New Zealand 2026

Auckland NZ. 

Irregular. That’s a fitting word for the view from the balcony of our 21st floor apartment. Irregular because it kind of plays games with the senses, looking across the rooftops to the sea, then after the sea, more land, and then after the land, more sea, then more land, then finally at last the sea once more. Such are the crenellated complications of the Auckland coastline with its multitude of islands, headlands and sweeping bays forming this strangely alternating view that no matter how many times we study it, we are still intrigued and amused. Irregular it is, indeed.

• What are you writing?
• Travel blog
• I thought you weren’t going to do it on this trip
• I’m not, I’m just typing out of habit
• Well we may as well post it then
• We can’t do that, while I’ve been absent from the blogosphere I haven’t commented, liked or even read a single post by anyone, not even my favourites. I didn’t even post about our week in California last month. Just starting to post again would simply be rude.
• Don’t be silly. Everyone’s entitled to take a break. Just get back in the swing and see how it goes. I mean, I have plenty of photos.
• Humph

Irregular behaviour. Just as irregular as the view from our 21st floor apartment balcony. Auckland, basking in warm sunshine, preening itself in readiness for the Boat Show which opens tomorrow, ferries cutting white wakes across the blue, cruise liners of various sizes swapping places under cover of darkness at the designated terminal. Auckland, with its wide streets and the tallest structure in the southern hemisphere, its line of seafront bars with local craft ales and delicious food, its tidy streets with not a hint of litter (note: barman says to us, of course there’s no bloody litter, we get a howling gale blowing through town for three hundred and fifty bloody days a year, that’s why there’s no bloody litter).

We’re here in Auckland after a mammoth journey, something like 25 hours in the air with only a 3-hour stopover in Hong Kong, two days in a row where breakfast is followed pretty much immediately by evening twilight. Most irregular. 

It’s beautifully warm despite that wind the barman mentioned which whips off the sea like someone opening the fridge door, resulting in alternate moments of tanning skin and reaching for a sweatshirt. Before long we give up and take the cold bits on the chin. And on the arms. And legs. And just enjoy the sun, warm enough out of the wind to measurably darken our flesh in no time at all.

Ferry Building

Taking the ferry across to Devonport we climb Mount Victoria to the summit of what is a very small volcanic creation, well, small as volcanoes go, to soak in fabulous views back to the impressive Auckland city skyline in the midst of which that tallest structure stands rather proud. Glass monsters reflect sea, sky and each other, grand old port buildings and customs houses squat beneath it all, dwarfed by their younger neighbours. Devonport, by the way, is also lovely.

So is the relaxed-to-the-point-of-languid suburban town of Parnell to which we venture by train, then stroll its streets full of cafes, coffee houses, antique dealers and jewellers, reminded constantly of small town America rather than the “England of thirty years ago” which is how one regularly hears NZ described. Parnell is home to a beautiful church, built entirely out of the wood of the magnificent and incredible kauri tree – a fact which will make it unique, as felling kauri trees is now illegal here. Bizarrely, this entire church was moved – in one piece, pulled by trucks and rolled on logs – across the main road in 1982, to allow construction on its original site. Never mind God, this church itself moved in mysterious ways.

We do, perhaps inevitably, fire ourselves skywards in the high speed elevator to the 51st floor of that tallest structure, uninspiringly called The Sky Tower, and look down from above on this thoroughly lovable city. The elevator has a glass panel in the floor – have you ever watched yourself being plunged 51 floors with the lighting at the bottom approaching like a speeding UFO? No? It’s fun. Fun too are the views of Auckland from up here, both through the windows in the clouds and through the glazed sections of flooring beneath which there is nothing for an awful long way. 

Every now and again a body dressed all in orange flies past the window, clothes flapping in the G-force wind, hurtling towards the ground way below at startling speed. No, not some poor soul ending it all. There is, you see, a rope mechanism enabling those who wish to do so to jump from the 54th floor of this 328-metre tall building all the way to the ground. Terrifying. Thrilling. I want to do it but we haven’t booked. And anyway Michaela says NO.

