I return to the car and recline, eyes closed, occasionally drifting in and out of sleep. It's a relaxing morning, but I'm hungry. At 8 o'clock, I go back to the cafe and, sure enough, they're open. I order two coffees and a large breakfast. I sit at one of the tables outside and drink one coffee while I'm waiting for breakfast. Occasional passers by wave at me as they drive or jog or walk. What a friendly place. My breakfast arrives, and Riversdale serves up another welcome surprise. Good bacon. In much of New Zealand, the bacon is more like fried slices of ham. But this is nice, proper bacon, like I'm used to in the UK. The sausage is the size of my leg, and nicer than most of the sausages I've had since I got here, but it's still not as good as back in the UK. Still, this is the best cooked breakfast I've had in New Zealand, and it's about to get better.
The girl who works at the cafe comes out with her breakfast, and asks if she can join me. She's really pretty and has a smile like an angel, so I try not to blush as she sits down. Narelle is 19, has grown up in Riversdale and loves it here. She's been living with her boyfriend further north, but he's in the army and away on tour in South-East Asia, so she's moved back here for a while to help with the cafe, which her dad took over a few months ago. Narelle is friendly and funny and laid back, and her boyfriend is a lucky guy. We talk about Riversdale, and we both worry about what will happen to this community when all the new buyers have bought houses and land here. Up on the hill, some brand new tarmack has already been laid - the roads that will form the main arteries of the new estate that will be built there over the next few years. We talk about travel. We talk about lots of things, and she tells me it's a shame I wasn't here on Thursday for the Rat Club.
The Rat Club is a weekly gathering at the cafe - people congregate with beers and just socialise in the chilled surroundings of the cafe. It's named the Rat Club after a rat that used to run across the phone lines at the same time every evening. The rat eventually died, but the Rat Club lives on. I need to see this Rat Club, and decide to come back at Easter weekend which (I believe) is soon.
Narelle winces as she drinks some kind of berry juice - it's not popular with the customers which obviously means that the staff have to drink it. She tries bravely, but can't finish it. Having spent too long chatting, she gets up, and returns to work, flashing that delighful smile again.
I go back to the car, check the map, and decide on a route. But first I'm going to return to Castlepoint. The weather is better today, and I want to see the place again. I don't spend much time there, but I'm glad I went. The sea and wind is still more stormy than at Riversdale, but I follow the road right to the end, and see the 'reef'. It's a towering wall of old sea bed, full of thousands of years of sea shells. There's a warning sign and a small memorial testifying to the people who've met misfortune here in the past.
So obviously I clamber up the reef to take photos. The ocean on the other side is mighty indeed. The weaves surge and plunge and boil over the rocks, and a fall into that water would be very bad news. But I'm safe enough. There's plenty of grip on all the sea shells, and the wind is strong enough to flap my shirt but certainly no danger of blowing me around.
After a few minutes I start walking back to the car. I still don't visit the lighthouse, because I know I'll be back in the area in a few weeks. Instead, I look at some of the charter fishing boats, some more fossilised shells, and a cross bearing lots of discarded footwear.
Then I'm on the road again. I retrace yesterday's route and detour to Lake Wairarapa, which is big but an anti climax after what I've experienced in the last couple of days. I persevere for another 40 minutes to Ocean Beach which vast, and almost deserted apart from two anglers and three people riding motocross bikes up and down. The beach is so large remote, and such a strange surface (it seems almost like ash and fine grit and cinder) that I have no problem with the thought of motocross bike there. They're not ruining the beach experience for anyone. It's such a strange and dramatic place that I'm tempted to stay longer, but I'm thinking of the toruous drive ahead, and the time that I have to return the car.
So I'm retracing my steps again, back into Wairarapa, back over the mountains, back down into Upper Hutt and then Lower Hutt. Back along the edge of Wellington bay, and back to the hotel, where I unload the car and then take it back to the depot. Then it's the long walk back to the hotel. It's been a tiring weekend, and a remarkably long time on the road, considering the relatively short distances I've travelled. But I've found a new favourite place - Riversdale - and I'm looking forward to going back.
After a shower and some food, I get an early night and sleep very well indeed.
