Just north of the town of Coromandel itself, lies a place called Driving Creek. In 1973, a young potter by the name of Barry Brickell relocated here and started a grass roots pottery commune. Barry was already a well known and influential figure in New Zealand pottery circles, and people flocked here to hone their skills under his expert tutelage. But Barry built something else here as well, something which has become a major tourist attraction, helping to fund his life’s work and therefore protect his legacy.

Driving Creek Railway is a narrow gauge bush and mountain railway which traverses the mountainside all the way from his pottery collective to the Eyefull Tower (every pun intended I imagine) viewing platform 165 metres above. It was originally meant for private use, to transport clay from the hills above to his kilns below, but it was too good not to share, and it also turned into a valuable revenue stream. The structural engineering involved is seriously impressive for one man’s work. There are ten bridges, including one double decker iron viaduct, three tunnels and several switchbacks to make it up the steep hillside inclines. And the view you are rewarded with when you have enjoyed your journey all the way to the top is incredible. We had a particularly clear day to enjoy it, and you could easily see Waiheke island, and even Whangaparaoa to the north of Auckland in the distance.

As we were waiting for our journey on this magnificent locomotive, who did we spot? None other than Alistair from last nights stargazing extravaganza. He was there by chance with a few of his guests from the night before. As it turned out, we learned that Barry Brickell was actually Alistair’s cousin, and he told us how he had spent many family occasions at certain locations on the railway as a young man. As awesome as it is now to visit here as a tourist, I can only imagine how amazing, and downright bonkers, it must have seemed as a private residence back then. 

After a quick seafood lunch at the Coromandel Oyster Company, we headed off to our second slightly mad attraction for the day. The Waterworks is a family attraction tucked away down a gravel road around 10 minutes south of Coromandel town. This quirky and ingenious place was originally part of a private farm owned by the Ogilvie family, who loved to create fun devices and giant swings to entertain their children and their neighbouring families. 17 years ago it was bought by a man who set about transforming it into a safe (ish) and commercially viable park stacked with over 70 crazy inventions powered solely by water from the creek, with a hint of solar power here and there.

First impressions were that it felt slightly run down, and even slightly creepy from time to time. This was probably due to the fact there was literally not one other person around, and the whole place felt very home made. It was almost like the set from an old horror film, almost like at any point a maniacal killer was about to lock the front gates and start playing sadistic games with us. At one point we were lost in a huge maze constructed from agricultural membrane material wound around wooden fencing stakes. But the really creepy part was that every wall was adorned with slightly sinister, cobweb ridden soft toys which had faded in the sunshine. It was almost as if these were the trophies of previous victims, left on display as a warning to others. You know the moment in a cheesy horror film where you can’t believe the soon-to-be victims haven’t noticed the obvious warning signs that something terrible was about to happen? Well this felt like one of those moments, maybe we would never make it out of this maze! 

But of course we did. Eventually. And actually the initial slightly un-nerving feeling quickly faded into amazement and joy as we made our way around the park, pulling levers causing water to squirt from unexpected places, or turning giant archimedes screws to funnel water down kinetically driven perpetually moving contraptions. It was actually genius, and the kids loved it. 

The play park area was great fun with its pedal powered flying bicycles and giant hamster wheel. But the real highlight was the gloriously low-tech “water slide”. A slide shaped channel had been carved into the river bank, clad in slippery black plastic sheeting and furnished with a permanently running supply of water courtesy of the clever gravity fed water system running throughout the entire park. The result was the best slip’n’slide you can imagine, which dumped you at great speed into the purposefully dug plunge pool in the river bed below. This was summer fun in its simplest and purest form.

There were also several brilliant swings made from old tractor tyres next to the river, and another swimming hole in the creek with an incredibly perilous looking, twisted wooden diving board perched on the bank above. I love the distinct lack of attention to health and safety rules in New Zealand. It feels like you need to use common sense to ascertain whether or not something is safe, much like we used to have to do when I was growing up in the 80s – before the modern “blame culture” meant that everyone else had to be responsible for you hurting yourself. It’s very refreshing, and another example of how this country feels a lot like the UK, but 30 years ago.