The sunshine is still being most kind as we head out of town to the rental car depot and collect the Hyundai Tucson which will be our companion for the next 37 days and will take us right through both of the islands of this far off land. Setting off on a 5-week road trip which will include a family wedding at Easter feels exciting and auspicious, like we’re setting off on an incredible adventure. Which of course we are.

Auckland has been fabulous, a lovely city in a terrific natural setting. A last word on Auckland… our very first encounter with a local, on our first day, in a bar at Viaduct Harbour, went as follows (if you can do it, then read out loud the relevant bits in an Antipodean accent, accompanied by a smile)….

“Hey guys, how you doin’? You guys here for the Boat Show?”

“No, we just arrived here today at the start of a 6-week tour through both islands”.

“Oh fantastic. And you’re a pair of f**king poms too”. 

Most irregular.

NZ Road Trip: The Coromandel Peninsula 

Time is an illusion, it has often been said. Somehow in the process of returning home from California and then heading out here to New Zealand we have moved forward 21 hours, meaning that we’ve lost, somewhere, almost a full day of our lives. Whilst the 8 hours from California was effectively repaying the 8 we gained on the way out there, we won’t be reimbursed the other 13 until we go home from NZ in mid April. Given that delay, wouldn’t it be good if, like a savings account, it was possible to earn interest on the time invested? You know, be given bonus time in return for investment. In other words, we could perhaps have a day upon our return where we start something at, say, 4pm, do it for two hours, and then find it’s still 4pm when we finish. What would you do with those bonus hours? Be useful, wouldn’t they.

Anyway, our NZ companion, the Hyundai Tucson which will be our roadster throughout, starts its work with a faulty brake light prompting a short delay while extraction of failed lamp and replacement with new is effected, then we’re off through the industrial parks of the outskirts of Auckland and out into open country where we pass almost as many bakery cafes as we do trees. Unable to resist all, the Hyundai insists on pausing for a chunky sausage roll (called a “double happy”) and a coffee. We have a feeling this naughty Hyundai may insist on many similar stops over the next few weeks.

And then, after green mountains, rolling scenery, giant tree ferns and other trees which look uncannily like overgrown broccoli spears, we enter the Coromandel Peninsula via hairpins, inclines and descents and start to comment on how the unfolding countryside is already having a calming effect on our combined spirit. It’s very picturesque and unbelievably relaxing on the eye. The land flattens out on to a plain as we near the coast, turning left at Woolworths (the Woolworths here are useful, well stocked food stores) to our next temporary abode in the little town of Whitianga. For “abode”, read “bach”, more on that word later.

Whitianga is so immediately appealing, its waterfront facing a deep blue creek boundered by tree covered cliffs, a quaint ferry carrying passengers back and forth across the short strait, anglers lined up along the shore. The laid back High Street boasts all manner of local shops (shoes, dresses, bicycles, kebabs) as the waves lap gently along Buffalo Beach, named after a Royal Navy vessel which foundered here in 1840. As first impressions go, Whitianga ticks every box and it really is love at first sight for both of us.

Brian The Boatman is in good humour as he talks us and three other couples through the boat ride ahead, which turns out to be two hours of spectacular coastline featuring a succession of sizeable sea caves. It’s a fun, high speed experience on Brian’s fast boat, too, journeying past remote golden beaches, dramatic rock formations eroded by wind and sea, drifting also into a collapsed cave open to the sky.

With the boat fun over, we take a 2-hour hike up and along the cliff path, past Shakespeare’s Cliff (named by Captain Cook as he felt the cliff shape resembled The Bard’s face), the remote Lonely Bay, a beach as secluded as the name suggests, and back to Whitianga town on the ferry. The wider area of coastline around Whitianga is named Mercury Bay, due to the fact that Cook spent many hours here studying the movement of the planet Mercury in order to plot the latitude and longitude of his location. Imagine being that esoteric. Imagine being that clever. 

