Tag Archives: travel. tourism

Taking a Deco at Napier

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Monday 23 February 2026 – Astonishingly, our legs were up to the task of getting us out of bed and heaving us about as we packed and set up our departure on the next segment of our trip – destination Napier, the Art Deco city.  But we didn’t head off directly, as we had two things to do beforehand. The first was coffee and, handily, Waimarino’s railway station

has a cafe, which serves damn’ fine coffee.

Fortified, or at least caffeinated, we headed off in the general direction, not of Napier, but of Horopito, some fifteen minutes’ drive away, because we had one of those assignations that come about through serendipity. Bur first we had another couple of rail landmarks to explore, starting with the Makatote Viaduct, built between 1905 and 1908, and, at the time, the tallest viaduct in New Zealand – the last construction on the North Island trunk railway.

Just up the road from the viaduct is The Last Spike Memorial, which marks the location where the “last spike” was driven in 1908 for the completion of that North Island Trunk line.

Then, on to Horopito for our serendipity-led encounter. Here’s how it came about:

  • Forty years ago, I lived in Sweden, and, at the exceedingly popular Stockholm pub, the Tudor Arms, met Karin, with whom I have been in contact ever since.
  • Three years ago, Karin walked the Camino de Santiago from France to Spain. Not too long afterwards, Jane and I did the same, adding that significant activity to the bonds between us.
  • One year ago, Karin walked the Camino de Santiago again, and met Jess, who lives in Horopito.  Jess became part of Karin’s Camino Family, sustained through the medium of WhatsApp (as well as drinking and eating in Spain).
  • Two weeks ago, Jess hiked the Tongariro Crossing, just as we had a couple of days ago.

So the various tendrils of internet connectivity and social media reached out between three disparate pockets of people and Jess and we had agreed to meet. The original plan was to get together the evening after we had completed our Crossing, but we were utterly knackered, and thus completely incapable of socialising; and so we deferred until yesterday, which worked well, since Horopito is pretty much on the route between Waimarino and Napier.

We had a really lovely time meeting Jess and her husband Ian at their wonderful place, which is sufficiently far off the beaten track that the road to it is not quite sealed all the way. They showed us around some of their 15 acres, and particularly introduced us to their alpacas, which had been brought in as lawn managers (and had just been shorn).

After that delightful encounter, we headed off to Napier.  We passed a signpost to Horopito’s motor museum

but we’re not sure that it’s actually in operation as a museum, as such.

Heading east to Napier, there is a choice between two routes – the main road, which means heading back through Taurangi, or the direct route across the hills in between, a road which Ian had insisted we drive for the scenery and which our Tongariro guide Simon said he thought was “probably sealed” (i.e. tarmac as opposed to a dirt road). Since Tomtom agreed with this assessment, we headed along it. And we were very glad we did. The scenery was fantastic for the whole trip, which should have taken some three hours but ended up being nearer four, as we kept stopping to gawp at (and, of course, photograph) the landscapes we passed.

As we started, the scenery was typical, lovely, North Island landscapes.

The middle section of the route led through more mountainous surroundings.

which were heavily planted with Monterey pine trees, with clear evidence of both logging and replanting.

and then we emerged back into the less hilly and more pastoral plains of the east coast

before reaching Napier, approaching along Marine Parade.

Out accommodation was at 415 Marine Parade,

which is a very classy and well-run B&B. We were greeted by Tom, who showed us into our large and comfortable room and made sure we knew how things worked (including a very neat electronic access arrangement).

One thing we hadn’t appreciated until we arrived there was that the day we arrived, Sunday 22 February, was the last day of the 2026 Napier Art Deco Festival, a major event appreciating the history of the city and its recovery in the aftermath of the huge earthquake which hit it in February 1933. There had been thousands of people from all over the globe visiting the city as part of this celebration (more of which later) and we were a bit worried that we’d not be able to get in to any local restaurant. We were therefore pleased to be able to find a table at the restaurant next door, the Marine Bistro. There, we had a very tasty meal, and a lovely encounter with five ladies who had been celebrating as part of the Festival and who had dressed up to match the vibe of the entire thing,

After eating, we thought it would be a good idea to understand where we would need to meet for our planned activities in Napier, so we went for a walk. Obviously.

Downtown Napier is about a kilometre from 415 Marine Parade, and the walk gave us a chance to get our bearings, to see some of the art deco architecture for which the town in famed (much more of that later),

and a few other highlights, particularly vehicles which had clearly been part of the Festival activities,

and some of the attractive older (non-deco) buildings,

some of which were thoughtfully decorated.

