Big, black, and hard to kill.

I recently had the good fortune to spend some time travelling with a 100 year old lady.

A Ww class tank engine built in New Zealand. I wonder how many cars and buses built in the same era still see this much action?

The Glenbrook Vintage Railway Has been home to the Railway Enthusiasts Society since 1970.Work has continued for the last 40 years to find and preserve items of rail history, and the line has  stretched to a very pleasant 6km ride on the old Waiuku branch line, south of Auckland. A further extension to the town of Waiuku is currently being finished.

  

The volunteers who run the railway look fabulous in their traditional uniforms. Even the ladies in the refreshment rooms dress in costume!

With the obligatory toot on the whistle we leave Glenbrook Station tender first, with vintage wooden carriages in tow.

A rake of relatively young steel freight wagons lurk in the long grass.One day they'll be vintage too.............

6km down the line, we've reached the end [for now] of the line. Big piles of spare track are stacked alongside the passing loop ready for the 'big push' to Waiuku. The loco scurries round to the head of the train, and we're under way. Suddenly everything takes on a sepia tone....

We stop at the workshops for a bit of a look around. There are numerous pieces of train hardware patiently awaiting restoration, along with a second Ww loco.

Brooding in the back of the shed is Ja1250, a 108 tonne express loco, one of the last built for NZR. There are several of this class surviving, as they were still in regular service until 1971.

Back on the train for the climb back to Glenbrook.

 The 'little old lady' tank engine makes short work of the grade, showering the passengers

 who chose to ride in the open wagon with soot!

The station at Glenbrrook is a skillful mix of restored original station buildings, and

 sympathetic modifications to cope with the large numbers of visitors .

An enjoyable morning was had by all.

Shekinah and the big green bus.

I guess I should blog some pictures from our trip.But first, I just have to share......

 Unless you are staying in a Hobbit cave, or a converted Bristol Freighter, or a palm frond cottage suspended over an azure tropical lagoon, overnight accommodation is just .... accommodation.A place to grab a shower after a long drive and sleep before your second day of travel..

Well, that was the plan anyway! Without too much research we accidentally ended up spending a night at quite the most soulful and fabulous stop that left us rested, revitalized and restored before the 'holiday proper' had even begun!

Shekinah is a farmstay backpackers less than an hour south of Auckland, New Zealand's biggest city. Well, to be truthful, neither 'farmstay' nor 'backpackers' does the place justice. To me farmstay conjures up retired couples and chintz sofas in spotless mock-rural  'band b' lifestyle suburbs. 'Backpackers' comes with its own baggage, usual damp rucksacks and grimy communal fridges. Neither was in evidence at Shekinah.

A short and scenic drive from the main road at Pokeno, the road narrows and tapers off to a gravel lane,, which in turn leads to a steep and simple driveway. We were greeted by the farm dogs as we pulled up, a mixture of eager young pups, seasoned sheep dogs and misty eyed house dogs with grey beards and long memories. It turned out that we were the only guests for the night.

Right from the start, we were welcomed like old friends, and shown to our cabin....simple and compact, but delightfully furnished, with its own veranda and coffee making facility. The view across the valley is nothing short of stunning on a fine day. The tuis in the pine trees break the silence with their jumbled songs.

There's a big lawn, landscaped into a grassy balcony, perfect for those with tents to pitch, and a deep grassy meadow for those in campervans. There are sheep in the gully, and calves in the top paddocks. Manx cats bask in the late afternoon sun.

The house philosophy is simple. It's an honest-to-goodness farmhouse, and all visitors are welcome, even encouraged, to use the kitchen and lounge. Run by Anita and Penny, the house is very much the hub for visitors, and we were treated more like family than backpackers. The kids were made welcome by the cats and dogs, and were inspired to sit and sketch as the shadows lengthened.

Meals are available by arrangement, but it's obvious that nobody would need to go hungry if they turned up unannounced. We'd already promised ourselves a few luxuries on this trip, and were treated to a very tasty barbecue which we shared with Penny and Anita as the sun set over the river below. We sat talking in the lounge until way after dark, despite the fact that Penny was due to start farm work before first light. After a long drive and a serene evening, sleep came quickly and easily in warm comfortable beds.

It was a delight to wake early, refreshed and relaxed. I felt comfortable and welcome as I wandered around, exploring. This is very much a 'working' farm,and the tangle of rural life stacks up in every corner. There are sheds and implements in various states of 'farm repair' and gates that invite you to the paddocks beyond. On the crest of the hill, perfectly positioned for sun and views is a handsome vintage bus, tastefully blanketed in a mural of New Zealand native ferns. It comes as no surprise that the bus was painted by an appreciative guest, and is available as sleeping quarters as an alternative to cabin or tent.

Our gracious hostess is awake bright and early, and keen to delight us further with her hospitality. We opt for a quick and simple breakfast, which  sneakily turns itself into a leisurely feast. The sky seems three shades bluer, and the urgency of the long drive north slips lazily into irrelevance. I yearn for the days when things just happened on impulse, I could quite cheerfully trade the entire holiday for a week's easy touring, with this little patch of paradise as home base. As we say our farewells, we're already planning our next visit. This home in the hills has set the standard by which we will measure our overnight stops for a long time to come.Thanks, Anita and Penny!

http://www.shekinahbackpackers.co.nz/index.htm

Don't mess with the Manganui Monster

Went for a walk today, to the Curtis Falls in Egmont National Park.

It's a 15 minute drive up the mountain, to a height of 2800 feet, to the Mountain House hotel car park. The gentle, well maintained track that leads away into the bush gives no clues as to the terrain you are heading into.

Within minutes, the track plummets into the Te Popo Stream valley. The stream is pretty much dry in summer, but the rocks are covered with slippery moss. To get up the other side, DOC has installed the first of several ladders.

It's a long slow climb, with rewarding glimpses of the summit through the trees.

 The lower slopes are covered with a lush ring of native rainforest.

After an hour of uphill slog, the track drops again suddenly, into the Manganui river valley.

the last drop is traversed by another huge near-vertical ladder.

A few short steps, and we're on the riverbed. There's little water in summer, but the landscape is stark and jagged

.

The river bed is as wide as a football field,a sea of broken rock. Where the bed meets the sheer sides of the valley, naked rocks are piled into huge levees, taller than a man.

 We make our way upstream to the falls.

The head of the falls is pretty small, less than twenty feet. There's another drop a little further upstream, but access is hampered by erosion.

So where did the rocks come from?

At about 5000 feet, the mountain climbs sharply out of the forest. From this point on, it's largely bare rock. There's a small skifield that operates on the narrow band between the tree line and the steep slopes, and to access it, you  have to climb a steep 30 minute track, carrying your ski gear, that lifts you the last few hundred feet from the car park. At the top of the track, skis and backpacks are ferried across the Manganui Gorge by a flying fox, and the last part of the journey takes you across the Manganui Monster.

This is not a resort ski-field. To reach the slopes, you must cross a deep gully that is notorious for avalanches. Known locally as the Manganui Monster, deep snow collects in the shaded valley, hurtling down the hillside with astounding force.

Boulders the size of  houses are hurled down the gorge, and over the top of the falls.

It's a great place to visit in the summer. Took us a little over three hours for the two mile walk. DOC grades this as a hard track. Even on a warm summer's day, it's a challenge.