(We should state here that the place names we are using are the English names given by settlers, everywhere also carries its original, infinitely more exotic Maori name, we’ll use some of these later).

It’s hard to overstate how lovely Whitianga is, we have felt instantly at home here in these beautiful surroundings which also make it the perfect base from which to explore the Coromandel Peninsula. The drive across to the other side, from Whitianga to Coromandel Town itself, takes us along the east coast, up over the mountains, through the central plain and then over the next mountain range into the small town on the west coast, most of the journey along snaking tarmac of endless tight bends in beautiful scenery.

From Coromandel Town we catch the rather wonderful and eccentric Driving Creek Railway, a narrow gauge affair which climbs nearly four hundred feet up the mountain to a viewing platform at the top which is amusingly named the Eyefull Tower. This entire railway was the brainchild of, and personally constructed by, a madly eccentric sounding individual named Barry Brickell who lived a mostly reclusive life indulging in pottery, conservation work and, well, building the railway. The last of these was no mean feat, climbing terrain completely unsuitable for any kind of transport let alone a railway, and needing 10 bridges, 3 tunnels, 3 reverse switchbacks and 2 spirals. One spiral is so tight that the track crosses the same bridge twice, on a different level of the double decker structure each time.

Also from Coromandel Town we take a hike through a Kauri tree trail, passing amongst others a famous and majestic specimen thought to be an incredible 1200 years old. Ironically, this tree’s imperfection has been its saviour, believed to have survived felling due to its partially twisted trunk which would have made it less attractive to potential buyers thanks to the knots present in such a misshapen tree. Incidentally, the name “Driving Creek” comes from the kauri felling era – trees felled on the mountains were too heavy and difficult to transport by conventional means, so the logs were dropped into the cascading mountain rivers to race to the bottom where a manmade barrage halted their progress. Waterways used in this way were known as…driving creeks.

Returning to our bach (another new word for us, but it seems that out here a “bach” – pronounced “batch” and a derivative of “bachelor pad” – is what holiday homes like these are termed), we wallow for a while in the hot tub thoughtfully provided by our host, and unwind to talk yet again about what a wonderful and peaceful setting we currently find ourselves in. This little town is very special.

Everything and everybody tells us the scenery will get more and more dramatic as we head south through NZ, but wow the Coromandel, and particularly Whitianga, have already left a lasting impression. Love it here.

Rotorua: Boiling Mud And Urban Volcanoes

We’ve read several times that as you approach Rotorua, it’s possible to smell the town before you ever see it. Well it’s not strictly true but the pungent odour of sulphur hits us as soon as we open the car door and, as we are to discover, permeates through this most unusual city 24/7. The smell emanates, of course, from the excessive geothermal activity taking place just below ground level – the whole city of Rotorua is built over a caldera formed during a volcanic eruption around 240,000 years ago, and there is certainly no mistaking the level of activity still present today. It’s impossible to miss, in fact.

But before we head southwards to Rotorua on our last day on the Coromandel Peninsula, we take a drive along a stretch of its amazing eastern coastline, discovering giant deserted beaches (Otama), picturesque little towns (Tairua) and sumptuous scenery, ending up eventually at Hot Water Beach, where the thing to do is to dig a hole in the sand until you reach the water heated by geothermal activity and then sit in your own hand dug hot tub. Unfortunately the timing of the tide isn’t quite right (the lower the tide the better) and despite our best efforts with the spade we only hit a seam of cold sea water.

En route to Rotorua we pause at the self-styled “Mural Town” of Katikati, not because of the murals but more because that naughty Hyundai of ours decides that the Dolce Cafe on the High Street looks too good to pass by, but as it happens the murals are indeed an interesting distraction from the highway. As is the cafe.

