The Lakes District - first three days

 Day 1 - Lakes

The Lakes District is known for many things.  Not surprisingly, lakes is one of them, so we'd better check them out.

First stop is Tarn Hows, a small mountain lake (tarn) nestled between Coniston and Hawkshead. Today is alternately sunny, cloudy and drizzly - perfect for an easy 4km walk.  The pictures can do the talking.

The trees in the background are mixed conifer and broadleaf woodland.

Although it looks natural, Tarn Hows was enlarged and reshaped in the 19th century by damming  the outlets of three smaller tarns to create a single lake.  Later, Beatrix Potter bought the estate and donated it to the National Trust in 1930, ensuring its preservation.  More on Beatrix and Mrs Tiggy-Winkle tomorrow.

I was intrigued by the coins bashed into the tree stumps.  I was grateful for the extra traction when leaping onto a stump for a photo, but then saw them on fallen logs too.  

What gives?  A bit of Internet sleuthing:

It's a centuries‑old British “wish tree” tradition.  People have been embedding coins into fallen trunks or stumps since at least the 1700s, and Tarn Hows has one of the Lake District’s best examples.

The practice comes from old wish‑tree and healing‑tree customs:

• Make a wish: A coin is left as a small offering, symbolising a hope or desire
• Leave behind an ailment: Folklore held that you could “transfer” a sickness (like a toothache) into the tree by embedding a coin
• Good luck: Coins were offerings for fortune or protection on a journey.

Sadly we didn't have any coins with us, so Pauline will have to carry her chesty cough with her a bit longer.  And who believes in these unscientific folklore traditions anyway?  Being the cheapskate I am, I cross my fingers instead.

I'm sure Pauline wasn't serious when she suggested Beef Wellington for dinner.

When we're travelling, dogs are a magnet for Pauline, just like motorcycles are a magnet for me.  Some obliging walkers with a big black Lab called Daisy stop, give Pauline a sniff and tail wag, and offer to take a photo for us.  Better than a distorted close-range selfie.  

This time we packed our own lunch - sourdough bread from the supermarket sandwiching a fine Wensleydale cheese.  Cheaper too - a couple of flat whites at £8 instead of a typical bought lunch and coffee at £20.  Adds up after a while.

So that was looking at a lake from the shore.  In the afternoon we get out onto one.  We've booked the Steam Yacht Gondola cruise which takes us out onto Coniston Water for a couple of hours.

It's a fully restored Victorian steam yacht, originally launched in 1859.  It deteriorated over time, sank in a storm in the 1960s and was restored with a new hull and steam engine in the 1970s.

This fine house on the lake's edge had four chimneys - a sign of high status.  What's more, the chimneys are round.  "That's so the devil can't hide in corners", our guide reliably explains.

I'd heard of John Ruskin, but only vaguely.  He was a Victorian sage who tried to reshape society through moral and philosophical writing.  He'd probably be regarded as a socialist now as he attacked laissez‑faire economics, and argued for ethical business, public welfare and education for all.  Another addition to my retirement reading - once I've got through Bertrand Russell.  We view where Ruskin spent his final decades at Brantwood on the edge of the lake where he wrote, painted, and lectured.

Another notable personality associated with Coniston Water is Donald Campbell.  We pass by the markers used for his water-speed record attempt in Bluebird K7 in 1967.  His intense determination and willingness to push his boat's performance beyond its design envelope led to a fatal crash at 300mph (480kph).  I was just 10 at the time, and recall the outpouring of grief in Britain and around the world.

But as good as the scenic attractions were, the steam engine had an attraction all its own.

The oil can was well-used keeping all those bearings manually lubricated.

Being in an environmentally sensitive area, the boiler is fed with Welsh compressed biomass logs rather than coal.  

The TSS Earnslaw on Lake Wakatipu could perhaps take some lessons from this.  Despite its authenticity I've never been happy seeing clouds of coal smoke and soot released into such a pristine environment.

Pauline let slip she was planning on booking me into a day on the Gondola for my birthday present, where I'd be assisting the crew on the bridge, with customer service, and in the engine room.  It would have been brilliant, but it was an upfront cost with no refunds for bad weather, just deferment.  Wisely, she bought me a T-shirt instead.

