer so couldn’t finish the final pieces of plumbing. It had gone 9pm and the shops shut several hours ago so it would have to wait. Never mind, there was always next weekend and another excuse for a night out in Leeds 6.

The dedication shown by my friends to our little property still fills me with joy. Nothing was too much trouble. One one occasion, one of the team was due to fly out to South America a few days later on a working holiday. What better way to mark the occasion than cleaning out and white-washing the walls of a cellar - or sótano if you prefer. 

The main bedroom before....

...and after

I like to think that being one of the first of the group to own a property, that the walls and ceilings of our little Headingley home were a training ground for their future endeavours in home improvements. Certainly the plastering in the cellar steps would bear this out. It was even too rough to call it rustic and I was so glad that it was in the cellar and not needed anywhere else in the house.

As we moved from house to house, the decorating and home improvement services continued but we never took it for granted and looked to return the favour whenever we could. I do rather suspect though that our skills we more of a hindrance than help but hopefully it was the thought that counts! 

Now we’re property owners in New Zealand we are going to have to spend some time on DIY but we're hoping this is limited to the odd splash of paint here and there and nothing major is needed. We hope not, firstly for the inconvenience of it all but also because our tools are all in a friends garage in the UK. There's no way we're buying a second set. Besides, the offer still stands. Should we find ourselves in need of DIY assistance we’re happy to accept help. Although I think it’ll take more than a few pizzas and beers to get the gang this far south!

The deck after a day spent sanding and painting

Election Night

Well here we go again. It’s election time in NZ. Yes again. We have one of the shortest parliamentary periods in the world. Three years. Yes three. No sooner have you got your feet under the table and your readying for the next election. No time to get owt done.

So MMP. What’s that all about? Well for those who have misplaced my handy cut-out-and-keep guide from 2017, MMP is New Zealand’s democratic process that’s what.. and according to Wikipedia... 

“Under MMP, New Zealand voters have two votes. The first vote is the electorate vote. It determines the local representative for that electorate (geographic electoral district). The electorate vote works on a plurality system whereby whichever candidate gets the greatest number of votes in each electorate wins the seat. The second vote is the party vote. This determines the number of seats each party is entitled to overall – in other words, the proportionality of the House.

There are two thresholds in the New Zealand MMP system. The first is that any Party which receives 5% or more of the Party vote is entitled to a share of the nominally 120 seats in the House of Representatives – even if the Party does not win a single electorate seat. For instance in the 2008 elections, the Greens failed to win any electorate seats but won 6.7% of the party vote and thereby earned nine seats in Parliament.

The second threshold is that any Party that wins one or more electorate seats is entitled to an additional share of the nominally 120 seats in House of Representatives based on the percentage of the party vote – even if it doesn't win 5% of the vote.“

Well I'm glad that’s cleared that up then. Let's see if I can do any better....

Simply put, the number of votes cast for a particular party determines, more or less, how many seats they get in the House of Representatives but the minimum entry is 5% of the vote. 

See, wasn't my version much easier to understand!

Anyway it’s election night and we’re sat outside at our local bar watching the live feed on TV. Democracy, beer and the goat outdoors. Could this be the perfect combination? To be fair, it’s fairly quiet. Just us, a couple sat a few tables away deep in animated conversation and a birthday party table. Well I assume it’s a birthday party judging by the balloons and other celebratory paraphernalia. I could, of course, be wrong and but I think my instincts are right on the button. 

It’s been a funny old election campaign. Postponed by a month by the pandemic but still somewhat overshadowed by it all. Polls were published, talked about, debunked and praised. Charts, tables and what-ifs dominated the pages of New Zealand’s media. Had the Jacinda bubble burst?  Would Covid-19 be kept at bay until Election Day and could Judith Collins keep on message? No. Yes and god no.