And so to Rotorua, nicknamed both “Sulphur City” and “Rottenrua” due to that smell, where the geothermal activity is in no way restricted to the enclosed pay-to-visit centres, in fact there is evidence all around town. Follow the footpath trail near Sulphur Point and gurgling fumaroles pump steam from boiling pools just the other side of a small wooden fence. No matter which direction we look, clouds of steam are drifting into the air or being carried across town by the wind. Urban volcanoes. Less than three kilometres beneath this city lies a giant lake of molten lava, little wonder then that extreme heat escapes from so many fissures in the Earth’s surface.

The action is even more intense inside the wonderfully named Hell’s Gate geothermal reserve where the bubbling soundtrack is louder, the sulphur scent stronger and the scars on the surface more extreme. There’s definitely weird stuff happening just below ground level here; some of the water in these raging pools reaches a temperature of 120C even above the surface, having hit 350C or more underground. We indulge – of course we do – in the hot water pools and the mud baths, but the real lasting impression is of the lengthy walk around the natural cauldron and its unusual sights and sounds. Incidentally, many of the mud pots and boiling pools here were named by none other than George Bernard Shaw, who was evidently just as impressed as we are. How “not bloody likely” is that.

Mud bath and mineral pools

Sulphur crystals and hot pools

A mere 400 yards or so from our apartment here is another geothermal centre, commercially known as Te Puia but with a full name of Te Whakarewarewa, where the valley is filled with billowing steam, spouting geysers and untouchably hot rocks. The more we explore Rotorua the more we come to appreciate just what an unusual town this is. Within Te Puia, the main geyser Pōhutu duly obliges and provides an exciting display powering boiling water around 30 metres skywards as we watch on from a safe distance.

OK, now amuse yourself with a pronunciation test. The real full Maori name of this geothermal valley is, wait for it….

Te WhakarewarewatangaoteopetauāaWāhiao.

Good luck with that one.

Te Puia also serves as a fascinating Maori cultural centre where students learn traditional skills and arts and crafts, including wood carving, bone-and-stone carving and weaving, all funded entirely by the reserve’s visitor fees. There’s also an opportunity to enjoy a “hāngī” lunch. A hāngī is a traditional Maori oven, which basically entails burying the prepared food just beneath the ground, where the intense heat and swirling steam cooks meals thoroughly in a couple of hours. Originally constructed from woven foliage, the centre now uses metal containers for burying the food, which probably detracts somewhat from the original earthy flavours but it is nevertheless still seriously delicious.

Maori culture

Friday, and a third geothermal reserve twenty minutes out of town, one which just goes to show that even on a third day of exploration these places can still surprise and astound. This time it’s Wai-O-Tapu, where the most renowned phenomenon is the Champagne Pool, a large hot water lake given a whole range of startling colours by different mineral deposits ranging from brilliant orange to bright pink and dreamy turquoise. Shifting sunlight, changing winds and the level of cloud cover all help to ensure the colour patterns on the lake are ever changing – even the staff on site don’t know what to expect each day. It really is a remarkable sight, the minerals creating this amazing kaleidoscope include gold, silver, mercury, sulphur, arsenic, thallium and antimony.

Steam emanating from the lake drifts across the valley in the densest of clouds, sometimes forming a white-out which leaves us unable to see anything at all and needing to stand still until it passes, breathing in the heavy sulphur odours and feeling the intense moist heat of this eerie, swirling mist. 

Lady Knox lives here. That’s the name given to a spectacular geyser which, even though it (she?) erupts from its own energy several times each day, is given a forced eruption daily at 10:15 by using naturally occurring minerals to produce a crowd pleaser of a display. We weren’t too keen on the “forced” bit but there’s no denying it’s a spectacular sight.

Elsewhere in Wai-O-Tapu lakes of crazy colours lie between banks of sulphur crystals and land coral, mud pools boil and bubble and ethereal sounds like growling monsters issue from the bottom of deep craters. Trees and shrubs in some areas glow with an improbable golden hue, shining as if illuminated from within or lit by offset lighting – we think at first it must be airborne sulphur deposits but learn subsequently that it is in fact an algae which thrives in very high temperatures. Yet another weird feature in this thoroughly unworldly place.