On our way out some motorbikes magnetically catch my eye.  A very nice Kawasaki GPZ1100 over 30 years old, and a Suzuki GSX1100 of a similar vintage.  Their owners are sitting nearby, and needless to say, we start chatting.  Half an hour later we're a bit anxious our paid parking is about to expire, so after picking up more tips on what to see in Cumbria and letting them know NZ is a great place for bikes we make an exit and head for home.

It's here that I'm forming an intelligence ranking for British birds, from smart to exceptionally dumb:

• Crows
• Ordinary birds
• Pheasants
• Partridges (look like large quail).

There's nothing more frustrating following a partridge down a road at 10mph while it weaves left and right but doesn't actually make an effort to fly or run into the undergrowth.  Not surprisingly, they make up a large percentage of feathered roadkill.

Back at the BnB.  Cheese and crackers will be served.

Day 2 - Mrs Tiggy-Winkle and friends

A "must see" for Pauline is Beatrix Potter's Hill Top cottage.  She missed out on her previous trip, and wasn't going to let it happen again.  It's only half an hour east from our BnB on the other side of Coniston Water, so an easy drive in typical Lakes District conditions - sun, cloud and showers in varying proportions.  Autumn finally feels as though it's on its way.

The sign on the fork reads:

The flowers love the house,
they try to come in!
Houseleek grows on the window
sills and ledges; wisteria climbs the
wall, clematis chokes the spout's
casings... [and] the odd pink
cabbage rose, that peeps in at the
small paned windows.

Beatrix Potter, untried manuscript

It's a lovely a 17th‑century stone farmhouse, meticulously arranged exactly as she left it, and easy to see how it shaped her stories.  It's surrounded by gardens and orchards, and it's not hard to imagine Mr McGregor chasing Peter Rabbit through the gate, or Jemima Puddle‑Duck waddling up the path.

Loved the clock.  Why is that when I'm old I have a fascination for older things?

Shades of Bletchley Park.  

And Woolsthorpe Manor!

The Tale of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle about a kindly hedgehog washerwoman is a lovely story. 

And hedgehogs fit naturally into the English ecosystem where they are loved creatures.  You can even buy hedgehog food pellets at supermarkets.  

Sadly habitat loss has classified them as vulnerable to extinction, and they are now protected under UK law. 

Conversely, we regard them as noxious introduced pests as they feed on our native insects, skinks and ground-nesting birds.  As we don't have foxes and badgers they have no natural predators and are growing in numbers.  Well, some of us think they're pests.  Fed on a diet of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle and loving their cute appearance there are plenty of people who save them, feed them and release them into the wild.  Just keep an eye on the Morrinsville FB pages, and watch the comments explode as someone asks how to care for a sick or baby hedgehog!

We have half a day left and decide to do a driving loop.  First stop the car ferry across Lake Windermere.  There's been a ferry operating here since the 13th century.  

Up to Ullswater and round the corner to Howtown for lunch.  Amazing how many people pick up on our accent and talk to us about how they've visited NZ, want to visit NZ, or have family living in NZ.  After chatting for half an hour we give a particularly talkative lady the URL of our BnB and finally make a break.

We skirt Keswick on our way west and make our way down the Cumbrian coast.  A huge industrial complex looms up in front of us - Sellafield.  It started as a WW2 munitions factory, then housed Britain’s first nuclear weapons reactors.  It was shut down in 1957 after a reactor caught fire, and is now the UK’s central hub for nuclear waste processing, storage, and decommissioning.  We have a pressing engagement and the Visitor Centre shut down years ago, so we continue south.

The Lakes District isn't all lakes.  I was particularly taken by this view from the car window.  I hasten to add that Pauline was driving.  Typically I'll do the morning shift and she'll do the afternoon.

We're booked for dinner at the Blacksmiths Arms, just a few minutes from our BnB.  Check out that anvil.

Superb local fare - duck, pork and venison, washed down with French and Spanish reds.  No complaints, and it's good to have dinner out if we're leaving the following day.

Day 3 - Croquet, but not on the Domain

Another relaxed start as we check out of Janet's Broughton Mills cottage.  We're not due at the Crake Valley croquet lawns until 10.30am, which gives us time to fill the car up with £45 of petrol.  Ouch, but it's a lot cheaper than the Forester.

