Firstly, always, is coffee, and this morning it's found at Paper Mulberry Cafe, 35 minutes south of Napier. The cafe is off SH2, inside an old school hall, a building over 100 years old.
The breakfast menu featured the usual suspects and the interesting-sounding 'cowboy beans' - mmm, maybe not for a long roadie. Open to suggestions I asked, "What's your best-selling brekkie?" The waitress answered, "The bacon butty". I asked, stupidly, "What’s in that?" The answer was, of course, "Bacon and bread” accompanied by an eye roll. It turned out to be the best bacon butty of my life, way better than the three I've sampled at the Hastings market (research continuing). Generous quantities of tasty bacon and oozing butter on thick homemade white bread. A two napkin breakfast.
The coffee was excellent and came in a tulip cup without being requested. The cabinet food looked enticing, with bowls of salads, homemade pies, and plenty of dairy and gluten-free options. There's a cute help-yourself used book corner, locally made natural skincare and gifts corner including the most fun game of Travel Bingo I’ve ever seen, and $1 bags of lollies in twisted white bags, like the dairy.
Five minutes further down SH2 is the turnoff for Otane and the CHB beaches. On a Thursday morning, it was quiet, nobody out and about and no cars on the road. The only business open was McCauley's Cafe in Otane's restored public library.
The Otane Pavement Walk is a short, sweet detour down a pretty road lined one side with massive old oaks and a few cottages and villas.
The day was warming up beautifully as I headed out to explore the coastal beaches. There are six along this stretch of coastline, and I aimed to get to all of them over the next two days. First up: Kairakau Beach. A scenic beach with loads of white sand, a grassy beachfront, craggy islands offshore, and rock pools. The dozen or so houses backed into towering cliffs - it’s snug. The long beach was empty apart from surf casters and myself, even though there were plenty of camper vans and occupied houses.
As good as the beach was, the road out to it was interesting in its own right. I’m so glad I made this trip in Autumn with such stunning scenery. The winding road isn't as sharp as the one out to Ocean Beach and Waimarama; it’s comfortable, easy, cruisy, and quiet. I drove over plenty of my favourite blonde, dry undulating hills, through groves of multi-coloured trees in red, gold, apricot - the stone fruits of the tree world. On the way, I saw plenty of the Tuki Tuki River, especially over the long bridge beside the Patanga Tavern, which is a popular weekend destination.
Ten minutes down the coast and over a gravel road is Mangakuri Beach. This felt like a private beach with limited places to park, no camping allowed, and a handful of houses that looked permanently lived-in. The beach itself is similar to Kairakau, rocky and rough, but the beach is much narrower.
Back to the Patanga Tavern and a 30-minute drive to Pourerere Beach. Another stretching, white sand beach, maybe longer than Kairakau. But there are no rocks on this one, just miles of beach and rolling surf, with dry hills at either end. There’s a well-established caravan park down one end and a few houses, set well apart. Pourerere is my pick for a day or a weekend at the beach. You could spend a few busy hours here, boating, fishing, swimming, or just walking.
Around 2 pm I headed inland to Waipawa to check out the art and sculpture garden, Artmosphere (no spelling mistake). This art-filled villa is packed floor to ceiling. Owner and artist Helmut Hirler specialises in photographic work of all kinds of unique objects - stone angels, run-down NZ dairies, decomposing cars in backyards, falling down shacks - moody and expensive!. With lots to look at inside and out, it's a great stop heading into Waipawa.
I continued to Waipukurau, ten minutes down the road, in search of coffee. Two out of the three places I’d earmarked were closed but the third option was open. Espresso Loco turned out to be a window kiosk at the end of the train station. The coffee was perfect, Havana, 6oz cup, not too milky. I'm two for two.
I had a quick drive down the main street, old without being interesting if that makes sense. Nothing caught my eye, so I decided to head for my accommodation for the night, Wallingford Estate.
Built around 1858, Wallingford is one of the oldest homesteads in NZ. The hosts are Australian ex-restaurateurs - one-half is the ex-head chef at Bill Grainger's in Sydney, and it’s foodie heaven. The 'Hello' living room - no ordinary reception desk for Wallingford! - was filled with cake, cookies, and fruit. An old-fashioned roll-top desk held an extensive range of teas and a bowl of chopped chocolate for making proper hot chocolate.
They’re also big on relaxation. There’re no organised things to do at the Estate, but they can bring someone to you for a yoga class or guided fly fishing. They discourage handing out the wifi password and have just the one TV in the house, in a shared space at the back of the house.