There’s been something odd about staying in Rotorua, on many levels just an ordinary town with shopping malls and an “Eat Street” full of bars, yet on another level sporting the highest concentration of geothermal activity we have seen anywhere. Seeing the two side by side verges on the surreal.

Urban volcanoes. Boiling mud. Rainbow lakes. Sulphur crystals. McDonalds, Burger King and Wendy’s. And everywhere stinks of sulphur. What an unusual town.

Waitomo, Taupo & Raw Power 

Sometimes you have to do something illogical to make the most of things when travelling, and so it is as we leave Rotorua to head to our next destination, Taupo, via a somewhat staggered route. The most direct route would be less than 100km but a detour west is the only way we can take in something which we want to see, so we dogleg our way across to Waitomo and then back across to our next base.

What attracts us to Waitomo is the cave network in the hillside which is home to a particular species of glow worm, the arachnocampa luminosa, and seeing them turns out to be well worth the detour. The vast cave which is the entrance to the tour is fascinating even before we board the tiny boat on the pitch dark waterway deep underground, stalactites and stalagmites forming weird sculptures all around us. Once on board the little boat in pitch darkness, the sight of hundreds of tiny lights on the ceiling of the cave is mesmerising, like an subterranean starlit sky.

Not actually a worm but the lava of a tiny gnat, these odd creatures are endemic to New Zealand, and produce the speck of light in order to attract prey, small insects which will be drawn to the light. Hanging beneath each “worm” is a set of sticky lines, like the tentacles of a jellyfish, to which prey will stick if and when they fly too close. The worm will then suck up the strand rather like someone eating spaghetti, consume the unsuspecting critter and then drop the line down again, looking for more. They live in this lava form for around nine months before morphing into the gnat which they will then become.

But by the time these things become a gnat, they’ve pretty much lived their life. Once out of the lava stage and into the air, they have no mouth and no stomach and are therefore incapable of feeding – they live for about three days and then die of starvation. During these three days their sole raison d’être is reproduction. Isn’t nature endlessly enthralling? We have no photos of the glow worms of course, it’s pitch dark down there and as you would expect flash photography is not allowed. 

Waitomo cave and a resident eel

(SIDE NOTE…Before we enter the cave proper we are told to put everything securely away, partly to keep it safe and partly to avoid creating any sound or light in this precious place – yet one young girl in our group has to be told FIVE TIMES by our guide Cory to stop using her phone. The guide is seriously unimpressed. I despair of people these days sometimes).

And so, visit complete, we head back east through rolling countryside where the green hills are strangely isolated, separated from each other by areas of pasture, individual hills rather than a continuous range, then on through extensive forestry followed by valleys filled with dairy farms. Throughout the last two hours of the journey we pass through just one single village – Benneydale – the rest is delightful green scenery, sparsely populated but never barren.

We glide eventually into the lakeside town of Taupo on the shores of the lake of the same name, an attractive town geared to the holiday market but today with a surprise welcome as the streets and even our motel car park are full of classic cars attending a charity rally. Surrounded by distant hills, mountains and volcanoes as well as the huge blue lake, Taupo immediatelyy adds itself to the fast growing list of pleasing locations on this journey through North Island.

Classic cars in Taupo

It’s a pretty big lake, too, with a surface area of 238 square miles, a perimeter of 120 miles and a maximum depth of 610 feet, a lake on which the prevailing wind can create waves 2 metres high. Our trip out on to the lake on the sleek sailing boat “Fearless” is absolutely serene, lady luck playing her part and delivering probably the sunniest and most beautiful day so far. After a short time with sails hoisted, the wind drops to virtually nothing and skipper Dave has to revert to motor power, which doesn’t detract in the slightest from what is an excellent and relaxing few hours on the sun kissed water.

