It had to be done – what’s the point of an isthmus if you can’t take it by the scruff of its 16km neck? The walk yielded great contrasts between the city, surburbia, parks, geology and cultures. Rounded off by discovering something in common with the UK – railway maintenance on a Sunday with replacement buses.

We’d commented on how thin most people seemed to be (vs the fat ones we saw in Las Vegas). Facts don’t bear this out though. Turns out NZ is in top three obese nations, after Mexico and USA – and sadly the rate of diabetes is x3 amongst the Maoris.

Built up port area soon gives way to University spaces and colonial style housing, with an indication here and there of the previous industrial works. The volcanoes offer panoramic views of the spread out estates beneath. The trees in the parks are a distinctive feature – the one featured below is only 100 years old.

It was hard not to think about watching The Darkest Hour on the way across with its [perhaps justified] glorification of Churchill. War memorials to the First World War are a salient reminder of how it was a World War – with many Anzacs left on the beaches of one of Churchill’s lesser celebrated schemes at Gallipoli.

And so back to the City via bus and train. Not switching off the GPS adds some heathy stats to the totals. So ignore the last bit of the route after Onehunga.

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