On that latter point, Judith Collins seemed to really go off the rails in the last week, accusing fat people of being lazy and having a pop at Tasmania. No-one really knew why and it remains to be seen whether this had any impact on the outcome of the election. Actually it probably won't. Not because the remarks were offensive, because they certainly were, but because voting actually started two weeks ago. You see, rather than ask the entire population trudge down to a polling station on a single day, the polls are open for two weeks in New Zealand. It means that you can pick a day that suits you best, including weekends, and fit the democratic process around whatever hectic schedule you undoubtedly have. Or wait for the weather to improve. Who said democracy had to be hard work. 

And it seems to work. As of yesterday, 1.7m had voted in advance. Okay that might not seem a lot but to put it in perspective, it represents nearly half of all registered voters. And it's not just the early voting that is helped by a longer polling period, it also helps overall turnout. Last year nearly 80% of eligible voters made their mark.

I hope this is all making sense so far. I'm two pints to the good so I'm not so sure anymore. Not that I make much sense at the best of times....

Back home and the chilli is on and the wine is chilling. A chilly fest if you like. It's been a while since we watched live TV and it a revelation. Plus we don't know the outcome yet. But really we do. It all seems to be going really well for Labour with the numbers far exceeding both expectations and the polls. It could be a disastrous night for the National Party, or so the pundits in the studio tell us. Only time will tell.....

Well that was a bit one sided and not at all exciting. Being a Boro fan I'm much more at home with a nail biting finish, and one that usually ends in crushing disappointment. Leading from the start and finishing even further in front when the whistle goes just doesn't seem right to me. What happened to the mid-game slump? Where were the unforced errors? And how come no-one got sent off? Not at all satisfying. 

Never mind, with the New Zealand election cycle only being three years, there will soon be another opportunity to experience the thrill and excitement of Election Night. 

Around the Sun

In just a few hours, I will be 50. Actually, I'm lying. Knowing the time it takes me to start and finish a blog, by time you read this I was probably 50 a few weeks ago. But hey, you can't rush the creative process. Which is a good job because being creative against a deadline doesn't work. To quote the great Douglas Adams, "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by."

Anyway, I digress. Which in it's own way probably explains why it takes me so long to finish writing them. Blast there I go again. At this rate I'll be 51 by the time you read this and you'll have wondered what all the fuss was about.  Where was I? Oh yes, my upcoming birthday.

It's always struck me as a bit odd the we congratulate each other on the arrival of another birthday. It's not like we had that much to do with. It just sort of happens. Yes, I have had the odd near miss over the years when out mountain biking - collisions with gates, rocks and a bread van come to mind. Oh and a particularly startled sheep when I was once forced to take evasive action by jumping over the stupid animal. But other than looking both ways when I cross the road and curbing my cheese intake, I've got here pretty much by default. Now I've written that, I'm suddenly all too aware that I may have counted my chickens too early and a sudden sense of dread has descended. Maybe I should've left this until I actually do wake up in the morning. 

Which brings me to another point. When actually is my birthday. No, I haven't gotten that old that I've forgotten already, but it's a question innit? When is it really? The reason I ask is that I was born in the northern hemisphere pretty and in Greenwich Meantime. So when it's my birthday here, it's not in the UK. And as I was born around lunchtime, technically, I'm not 50 until sometime on Monday morning. I don't suppose anyone is going to mind if I open my cards a day earlier but let's keep this between you and I just in case.

Ten years ago, we rented a large property in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the Yorkshire Dales, and celebrated by inviting friends from the four corners of the UK. Well mostly from four corners of the top half actually. It was a great event and far exceeded expectations and I'm still amazed that we managed to get a take away Indian meal delivered, although it was a bit of an ordeal for the delivery driver. Ten miles or so down a single track path in the dark is probably something that he wasn't expecting on a blustery October evening. He did well, especially as he had a phobia about sheep, so I'm sure we tipped well.

If you'd told me then that I would be celebrating my 50th birthday in New Zealand I'd have thought you'd lost your mind. In fairness, I didn't expect to be celebrating my 50th here even five years ago. But that's life. If we knew what was up ahead then some days we wouldn't bother getting out of bed.

