There's a beach in Ponsonby? Who knew?

So, I was walking along past all these fancy homes in Ponsonby and I came across a sign that announced, "Beach."  It pointed down the hill.  And it was a big one, the hill, that is. You saw the picture that closed out my last post. 

Now, I have to admit; there was a time when I resisted the idea of carrying a phone, but when Allie got me one anyway and I discovered that it had a map feature on it, I realised how handy such a device could be. 

When I saw the beach sign, I popped open my window to the world and sure enough, discovered that I was about two long blocks from Hamilton Beach. Well, I just had to go down there. Despite the substantial slope of the hill and the fact that I'd have to climb back up the thing again. I can't pass up a beach. 

Today's post then, will share this very modest beach with all of you. I didn't find any treasures along it. Because it sits in one corner of Auckland's harbor, there is essentially no surf and nothing very interesting had been washed ashore there. 

 I noticed this view as I crossed a street. The beach is a couple more blocks to the left of the marina. 

 Jacarandas smell very sweet.

 There is no vehicle access to this beach, just a set of stairs. 

 Mainly sea grass of some sort on the sand. The pohutukawas are blossoming. 

That's the Chelsea Sugar Factory across the bay. 

I can't help but throw in a few pictures of trees and roots growing out of a cliff face. 

 There's the Harbor Bridge.

There was a large driftwood log (you can see it in my first picture of the beach) that gave me a place to rest for a few minutes before I began my return climb.   

The Ponsonby area has never failed to impress me whenever I have explored it. This beach today was a real surprise and a bonus. I'm sure that there is more to discover yet. You'll be invited to come along.             -djf

Another wander through Ponsonby

The last time I rode a bus through Ponsonby, I noticed a bakery I had not seen before. It's a German bakery. (Ohhh, I'll bet they make pretzels. Those great big ones with lots of coarse salt on them.) I planned to come back when I had the opportunity and investigate.  

Well, today's the day. I've taken the bus in and here I am in front of the bakery. Their sign confirms that there are indeed pretzels to be found within. Let's go.

I took these pictures before Christmas.

 There it is. When I tried a piece just moments after taking this picture, I realized that this is the real deal. A proper pretzel. 

(There is a tiny hole-in-the-wall pretzel and churro shop on Queen Street in Auckland, but the pretzels they make are nothing like these.)

 Since the bakery is on the corner of the Three Lamps corner, I decided that I would walk down some of the side streets that come off Ponsonby Road and see what other interesting things I could find.  I found that there are some very nice homes here.

I also discoverd that there is a beach nearby. I walked down to it and took some pictures, and will bring you those in the next post. 

On my return to Ponsonby Road, I came across a place that grabbed my attention. Check this out...

 Morepork is a play on words here. There is a small nocturnal owl here that the Maori call a ruru. It's English name is the morepork.   

 And look at what the sign says. Low and slow American BBQ. I've got to check this out.

 It's just a little place but it sure smells right.  

This is on one wall.  

I found that the chef is from Massachusetts. She was interested to learn where I was from and when I placed a combination platter takeaway order, she threw in a free container of pickled vegetables for us. 

I chose beef brisket, jalepeno sausages, ribs, and chicken for the meats and burnt-end-bacon beans, cole slaw and corn bread for my sides.  

Allie, Jeanne and I enjoyed all of it that evening, although I think we would have liked it all even more had we been eating it fresh from the grill, rather than reheated five hours later. 

I especially liked the beans. They're the best beans I've had in NZ, but not as good as those Jeanne, Kim, Fred, or even I have made.  

(I think they used the wrong kind of dry beans. ) 

Still, they're good enough that I'd like to take Jeanne there sometime for lunch. 

This last photo is one taken on the street that leads down to the beach. Those are jacaranda trees (native to Brazil) along the sidewalks. Stay tuned for the next installment....         djf   

Triumph

When one sets off on a sunny morning to explore a place, with no set destination in mind, and with no set agenda, other than that of successfully putting one foot in front of the other for some longish period of time, one might, while on that hike, happen upon any number of interesting sights. 

And, if one manages, during this ramble, not only to avoid obvious hazards such as twisting either ankle, stepping into traffic, or getting lost with no bus stops in sight, but actually records a batch of the best and brightest of the sights encountered along the way for posterity, well then, one can surely consider one's jaunt a triumph.  

I have the singular pleasure to announce that I did set off on just such an adventure one recent morning after breakfast. I was deposited at my starting point in the city by the third in the string of buses required to reach that particular street corner.  Also, I do indeed possess a number of clear and interesting photographs which I propose to share with interested parties.  

The reader will note that under most pictures is a description of the scene. This information may be useful if the reader happens to be sharing this publication with an inquisitive young person, an aging relative whose eyesight is failing, or some houseguests who have overstayed their welcome and in desperation, the reader has resorted to showing them what he claims are 'last year's vacation photos' in hopes of boring them to death, or to the door, which ever comes first.

The adventure begins...

 Narrow streets and old houses. Very well maintained of course, but old. 

 Narrow and old and steep. Nicely paved of course, but steep. 

 The date on that building is 1909, It is the Railroad Workers Center.  I would suppose that engineers, firemen, signalmen and brakemen are likely to have been the original residents of these bungalows. Possibly even porters. 

 The steepness of the grade intensifies....

(One imagines the mood of the horse before the weekly 'family night outing' at the Railroad Workers Center as the 250 pound fireman hitches her to the wagon at their house near the bottom of this hill and calls his sturdy wife and brood to pile in and hang on. 
"You older kids be ready to jump off and push if Daisy looks likely to give out on us. She ain't getting any younger. Don't know how many more of these climbs she's got in her."
"Well," his wife adds, "At least it ain't icy out tonight " )

 ...and I enter a neighborhood reflecting a slightly higher socio-economic standing among the inhabitants.  