The trip takes in some rather special Maori rock carvings and sculptures at Mine Bay, originally a sacred place but now more widely known as a tourist attraction. These creations are certainly not ancient, having been sculpted in the 1970s by leading Maori exponents, but nevertheless are quite spectacular, one of those places where the more you look, the more you see.

Lake Taupo is fed by numerous rivers and streams but has just one outflow, the River Waikato which flows out through Taupo town into the verdant countryside beyond. Alongside the river, the Huka Falls Trail takes an undulating path….

Dappled sunlight filters through the trees to paint blotches of light on the pathway strewn with pine needles, bees weave back and forth across the trail in search of pollen, the strange warbling call of the pied crow sounding like Brian Eno on a creative day throws disembodied sound bites into the mix. Up and down we go, sometimes way above the river, sometimes right alongside, the deep bottle green of the water tossing mini sparklers into the air as droplets of water catch the glare of the sun. The river is deep yet fast flowing, mallards hug the banks to steer clear of the fastest channels. White water begins to appear, a distant rumble gradually becomes a roar, the path rises slightly, and we arrive, suddenly, at the falls….

What we see next is truly startling. Just before the narrow gorge at the Falls the Waikato is 100 metres wide, the entrance to the gorge is a mere 15. The result is an astonishing raging torrent crashing and pounding through the narrow passageway then tumbling over the falls. The surging mass turns first pure white and then an unreal turquoise as ultimately the foam disperses and the river settles back into something approaching normality. A couple of hundred yards of liquid insanity. For a while we can’t tear ourselves away, the raw power, the changing colours, the angry roar, all make for an unforgettable experience of sight and sound. These Falls may not be high – a drop of just 9 metres – but a quarter of a million litres of water surges through here EVERY SECOND. And remember, this river is an outflow from the lake, not a feeder, which gives just a hint of an idea of the volume of the lake as a whole.

A few miles upstream, as if seeing the Huka Falls isn’t enough, there’s another water spectacular. Here, the Waikato is plugged by the Aratiatia Dam, but so huge is the volume of downstream water that the sluices of the dam need to be opened four times a day to regulate the flow, letting more raw power through into the canyon beyond, turning the scene on the left to the one on the right in just a few minutes…..

Such an unusual thing to see, once again we are more than slightly mesmerised by the power and the movement of water. 

Four experiences in quick succession, all of them governed by water, each of them rewarding in their own different way. As we near the end of our last day here in Taupo, the sun still shines on this convivial holiday town as evening approaches, the volcanoes beyond the lake starting to dim as the light begins to fade and here, by the water’s edge, the bars begin to fill with chatter just as the breeze brings natural air conditioning to counter the warmth. Sweaters are pulled over T-shirts, bare shoulders disappear, the occasional jacket is retrieved and donned. The setting sun and the wind off the lake call time on another splendid day.

Another NZ destination, another delight. Time to continue the journey south.

NZ Road Trip: To Windswept Wellington

The excitement of a road trip is always enhanced when an evocative route name is involved, so you can picture our joy when we discovered that our journey away from Taupo would take us along the Volcanic Loop Highway and on to the Desert Road, you can’t get much more evocative than that. For forty minutes or so we hug the shores of the lake before we pull away to pass through the volcano belt which provides great views of the largest of them, Tongariro, with its almost perfect peak. From there it’s through the heather-clad rocky desert before we regain pastures and hills as the coast comes ever closer.

Wellington welcomes us with what we are informed is its customary wind blasting along the waterfront and turning shopping streets into wind tunnels. As darkness falls Courtney Place comes alive with evening revellers, a mixed crowd of students, expats, tourists and locals, many of whom are using happy hour to honour St Patrick’s Day with several pints of Guinness. For us it’s a hilarious hour in a rock bar with two drunken ladies from Perth (more on that later) followed by an absolutely delicious Thai meal in Cambridge Street.