Croquet?  You go all the way to England just to play croquet?  Yup - but let me explain.  A few months ago Louise and Chris dropped by our Te Aroha Domain lawns on their tour around NZ.  We struck up a conversation as you do, received an invite to drop by Crake Valley when we're in the Lakes District, swapped email addresses, and the rest is history.  Their friend Michael from Vancouver Island in Canada also happened to be visiting, so let the Commonwealth Croquet Games begin!

It would be fair to say that the Brits had the edge on the colonials, but not by much, and if we'd been playing with our own mallets it would have been even closer.  But just getting out there for the morning before the rain rolled in was hugely satisfying.

Pauline was behind the camera both times, so unfortunately we don't have a shot of her with Louise.

We're planning on getting away at lunchtime, but the Fish & Chip shop is just across the road.  By 3pm Michael had a train to catch and we'd decided to trash our afternoon activity due to the rain, so headed for the supermarket (phones - check!) and on to our Home in Rusland BnB for our second three nights in the Lakes District.  

Good news - this rain band will pass over tonight, assuring us of a brilliant weekend.  Well - that's the theory - but as the locals say, the weather is always fickle in the Lakes District.  Stay tuned!

Westward bound with travel observations

 A three hour trip west from Yorkshire to the Lakes District.  Does it require a separate blog post?  Perhaps - if I throw in a few travel observations.  For the non-traffic engineers, you can skip over the boring bits.

We check out of the Lower Pigsty on the dot of 10am.  No need to hurry - we've got all day.  We generally don't try and fit in a major activity when we're between BnBs - not enough time, and we don't like leaving the car loaded with all our possessions for too long.  The thought of the car being broken into doesn't bear thinking about.

As usual, Pauline has found some back roads that would bring a smile to any adventure motorcyclist, perhaps apart from the lack of gravel.  

This one's in Oxnop Scar on the Santon Moor, between Askrigg and Gunnerside.  Still doesn't mean much?  You'll have to check it out on Google Maps - but suffice to say we're still in the Yorkshire Dales National Park region.

We're enroute to the Aysgarth Falls before lunch - three broad limestone steps on the River Ure, spread over several hundred metres  We visit the Upper and Middle Falls, but decide to skip the Lower.

The river water appears quite brown as it flows over the limestone ledges.  I initially thought that it was some sort of staining from the moor rocks and vegetation, but sadly it's the same problem that afflicts NZ rivers -  high turbidity linked to agricultural inputs and sewage overflow events.

The Yore Mill sits just below the Upper Falls, powered by water via a stone race and wheel.  Originally built as a cotton mill, it transitioned to a corn mill and wool spinning (including uniforms for Garibaldi’s army).  The water wheel was replaced by turbines in the 1930s for ongoing flour production, but now everything is in a state of disrepair.  Looks like it'll be redeveloped into holiday apartments, but good if they could get the turbines spinning again for some local electricity generation.  And no, it's too historically and environmentally sensitive to turn this area into a hydro lake, though the thought did cross my mind. 

On to Hawes for lunch, and in the Tramp Abroad's ongoing search for the world's finest cheeses we spend half an hour at the Wensleydale Creamery.  The toothpick samples aren't as generous as back home so we have to accidentally spear two at once to get a decent sample.  We exit with a Kit Calvert Old-Style Wensleydale and a Wensleydale Blue.  Looking forward to cheese and crackers tomorrow.  

The odd objet d'art is also making its way into our suitcases in the form of tea towels.  Our old ones at home are getting a bit tatty, and who doesn't want a continual reminder of trip highlights when settling back into normality?

The Blacksmiths Arms to book Thursday night's dinner is the final stop before our destination - Janet's Broughton Mills cottage at Lind End.  Located on a working hill farm with cattle and sheep in the Lake District National Park, this place feels just right.  Not sure about the satellite reception though.

Now we've got to figure out what to do with six days in the Lakes District.  Bashing some balls around might get a look-in.

Driving in England

The little FWD Yaris isn't a great car to drive.  Its 1500cc 3-cylinder engine and CVT transmission is rough and noisy, but with its hybrid battery it has good torque off the line and is fine for the narrow back roads.  It shows its limitations on the larger and high speed A roads, but we rarely take those.  Compared to the Atto it's uncomfortable and unrefined, but one saving grace is that Apple Carplay works seamlessly, so we have navigation on the central screen.  Its transmission has a B (Braking) mode as well as a D (Drive) mode which makes it feel more like the Atto through regen braking.  Handy for downhills and slow roads.  It'll do for three weeks, but I'd never choose to own one.  Give me a full EV any day.