Hunter was going to attempt the diving board, so I waded into the water hole to check the depth. As I was stood there, waist deep in the murky water, discussing where Hunter should aim for, he suddenly shouted at me to get out of the water. From his elevated position on the diving board he had spotted that silently sneaking up behind me from the murky depths was one of those giant, razor toothed eels I had been warned to stay away from, for fear of losing a finger! I didn’t need telling twice – I was out of that water in two seconds flat, with all my 21 digits (think about it…) accounted for.

I joined Hunter on the gangplank, and as we looked down we saw that there were actually several of these massive octogenarian unagi circling in the shadows below… and that was the end of our swimming hole fun! Never mind, we had had a great day anyway, so after a quick drink in the cafe we made our way home to get a good nights sleep before our final day in the Coromandel.

I had booked a surfing lesson for the kids for our final day in the area, and I had it in my head that it was at 11:30, so no need to get up early to make the hours drive. I dragged myself out of bed at 9am, and after brushing my teeth I thought I’d better check the lesson time, only because I had a niggling feeling and wanted some reassurance. Good job I did – it turned out that the lesson was at 10am! It was 9:10 at this point, everyone except me was still in bed, and the lesson was an hour away.

I have never seen the kids get ready so quickly in my life. Somehow we managed to make it to Whangamata beach by 10:15, in time to quickly get suited up and get in the water for a solid hour of surfing fun. After the lesson was done, Hannah our instructor was so impressed with the kids she allowed them to keep hold of the boards for a few hours to get a bit more practice in. This was gonna be our last beach day for a while as we were heading inland the following day, so we enjoyed a few hours soaking up the sun and swimming in the glorious sea. After a late lunch we headed back to base to pack up ready for our departure in the morning. 

Warren, from upstairs, knocked on our door while we were packing, and asked if we would like to try his home brew. Never one to willingly turn down a beer, I graciously accepted. I was then presented with a choice of styles (he must be an expert), and after plumping for the APA, Warren disappeared momentarily before reappearing with the biggest bottle of home brew I have ever seen! And I’ve gotta say, the man knew his stuff – it was as good as any beer I’ve enjoyed out here. He also explained that he sometimes entertains his younger guests with “adventure walks” through the cave system on the beach, and would Hunter and Bam like to join him tomorrow morning? It sounded like a bit of fun, so we agreed to meet in the morning at 9 sharp.

The following morning we packed all our suitcases ready to leave and waited for Warren to grab us for our walk. He appeared at 9 as agreed, and off we all trotted to the beach for our casual walk. Or so we thought. You see Warren was now casually referring to it as the “Wall of Death”, and said that there would be a certain degree of danger. “How dangerous could it be” we thought? Surely he’s just building it up for the kids?

If you can picture an 80 metre tall cliff, with loose soil and rocks covering it’s almost sheer face, with the only hand and foot holds being comprised of handfuls of vegetation and tree roots, you’ll start to imagine the very real peril that the “Wall of Death” began to present. The coil of rope which was draped over Warren’s shoulders was not simply for show, it was to provide a hand rail on the steepest sections, where there was an actual 60 metre drop straight down the rocky cliff face to the sand below. I’m not kidding when I say that one wrong move on this ascent would have definitely resulted in one less of us returning home than had left in the morning. Remember me talking about that nostalgic lack of health and safety over here – well this is another extreme example of a case in point. I thought Kate was about to break into tears at one point as she slithered under a tree root while pulling herself up a 70 degree muddy incline via two handfuls of loose grass. Don’t get me wrong, it was exhilarating and a lot of fun, but the tension was palpable. Had we known that it was going to be quite that dangerous, we might have thought twice about it. Bam is one of the most accident prone people I know, and quite often trips over her own feet while lost in her own imagination just walking down the street. A slippery cliff face is perhaps not the best environment for her! But she is the fearless one of the two, and didn’t struggle at all making it to the top.

We all eventually made it to the summit as a wave of relief made its way through us one by one. The view was amazing, and we had all lived to tell the tale. Warren was a delightful mix of mad eccentricity and child like enthusiasm, and I think he was blissfully unaware of the potential ramifications of losing one of his guests on an innocent “adventure walk”, and I guess that’s what made it so brilliant!

Just time for one more feeding of the eels with Warren and Jock before we head off.

That’s it for the Coromandel, next stop for us would be the volcanic centre of the North Island…