Rangiriri Hotel to essex arms

It might be a bit tatty around the edges but the Rangiriri pub was jumping last night. Steak and beer and as much white toast as I wanted in the morning. It used to be AUD18 for a night in one of these old beauties - not so many left in NZ so I make a point of supporting them. Immediately opposite is the cemetery where Maori and British combatants from the 1863 battle are buried.

Mist was lifting off Waikato River as I crossed over from Rangiriri to the true left. The trail follows a stopbank for miles, and my feet got soaked in calf-high Yorkshire fog. Not a hill in sight.

Two pig dogs, branded on their left thighs (is that legal?) accosted me and were eventually called off, just before I found myself beside... dah dah... a solitary orange tree! 

There I was, alone and armed with two citrus fruit dislodging tools. When is it scrumping and when is it theft? I decided one fruit was the threshold, and in the shade of an old oak I managed to slice it without injury, and it was divine. 

Huntly was getting closer once I passed the power station

though this photo was taken later from the other bank. I realised I have no idea how it works, since there is no dam. 

The town is friendly, if over-supplied with health centres and street art. Grills on windows. Brilliant supermarket, offering more apple varieties than I have seen anywhere. 

I have a room at Essex Arms, who can resist Art Deco? 

Walking to Ngaruawahia tomorrow.