Boxing Day we drove to Castle Point. Though we are well inland, the drive took only about forty-five minutes. No point in NZ is farther than 70 miles from the sea: Pacific on east coast, Tasman Sea on west. Castle Point is about 65 km from our home. The drive was predictably curvy; there don’t seem to be any straight roads in the country. And beautiful: I was reminded of Northern California, brown sere hills in summer and vineyards. Much of the North Island is like that.
Castle Point is a steep promontory overlooking a long, sandy, gentle beach. A castle should be perched there, but, no, just a lighthouse. The wind coming off the Pacific was fierce, and signs were posted warning us to hang on tight as we climbed the stairs. Stacey’s camera case fell open and out flew a number of our address cards, scattering on some of the fishermen below like holiday confetti. She climbed down the rocks to retrieve them, since she didn’t want to be accused of littering! People were having Boxing Day parties along beach row, beer and grilling, and there were a couple of ocean kayakers too. No ships were anywhere on the horizon. The beach was almost empty.
The water was cool, but not uncomfortable, and the wind blew the tops off the breakers in swarms of foam. Then Beth, Katy, and I waded in to about our waists, and of course the girls couldn’t resist smearing themselves with sand once they got back on shore. This seems to be a necessary ritual whenever they go to the beach! Stacey took some neat pictures--check out her posts-- and Frisco seemed to have a good time, too.
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