Which brings me onto another point. 2020 is sure one hell of a strange year to have hit 50. Plans that we had at the start of the year have been thrown out, re-written, thrown out again, and finally put on the proverbial back-burner. Even in New Zealand, where the pandemic has been relatively under control, there was a reluctance to plan too far in advance, just in case. That's why tonight, we're having a low key celebration at the local pub rather than risk anything too grand. In hindsight, we could've hired a venue, booked a band and had a right good knees up, but the risk of getting stuck with 200 sausages on cocktail sticks was off putting. Having them for lunch the day after would have been novel but I'm not so sure I could stomach two weeks of them. Wow, my stomach literally just turned at the thought. 

Meat-based snacks aside, I appreciate that I am really fortunate to be able to celebrate with some friends - it was unthinkable just a few weeks ago - as it still is in many other parts of the world. So in some ways, although we can't celebrate with family this year, being in New Zealand does give me some opportunity to mark the occasion. In about an hour I will be toasting my success at getting to the pub in one piece and counting down the hours until the big 5-0.

And the best bit is that we can do it all again next year in the Northern Hemisphere, once the travel restrictions are lifted and getting around becomes a little easier. Who is up for that? Cool. I'll bring the sausages.

A Bridge Too Far

I know I'm generalising here, but Kiwi's aren't overly fond of thinking ahead and much prefer just see what happens. Living in the moment does have its attractions; never be late, never be disappointed and and always have things turn out exactly as you planned. Sounds great. But in direct contradiction to the way that we run our life. Whether it's because we're Engineer's and Project Managers or because we don't mind being disappointed, we need to think ahead. 

We have tried on several occasions to live life on the edge and just wing it, but alas it didn't turn out well. A few years back now, we were on holiday in Colorado and were travelling around the state for a few weeks checking out the sights and attractions. For some inexplicable reason, we just couldn't relax. The holiday just refused to get going and we spent each day wondering what was up with us and why we weren't enjoying ourselves. It wasn't the place. Admittedly, the sight of a gun counter in the first supermarket we went in did put us on edge a little but we were over that. The people were super friendly and the scenery was fantastic. 

Yet the holiday was heading towards being a huge waste of time and money. Suddenly, whist relaxing, or at least trying to relax, in our room in Breckenridge the cent dropped. We needed to plan the trip. As soon as it was said, it was obvious. Staring us in the face really. Up to this point we were doing  what everyone else did and just set off in the morning and see where the road took us. 

Sure we ended up in some interesting places - the most notable being a particularly rustic hotel in Ouray. Not sure what we were expecting for $15 a night but it was an experience. Why? Well put it this way, we weren't alone in our room - there was definitely an uninvited non-human guest sharing our space. And the communal bathroom? I still shudder at the thought of having to wade through four inches of water to get to the sink. So we sat down on the bed with the maps and planned the rest of the trip. Once done, it was as if someone had flicked the 'relax' switch. Now we were on holiday.

The historic Western Hotel is the oldest hotel in the state. And no doubt the cheapest!

Since then, everything has been planned and nothing left to chance. Unable to travel outside the country, next month we're hiring a camper van and doing a tiki-tour of the North Island. I did suggest that, as it was off-season, we could just head off and see where we end up.  There was a long silence and before we both broke out in laughter at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. Even in a place as laid back and safe as New Zealand it wasn't going to happen. 

So we're planners and we know it. I do sometimes envy those who can just see where life takes them but that's not me. Jealous? Well a little bit but it can have it's disadvantages. 

Take an example a few years ago. I happened to note casually to colleagues that we were off to see the All Blacks play Australia in the Bledisloe Cup that evening. They were astonished. What? How? But it's sold out! I had a cunning plan, I told them. I noted when the tickets were being released and....well here's the cunning part.... went online and booked them! I know. Flippin' sneaky or what. The cheek of it. I mean, it's not like I queued up at the ticket office for hours. No instead, coffee in hand, I sat in my PJs and just bought them. Strewth, whatever next. 