It's a rabbit warren of a place with many rooms and corridors. The ten bedrooms are named - I stayed in Uncle Dave’s bedroom, who thankfully didn’t make an appearance. The grounds aren't huge, but there is a small formal garden, pool house, and cabana and plenty of Jane Austen views over surrounding farms and forest.
The house and furnishings are heavy and dark, and authentically old, which is not usually my thing but I loved it here. The rooms are large, comfortable, with creaking floors and open fires in more than one space. Besides the ten bedrooms, there were at least five different living spaces, and I wish I’d asked to visit the kitchen and scullery. The outside features multiple verandas and nooks and crannies everywhere. The walls inside are lined with old books, art, and maps.
Besides myself, the other overnight guests were a couple, and another solo lady, Kelli Brett, editor of Cuisine magazine. In her honour, Chris the host and chef, laid on a ten-course bites degustation. While I was excited about that initially, not so much 2 1/2 hours later when I was fit to burst. Kelli photographed every single dish multiple times, which meant everyone had to wait for her to finish photographing and eat her dish before they’d move on to the next course. I was done with each plate before she’d finished photographing!
The only other diners were a young couple scoping it out for their wedding venue. I expected to feel awkward alone in such a small space, but because there was always a plate coming and going, and the staff chatty and warm - I enjoyed it. Time flew - the four glasses of wine helped. I would have been happy with half that amount of courses, but every single one of them was delicious, and beautifully put together. A few of them were ahhhh-mazing. One of the best meals of my life.
Every component was local or homemade. They have over 100 truffle trees, so they featured often, as did figs - neither of which I eat - but because portions were small, I tried everything. The tiny caramelised fig glazed with honey on homemade haloumi was delicious - a reminder that sometimes it's about the preparation more than the item. I ate truffle five different ways and always thought that was another thing I disliked, but they were tiny components of each dish.
The wackiest dish was the triple kumara ice cream, flavoured with toffee, white chocolate, and blueberries. Crazy and delicious.
My entertainment during dinner was eavesdropping on the wedding plans unfolding - bridezilla in the making if ever there was one. She went back and forth over which six girls might make the bridesmaid cut and laid out the groom and groomsmen's duties very clearly. He handled it extremely well, nodding in the right places and drinking his way through the red wine list. Such fun.
After being stuffed fuller than I can ever remember being, it was off for an uncomfortable sleep with cicadas and country night noise. A sunny, memorable, fill your boots day (soul and body).
TWO The outstanding quality and quantity set by dinner carried over to breakfast. Not even remotely hungry, I was happy with coffee and toast. But, being Wallingford, breakfast was a three-course bounty of homemade gorgeousness. Waiting for me in front of another roaring fire was a wooden board, three different kinds of homemade preserves (sampled them all), homemade butter, and half a loaf of round, homemade, white fluffy bread.
I managed one long thick slice, heavily laden with preserves and thinking this was perfect, and maybe I could fit in another piece when a bowl arrived. Beautifully garnished chia pudding and stone-ground oats, violets, goji berries, nuts, seeds, honey - amazing. I managed less than half of it, still eyeing up that loaf when a plate of scrambled eggs and a bowl of bacon, potato, chard, truffle hash arrived. Oh. My. God. So much food, again!
The couple who had stayed last night (not bridezilla) must have seen my face because they quietly chuckled with me. We’d been chatting through breakfast and I was delighted to find out they run a small winery and boutique accommodation in Te Awanga that Chris & have stayed in. It's called Millar Road, highly recommended.
Back to the scrambled eggs. They’re served on their own plate because they’re made the Bill Grainger way, and the chef refuses to make any other kind of eggs. Drama Mumma maybe, but deservedly so as they were the best scrambled eggs I’ve ever had. Melty, creamy, and seasoned - I ate every bite because they were delicious and also because I didn't want the chef to take it personally if I left anything on that plate. I immediately googled 'Bill Granger scrambled eggs' - a pretty standard recipe, luxurious with cream and butter. Maybe it's how he holds the whisk.
I felt bad returning most of the bread and hash but happy to discover leftovers are fed to the chickens, used for picnic lunches, or in future dishes. I’ll be honest, I was a little disappointed not to have been offered the leftover bread! I could have lived off that for days. Waddled, yet again, out of the dining room and there endeth my Wallingford experience. Sigh.
