Once upon a time there was a young family from the deep south. They decided too head north to seek a brighter and sunnier future in the bustling shipping town of Tokomaru Bay. With mattresses strapped to the roof and a couple kids rolling around on the back seat this young couple drove the long trek north, across the ferry, through windy gorges and arrived in Tokomaru Bay in the height of its glory.
Now Tokomaru is a ghost town. A lovely little ghost town. Imagine overgrown little cottages, locals gathering kaimoana on the reef, rusty old tractors waiting for fishing boats. The little grey donkey that seems to have been in the same paddock eating the same grass for years. It is the perfect place for camping through the summer months and a wonderful place to escape to on a freezing winters day. A walk along the rickety old wharf is a must, scary when the swell is rolling in (even on a calm day I find it scary) but the perfect remedy to blow away the cobwebs and a wonderful spot to devour a delicious serving of salty hot fish and chips.
My Grandparents moved to Gisborne and had a few more children and lived happily ever after.
No comments:
Post a Comment