I knew that one day, the Chinese scientists would have a remedy for the problems we have been having on Lake Road for many years.

I have spent a lot of time walking around my beautiful bubble of Devonport recently, and it has been an opportunity to take the time to see what has been happening around and about, things that you don’t generally take too much notice of when you’re driving.

One thing that has struck me, and I would like an explanation from the Council for this, is one of the worst pieces of vandalism seen in a public reserve for some years.  This is the construction of a grotesque children’s playground at Windsor Reserve.  I think the ratepayers have a right to know the budget for this playground, the public should know why it has taken so long to construct, and why the foundations that have been put in are larger and stronger than many of the three level homes I’ve ever been involved in the construction of.  It is absolute madness.

Also, I took the time to have a look through Auckland Transport’s plans for improving the flow of traffic on Lake Road and Esmonde Road, between Takapuna and the Devonport Peninsula.  I would urge you to have a look at this, as I see that feedback can be given until April 26, 2020. Here is the site, at.govt.nz/projects-roadworks/lake-road-improvements/

It seems to me, looking at their diagrams and pictures, that their solution is to turn one lane into a T2 lane at Lake and Esmonde Road, Lake Road at Hauraki intersection and down Lake Road towards Devonport.  Then to add to this, raised kerb cycle lanes on each side of the road.  Although, I noticed after the intersection of Lake and Seabreeze Roads, they are contemplating a double cycle lane on one side, for two way cycle traffic.  There are more “modifications” as well, along Bayswater Avenue and for the bottleneck that is the Belmont intersection.

I wonder how anyone in their right mind could think these “improvements” will reduce congestion on Lake Road.  It is all part of the plan to get us out of our cars and onto bikes and public transport.  When do you think the powers that be will realise that these options are not always practical.  We already have the streets of Devonport taken up by commuter cars every weekday, and anyone who says they are locals’ cars hasn’t seen the stream of traffic heading towards Devonport early in the morning, or leaving Devonport around 5.30-6.00pm – straight up Lake Road.  Not everyone works in the CBD, and after this lockdown period, we may well see that working from home can be an option for some, but many people travel all over the city to reach their workplaces and public transport just isn’t practical. Once the wet and cold weather arrives, I can’t imagine too many people would be keen to get on a bike either. 

Some of you will remember my mother, Pat Gundry, was the Editor of the North Shore Times Advertiser, back in the day when it was a newspaper worthy of the name.  She wrote of the Halcyon Days, when local children converged on Duders’ Beach in the summer to play cricket.

“Compared with Cheltenham or Narrow Neck, Duders is an inconsequential and insignificant scrap of sand at the foot of Church St, Devonport, hardly worth being classified by the term “beach”.

It’s a touch longer than a cricket pitch, and indeed back in the 1960’s many a doughty test match was played there with the square leg and silly mid on fieldsmen standing in the road, point and extra cover shin deep in the sea.

Duders is bound at the western end by the Sea Scouts’ Den and at the eastern by the bulge of the miniscule lookout point that has a couple of seats, grass, a flowerbed and the tall column of the Watson clock.

Duders has no trees spreading welcome shade on a summer day and no grassy embankment on which to relax.

The only amenities are a basic shower and tap at the Sea Scouts’ end with wide concrete steps running its entire length, for sitting on while watching the moored yachts, passing craft and the harbour.

Until the middle of July 1991 Duders Beach had a unique amenity, unparalleled on the North Shore.  It had The Piles, which have now been removed, much to the chagrin of people to whom the weather beaten old piles were a vital part of childhood’s halcyon days.  These boys and girls of the 60’s and early 70’s, scattered now, married with families of their own, look back fondly to their carefree summer days and they remember…

Duders Beach bunch arrive on foot, on bikes, on trolley, the little kids with mums at their favourite swimming spot.  They arrive shouting and laughing, wearing their togs, waving their towels, bare feet dancing on the summer scorched footpaths – the Parlanes and the Willis boys, the Nevilles, the Wyatts, the Priestleys and the Richards, the Taylor boys and the Kneebones; Karen, Liz, Ann; Butchie and Murray, Rex, Garry, David, Stephen, the Ferryman twins and the bunch who live on the side of Mt Vic; the Burnetts whose parents own the dairy over the road from the beach.   Mrs B is a trained nurse, and bandaged up many a cut foot or graunched leg.

The mums and an occasional dad spread out on the wide concrete steps, arranging their towels and cushions and suntan lotion, their magazines and bottles of orange, preparing for an hour or two of watching the smallest ones learn to swim.

Learning to swim is quite structured and disciplined.  The little kids splash up and down in the shallows until they’ve got the hang of it and then one blissful day a mum decrees that her particular swimmer is competent enough to swim to The Skids.

The Skids is the name given to a ramp at the back of the Sea Scout den where the newly promoted swimmers can practice the belly flops that will one day become genuine dives off The Piles.

This process may take half a summer, but eventually a swimmer is given parental permission for the swim from the Skids to The Piles.

It’s pretty scary stuff the first time.  The distance looks as wide as the Pacific Ocean as you surface from your improved belly flop and strike out towards your goal.  You know she’s sitting on the steps watching so you try to do your best style but by the time you’re nearly at The Piles, your arms think they’re going to drop off and your head is beginning to thrash from side to side.

And you know that when you reach The Piles, the most daunting, the most intimidating test still lies ahead.  Getting up The Piles to the top beam is easy enough because there are pieces of iron to clamber up by.  But once you are there, you face maybe a dozen larger, stronger kids ranged along the beam and standing, king of the castle, atop The Piles.  They can be your friends, foes, neighbours, cousins even your brothers and sisters, the kids you play with every day but when you meet them on The Piles, they have one aim and that is to stop you joining them. 

They shove and push you, stamp on your fingers as you’re climbing up.  They laugh and shout and chiack until you fall back in the water, but you swim around and you try again, and again.

Then one day, when there are not many of the big kids there, you’ll get to the beam unchallenged and you’ll stand on the outermost pile and you’ll be king of the castle.  You’ll dive into the deep water time after time until you can do it clean and straight.

You’ll be one of the big kids some summer doing your utmost to stop some little kid who has just swum from The Skids from making first time up The Piles.

The big kids and the little kids, many today approaching middle age look back and remember their beach, Duders, as being the world’s best – even better than Waikiki.

See you soon, at the end of the tunnel.