Monday was the beginning of my tour of North Island proper. I knew that I had to leave Wellington soon, because I was just having too much fun staying with Amanda & Bernard and there was a danger I would never be able to tear myself away from their hospitality. I successfully bought myself a roving bus ticket with InterCity (similar to the one I had in May for South Island) and worked out where I wanted to go - at least to begin with. Then I went back to A&B's house, tidied it up, then packed up all my things and went to the railway station. From there I caught a suburban service heading up the Kapiti Coast, to the northwest of Wellington.

I got out after dark (and after some delays) at an unmarked station, apparently in the middle of nowhere. I was reminded of my journey north from St Petersburg with Hugh, where we had alighted at Station 154, in the forest 154km north of the city. Luckily I wasn't the only person getting off, otherwise I'd have had second thoughts! At least I was safe in the knowledge that the hostel I was staying at was a walking distance from the "station" (I prefer the term "slightly wider bit of track"), because they had told me that when I booked.

I had a room to myself (there was no-one else booked into the dorm) in a small building whose only other occupants were an Israeli couple in the next room. We had a good old chat about the Palestinian Question - well, what else does one talk about with Israelis? - and also talked about cool things to do on the North Island. Then I went over to the main building to talk about maybe going horseriding the next day. The owner was a feisty woman, and her husband was from Yorkshire.

That night the rain started to pour. It was really windy too; the sound of the blustery rain outside and on the roof of the house reminded me of being in Austria in autumn. The Tuesdsay morning proved to be just as wet, but for some reason I felt like throwing caution to the wind and going riding anyway.

And I'm glad I did! It was a really great experience. The weather cleared up for the two hours I was actually on horseback (it rained all the way out to the paddock and all the way back), and I was much less nervous than I was expecting to be. Even though I was sitting high up, and without a saddle too - it was a bit wet for the horses to have saddles strapped to them, so we just rode bareback on their waterproof covers - I wasn't too worried. When I did fall off (just the once, mind) I jarred my hip a little bit but managed to roll with it and not get properly hurt. All in all, it was fantastic. I look forward to riding again - maybe next time learning how to use a saddle.

That afternoon I rested up, read a book (I'm reading the "No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency" books set in Botswana), and listened to the howling wind & rain outside. It was quite restful really.

On Wednesday the weather cleared right up. There was still plenty of water on the ground, but the sky was bluer and you could see up into the hills. I caught a bus up to Wanganui (which proved to be entertaining, because at Bulls where we had to change buses this complete nutter psycho freakazoid druggie got on and was literally bouncing in his seat; he reminded me of a meerkat the way his head darted this way & that), dropped my bags at the YHA hostel and walked into town. There is a fab art gallery there, which had a surprisingly good exhibition of local young artists' work and another exhibition of a Dutch emigre Kiwi designer's work in ceramics and on fabric. Good stuff.

The other major attraction of Wanganui is the memorial tower on a hill on the other side of the river, which affords splendid views all round. It was such a clear day, I could see all the way back down to Wellington, as well as inland to Mount Tongariro and further up the coast to Mount Taranaki. The rest of the town is pleasant, with some good cafes and restaurants but not much else. I watched Catwoman at the cinema in the evening, and I can now finally see what all the fuss is about with Halle Berry, who hasn't really done it for me until now. But she is mighty fine as the eponymous character.

On Thursday I caught another bus, this time up into Taranaki province to the capital, New Plymouth. Again I chose to stay in the YHA hostel. Soon I'll be eligible for a permanent membership, which might come in handy in Oz. The hostel is a little way out of the centre of town, so I jumped in a taxi because my bags are heavy and it was looking like rain. And bloody hell! Did it rain that evening! The hostel woman Brenda, a lovely maternal lady in her fifties, gave me a lift into town in the rain, but after a meal at an Argentinian pizza place (which was good) I walked back in the driving rain. I haven't walked through rain like it in years! It was strangely pleasant, forcing my way uphill to the hostel through the torrents.

That evening I ended up helping an elderly couple with a 1000 piece jigsaw. I'd forgotten how much fun a jigsaw can be! It took me back to the 5000 piece mammoth one we spent several summers completing in Austria when we were kids. This one was a Wasjig: the picture on the front of the box showed you the view BEHIND you, while the picture on the puzzle itself was the view IN FRONT OF you. Freaky but cool. I ended up not going to bed until gone three o'clock, it was just too addictive.

The weather cleared up on Friday. I woke late to a gorgeous blue sky and a quite stunning view of what you could call your archetypal volcano: perfectly conical, snow-capped, cloud-free, delicious. After a spot of brunch, I got a taxi to bring me to the visitor centre on the mountainside and then spent three hours walking a marked path. It was my first solo taste of Tramping, the Kiwi for hiking. And it was great! The silence was overwhelming. There was nobody on the mountain. I only saw one set of footsteps in the path I walked. It seems not many people come to Taranaki - well, certainly not at this time of year, anyway.

First I toiled up a 4WD track onto a high ridge at the cloudline (yes, there were clouds by this time, but it was still fab), then I had to pick my way down the other side of the ridge on what was supposedly a path with steps but was actually a very long water feature of interlinked ponds. My calves were killing me after an hour of balancing precariously on the wooden edges of these step pools. After reaching a hut (the Manekawa Hut to be precise) the path led through luscious stands of scrub, bush, trees and treeferns, over two small rivers and back to the visitor centre. I just can't get over those treeferns. They're fab! I have taken way too many pictures of them already, but I just can't get enough.

Friday evening I made myself walk into town, despite a strong desire to refrain from all movement. And I'm glad I made the effort, because I found a super duper fly noodle bar. It was manna from heaven. I think in a past life I was a noodle bowl. Their miso soup was the best I've ever tasted - so fresh everything! - and the noodles were out of this world. And of course the Chinese tea was tasty.