A year and a half ago I’d been overjoyed to share my travelling ways with my dad. Now I was lucky enough to be welcoming a second lot of visitors. My mum and step-dad (Ian) were joining me on the open road, the three of us embarking on a four week motorhome tour of New Zealand.
After touching ground we enjoyed a restful first day in Auckland, being pampered at our wonderful friends’ whose motorhome we would be using. My mum and Ian recovering from their round the world flights, me recovering from the slightly less strenuous three hour sleep in a carpeted airport corridor.
By mid-afternoon the following day we’d boarded the vessel, Ian at the helm, me taking co-pilot navigation duties and mum at the rear of the motorhome, nestled in nicely among the cushions.
We spent our first night in Coromandel Peninsula in the luxury surroundings of a paid caravan park. From our doorstep able to gaze out over open water and tiny scattered islands, hear the water lapping along the small sandy bay. As the sun set, we perched on a log to admire its form fading behind the distant Auckland landscape and the curtains draw back as our adventure truly began.
Begin our second day and we were off to a galloping start. I’d done a little research the previous afternoon to find out the low tide times so we could reach Hot Water Beach on the eastern side of the peninsula, ready to dig our pit in the sand and nestle into the natural hot phenomena that rose to ground level. Mum had her swimming costume on in anticipation, Ian and I were carefree in the cockpit, lapping up the scenery we encountered on route.
Then we reached a T-junction, and I may have cursed a little…
On my first day of navigation I’d successfully taken us on a detour one full hour in the wrong direction, the only fix of which was turning back and heading down the exact same road that had brought us there.
Thankfully we were able to deal with the situation with laughter rather than tears!
Back we went.
Take away coffees ensued as we passed back through the picturesque town of Coromandel and began winding our way through the hills to the other side. I normally pride myself on reasonably good time keeping. It turns out however, that a two hour detour generally puts you a little behind schedule. I’d all but given up hope of us arriving in time for them to experience the novelty we’d all been looking forward to, but Ian and his optimism took us all the way to the Hot Water car park and then to the Hot Water Beach, where we discovered the remains of holes, the remnants of a crowd and thankfully, some boiling hot patches to burn our behinds on.
A successfully chosen overnight parking spot meant waking up the following morning and opening our door to the rising sun cascading its misty golden glow across the expansive view below, my eyes tracing the jagged distant line where land met sea.
We were heading south once again, this time further inland to Rotorua and beyond. My navigation skills back on solid ground, we had lunch and a wander by the lake before leaving the city in aim of hot water springs. Their first encounter with some of the alternative roads New Zealand has to offer, this one being in the form of a long gravel track, edged on both sides by an unruly assortment of vegetation. Ian wasn’t fully convinced we were travelling in the right direction as I pointed him on to our unseen destination.
The springs were nestled among forest, hidden away to those who don’t already know the location and are a beautiful natural experience. You can climb shown a muddy embankment into the heated pools, connected by a chain of waterfalls.
Our dip in the steamy water was followed by exploding mud pools. An amazing sight, I’d somehow never before discovered. We stood in awe, watching as the blue grey pond pulsated. Steam steadily rising and rings forming in the thick liquid as though droplets had fallen from above. With an occasional explosive splatter as the pressure became too intense. The reaction remnant of an oversized pan of porridge left on the heat too long.
From this point we planned to drive south until we could drive no more, as we were getting the ferry to the South Island in two days. Journeying through Taupo, we stopped to appreciate Great Lake Taupo, the largest lake in New Zealand. The waters an array of pink, purple and orange as the day began heading to its end. Being distracted for perhaps too long, we (or should I say Ian) then had to navigate the winding road bordering the lake in the dark. Having made a decision to press on a little longer, we unknowingly led ourselves toward a challenging finale.
The night pressed in and the fast paced main road we were weaving along was unapologetically winding. The signage was small and badly lit, the laybys were non-existent (or at least invisible to the human eye) and the opportunity to slow down was marred by the constant traffic. Curses were uttered from the cockpit as we missed the second turning for a campsite, right about the same time we witnessed the remains of a car nestled in a ditch. It was with relief and delight we located our third possible campsite, leaving the danger behind as we turned from the main road, up a dark and peaceful track.
After a night parked alongside the crashing force of Moawhango Dam, our drive back to the main road gifted a panoramic view of the tundra filled Tongariro National Park and the volcanic mountain range at the forefront.
The rest of our day was focused with reaching Wellington. A long and arduous drive, especially after the previous day, I think we were all glad to reach the city and park up for the night without too much trouble. Driving from the outskirts to the centre was a journey I hadn’t too frequently made and was all too ready to once again appreciate the rolling hills littered with artfully placed houses, the railway line running in and out of sight and the great blue abyss to our right.
Our final night on the North Island was spent in the city centre. Having left our motorhome to save our sleeping spot, we caught a bus into town. We enjoyed an evening meal at my favourite coffee shop, a wander through the Friday Night Market where the atmosphere was filled with excitement, people bustling, eating from the variety of food stalls and many entranced to a standstill by the vocals of a young performer.
The constant buzz of Cuba Street, the boat filled harbour and that overall laid back feeling it seems only the capital of New Zealand could offer, all evoked nostalgia in me. Nostalgia for the city itself and for the people who’d helped me call it a home for three wonderful months.
This journey it seemed would be filled to bursting with memories both old and new.
Great to be able to give my daughter a big hug (in fact lots of them) over this wonderful 4 week holiday. And the first time since she set off on her travels in September 2014! The scenery was truly awe inspiring although for me it was the priviledge of spending time with my fantastic daughter that was the real highlight of the holiday. Nicki has grown into a truly amazing, thoughtful and caring young woman oozing fun and positive energy. I couldn’t be more proud of her!