Pootling around Waikato in a campervan. Photo / Getty Images
Pootling around Waikato in a campervan. Photo / Getty Images
Three days plus two friends multiplied by one TrailLite motorhome equals a chance for a short break in the Waikato, writes Helen Van Berkel
The first place I wanted to show my friend was the historic Pukekohe East Church, on a windy ridge between Waikato and Auckland.
On September 14, 1863, one of the first battles of the Waikato wars was fought here. Unlike many other significant sites around New Zealand, there is little explanation of what happened here more than 160 years ago but the scars are visible: bullet holes pierce the wooden walls of the pretty little church and the shadow of earthworks are also still visible in green banks between the structure and its graveyard.
The Pukekohe East Church was the site of one of the early battles in the Waikato wars.
The tiny cemetery next to the church is crowded with marble crosses and carved tombstones that mark the tragedies of local families, listing the deaths of the young and the old. Slightly off to the side is a large rock, on which the six Māori warriors who died in the battle are remembered with a memorial plaque, although their actual graves are unknown.
Situated on a ridge between Waikato and Auckland, the little wooden church is a brooding but historic spot. Built from local timbers, it is significant as one of the first Presbyterian churches and one of the oldest buildings in Pukekohe. Although no longer in use as a church, it is clearly loved by locals, who keep it well-maintained and its gardens mowed.
The gateway to the entrance of the Rangiriri Pa.
Less than half an hour’s drive south of Pukekohe East, we pulled the TrailLite off State Highway 1 to park near the Rangiriri Pa, another significant site in the Waikato wars. Trenches built by the Māori in an ultimately futile effort to protect their lands have been preserved and reconstructed. From a small gateway under the spreading branches of a tree, we walked up a grassy bank to see the lines of pou marching towards the motorway on the other side.
The site has been reinstated and reinterpreted after the new motorway cut through the site and the pou mark the battle lines. The traditional carvings represent the women and young people’s part in the battle and the warriors who were imprisoned afterward.
Heading to Cambridge was a hairy drive in a near-10m motorhome in the dark and heavy rain. We gained more sympathy for tourists wrestling New Zealand’s poorly marked, poorly lit backroads, and it was with great relief we pulled up at the town’s Top Ten holiday park. The park is only blocks from a small collection of eateries and despite the rain and the late hour we borrowed an umbrella from the park staff and walked to the local Sahara India for a warming curry.
The small Leamington shopping precinct is also home to the Ophelia cafe, a repurposed villa where we stopped the following morning for breakfast. One of the pleasures of simply moseying about with no fixed itinerary is discovering local little gems such as Sahara India and Ophelia: simple fare done well and with a smile. The only thing better than a well-renovated old villa is one that serves great coffee and eggs benedict.
The Cambridge Museum is one of many historic buildings in the Waikato town.
And then we hit the shops. For a small town, Cambridge has a wide selection of interesting stores from the Wholly Cow Butchery and its beautifully presented meats to the high fashion of Annah Stretton. Its collection of old buildings also makes Victoria St a pleasant meander on a lazy, sunny winter’s morning.
My wallet lightened and my wardrobe heavier thanks to a pair of couldn’t-resist leather boots from Bettie Monroe, we clambered back into the TrailLite and moseyed out of town, headed for Raglan.
We almost had the town to ourselves but struggled to find a place to park our oversized vehicle so pulled in at the Raglan Holiday Park where a bridge linking back to the town turned an awkward drive into a 10-minute walk. The sunshine of the morning had been replaced by random squalls and we ran from covered storefront to covered storefront as we prowled the town for food to take back to the motorhome.
We ate to the sound of the surf pounding the Raglan bar and fell asleep to the unrelenting roar of the ocean.
A footbridge connects Raglan's campground with the township.
As a watery sun rose the next morning, we picked our way among the driftwood in the inner harbour and past the old World War II pillbox that is slowly sinking into the sand before crossing the bridge again to La La Land. The boutique cafe specialises in chocolate – waffles, bars and the hot steaming liquid variety but it was the divine strudel that caught my eye. It was the perfect accompaniment to the cafe’s European-themed spirit.
Beloved by surfers, artists and families over the summer, Raglan has a wilder vibe in the depths of winter. It’s a blessed spot that is just as glorious whether it is bathed in sunshine or drenched in rain. Its heart was, I think, summed up with the row of advertising signs offering cosmic consulting classes (“energetic healing”) alongside lunch and sunset boat cruises of the harbour.
We headed north knowing three days was simply not enough.
For more things to see and do in the Waikato, visit waikatonz.com