That was yesterday; today we headed once again to downtown Napier to join a walking tour that was intended to give us a greater insight into the art deco history of the place. The meeting place was the headquarters of the Art Deco Trust, which hosts the walking tours which we were about to join, and also stages vintage car tours

with suitably-dressed drivers.

We started in a small theatre in the Trust’s building on Memorial Square

where our guide, Bev, gave us a short introductory speech before showing us a video about the 1933 earthquake which has caused the birth of the city as it is known today. Before the film, she showed a map comparing pre- and post-earthquake Napier, and the difference between the two is utter.

Here’s that map in more detail.

The town of Napier is mid-right in both maps; but in the pre-earthquake map you can see that there was was once a large lagoon north-west of the town. During the earthquake, the ground rose by as much as two metres, and the lagoon emptied out into the sea – a pretty cataclysmic event, which I simply hadn’t appreciated, and with a consequent loss of over 250 lives – New Zealand’s deadliest natural disaster. The video showed some of the scenes of the time.

You can see the boats now on dry land because of the rise in ground level, as well as the devastation caused by the earthquake – no electricity, no roads, no rails reached the town, and the water supply was cut, which meant that the fire brigade had no water supply to try to put out the inevitable fire which followed the shocks (they tried pumping sea water, but shingle jammed the pumps).  The final picture shows “Tin Town”, an array of 54 shops eventually set up under a tin roof in Clive Square to service the needs of citizens – actually New Zealand’s first shopping mall!

Bev went into some detail after the film about the heroic response of military and civil organisations to support the town in its hour of need. Particularly important was support from a naval ship. The death toll might have been much higher had the Royal Navy ship HMS Veronica not been in port at the time. Within minutes of the shock the Veronica had sent radio messages asking for help. The sailors joined survivors to fight the fires, rescue trapped people and help give them medical treatment. The Veronica’s radio was used to transmit news of the disaster to the outside world and to seek assistance.

The New Zealand government quickly realised that the Napier borough council would be overwhelmed with organising any rebuild and appointed two commissioners for this task, John Barton and Lachlan Bain Campbell. Between them, they shepherded through an astonishing building programme, which evaluated the different ways that buildings should be constructed in future to be earthquake-proof: brick buildings had collapsed and wooden ones had burnt, and reinforced concrete was selected as the material to be used as the basis for construction. Part of this lesson came from the Public Trust Office building,

a reinforced concrete edifice which was the only major building still standing after the earthquake.

The result is the town as it is today, or rather city – it was made a city in 1951. Rather than rebuild the Victorian-era structures that had been there, the modern styles of the day were adopted. Bev showed us examples of the four different architectural templates that were used in the rebuild:

Spanish mission; Prairie style; Deco Moderne; and Stripped Classical. These are these days grouped together under the “Art Deco” style label that applies to key Napier buildings. So then Bev led us on a tour of some of these buildings.

Central Fire Station
Municipal Theatre
Daily Telegraph offices. The Telegraph managed to print a daily bulletin after the earthquake
Demonstrating chamfered corners (greater traffic visibility) and cable-supported verandas (more fireproof than wood pillars)
Actually a modern replacement of a deco building which was torn down despite citizen protest
Example of a “double eyebrowed” building, with two ledges behind which windows are recessed.

Bev showed us many of the other architectural flourishes involved in the reconstruction effort, such as some of the original mosaic street names in the sidewalks,

other mosaic entrances to shops,

a couple of building interiors

and a couple of statues.

Sheila, on the left, is a statue of the daughter of a key architect in the rebuild, Ernest Williams, who was the Carnival Queen in the very first Napier Carnival in 1933, staged to celebrate the success and speed of the rebuild as well as a tribute to those who lost their lives. She is waving to someone, and the someone is a boy who has climbed a lamppost on the opposite side of the street. These are recent statues, from 2010 and 2014 respectively.

Bev gave us, as is always the case with these tours, more information than I can remember or that I can cram into a post such as this, but I hope it gives you a flavour of the town and why it is what it is.

We saw a few other quirks, such as Theatre Lane, which has some street art. This is a little bit of it

but it carries on the whole length

and at the far end is a representation of film stars of the 30s and 40s.

It’s a bit difficult to distinguish them, but here, for example, is Harold Lloyd and his famous clock

Here ‘s the full list, in case you want to look for the details.

Among the last of the things that Bev showed us was a traffic light pedestrian crossing that showed, instead of the usual Red Man – Green Man, a version with Sheila walking her dog.