 Artistic touches become evident. 

 Some residents reflect their artistic temperments with bold statements.

(These bright primary colors against the white might engage that young person's attention) 

 Some residents value dwellings of a more private nature. 

  

A good example of a 'vanishing point photograph,'  which adventurers often include in their portfolios. In fact, most would not consider their p. complete without one. 

(Seeing this photo, however dimly, the aged relative might imagine that it looks familiar and  may launch in to some animated reverie.)  

Having traversed a commercial area, his estimate of the frequency of artistic expressions the adventurer passed, if asked, would be described as 'widespread.' 

 Tattoo to the left, barber to the right. Each entry sports a decorated wall and each has a stairway beconing customers upward. 



While the owner(s) of these shops may not have been thinking of Oscar Wilde specifically while constructing these passageways, that writer's suggestion of, Be yourself; everyone else is already taken, was clearly a notion that had always resonated with them and expressed itself, in this case, through their storefronts. 

toward the tattooist

toward the barber

I don't know what year it was they first passed the law of diminishing returns, but all adventurers are familiar with its precepts.  No matter how zealous and persistant the adventurers are in their pursuit of any given enterprise, there comes a time when they stop, look around  themselves and realize that, having eaten their salty German pretzels and quaffed their thermoses of water, it may be time to consider heading back to headquarters for more substantial refreshment and recovery from exertions.   

While hiking and the compilation of photos is all well and good, the law clearly states that at some point, enough is enough.  

Accordingly, this adventurer, having also stopped and considered coincidentally, the depletion of his stores of those very items listed above, turned his steps toward that street corner which he knew would soon be visited by the first (but in reverse order) of those three buses mentioned earlier.  Luncheon would be waiting. 

As he approached his bus stop, one more piece of original art caught his eye. Although crudely rendered, the adventurer saw no reason to disagree with the advice this artist felt compeled to share with the public.                                      

(This might very well be the picture, since it states clearly what the unlucky hosts found themselves unable to express, that will precipitate the departure of the overstaying houseguests.)    -djf

I wish they all could be palatable fruit....

I've been looking at lots of trees (and bushes) lately and have admired all the interesting, and many times, luscious-looking fruits growing on them. Ripening nicely, despite the hot, dry weather we've been having. The trouble is, most of them are not edible; by humans at least.

What a pity. As you know, I enjoy harvesting and using wild foods when they're available. Mike and Kim once gave me a book on the subject and that summer, no milk-weed plant I passed was safe from scrutiny and a few actually donated some of their pods to my penknife and pot.  Bull thistles too knew the sting of my blade. Wild onions quivered in the breeze as I would approach them with a gleam in my eye and a trowel in my hand.  

I have found a few things here to harvest and I've written about them, repeatedly.  (maybe you thnk redundently) They've made me very happy. But hardly a day passes that I don't see yet another tree filled to overflowing with some sort of fruit. All too often, when I look up what it is, I find that its fruit, berry, or drupe, etc. has some sort of toxin, some sort of loathsome substance within it, that makes it a very poor meal for humanity.  Some of these poisons will make you regret ingesting them almost immediately. Others will just hang around in your liver in ones and twos until there are enough of them in there to start a riot, and then they'll let you have it. 

I haven't looked up all of these. Some are actually out of my reach. A few I've tasted and decided that they must have something noxious inside them because they taste so terrible. So, my research has been far from scientific.  Still....

Here are some of them.  Oh, by the way. I am using the word fruit unscientifically in this post to mean any of the ways seeds get carried. 

Look at these beauties on the palm in our yard.

They look good enough to eat.  

These are very juicy, but horrendously bitter and tangy. 

Look like a woman's hair with beads.

I think these two, above and below are some sort of date. They are nothing but pith and skin however. 

The fruit on this palm really reminds me of a Butia capitata, though I've never seen one so large. I wonder though. This tree is fenced in a yard so I'm not sure I could approach it to check the fallen fruit. Maybe I can first investigate olfactorily. That was, after all, the way I first became aware of the Butia tree I now harvest each summer.  

I had to include this one at the end. It is an old friend actually, the crab apple. 

It was nice to come across one fruit at least that's edible. 

Okay, before you read the last bit of this post, I need to put a little tune in your head.  I don't suppose you need to listen to the whole thing, you'll remember it as soon as you see the link.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmIsdMWzdaE&t=3s

East Auckland trees look slick,
I really dig those fruits they bear.
Love the southside palms, and that shape they grow, 
They knock me out when I'm down there.  

The western farmers' hedgerows really show me quite a sight, 
And the northern trees, you'd think their fruits were bliss,
They look de-lish but don't taste right....

I wish they alll could be palatable fruit,
I wish they all could be palatable,
I wish they all could be palatable fruit.....

New Zealand has the sunshine
And the fruits all look so sweet
I'd eat a fresh bowl of berries from a north island tree
If their toxins weren't so real.

I been all around this Auckland town
And I've seen all kinds of fruit,
Yeah, but too many rate such a very harmful state
If I swallowed them at best, I'd hurl....

I wish they all could be palatable fruit,
I wish they all could be palatable,
I wish they all could be palatable fruit....**

**  I've always enjoyed song parodies.  Weird Al Yankovic occasionally pulled a smile from me, but Paul Shanklin was a genius. I had fun working up my attempt.        -djf