We're getting about 57mpg (miles per gallon for the youngsters) from our hybrid engine.  Yes, Brits still use miles for road distances.  They half‑completed metrication in the 1970s, then stopped - and roads were the one area politicians refused to convert due to cost and public pressure.  Distances are in miles and yards, speeds in mph, and everything else is metric.  Fuel consumption is still in mpg even though gallons disappeared years ago.  And 57mpg?  That's about 5L/100km - pretty damn good.  I remember as a kid learning:

• 20mpg - my Dad's Chrysler Valiant - thirsty
• 30mpg - pretty good
• 40mpg - so frugal it's gutless.

57mpg would be off the scale!

The cost of petrol is high, though.  The UK doesn't have a 91 octane fuel - the lowest is 95, which costs about £1.70/litre.  That's around $3.90, whereas the price in NZ is more like $3.20.  We may grumble about the price of fuel in NZ, but it's certainly higher here.

And talking about the price of fuel in NZ, I'm disappointed the Fuel Excise Duty increase scheduled to kick in next year has been watered down.  First Labour said they wouldn't increase it for three years, then for political expediency National fell into line with a delayed implementation supplemented by a taxpayer-funded rainy‑day fund to cover the shortfall.  So now we have increasing pressure on road maintenance, public transport funding, safety projects, and new transport infrastructure.  Just as bad, keeping the cost of petrol low reduces the incentive to decarbonise, and EV drivers who pay RUC are disproportionally affected.  It all smacks of short term-ism from our major parties, with no long term goal in mind.

I'm generalising, but compared to NZ's aggressive and impatient drivers, Brits are courteous and accommodating.  Part of it are ingrained Brit qualities - manners, restraint, and quiet cooperation.  Roads are narrow and heavily trafficked, so slowing down or stopping for a safe pass happens frequently.  Brits expect this and factor extra time into journey planning.  Vulnerable road users are well treated - pedestrians, cyclists and equestrians are given a wide berth at slow speed, and a friendly wave.  Compare that with the generally boorish behaviour we experience on kiwi roads.

Infrastructure plays an important part too.  Particularly in London, cyclists and pedestrians have well-designed separated or shared infrastructure, and safe crossings.  London's congestion charges have also kept a lot of traffic out of the city centre, which makes makes walking cycling and scootering much more pleasant.  There are frequent stands of hire bikes, and people in everyday clothes riding everywhere without helmets as the environment just feels safer.  There's still a downside - pollution is high, especially from diesel vehicles.  EVs haven't made much of an impact yet, but their time will come.

The Brits love their roundabouts.  Every 5km or so there's another one, and it can take some luck and skill picking the right approach lane.  They make sense - in a densely populated country with multi-leg intersections and roughly equal leg flows they much more efficient than traffic lights.

Road maintenance is on a par with NZ.  There are potholes, slumping, tar bleed, and traffic signs so faded you can barely read them.  Edge markers are few and far between too, as are approaching curve signs, and there are no advisory speeds for curves.  You're expected to work it out for yourself.  In rare cases you'll actually get a speed enforcement sign for a hazardous curve.

A couple of things we could take on in NZ - when approaching solid no overtaking lines there are curved arrows directing you back to the correct side of the road, and pedestrian crossings have zigzag edge markers indicating both no stopping and no overtaking.  Both effective traffic control devices as they're highly visual.

But perhaps the best thing about driving in England is the place names.  When you've got a Celtic - Roman - Anglo‑Saxon - Norse - Norman - modern English heritage there's a huge variety of naming.  Today we went past Ingleby Greenhow, Great Busby, Sexhow, Potto, Askrigg, Danby Wiske, Preston under Scar, and Aysgarth.  The Viking influence in Yorkshire is particularly apparent. 

Sexhow?  It's derived from Old Norse sexhou or sekkshaughr which means the hill of Sekk, a personal name.  Population 20.  Read into that what you will.  As an additional snippet, a legendary dragon that plagued the village is described in a folk tale as the Worm of Sexhow.  The Worm was described as being a beast that would feed on dairy and breathe out fire to burn farmers' crops.  One day an unknown knight came into the village, slew the dragon, and rode out again.  The beast's scaly skin was displayed inside nearby Hutton Rudby church until it was destroyed during the English Civil War.

