MOTOR CAMPING.

Auckland Star, Volume LXI, Issue 129, 3 June 1930, Page 14

MOTOR CAMPING.

LIFE OF THE OPEN ROAD.

municipal picnic sites.

A RECENT INNOVATION.

(By F. M. PRICE, M.A.)

During the last few years a new form of holiday has come into existence. This is motor, camping. In the summer and autumn months thousands of families pack their possessions into the car, whether it be a grand tourer or an old "Liz" of many years' service, and set out into ..the great unknown. At the end of a day's journey they pitch camp; in the morning, like the Arab, they fold up their tent and silently steal away, to seek a new resting place that night. Many people, even those with money .to spare, prefer this method of holidaymaking to staying at hotels every night; there is a gipsy Bohemianism about it which seems to have an appeal, based on some deep instinct. It is the life of the open road. Mark Twain once said: "A picnic is a form of entertainment where people go a long, way from home to eat uncomfortably," and the same, to a certain extent, applies to camping. Yet people are doing it in ever-increasing numbers, and this season was no exception, in spite of the bad summer.

To cater for the hordes of motorists camping places every evening, most boroughs are now providing camp sites in some secluded spot. Some of these are in a primitive stage, but others are very satisfactory indeed. Among the latter can be classed Kotorua camp site, a description of which may not be without interest to readers. It can be called a representative site in that it is a centre of activity, with many cars arriving and leaving daily. Moreover, many new ideas for the comfort of travellers are embodied in it. The Arrival. We arrive,.then, in our car, well loaded with paraphernalia, and on payment of a modest fee to the caretaker at the gates, we, are allotted a site in a delightful pine.grove. Many days of practice have given as speed iu the erection of our tent, and soon we are free to wander round the grounds and inspect. The pine grove is much bigger than we at first imagined, being many acres in extent, and containing several line open spaces. Roadways have been constructed everywhere through the trees, criss-cross fashion, with signposts in abundance. The council has not been sparing in its endeavour to cater for motorists.

Rubbish tins are in aoundance; each tent is provided with "a fireplace and tin; there are conveniences, showers, and lioses for washing cars. The comfort which is, perhaps, most appreciated, especially in the wet weather, is hot water, always available. An electric heater gives boiling water, for tea, and two. capacious tanks on an open fire provide hot water for cooking and washing. This open fire, well stoked with logs by the caretaker, is the constant scene. of Social amenity. Here a father can be seen grilling a steak for the family; ,the mother is making toast, or drying the kiddies' clothes, or getting the hot water. At such a time and place barriers are removed; introductions are not necessary, and people chat to one another freely about the state of the road to such-and-such a place, the remarkable weather, and so on. Evening is now approaching, with its varied aromas of many meals being prepared, the scent of the pines, and the tang of the wood-smoke. Occasionally a more pungent smell will intrude, and overj/ovver all the rest. "Whaka!" someone remarks, pulling a wry face. It is, indeed, Wliakarewarewa, which is making its presence known to the visitors.

Cars, Caravans and Tents. Tea over, the campers once more? wander around among the tents. Pipes alight, the men gossip over the merits of their cars and tents, and truly there is a wonderful assortment of both. Cars of aIL makes and sizes and ages; some spick and span and washed daily with loving care, others covered with the mud and dirt of conflict, but all at some part of the day showing evidence of constant travel. "There is 110 prize without the dust of the arena." Here is a dainty two-seater, bearing little luggage; there a six-cylinder car doing yeoman service transporting a big family, and some hundredweight of luggage stowed on sides, back and top. Yonder stands a new caravan, its paint still fresh, a veritable home away from home, and the centre of much interest to the campers. Under a nearby pine tree a trailer —an increasingly popular vehicle on two wheels —stands near its tent, the car having unhooked and departed for a day's outing. And the tents! Even more variety here than with the cars. Round tents, army bell tents, barn-roof tents, abbreviated marquees, gable tents, lean-tos, pyramids, hexagonal tents—in fact, tents of every shape. And the colouring is just as varied. White predominates, but there are also reds,' khakis, _ browns, greens and multi-coloured stripes. While the adults are thus engaged in chatting, reading or working, the children are having, a royal time. Swings, see-saws and sand trays have been provided by the borough, and many of the boys have brought bats and wickets. Moreovei, Nature has just added another attraction in the form of a wide pond in the lowest part of the field, mute evidence of the two days' downpour just ended. , The welkin rings with the shouts of

numerous small boys and girls swinging, cricketing, and sailing makeshift boats on the miniature lake.

And so the daily round goes on. Eacli morning sees dozen# of cars leave for pastures new; each evening sees others arrive from all quarters of the country. The "residents," those who remain at the camp some days, usually close their tents after breakfast each morning and motor out to points of interest in the neighbourhood, returning in the evening. The service of commodities very good. Early in the morning the milkman and the morning paper boy go their rounds; during the day there are film boys and canvassers, while the canteen is almost always open; in the evening come the evening papers, and guides from Whaka., dressed in. true Maori fashion, selling tickets for Maori concerts held in Rotorua. From the store one can liiie tents, stretchers, chairs, and even an electric iron. '

The End of the Day. Comes Sunday, distinguished from week days by a more drowsy calm under the pines during the day, as tired campers indulge in a lazy day a strenuous week. In the evening a visiting preacher holds an open-air service, and "the sound of many a well known old hymn floats over the still air. Children s voices predominate; the swings and see* saws are deserted., The singers and the pines beyond are silhouetted in the water of the pond, as the shadows creep further down; one can see the fir-woods of Canada, dark and mysterious, growing down to the borders of a lake. Then the great arc-lamps above the camp spring up, and Canada has disappeared,

and we are transported on a magic carpet to Egypt. The lake lias become a riliimmering, sandy desert; the tents are 110 longer modern things of canvas, but pyramids, old, wise, and unchanging. Suddenly a gramophone starts up a raucous American tune —we are back again in New Zealand —the reflections are merely reflections, and over yonder some people are singing round their camp fire. Gradually music and chatter die down. The murmuring of the trees, the occasional hiss and crackle of a fire, and the drowsy hum of the mosquitoes, are the only sounds of the night. The motor camp is asleep.