Finding Middlearth

I wake and try to shake the cobwebs off, morning was never my pleasure. Jenn has already left I heard the door click, got up and started packing.

I wondered what was in store for me in Martinborough. What would the Potters be like? I had experienced a level of comfort at the hostel, at times awkward, however the social contact with other travellers had offset the moments of insecurity. I struggled with my bags and wrestled them on to the elevator it was going to be a long day that had only just begun.

Although the train station was only a 15 minute walk, I knew I would never make it with my pile of bags, so I bit the bullet and called a cab. I settled down at the station and enjoyed a freshly baked cheese scone and green tea. A brave pigeon fluttered down and solicited a piece of my breakfast. It fearlessly takes the tasty morsel from my hand. We repeated this until it became evident that this bird would double it's present weight if I continued, so I turned my back and soon it was off to find another easy mark. An elegant looking elderly lady sits across from me and we chat she is also on the Masterton Train heading to her rural cottage in the picturesque Wairarapa countryside. A kindly conductor takes my bags and we board the train. The Kiwi line wanders through the surrounding hills and into a long tunnel to emerge on the other side of what seems to be another world. Rolling hills painted a vivid emerald green expose long lines of vineyards which characterize the region.

The train stops at Featherstone and I say goodbye to my temporary travelling companion, we exchange addresses and she welcomes me to visit them at their Wellington condo on the hillside part of the million dollar real estate which rings the city. I am amazed at the price of real estate in NZ much more costly than at home. The local transport is well co-ordinated as I step off the train the Martinborough bus awaits, I am whisked off to the Potter's flat. My heart is racing as we have not met and really only exchanged a few emails. As fields fly by I stare out the bus window the land is flat here a valley wedged between rolling hills. Sheep dot the landscape the first I have seen since arriving. This is farm and wine country an eclectic mix of rural folks and weekend cottagers. I have a picture in my mind of what the Potter's will look like.

The bus drops me at what is basically a one street town which everything emanates from the village square. The town was a sleepily little rural hamlet dominated by the Martinborough Hotel until the 1980's when vineyards became a profitable form of agriculture in the region. Once again I struggle with my baggage and trundle off the bus the top suitcase tipping over in the process, as I reach down to grab it the rucksack perched on my bag slides off and thumps to the ground, I must look absolutely pathetic to the locals watching from the service station. With my bags piled against a wall I slide down to the pavement, book in hand to wait for the Potter's. I had barely finished the second page when I hear a voice calling "Steve". I look up to see the beaming smile and Rosy cheeks of a lady who looks like the quintessential mum. Right behind her is another wonderful smile framed by a while beard. These are my hosts the Potter's - Jancis and David. They offer to take my bags however given the weight, I take responsibility for loading them into the trunk and we are off.

As the town recedes in the rear view mirror I begin to wonder exactly where I am going. In any other part of the world one would wonder if I am being led away to be shaken down, and robbed of all my worldly possessions. This is New Zealand and I am reminded that the Potter's did say they lived in the country. It is now becoming infinitely clear why they queried me regarding renting a car I am in for a long walk to get to the town square, stores and pubs.

We pull into the driveway of the home they affectionately anointed Middlearth. The Potter's settled here in the early 80's building a home they wanted to be as self-sufficient as possible. It is wonderfully quiet and peaceful a stark contrast to the hustle of my recent urban digs. I have my own flat on the side of the house. After a quick tour by my hosts I am left to settle. Before they leave through a common door I ask them if they know anyone who might have a bike. Jancis volunteers to make a few calls.

The bed with lovely starched white sheets beckons and I slide into a little bit of heaven. What a contrast to the spring laden spartan mattresses of the hostel covered by paper thin sheets and a less than generous blanket. I am dead tired and quickly drift off only to awake to a setting sun and a rather cold flat. Right, no central heating it has to be 12 degrees in here, I crank the small space heater coaxing some warmth as it ticks to life. The Potter's invite me over for a glass of wine so I change and walk around to the front of the house. A series of sliding glass doors allow plenty of sunlight illuminating the comfortable living room supported by ancient looking barn beams. The house is beautiful, David tells me he and the postman did most of the work over a number of years. For a period of time the Potter's farmed with sheep, a pig, some cows, a hive of bees and a donkey. Aside from the odd rusting farm machinery and weathered sheds the last vestige of the farm is the donkey which wanders out back.

We have just finished a toast to travelling and sharing life's experiences when a whippet appears at the sliding glass doors followed by her master an attractive bespectacled neighbour and friend. Maree has walked up to the Potter's with her dog Rose to bring me a bike to use while I am visiting. This is fortuitous as bike hires are expensive here $35/day!!!! Maree joins us and Rose hops up on the couch burying her head in her masters lap. We chat and soon I am feeling the effect of the wine and last nights poor sleep.

Another toast and I am back in my flat, book in hand revelling in my new found heaven. I push aside a feeling of intense loneliness as I am too tired. I am truly on my own now the challenge will be coping with my new situation. Tomorrow will be an interesting start to my rural NZ adventure.