I'm pleased we don't have a dragon like this in the Waikato.  It would grow rather fat, and I haven't seen any dragon-slaying knights around lately.

Next observations on supermarkets and the cost of living.  But a bit more experience to acquire first.

Three days in Yorkshire

We split our duties on arrival at a new BnB.  Pauline packs the supermarket supplies away and starts thinking about dinner, while I set up the charging stations and Internet connectivity.  For security I use a Unifi Travel Router (UTR) which joins the local wifi, then sets up an encrypted VPN tunnel back to my home network in Waihou.  All our devices then connect to the UTR.  Nice, simple, functional and secure.

Except at the Bottom Pigsty it wasn't.  They have an unencrypted public wifi network with a captive portal.  This introduces major privacy, security, and connectivity issues, exactly what the UTR is designed to overcome.  But not all portals are VPN-friendly, and this one certainly wasn't.  I could connect briefly, then dropouts.  After getting in touch and explaining the issues our host came to the rescue with a standard SSID/password, and all is now working fine.  I gave our host a bit of ICT consultancy advice so they could assist other guests - after Thomas this is starting to become a habit!

Day 1 - Yorkshire environs

Both Pauline and I had been to Yorkshire before, but in both cases it was a whistlestop transit through York enroute to Scotland.  We hadn't had the time to explore the moors, dales and little towns, and now we have our opportunity.  A dozen waypoints are mapped out via the back roads.

The North York Moors are a high plateau, not dissimilar to what you see from the Desert Road at home.  The general impression is tussock, but pink and purple heather add blotches of colour in amongst the bracken, sedges and grasses.  The dales (valleys) contain green pastures and meadows with stone walls dividing fields.

Local folklore says the Hole of Horcum was created when Wade the Giant scooped up a handful of earth to throw at his wife.  In reality it's a huge natural amphitheatre carved by water erosion.  I think I like the giant story better.

Sheep are everywhere.  The roads through the moors are unfenced, so sheep regularly cross the road or graze beside it.  Following my motorcycling instincts I initially slow right down and gave them a wide berth.  But they're used to cars and not nearly as skittery and unpredictable as NZ sheep, and over time I cautiously go a little faster.

Cast your mind back to 1993.  Were you a fan of Heartbeat on TV?  Goathland aka Aidensfield is a quintessential Yorkshire village.

Goathland also hosts a wonderful railway station as part of the North Yorkshire Moors Railway heritage services.  Unfortunately we miss the steam train by half an hour.

A different style of bridge down in the valleys.

Thornton‑le‑Dale is another beautiful, tranquil Yorkshire village - a must-see according to the guides.  And we can see why - looks just like a postcard.  But there's a caution for all the little villages sitting in valleys - they're prone to flooding.  The Thornton Beck (stream) flooded badly back in 2007, with water up to the windowsills.  With El Niño intensified by climate change imminent, I don't fancy their chances this winter.  Hope they're well-prepared. 

We come across a weird monolith in the middle of nowhere on Snod Hill.  Nothing is marked on the map.

After a bit of sleuthing and noting its proximity to the RAF Fylingdales base we determine it's a military radar station for ballistic missile detection and space surveillance.  Hope the Russians aren't reading this.

That completes Saturday 12 September.  On Sunday we stop looking at villages and go looking for rocks.

Day 2 - piles of rocks

Today we're off to see the Brimham Rocks, a bit north-west of Harrogate.  It's a fantastical jumble of rocks perched precariously on top of each other, formed from coarse sandstone laid down over 325 million years ago, and progressively worn away by wind, rain, frost and ice.

It's hugely popular with both tourists and families, and a perfect environment for kids to develop their risk management skills in comparative safety.  The rocks are solid enough, but not sharp or crumbly.

The slight drizzle adds to the great light and moodiness of the place.

The heather we see all over the moors is available for close inspection.

Next stop is Rievaulx Abbey not far from Helmsley, and as usual we've mapped out a route on narrow back roads.  The Yaris is great on these, but today there was an event on and caravans were forced onto them too. 

Needless to say, large vehicles coming the other way had no way through.  We lost half an hour while those in front decided who was best to reverse to a passing spot.

Founded in 1132 by monks, Rievaulx became one of the great Cistercian monasteries of medieval England.  It grew in land and wealth until sacked by the Scots and later dissolved by Henry VIII in 1538.  So all we have left is a pile of rocks, or more correctly, sandstone blocks.

