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, one longs 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.