On my host's suggestion, I skipped the hour-plus drive to Blackhead Beach, and chose the wild and windy Porangahau Beach, which she called the beach to "walk away your anger". An easy 30-minutes took me through tiny Porangahau village, over a scenic estuary, and out to the beach.
The access road running parallel to the beach and dunes was filled with fields of yellowing drying corn as far as the eye could see. I passed a heritage road sign pointing down a barely visible track through a field of corn to the 'Old Killing Shed' ... anyone up for that side trip? And where’s the New Killing Shed?
This lovely view is from the Estuary Bridge over the Porangahau river heading down to the beach. Even at 2-3km away, I could hear the booming waves. At the beach, there’s a small well-settled, relaxed community. This little guy didn’t even bother to raise his head for me.
Porangahau is yet another vast, wide, white sand beach, much longer than the others, made for 4 wheel driving, blo karts, polo, and horse riding. I lucked out with another warm day and barely any wind, so I had a very calm experience, just me and the riders on the beach.
This beach would be a great place to settle in for a long weekend with a golf club, arts centre, village pub, and estuary for swimming and water sports. With a nod to the birthplace of my grandmother, it was back into Waipukurau (or Waipuck as the locals call it). The main street seemed a little tired with many empty stores, second-hand shops, bakeries - nothing seemed interesting enough for me to stop and poke around in.
While not remotely hungry, it was time for coffee. Hatuma Cafe, five minutes out of Waipuk, serves Firsthand Coffee, my go-to Hawke's Bay brand. It's popular with campervans and families with a large playground backing onto countryside and forest, home baking, and a relaxed vibe. I upset the barista asking for my 8oz cup to be filled three-quarters full - she was worried I was being ripped off and kept offering me extra milk. She was sweet, but the coffee was average.
There are a few goodies situated close together just out of Waipuk on the road to Palmerston North. I stopped for a quick photo op at the CHB lookout, then took a long peaceful walk through the Pukeora Forest of Memories.
This sweet forest of trees serves as memorials for loved ones. It's not formal and regimented rather a mish-mash of different trees, sizes, colours, styles. My favourites were the Red Maples, blazing fire. Some trees were left bare, and others decorated with wind chimes, glass light catchers, and fairies.
Each tree has a small plaque nearby, some dedications of poetry and literature, some just a name and date, but each a living memory. If I didn’t want my ashes spread amongst sauvignon blanc vines, I’d choose an autumn tree here.
From here on, the day was an example of best-laid plans going awry, and how planning and scheduling must make room for flexibility and adaptability. Solo travelling has its advantages - if plans change, or you decide to change them, you’ve no one to consult or negotiate with. You make a decision and move on.
I’d intended to visit Oruawharo Homestead in Takapau with their extensive forest & gardens followed by old-fashioned tea on the terrace, but they’d closed early for an event. And the road leading to my next walk, Lyndsay Bush, was closed for grading.
I decided to drive back to Waipawa and check out the must-see CHB Settlers Museum which had closed for a short period, and nearby winery Lime Rock was closed for the season.
By this time, it was around mid-afternoon, and I felt like I was racing from one location to the next and not spending any time anywhere. Late afternoon was earmarked for two bushwalks in Tikokino and a night at the last homestead on my list, Gwavas Garden & Homestead. Seeing as I’d had an amazing stay at one place already, I decided to leave that part of the loop for another visit.
I headed back home, this time taking the scenic backroads to Havelock North with a last quick stop, the Tuki Tuki swing bridge, part of the Waipukurau River Pathways. Not so much a swing, as a bounce bridge - and I was the only one on it. I blame Wallingford hospitality.
The drive back to Havelock was stunning, my favourite drive so far because of the variety of landscapes. The back of Waipawa was all agricultural fields, many already harvested and empty, and more enormous fields of that yellowing corn or chaff (clearly, I'm no farmer). Winding up into the blonde, dry hills were the most spectacular views down the Tuki Tuki Valley I've found yet.
This scenic route wanders through a little of the wine country at the back of Havelock North, then on into the village. Havelock was leafy and full of colour; it has that over Napier in spades.
In the back of Havelock North, I drove past a picturesque gravesite with stunning trees; I couldn't resist snooping through and taking some photos. I didn't regret cutting the trip short, and now I have a reason for another weekend roadie. And in case you’re wondering, I didn’t eat the entire day or evening - just a glass of Hawke's Bay wine to send off a relaxed, colour filled weekend.