Lack of planning in New Zealand is not a new phenomenon. The Auckland Harbour Bridge, often noted as one of Auckland most iconic features, is a case in point.  

The bridge took four years to construct and was opened in 1959. Before then,  the quickest way from Auckland to the North Shore was by passenger or vehicular ferry and this was simply not acceptable to the few commuters. By road, the shortest route was via the NW motorway, which was only partly completed, with an overall distance of approximately 50 km.

The recommendations of the design team and the report of the 1946 Royal Commission were for five or six traffic lanes, with one or two of them to be reversed in direction depending on the flow of traffic, and with a footpath for pedestrians on each side. Nonsense, said the National Government of New Zealand, what poppycock. The Northshore was a rural area with a population of only 50,000, few jobs and a growth rate of less than half of the rest of Auckland. They're country bumpkins so what would they want with such a large structure. Obviously I'm paraphrasing there but my guess is I'm not that far off the verbatim discussion.

So with a cry of "austerity measures ahoy!" the pedestrian and cycling facilities were dropped and the number of lanes reduced to four. That was plenty for farmers and their animals. 

The bridge took four years to build (fun fact bridge fans - it was built by Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Company from Darlington in the UK) and was completed in April 1959, three weeks ahead of schedule, and opened the following month. To mark the occasion, 106,000 walked across the new structure and I'm sure the irony wasn't wasted on some of the assembled crowd that this would be the last time that people could actually cross the bridge on foot.

Auckland Harbour Bridge under construction

Owing to the rapid expansion of suburbs on the North Shore and increasing traffic levels, it was soon necessary to increase capacity – by 1965, the annual use was about 10 million vehicles, three times the original forecast. In 1969, only ten years after opening, two-lane box girder clip-on sections were added to each side, doubling the number of lanes to eight. The sections were manufactured in Japan so, inevitably maybe, became known as the 'Nippon clip-ons'. And, surprise surprise, the cost of the adornments far exceeded the cost of building a bridge with enough capacity in the first place. Austerity ahoy indeed!

Fast forward to present day and the bridge now carries 180,000 vehicles per day, and it has to be said, not a single farm animal. To help with the management of the flow of traffic, a moveable concrete safety barrier has been installed to allow more lanes for the inbound morning traffic and similar for the evening return home. Two specially designed machines move the barrier by one lane four times a day. It was the first in the world and a true example of Kiwi ingenuity.

Unfortunately, the clip-ons have been plagued with problems. Several major rounds of repairs have been completed and in 2007 a report surfaced that noted "the clip-ons were at risk of catastrophic, immediate failure in circumstances such as a traffic jam trapping a large number of trucks."

A second crossing has been discussed but has remained on the drawing board for the time being.  With a design life of 50 years for the clip ons, time is indeed running out for the structure. 

This hasn't been helped any by recent antics. Last month, a rogue gust of wind (or rouge winds according to a report in a local paper - now that I would have loved to see!) caused a heavy goods vehicle to tip and crash into the bridge structure inflicting significant damage. The bridge was closed whilst inspections and testing were carried out and commuters asked to stay at home. Or get the ferry. Just like the old days. The lorry had collided with one of the supporting struts and had proper bent it (sorry for the engineering term there but I'm sure you get my drift). A replacement wasn't on hand so one had to be made. 

As I type, the bridge is still closed during the evening and traffic is limited during the day. Despite many working form home due to the Covid-19 restrictions, queues are huge and calls for the construction of a second crossing are getting louder. 

In all honesty, I'm not sure a second crossing is needed. At least not in the form that is currently being suggested. I'm not going to get into specifics but pumping more cars per hour into the city centre is not going to be good for the city. Or more importantly the people who live and work there. Instead of a knee-jerk reaction to give cars yet more space in our city, how about we plan and think about what we really want for Auckland of the future? Like what? Oh, I dunno. Maybe sort out the public transport connections and get a train service into the North Shore and allow people to cycle and walk across the bridge and we'll be sweet. Heck, maybe even allow a cow or two to cross.