The great Kiwi holiday hasn’t changed a lot over the years.
As a nation we flock to our beaches, lakes and patches of bush to pitch tents, open up the crib, bach or holiday home, dust off the caravan or check into a cabin or motel. It seems to be in our blood to return to our pioneer spirit and do some fishing and campfire cooking or at least lie in the sun with a good book and a beer.
As far back as I can remember Christmas holidays were always spent by the sea. My parents used to take us out on the trailer sailer in the early days. Santa would come down the hatch and we’d sail off on Christmas Day in our new shorts and T-shirts, eager for a day fishing for the huge snapper you used to find in our harbours 40 years ago. Unfortunately, my predominant memory of our yachting years was falling off the boat at the age of three, encased in a life jacket and quite safe, but looking up to see my family having a good old chuckle about it all while Dad leapt overboard to rescue me.
We then moved on to campervans and caravans. I learned how to knit on one long Christmas trip around the South Island. Apparently I was just as accident prone in caravans, once falling out the front door while it was moving.
Then it was off to Kawau Island and a bach we rented for years, where I learned to sail Laser yachts, scuba divefor scallops and crayfish, and play oahjong, which was very trendy in the 1970s.
As a teenager, I worried my mother sick heading off on camping trips with my boyfriend in his old Holden for weeks on end with nothing but a surfboard, a mattress and a gas burner. And six years ago I returned to the camping way of life, perhaps wanting to get back to something more simple and laid-back and so our 1968 Liteweight caravan was purchased and plonked in a camping ground in the Bay of Plenty.
There my family of five children and one grandchild, plus all their friends and my parents who have their own much smarter caravan, spend six weeks coming and going at leisure, being Kiwis during the Christmas period.
This year we decided to try something new. I have never been one for tents. In my childhood, there weretoo many memories of tents blowing away in the one big storm we always get in New Zealand around Christmas time. Then there were leakage issues with rain coming in to dampen pillows and sleeping bags.
Then my husband found me having an animated chat with a bloke about a tent. It was a huge modern tent withtwo main bedrooms and central room, a foyer and a little room out the back for the kitchen.
“Look at all this space,” I said, in love already. “They must be very difficult to put up.”
“Not at all,” he said reassuringly. “All very hi-tech these days, a few poles in slots and then up she goes.”
“Come away,” said my husband. “We have a caravan, we don’t need a tent.”
“But the caravan only sleeps four. We never have enough room. Just imagine: we could have friends to stay.”
He stalked off in the direction of the garden centre and I dutifully followed with a wistful backward glance at “my” tent. Some message must have gone out into the ether because a matter of weeks later came a challenge.
“Apparently there’s a big fancy Kathmandu tent at the Weekly office, looking for someone to test drive it,”I announced to the family before sticking my hand firmly in the air to volunteer.
And there we were. Down at the caravan with a big blue six-door Retreat 360. “It’s very heavy,” said my husband dragging it from the car.
These tents do look a little ominous to start with. There are big bits of cloth which look like parachutes and bitsof poles everywhere.
“We’ll just follow the instructions,” said my son, the more practical member of the family.
We put poles together, matched the colours with little helpful tags on the tent, erected the inner tent first then pulled over the top tent, and within an hour there it stood in all its splendour.
“I can’t believe we pulled that one off,” my husband said, having done little to contribute except come out of thecaravan with words of encouragement. “We could do it in half an hour next time,” said my son. And I believe we will.
During the weekend we had gale force winds, showers and mercifully some sunshine and our tent stood loudand proud. It was a pleasure to sleep in with lots of thoughtful vents for fresh air, tightly sealed mosquito nets and a great feeling of space.
our caravan now has a new friend and we have a new addition to our Christmas holiday tradition.
