Success is no success at all without a n'ol banjo

At last I have some movement from the American contingent. I have one reference which is really rather flattering. Hilariously, it is not very different from what I wrote and I have to forge the signature for authenticity. It's all so corrupt. Anyway, it's almost in the bag, and then I have no more excuses.

Anyway, in the mean time, went up to the Wairapa to go and tend the vines, nearly broke my back, but I'll return to that later.

I took the guitar up which was a big hit with the girls, although I think that horses are still going to be their number one favourite. Izz composed a very special song called "A Song with no name and no words". Genius!

I just stayed up there for three days, and just as the weather was really hotting up, I decided to do a day in the vines, spraying with some noxious fluid to exterminate powdery mildew that attacks the leaves. Indeed the leaves did not look very attractive as they were covered in warts and nodules. I should have taken a picture, I will so that I can retain the information for Georgia. It took me a good day, which managed to fit in a couple of swims and a two hour lunch break.

I love this picture, it's so rock and role. It could be LA somewhere, with a faded 6 year old rockstar.

After the hazy days at Wairapa, I set off back to Wellington, only to realise that I was ready for another road trip.

So the following morning, I arose a the cracking of the sky and set of in my trusty motor. And the day started with a gently drive up Route 2, past Upper Hutt, dodging the rocks in the road that had fallen down the night before due to the excessive rainfall and subsequent landslide. It's a dreadful region for it. Stopping off for petrol, I noticed that Winifred was heating up rather quickly. Lights were flashing up on the dashboard but according to the manual these were only warning lights, and I felt my self dutifullywarned.
I decided that if I made it over the Tararua Range, I'd have a long breakfast on the other side and give Winnie a long time drink. The light was flickering on and off all the way over the mountains, and I decided not to stop immediately. Having left at 5.30 am I arrived in Eketuhuna by 8.00am. I"ve been hearing alot about Eketehuna recently, something about the fact that the towns people want to change the name to "Eketehuna - City of Excitement" or something, I"m being sarcastic of course, but I was rather drawn to the place. I stopped for a sandwich, egg and bacon, and waited for the garage to open. It didn't so I asked the Kiwi, wise old bird what I should do. It was deccided that we would move on as the wise old bird in the cafe who had been up since 2.00am making sandwiches for truckers, told me that she was expecting them soon. I decided to leave her waiting.
Hightailing out of there, I skimmed the map for good old english names such as Wimbledon and Wanstead and Wallingford and then my eye was caught by Taumatawhakatangihangakoauauotamateapokaiwhenuaitanatahu. I had to go and visit.
Nobody lives here as afar as I could see, just a flock of sheep and a battered out old shed of a house.But it's not about the population. The story goes that there was a very reknowned and respected chief and warrior called Tamatea. He is the ancestor of the Ngati Kahungaunu people of Porangahau, and aquired many names to commemorate his prowess. Passing through the inland district of Porangahau, he encountered the Ngati Hine people and had to fight them to get through. In this battle, "Matanui", his brother was killed. In his grief he stayed in the area for some time, and would sit on the top of the hill, lamenting his brother's loss, on his Koauau ( a kind of flute). So the name indicates the hilll on which Tamatea, the chief of great physical stature and renown, played a lament on his flute to the memory of his brother.
It's always worth asking what's in a name?

But the open road is calling and there is the call for moving on. Yet again Winnie is definately showing signs of overheating and I'm return to my anxious state. The next town on the route and one I prayed had a garage, was Porangahau. So I didn't have to fight anyone to get through this road, but I was wondering whethere I would be stuck on the grassy knoll lamenting the collapse of my trusty chariot. As I was admiring the surrounding and having a smoke, with Winnie's bonnet up exposing all her business to the empty land, a trucker pulled up.

"Broken down?" he asked cheerily.

"No, I don't think so", I said trying to sound confident." Just a little over heated. Do you know of any garages around here?"

"Garages? I don't know, but there is a pub."

"Huh, well that'll do" I laughed back.

That was enough to then be hearing about his trials and tribulations. He'd left all his wallet and smokes back in town and was thus having a shitty day. I didn't think that he was really begging, but I offered him a few smokes and gratefully he went on his merry way. He promised that he would look out for me on the road.

He set off, and I felt the need to prove that nothnig was wrong. Thankfully, the key turned and ignition sparked. I followed him for a bout 100 yards and then he went off on a completely different root. I didn't see him again.