However, medics decided on a precautionary night in hospital, hence the finale ride. The poor child was in good hands quickly, and stable when returned by ambo to the family's moby. They'd done well to suss out beautiful Tawharanui, but heaven turned to hell the split-second their toddler ate a pistachio nut and plunged into anaphylactic shock. The motorhome tourists had only been in the country a few days. The next morning the teens' mother/carer reveals good sources – she asked a ranger – and solves the jigsaw puzzle. Trauma unites people, and the campers now have conversational glue. Immediately after, the ambulance fires up its siren to leave. The medical drama becomes soundtrack only as the helicopter coughs into life and departs. I dawdle back to my tent, which is a sweatbox all of its own. Firefighters maintain their vigil, roasting in heavy kit under the last-gasp sun. The youngsters gawk at the chopper while old mates chat.Īfter 10 minutes or so, the ambulance drives back to All Modes. This being New Zealand, a camper recognises one of the pilots, and sidles up with his kids to say hello. Sure enough, the aircrew switch off the rotor and disembark to stretch legs. Why land here instead of in the All Modes, some distance away?Ī doctor exits the chopper carrying gear, and hops into the ambulance.įrom the lack of urgency, campers guess the emergency is no longer acute. The ambo waits as the rescue chopper sweeps down. We are stunned to see a full fire-crew, who had slipped in to secure a landing site in the Tents Only area. I am zipped back into my bellows when the sickening beat of a rescue helicopter rallies campers. I complete my circuit, and now the ambulance lights are flashing. Bear in mind my brain is fogged by sleep deprivation and mutating dairy products. Those old ambos make stylish camper conversions, and this owner has even retained the St John livery. As I enter the 'All Modes' section (campervans permitted) I spot an ambulance next to a rental motorhome, or 'moby', as I call them. ![]() My nightly tour of the Tawharanui Regional Park campground, north of Auckland, is opportune. The surf is piddling, so the teens put out the call for another game of drop-bat cricket in my front yard.
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