MountMaunganui inthesummerof‘62

Brice Malpas

Let’s be honest. Growing up in Mount Maunganui in 1962 wasn’t that great for a 10-year-old kid seeking fun, fortune, and adventure. First o there was “the main wharf” – a cold and windy place, although still good for catching the occasional snapper and the very occasional king sh. But there were also so many big, nasty logging trucks and ancillary machines, tearing all about the place, with little regard for the safety of young kids on bikes. And then there were the railway wagons with their sinuous metal rails, inset into the concrete pavement, just waiting to ensnare an unsuspecting bike tyre, resulting in an unceremonious fall for rider and gear.

And how, exactly, were you supposed to haul a decent-sized sh up from the water 20 feet or so below, without either losing your sh on its way up or falling into the drink yourself? Not a very kid-friendly place at all!