Cape to Cape day ten: Waiheke to Dargaville

Route
Ferry to Central Auckland, various cycle routes to Old North Road to Helensville, boat from Parakai to Poutu Point, then road to Dargaville.

Link to Map

Distance: 128 Km

It’s 5.30 as I head out under lights in drizzle for the first ferry off the Island.   I’ve been surprised by Waiheke. I have not seen anywhere enough of it to make any judgements, but it seemed to be an island of two halves: an eastern rural area of farms, vineyards and bush reserves, and a pretty extensive urban area in the west.  I thought it would all be pretty affluent but there seemed to be the usual mix of people and clearly quite a few workers servicing the local industries.

It’s a little over 6 km to Matiatia wharf so I arrive in good time for the 6.05 sailing.  The plan is to traverse Auckland as early as possible and head for Helensville and reassess.  There’s a boat (Shamrock Charters) crossing the Kaipara at 10am - they only take bikes when they have a fishing charter so it’s a bit hit and miss – they may be going out again tomorrow.  The other company is definite that the weather precludes them taking the trip.  I figure I have little chance of navigating Auckland in time so another option is to enlist the support team for a dummy crossing (i.e. drive the bike around to the other end).

The early ferry crowd is what you expect – commuters who seem to know each other and a few tag-alongs like myself.  It’s a sombre day as we pass the emblematic Rangiototo and a cruise ship in stream.

That unmistakable silhouette  

Auckland has been drizzling but it’s relatively quiet as I head up Queen Street to hopefully join the cycle ways heading north and west.  I find them ok but get mislaid pretty quickly and realise I am heading in the wrong direction – a quick Google check and I make my way back, eventually taking advantage of the off road tyres to navigate a steep bank down to the correct path.   There are a reasonable number of commuters who seem pretty cheerful and one is happy to provide directions when I find myself on one of the many diversions off the cycleway.  A lot of the cycle way is great riding and it will be fantastic when they are finished and have added good signposting.

The tour route strikes out onto semi-rural roads at Massey then joins up with Old North Road to roll through the hills to Parakai.  Somewhere along the way I realise that there is a chance that I will make the boat and sure enough I get there with 15 minutes to spare.  This turns out to be three minutes early as it is leaving a little early.

The support crew turns up having been slumming it in Parakai, and we briefly exchange news before the bike is lashed to yet another boat, and we motor off through the mangroves down the muddy Kaipara River.

Bike being loaded onto boat number four

And they're off down the Kaipara River

The captain of the Lady Frances is a bit of a character and reminds me of Spike Milligan.  He’s been plying these waters for a considerable time and is well matched by his competent wife who manages the shore end of things during the day.  An English chap is already aboard who is out for a day’s sightseeing from his holiday home at Shelly Beach. His experience of boating in the Med doesn’t seem to translate too readily to the shallow waters of the Kaipara.  We pass barges extracting loads of  gravel from somewhere in the harbour.  Where the river enters the Kawau Parua Inlet it looks like a wide bay but the charts show that the channel is still pretty narrow and we stick to it.  There’s a brief stop at Shelly Beach where 18 punters get on for their fishing charter.

Many are clearly regulars. They file on board and take their stations laying out chilly bins, bait, lines, and other essentials.  The captain puts the kettle on and we potter on towards South Head.

I get chatting to Kathy, who is studying the minutes from the Niue Health Trust meetings she attends.  We talk about her family, the work of the Trust and the challenge of reaching those that need to change to healthier behaviours.  She also lets me in on some of the (to me) arcane fishing lore.  She and her husband come out regularly but often give away most of their catch.  She has pockets of traces so that she can have her bait at set depths and talks about what bait works and how she knows when to change.

I’ve completely lost my sense of direction by the time the captain drops anchor and starts cheerfully shouting at the punters to get fishing.  The boat explodes into activity and soon they are reeling snapper in at a great rate.  The captain keeps an eye on proceedings making sure that too small fish are thrown back and moving the boat if things slack off.  A large ray is pulled in (after the barb is removed), and a 1.5m shark refuses to be reeled in.  One of the Asian gentlemen is quietly sick over the side and loses interest in proceedings.  Another chap is looking after an elderly man who hands him his rod every time he hooks anything which keeps chap one frantically busy.  People hook other people’s lines, fish flap briefly as they disappear into ice boxes and it’s generally highly entertaining, semi-controlled mayhem.

As we watch the captain mutters about the survival rate of released fish (“10%”) and is critical of TV shows that release fish so they can catch bigger fish – “I told one of them he wasn’t welcome on my boat because of his fishing practices.”

Eventually we up anchor and motor off – I take the opportunity for a snooze until suddenly we are pulling into Poutu Point.  A household ladder has appeared from somewhere and is leaning up on the bow.  We come in close and run gently into the rock, I think he leaves the engines on forward while he runs the ladder across (almost horizontal on this tide) and I gingerly disembark to grapple with the bike he runs down after me.  He shouts at anyone that offers to help (“I don’t want anyone else to worry about!”).  It’s all highly precarious and amusing.

The boat backs off and I’m left on a rock at the end of a peninsula with my bike, in the distance I can hear the captain cheerfully shouting at someone. It’s 3.30 – I had planned on a three hour crossing; it’s been five and a half but still plenty of daylight left.

The 70 km trip up Poutu Road is not particularly memorable.  The 25 km of gravel is in a poor state and it’s mostly farms and forestry.  I tuck the head down and head for Dargaville.

A bit of a planning glitch means accommodation for the night is in Omapere but there’s time for a café dinner in Dargaville and pizza for the road.


Link to day eleven: Dargaville to Ahipara