South of about Oamaru, the humble holiday house becomes known as a “crib”. Here’s our family’s.
My father built it nearly 35 years ago on one of the few half-acre sections to be sold at the lake. At the time, it was the first (excepting a garage) structure on the street… and the street itself was nothing more than two ruts in the tussocks, down which we boys would take turns driving the car perched on Dad’s knee.
Despite the low-lying matagouri in the grass, Bella really enjoyed her week at the crib. And although much has changed in the 30-plus years I’ve been going there, it’s still a great place for a holiday.