There was a lot more to see, including many period vehicles, mostly left over from the Festival

and, of course, the Town Train

We also looked in to the Municipal Theatre.

Tour over, we treated ourselves to coffee at an excellent coffee shop in Tennyson Street called Georgia

before taking in the Veronica Sun Bay, a tribute to HMS Veronica’s key role in aiding and assisting in the aftermath of the earthquake;

the name plate is the actual one that adorned the ship. Then we headed back to our accommodation, past a group of pre-earthquake buildings called the Six Sisters

for a bit of a rest, and a chat and drink with hosts Esther and Tom and the other guests. The day ended with another walk back to downtown Napier for a meal at K Kitchen, in the Masonic Hotel building (which you can see in the background of this memorial statue from the Boer War).

We have one more day in Napier which should be an opportunity for me to get out the Big Lens for the first time this trip. So do please come back to find out how it worked out.

 

 

Day 2 – San Miniato to Gambassi Terme – not so long, but hard

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Tuesday 13 May 2025 – Extraordinarily, given the rigours of yesterday, everyone was in reasonable shape as we convened for breakfast, which was a buffet affair with plenty of variety, so we were all able to eat our fill in preparation for the day to come.

One thing about the day was somewhat daunting – the last 4km of the walk.

This would be twice as long as yesterday’s final climb and ascend twice as far. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Another thing we knew about the walk was that there were effectively no coffee stops (there was one, but it was about three km in, so not particularly useful as a rest stop). So we had to get ourselves some food for a picnic lunch, which we got in a local store.

Off we went, then, through San Miniato, which is a place of monumental architecture

and stunning views.

Even as we walked along the road out of town, it was clear that the locals had some fantastic scenery to look at.

The expected length of the day’s walk was 24km – less than yesterday (praise be), but still a non-trivial amount of walking.  We started off along the road

and a couple of things were borne in on me. Firstly, that there were more walkers/pilgrims out than we’d seen the day before;

and secondly, there were a lot more ups and downs that we’d had to deal with the day before. There was also a lot more road than I had expected; we covered a full 6km – quarter of the day’s walking – on the road, up to a point where I began to wonder if tarmac was going to be the surface for the whole day, and also to get a bit fed up with the amount of up and down. I suppose I should have looked at the profile of the route (first photo) to realise that it was “Inca flat”, a phrase we’d learned in South America that described terrain that ends up the same altitude as it started, but isn’t actually flat at all. You can see from the sawtooth in that profile that this was what we had to deal with today.

Eventually, though, we left the road and joined a much more rural track.

There was still a lot of up and down, though. The track became slightly rougher as we went along

but the going was good; and the scenery was stunning.

The scenery had a role to play in trying to distract me from the rather tedious procession of ups and downs the track took. There was a fire in the distance, which we hoped was a controlled blaze.

We’d read that this route offered “no services” (hence the buying of our picnic lunch) but about 8km in we came across something that called itself a “punto sosta” for the Via Francigena:

a little cabinet with things that suffering walkers might appreciate – pain killers, bandage, disinfectant and so forth.

A charming idea – and one located by a picnic table for the poor sufferer to rest at.

We used the table for a short break, and then ceded it to a German couple who we’d seen the previous day; the gentleman is finding the walking rather trying – and I believe that they hadn’t realised that there were no rest stops on this route, either.

We pressed on and the track led past a wooden sculpture recognising 20 years of the Via Francigena to Rome.

Among the grass it says “20 years road to Rome” with the figure of a pilgrim and his faithful dog. Actually when we found it, it said “20 years oad to Rome”. Jane found the “r” and balanced it in place for the photo.

Next to it was a very amusing sight – an info board pointing out the delights of the view back to San Miniato, except that in the interim, trees had grown up to obscure the view the board purported to explain.

The track by now was a bit rougher still, but the scenery continued to be as much of a distraction as scenery can be. As well as stunning views, we passed a building, presumably a farm building, which had many chickens and other poultry outside

and a very charismatic cockerel posing in the middle of the yard.

Very shortly thereafter we passed two interesting and not unrelated sights: a signpost showing the distances involved in the whole Via Francigena, from Canterbury to Rome;

and a lady from New Zealand who was walking the whole route, but from Rome to Canterbury. That’s dedication, that is.

The track was becoming increasingly rudimentary,

and there were some stretches where mud made picking one’s route a matter of importance. We passed a donkey mill

now disused and repurposed for the storage of hay rather than anything else.

The track was rough and tedious, by this stage, still going up and down like a very up and down thing, but the scenery continued to be stunning, if one could be bothered to appreciate it.

