A quietly expanding community

"I've noticed a trend," said the land valuer, "of people moving from as far afield as Auckland out here to Murupara or Galatea; cashing up their $700,000 plus homes and buying the same vintage weatherboard homes on quarter acre sections for literally peanuts."
Which leaves them with some serious money in the bank, the ability to semi or fully retire and a great lifestyle, he went on to say.
And let's face it, he would know because quite often, his company in Whakatane is being asked to value those homes in much the same way - and for the same reasons - that we had him coming out to value ours.
And we knew this also because quite a few of our egg customers are exactly that - people who have arrived in town to live a much quieter lifestyle in a very beautiful spot for an absolute song and have asked Ken to quote on the do-ups they have purchased. And of course, we also have done just this.
I mean, we bought Mum's house for $35,000, which was, we were told, $10,000 too much, given that the GV was $26,000. A 112sqm two bedroom home with a carport next to the motel, on the main road.

Unfortunately, the Auckland-based Indian owner whom I had chased down through the council rating department also had us over a financial barrel. He knew we wanted it; it was only one of two homes that were on our lifestyle block boundary and the other had only just been bought in recent times; the owner was going nowhere. Yes, it was a cosmetically diabolical mess when we bought it and so we spent another $7500 on it. But the transformation on what always had great bones, was well worth it - and according to the new insurance building calculators, we could not have built it for under $300,000. So the warm little cottage with its happy ambience was definitely a win-win situation for us all.

All of our neighbours bar one are not locals. From the lovely eccentric antique dealer on the corner (who has since purchased two more homes) to the ex-Auckland based motelier, a classical-music loving cafe-owner to my mother, all have come from a variety of backgrounds that didn't include growing up in the district.
And it seems to be a catching phenomenon. Last week we attended the local country fair at Galatea, more as an exercise of letting locals know we were there and would be open in spring with the nursery. Being the middle of winter in a place that has four frosty mornings in a row as a matter of course, having plants wasn't the right idea, so Ken ran a sausage sizzle and I put together jams and my own specific herbs and spice mixes for roasts to meatloaf, as well as our eggs.
I was amazed at the amount of people who came up and told us they were not from the area, but had fallen in love with it as they had come through on a tourist or hunting trip to Waikeremoana or the Ureweras; even just visiting places like the amazing Mangamate Falls

or Lake Aniwhenua. Some had simply bought off the internet, sight physically unseen because the prices paid meant they couldn't possibly make a mistake. The tranquility; the slower pace of life was the biggest drawcard, followed closely by the clean air and living as close to nature as it is likely to get and still be part of a thriving country community. And of course, being roughly half an hour from a city in one direction, or the coast in the other.
"I'm here," one woman said, "Because it allowed me to stop and take a deep breath and actually enjoy what is going on around me - the frenetic pace of Auckland was killing me." Like many others, she now works from home with a small cottage industry.
"You don't need to go into the city," said another. "Everything you need is right here."
And as of last week, when the local pub reintroduced its three night a week meals, so it is. It's not surprising they have done that - the population is gradually expanding as people come from all over the North Island, ignoring (thankfully) the media even from the main papers and TV channels who simply never look past their own noses at what they think such country towns as ours should be and are portrayed as they wants them to be, not what they are in reality. Badly trained journalists who simply do not do their jobs properly. "Drugs and gangs," they piously tell everyone. And while it's true we do have two gangs here, they don't mention that one of them belongs to Destiny Church and the other has been here since the 1970's. That they'll do a toy run most years for charity. And that the local iwi, which is strong here, have their own ways of ensuring there is no trouble in our town anymore. Drugs are the same anywhere; every city, every town, every village has them. Same with gangs. They are a fact of life and they are no worse here than they are anywhere else on a per capita basis. Burglaries? Lol, four reported in the past 12 months.

