I’m writing this column in a camping ground at Long Bay, on the Coromandel Peninsula.It’s Sunday morning. From where our caravan is parked I could almost spit into the sea, if I were of a mind to.
There are bush-covered headlands to the north and south of the bay and pohutukawa trees line the shore. Last night I heard the quintessential New Zealand nocturnal sound of a ruru (morepork) calling.At the moment the tide is out and I can see kids fossicking on the rocks. The floating platform that people were diving from when we arrived here yesterday is virtually high and dry.