The touble was, appreciating it was beginning to be very difficult. We found a shady place to stop and eat our sandwiches and it was at about this point – somewhat over half way – that my body decided that the goodwill it had extended to get me this far was used up and started to go on selective strikes. The mechanism that provided energy to the leg muscles clocked off; and the one that mitigated pain to the shoulders started a work to rule.

In the following photo of the lovely scenery

it is possible to see our destination for the day, Gambassi Terme.

and, as expected, it’s quite a lot higher than we were at this point. About 4km from our end point, the route started up,

and I noted the situation shown by S-cape’s interactive route map of the day.

to which my response was this.

The couple of kilometres after lunch were the worst. The couple of kilometres after that, they were the worst, too. After that, things went into to a bit of a decline. All three of us struggled for those last four km. We didn’t even make it all the way up to Gambasi Terme

as our accommodation, Ostello Sigerico was (mercifully) a kilometre or so short of the town. We were grateful to be able to stop. Jane and I collapsed into something of a daze for a while before cleaning ourselves up for an evening meal.

Given what feels like the hard work I’d put in to days 1 and 2 of this walk, I was a bit miffed, on checking in with the data collected by my Garmin activity tracker, to find that, although I’d undergone 434 minutes of activity yesterday and 350 today, only 7 and 5 minutes respectively were considered to have been “vigorous”. I have to tell you that it bloody didn’t feel that way inside my body.

As the name of  our accommodation suggests, it’s not a luxury hotel, but a hostel – towards the luxury end of these things, but a hostel nevertheless. (Sigerico was a 10th-century Archbishop of Canterbury who made a pilgrimage to Rome, following the Via Francigena and arriving in 990.) Our terms were half board, and the evening meal was very much a pilgrim meal – pasta followed by pork and beans. Basic, but nonetheless wholesome and tasty. We shared a table with some Francophone people, a couple and a single, who each, in their own way, were dedicating time in their lives to covering significant parts of the Via Francigena.

Tomorrow, we actually get the chance for a more relaxed day – about 15km of walking, although there’s quite a bit of up and down in it.

It will be interesting to see how our energy levels are. The target is San Gimignano,a UNESCO World Heritage site, so I hope we arrive with sufficient energy to go sightseeing around it. Stay tuned to see how the day turned out.

 

Gen 2

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Tuesday 27 February 2024 – Our luck with the Antarctic weather looked to be running out as we peered at the morning’s prospects from the cabin.

There was a stiff breeze (about 10 knots, we were told) and it was raining. The only redeeming feature, and it was only a marginal redemption, was that the temperature was above freezing – about 2°C.

We were parked in Salpetriere Bay, known as the “Iceberg Graveyard”, because the vagaries of prevailing wind and currents tend to shepherd passing icebergs into the bay such that they can’t then float out again.  Thus it seemed that a Zodiac cruise around the bay should give us some great icescapes.

It did.

It also gave us a great wildlife experience, one which I hadn’t expected and, indeed, one which even the guides found remarkable.

But first the scenery.  It was spectacular.

This was my favourite among the many scenes we enjoyed on the morning expedition.

We had been told that there were colonies of gentoo penguins in the bay, and so there were.

The ones above look quite neat and tidy in their back-and-white dinner suit outfits.  The colony as a whole

not so much.  The pinky-brown stuff is penguin shit.  And there’s a lot of it. Really, a lot.

The individual penguins are very penguinish.

Many of them are chicks or adults which are moulting and hence couldn’t go into the water.

Also on the wildlife front, I tried to capture a few shots of the birdlife around.  There were some shags on the rocks and several kelp gulls.  This one is an adult.

And a juvenile or two were flying around.

We also saw an Antarctic tern. We weren’t anywhere near its nest, so it wasn’t in attack mode.

Some of the penguins were in the water and were skipping about madly.

This tactic, called “porpoising”, is how they move at their fastest, some 35kph.  And we managed to catch sight of the reason why.

A leopard seal, the only seal species in these parts which eats penguins.  This was the unexpected treat for both us passengers and the guides.  These seals are solitary and elusive and some of the guides had rarely seen them.  This one was very curious about us

and came and played around our Zodiac, and the other ones that were in the same area as we were.  The water was clear enough that we could see it actually swimming around and under the boat, so we had several minutes in its company.

Extraordinarily, it was not the only leopard seal in the bay.  We came across another, basking on an ice floe,

which gave us a chance to see its snake-like, evil and Voldemortish head.

Amazingly, there was yet another, also basking,

which, like the others, was the centre of considerable attention.