But what's left is certainly impressive.  The monks were excellent water engineers too.  Fresh water was supplied from the River Rye in lead pipes, and waste water from the latrines was flushed away through a controlled river diversion, gravity‑fed channels, and purpose‑built drains.  People tend to underestimate the importance of sanitation and public health engineers, but they are hugely instrumental in civilisation's advancement.  

As a side note, the people of Helmsley downstream from the Abbey were not so impressed by their water quality!

The flying buttresses look very thin and fragile, but apart from some minor weathering over eight centuries they are as per design, and effective in keeping the thin unreinforced walls from toppling.

Pauline's working on improvements to the kitchen design.

Interesting that the monks ate in complete silence, apart from a sermon from a pulpit in the side wall.  Conversely, our conversation over dinner sees us bounce some ideas around, but the coast is definitely in the picture for tomorrow.

Day 3 - of wind turbines and other scenic things

Not again!  Haven't I been rabbiting on about wind turbines enough?!  Not quite...

We head towards Redcar Beach as Pauline sings "I Do Like to Be Beside the Seaside".  The turbines get larger and larger as we approach, and it's not surprising.  At just 1,500m off-shore you could just about swim out to them.  27 turbines form a tight cluster, and pump out 62MW, enough for around 50,000 homes.  So why don't we see more of these in NZ?  In the South Taranaki Bight, off Kawhia, Raglan or Port Waikato?  Don't get me started or I'll bore you with inadequate forward planning and policy settings, a broken electricity market and nimbyism.

Staithes is a lovely little town a bit to the south.  Essentially a village in a gorge.

It's also where we reacquaint ourselves with Captain James Cook.  As a teenager, Cook worked in a shop in Staithes before moving to Whitby to begin his maritime career.  Local tradition says that looking out from the Staithes coast inspired him to pursue a life at sea.

Interesting that the signboard says his voyages are reassessed for their role in colonial expansion and its impacts on indigenous peoples, echoing what we saw at the Maritime Museum in Greenwich.

Back in the 1600s-1800s this part of the coast was also important for alum (a double sulphate of aluminium and typically potassium) production, important for dyeing and tanning.  Shale was quarried from the nearby cliffs, burnt with water, urine (brought in from far and wide) and kelp.  It was labour‑intensive, extraordinarily smelly, and environmentally destructive, but extremely profitable.  Previously alum had to be imported from the Mediterranean - both expensive and politically uncomfortable.

The coffee isn't deteriorating as we head north - good news.  And sunny skies and balmy temperatures continue.

On to Whitby on the River Esk - a popular tourist spot so I'm glad we didn't visit in August.  The Whitby Abbey, a skeletal Gothic ruin, is worth the 199 steps up the hill.

Just like Rievaulx, Henry VIII dissolved the abbeys in the 1540s.  It was an audacious move that broke the power of the Catholic Church and secured huge wealth for the Crown.  Unfortunately centres of learning and manuscript production, hospitals, and architectural masterpieces were destroyed in the process.

Notice anything close to home?

That's harakeke growing in the foreground, and it's well-established around Whitby.  Ships returning from the Pacific in the early 19th century often carried botanical specimens, which is likely its source.

Talking of home, wouldn't it be lovely to send lots of postcards to friends and family back in NZ?  Blogs, emails, Messenger and WhatsApp are all very well, but nothing quite rivals the excitement of opening your letterbox and finding something other than a bill or leaflets.  Something hand-written, personalised, with love and care.  Sorry folks - we stopped in at a Post Office and the cost of a stamp to airmail a postcard to NZ is £3.60.  That's an outrageous $8.30.  So the grandkids might get lucky.  The rest of you can read the blog!

It's a lovely town, and we had to walk to the far end of the harbour entrance to take a look back.

The locals are friendly too.

That wraps up our third day in Yorkshire.  Our last view of the moors and dales before we head west tomorrow.

Cumbria has a reputation for being the wettest part of England.  Moist Atlantic air arrives from the southwest, straight off the Irish Sea, and dumps on the hills.  Sounds a bit like the west coast of the South Island.  We look at the long range weather on the Met Office app - misty tomorrow, but sunny breaks Tuesday to Thursday.  We may be in luck, at least initially.  Stay tuned.