Nelson to Wakefield 35 kms
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| Nelson at dawn. |
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| Parsley planted in stony field. The other side of the road looked like salad greens. |
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| On the waterfront in Nelson is a list of all the first settlers ships and passengers lists. The Wratts in this one closest to camera were our ancestors. |
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| Big Breakfast in Wakefield. Just saw cousin Graham Nicholls in Cafe Rhubarb. |
Nelson to Kikiwa. Today was a lovely cycle of 100kms. I followed the cycle path to Wakefield. It meanders along beside trout streams on farmland, orchards, suburbs, is well maintained and signposted. A long slow train gradient to the tunnel under Spooner's Range, 1.3 km long and then down to Kohatu Junction and my uncle's memorial as posted. Then I went free range as I had already done as I lost my glasses going downhill. A mad thrash got me to Masterton where I picked up 3 pair of glasses, bandaids and tape because the chafing on my ankles still hasn't healed, then down the highway in the gloaming and putting up a tent in the dark.
I went up Korere valley and called at the St George's Church, Motupiko only a k or so from Kohatu Junction.
All the trees surrounding it have been cut since my last visit. I visited my father's mother's grave. She died in 1945 shortly after he got back from the war. He was in Tripoli and on the first ship home for compassionate reasons along with all the invalids and wounded. She had one son killed in WW1 and wanted to see my father come home.
I used to go to church here with my grandma but grandad didn't go on the grounds that he hadn't seen much sign of God at Gallipoli.
I also saw wee Richard's grave. He died aged 2 of whooping cough in 1941. The family had 12 children eventually and mum was the eldest and assumed a lot of the responsibilities. She was helpless when Richard died and never got over it. There was no vaccine in those days.
My parents married in the church and immediately moved to Blenheim where they lived in two old army huts, cooking done in a lean to between them and no electricity.
Dad lived in the same valley and was 8 years older. They also had a large family. His father became an alcoholic and ended up drinking meths in an institution. He was a jealous man and his wife was not allowed to have a doctor for births and apparently two children died in childbirth and were buried at Wolmerbrook, the farm name. There is an Arnold stream by the house as you go into Korere. I was curious and went in today because I hadn't been there since I was 5 or 6. Geoff and Hannah Carson graciously let me look around inside. She had a gorgeous bald baby under her arm and other lovely quiet children. The house has seen better days and some of the original wallpaper with scrim behind it. The original fireplace where people could sit inside the fireplace had been removed. There had been a water pump at the back door. Geoff's family bought the farm in 1945 from the Arnold Estate.
Geoff was busy making 3,500 bricks by hand using clay and macrocarpa and cyprus sawdust. It smelt intoxicating.
I visited Korere school. My other grandparents home was bowled years ago. It had been a stagecoach inn and was two storied. We had wonderful Christmases there with over 20 cousins going crazy. Note the schoolhouse high windows to avoid distractions. The redwood trees at the school were waist high when my father went there. He left school at 11 years old to work. Mum left when she matriculated aged 13 to look after her younger siblings. She regretted not having the opportunity to have further education.
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| Korere Schoolhouse. |
The school is now surrounded by hop gardens, the hops dry, brown and ready to strip. They rustled and spun like Chinese lanterns in the breeze.
I carried on to Kikiwa, to Birchlea where mum's father had purchased a farm being eligible to go in a ballot as a returned serviceman. It was covered in beech forest which he had to cut and burn before planting grass seeds. He built his own house and hand planed rough sawn timber which is still in the house. I remember visiting and there was an open hearth with huge pots of water warming on them. My dad helped clear some of the slopes. They would scarf all the trees then topple the top ones and the domino effect dropped them all.
I am staying with my uncle Jock and Auntie Leonie in a new home on the property; 6 actually. I was very pleased to get here after 100 kms exactly in 12 hours, but lots of gossiping and photo stops.
Uncle Jock is a family favorite. He had osteomyelitis as a child and has always had a chronic weeping sinus but had born it stoically into his 92nd year. He has always been cheerful. As a child he carried a bantam around all the time high into the macrocarpa.
One of the grandchildren runs a mechanical repair shop which is stockpiling vehicles at a prodigous rate and would give Smash Palace, or whatever it is now called, a run for their money.
I climbed 969 metres and it is cold now I have lost so much body fat.
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