Toast!

Sometimes we have toast for breakfast (the motorhome comes with a toaster, which works if we're on a powered site) but usually it's muesli and coffee.  But actually this post isn't about breakfast, it's about what turned out to be a major event in the North Island social calendar, and for which we happened to have tickets to: Toast Martinborough.

Travelling south from Ohakune we passed through miles and miles of cattle and sheep farmland.  Along the terraced valleys and up over a steep pass between the Ruahine and Tararua ranges, we took an overnight pitstop at Woodville (behind the Community Centre!)  A town with 2 fish and chip shops and a petrol station, but not much else, it was a quiet night!  In the morning we had a short drive to Martinborough which took us through some lovely small towns.  Masterton, Carterton and Greytown are as close to chi-chi as you'll find in NZ, culminating in Martinborough a lovely town of clapperboard houses, cute cafes and central square.

Martinborough is a sleepy place for 51 weekends of the year.  But in mid-November, they host the annual Taste Martinborough Wine and Food Festival, which draws about 8000 people from Wellington, Palmerston North and further afield.  It's nestled amongst 20 or so local vineyards, each walking distance from one another and most of which join in the festival activities.  Participating vineyards pair up with some of the North Island's best restaurants and bands to offer wine, food and music to the festival goers.  They, for their part, take their festival wine glass and wander, or bus, depending on how wobbly their legs are, from vineyard to vineyard, buying food and drink and then chilling to the bands or bopping the afternoon away. It's all very good fun, and tickets are sought after, so we were lucky that Duncan had heard of it by chance, and we'd managed to get one of the last 2 spots available in the camping ground.

We'd met a lovely Dutch-Kiwi couple from Wellington the evening before, and teamed up with them on the vineyard tour around 11am.  A couple of great jazz bands, an oyster or two and quite a few glasses of pinot noir, and suddenly it was 5pm and we felt quite tired.  The party kept on going in the square (sans alcohol - previous years have meant that the rules are stringent now) until the buses started leaving for Wellington and Picton and most of the hoardes left.  Even the campsite had a 10pm curfew, so oldies like us could get some sleep - although I have a feeling we were out for the count long before then.

We'd had a great day, although not nearly as excessive as some peoples'. And it was interesting seeing how the Kiwi's party - if I had to compare it to a UK event, I'd pick the Grand National, without the horses, but lots of music. A grand day out, no tiara's required.