Leopard seals are probably the most voracious of the seals, in that they prey on a huge variety of other creatures, including baby seals of other species, as well as penguins, fish and the ubiquitous krill.  To deal efficiently with the latter, they have evolved teeth of a special shape which close together to form a filter; the seals can take a mouthful of water and krill, and expend the water through clenched teeth, leaving just the krill to eat.

Crabeater seals (whose pups are prey for the leopard seals) also have this tooth configuration, as almost their entire diet is krill.  Leopard seals, on the other hand, have also got fearsome canines and strong jaws which allow them to catch and bite their other prey.  We were told not to put a hand in the water, as a bite from a leopard seal could actually take it off.

That was our wildlife treat for the morning, alongside the spectacular icescapes of the iceberg graveyard.  The afternoon had the possibility of a landing at a nearby site, reached after a short move by Hondius to a place called Port Charcot. Calling it a port rather overstates its extent.

On the top left you can just make out a cairn, which is a not to Jean Charcot, who was a Frenchman who made two noted expeditions mapping the Antarctic Peninsula in the early 20th century. He was part of the heroic age of Antarctic exploration between 1901 and 1920, during which thousands of kilometres of the coastline were mapped; the era included the Shackleton debacle and the Scott-Amundsen competition.

Those who were interested could walk up to the cairn; there was also a reasonably substantial colony of gentoo penguins on the island.  It was really quite windy and there was also a fair bit of rain in the air, moving more horizontally than vertically. On that basis, the visit to the cairn held few attractions for Jane and me, and we contented ourselves with stumbling and sliding our way to the penguins

across snow and ice which was lavishly decorated by algae, turning it green, and penguin shit, turning it also brown.

As is the norm with penguins, they were behaving in agreeably penguinish ways; I have video but internet bandwidth constraints mean it’s not practical to share it, I’m afraid.  There were adults feeding chicks;

penguins eating snow as a source of “fresh” water*,

which must be quite a test for their digestive system, I’d have thought; and several penguin highways, routes from the colony to the sea etched out by thousands of laborious penguin journeys.

The colonies tend to be high up because gentoos need rocks upon which to build nests (normally by stealing stones from their neighbours’ construction efforts), and the tops of hills is often where the snow is first cleared by the wind; hence the need for the journey from sea to colony.

The net effect is that the whole area is covered in penguin poo,

so being careful with one’s footing is very desirable.  You can’t avoid stepping in it, but you can at least try not to fall over in it, something that a couple of our landing party failed to do.

After a while of watching the penguins, we decided to head back down and go back to the boat.  The landing area was near one of the spots where the penguins entered the water

and we could see them porpoising around in the water close to the shore as they sought food (again, I have video, but blah blah).

It is impossible to walk there without getting one’s boots covered in penguin excrement, which is not something to be transported back to the boat: partly because that would possibly spread unwelcome biological material to where it shouldn’t be; and also because it stinks.  So the team take care to ensure that boots are well cleaned before you are allowed back on to a Zodiac.

Even so, clean as we were were on arrival to Hondius, there seemed to be a pervasive pong of penguin poo hanging around for a while afterwards.

That was it for the day’s excursions, but there was still some visual entertainment to come as Hondius was carefully steered up the narrow Lemaire Channel,

which, we were told, is one of the most dramatic and most-photographed pieces of coastline.  Obviously the best place to see the scenery from would be the bow of the ship.  But it was bloody freezing, raining and blowing a gale, so I, like other sensible souls, retired to the bridge to watch the scenery go by through windows which were obligingly cleaned by the large windscreen wipers there.

There were a few idiots hardy souls who braved the bow.  There always are.

The hour or so spent gingerly creeping along the channel was a perfect exemplar of the standard Walker holiday mantra: “it would have been better if it were clearer”.

It was obvious that the scenery was dramatic; I just wish we could have seen more of it.

It’s a very narrow channel, littered with ice

as you can see from the radar plot.

After a while the fog really came down and so I retired to the bar for a G&T and waited for the briefing for the morrow.  The destination, which is a fair bit north, is Mikkelsen Harbour at D’Hainaut Island, where can be found the remains of a whaling station and more gentoo penguins.  The weather prospects are less than stellar so it may well be that we will spurn the opportunity to get cold, wet and caked in penguin poo in favour of a calm and orderly morning. Time will tell.

 

* Gentoo penguins can drink salt water (just as well, really) and they have a special gland on their forehead through which they can excrete the salt. A tricky choice, I’d have said – which tastes better, ocean water or shitty snow?