Our little town has its own radio station, a small hospital, a thriving medical and physio centre. It has a superette and a dairy, two good cafes, an award winning butcher, a chemist and a wonderful general store that sells everything from shoes to lounge suites, electronics to hardware. A community hub is there as well as a support service network for a variety of different community-based services the town and district's inhabitants may need. There is a WINZ and a police station - which looks after Kaingaroa, Minginui and Reporoa as well as Murupara and Galatea. The pub, the RSA are busy as is the second hand shop. The satellite council building has a library and a free wi-fi hotspot, as well as computers for locals to use. While it is true the Whakatane District Council which is 87kms away, doesn't care for its long-distance ratepayers as well as it could and should and this is reflected in the fact the town centre does indeed look rundown, the locals do care and are often to be seen sweeping the wide frontage of  the shopping centre of the leaves of autumn and winter.
In addition to the motel, there  is the local holiday park where travellers often stay and this is backed up with the camping facilities at Lake Aniwhenua and the several hunting and fishing lodges on offer.
So it's no wonder people are quietly moving here; no wonder the valuer finished off his inspection of both our properties with the words, "I might even retire here myself."

Come on baby light my fire...

Those of  us who are the last of the babyboomers and who remember Dragon's hit song "Are you old enough" will know why it is one of the top 10 song's to get stuck in your head. It is that catchy.
When speaking of catchy things, the heating problems we have had in the bus in recent times found us all outside on a cold winter's day yesterday admiring the scenery with a little bit more  speed than usual.
Warren and Barb, who used to own the bus before we got her had come down for Queen's birthday weekend both for a wee break and so that Warren, who had installed the diesel-fuelled central heating could figure out what was actually wrong with it - because it had been going when we were still in Rotorua.

Ken had spent hours charging one battery, buying another, fiddling with the diesel levels, but to no avail. All that had worked was the machine; it blew air - but there was no heat.
We'd got up to quite a nice morning yesterday and out on the deck, I made a huge breakfast of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, diced fried roasted vegetables from the night before, tomatoes, and toast.
Neither Warren nor Ken are sit down and relax kinds of men when there are things to be done, so Barb and I sat there and leisurely grappled with having a big breakfast and copious amount of hot tea. Tough job, but someone has to do that on a Sunday! So, down they both were under the first step of the bus where the main machinery is located. The first inkling that part of the problem may be been solved was a most ungentlemanly snigger from Warren. "Someone put the batteries in back to front.." That, it appeared was the fault of a diesel mechanic Ken was related to, so that was sorted out, while Barbara and I calmly raised our voices 10 decibels higher, the fan of the heater sounding like a small jet engine during warmup.
"Yep, said Warren happily, " She's going!" She was going alright.... I watched with consternation as wisps of grey smoke started to drift into the bus.
"Don't worry about that," said Warren, "It's just excess diesel; it'll burn off soon enough - we'll just shut the door though."

So Barbara and I sat there and finished our breakfast while nervously eying the burnoff turn from wisps to clouds and not being altogether certain just where it was coming from.
When I couldn't see the back of the bus and when seeing Barb across the table meant squinting or crossing my eyes to get her face in focus, I thought it might be time to call a prudent retreat.
Somewhat faster than I might normally move, I skedaddled out the door, without realising the deck was even smokier than the bus given its close proximity to the motor, got outside coughing fit to bust before turning around to see the bus gently burping large clouds of grey smoke in a ladylike manner that made her look as if she was being cushioned by a large cloud. I just never thought to grab my camera as well, more's the pity. But this one of the train looks VERY similar!

By this time more than a little worried that someone would call the rural fire service, I diffidently questioned how much longer it would do this. Warren cut the diesel to the motor; he had not been aware that my wonderfully uneducated-in-the-ways-of-electronic/mechanical-things husband had opened the taps considerably more than was required in an effort to get it going. What should have been a drip-drip of diesel had become more like a farm pond of the stuff. It burned off, but also in being fully stationery now, the problem was that the air intake at the bottom of the stairs, also ended up being the place where the outtake was sending its smoky fumes - so we now had heat. If you could live with the fumes. Ken's idea of using it just to heat the place up and then turn to the radiant heater didn't work either - still too many fumes. So, back to the drawing board with the idea of piping it out the back of the bus....
So at the moment, I am sitting at the table, with the radiant heater on two of its three bars, humming Dragon's 1978 hit song  "Are you old enough?"- but with a difference. It goes something like this..

Are you warm enough

Are you warm enough

Are you warm enough

Are you warm  enough

Are you warm enough oo oo

Are you warm enough oh oh

(For those who don't know the song, try this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zezo9dMnXy0