Hihi Beach to Wangharoa Bay

It is very clear to us now that we should not be doing more than 30 km per day. We might be able to do more but there are several reasons we should not push to do 50 km/day.
Ella is fine with cycling in the morning from 09.30 or 10.00 until 12.30 or 13.00 but that is the absolute maximum. If we have a long lunch break we might occasionally try to cycle a bit more in the afternoon but it is certainly not recommendable. Ella can have three hours of buggy but that is the limit. Also, after 13.00 the New Zealand sun is so fierce that you cannot expose a baby to this kind of radiation.
Vanessa and I also found out the hard way that cycling with Ella and the extra luggage that comes with travelling with a baby is tough, very tough. Vanessa pulls Ella´s buggy and I got the trolley with all the gear. I think all in all we are pulling about 80 kg and this hilly and windy country is such a big challenge that I honestly do not know if we can make it.
The first days I was obsessed with doing as much kilometers as possible but Vanessa put a stop to this nonsense and we slowed down the pace. Instead of focusing on the map and fixing the next destination, we now take it day by day. Cycling all of a sudden is becoming a more pleasant affair although we still tremble and shake when we appreciate the next hill in the distance.
Today the road to Wangharoa Bay was sweet and not too challenging. The scenery changes almost every km; rolling green fields with literally thousands of cows and sheep, pine forests, wetlands, estuaries with mangroves that come up to the tarmac, huge rock formations, and no one seems to live here. The place is bloody empty. There are hardly any villages, few farms and houses and the occasional car that passes. If you need some time to be on your own, come and have a look in New Zealand, you will soon be talking to the sheep. So we were in smooth cruise control heading for Wangharoa when 2,5 km from the town Ella started screaming that she had enough. We had to stop in the middle of mangroves without so much as a stain of shade in sight. Fortunately we had a magic muesli bar left and we got her back in the buggy to do the last effort. We got to a deserted motor camp run and owned by Dave, the nicest man you will ever meet. The kiwis that live in these remote areas all seem to possess the qualities that have become rare in many parts of the world. Their sense of humor and hospitality is beyond belief and something they share with the Irish. They always seem to take a mickey but without bad intentions and their kindness goes far beyond the warm welcome and a cheap joke. It is genuine, no strings attached generosity. People of the world, do not be afraid, the Kiwi is not being friendly so as for you to release the cash. The Kiwi will show his town, invite you to a beer, get you the best oysters, tell you stories about the past. The local fishermen gave us a guided tour, had a few beers with us and tried to make us believe some made up stories about the past. Absolutely brilliant. Wangharoa has two pubs and a harbor but you can have more fun here than in any other touristy place you will come across.
Back in the tent we were eaten alive by the most aggressive mosquitos you can imagine. Who cares, we just learned about a beautiful piece of New Zealand and its lovely people.