Next morning we meet up with Liam, a former work associate of Michaela’s back in England who now lives here in Wellington, though this is the first time that either of us has met him in person. He kindly gifts us an introductory walk through his city – a city he has clearly fallen in love with – and provides a bucketload of useful advice for the rest of our trip through NZ. By coincidence it turns out that Liam is, like me, a Derbyshire boy.

Bidding Liam farewell we’re off to explore the city on our own, passing the new and old Parliament buildings, the former Government offices which are intriguingly constructed entirely with timber cunningly disguised as stone, and of course the cleverly designed waterfront with its many pathways, bridges and cycle routes. 

We also, probably inevitably, take the “cable car” as it is known but is in truth a funicular railway (which is after all a car pulled by a cable so the local name is legit), which climbs steeply up the hillside to the suburb of Kelburn where the botanical gardens provide sweeping views back across the port city. Travelling on a gradient of roughly 1:5 (609 metres long, 120 metres up), the car passes through three tunnels on its five minute journey, two of which are enhanced by colourful dancing LEDs.

Over the years since its opening in 1902, the cable car has steadily become an iconic emblem of Wellington. A small but excellently presented museum at the top provides a complete and compelling history of the cable car, which has swung from heavy commuter usage to virtual obsolescence then to the major tourist attraction and symbol which it is today. An up and down history in more ways than one.

The following morning we take a guided tour of the NZ Parliament building, which is pretty good value given that it’s free of charge. Much of the parliamentary system here is based on Westminster, but with sensible improvements like abolition of an upper house, writing desks and microphones for every member and an electoral system which is part way proportional representation. I guess it’s easier to make changes to a young parliament than it is to one with centuries old traditions. Maybe Wellington has learned from Westminster’s intransigence.

Inside Parliament

Down near the waterfront stands the impressive four storey national museum, Te Papa, which is a seriously well designed, hugely informative place for anybody wanting to understand New Zealand’s history, from the first early settlers from the Pacific Islands to modern day conservation efforts and contemporary sociology. Unfortunately we don’t have time to study everything – you could, honestly, spend at least half a day here – as closing time is approaching as we complete our first hour.

It’s very noticeable everywhere, including both in Parliament and at Te Papa, that care is taken these days to refer to this nation as “Aotearoa New Zealand” in order to incorporate both the Maori and English names. It’s equally noticeable how eager everyone is to remind us that New Zealand was the first country in the world to grant the vote to women, thanks in no small part to the revered figure of Kate Sheppard, who is remembered in many forms here, including even the green caricature on pedestrian crossings.

Te Papa teaches us, as have earlier guides on the trip, that New Zealand has virtually no indigenous mammals, when the Pacific settlers first arrived they found the lands all but devoid of animal life, so consequently almost everything here has been introduced by human beings. This applies equally to many plant species, several of which, both plant and animal, have proved to be errors of judgment in terms of ecosystem and have subsequently needed to be controlled or even extinguished.

An in depth analysis within the museum speaks volumes on the subject of the influx of Europeans and wide scale displacement of the earlier settlers. The 1840 Treaty Of Waitingi was ostensibly the agreement by which Britain and the existing tribespeople set out the plan for sharing the land and its riches on an ongoing basis. However, Britain pulled a fast one, some might say a dirty trick. There were two versions of the Treaty, one in English and one in the local Maori tongue, but craftily, the wording of the two didn’t translate precisely, with subtle but significant differences over matters of, in particular, sovereignty. After over a century of offence and a strong sense of wrongdoing, it wasn’t until a Parliamentary Act of 1975 that the differences in translation were officially recognised.

Acknowledgment of the..errr…indiscretion together with the recognition of the rights of the Maori are now quite rightly unmissable as we travel through NZ.

And so with lessons learnt and our knowledge base increased, we prepare for an early morning departure by ferry from Wellington to South Island as our journey southwards continues.

FOOTNOTE. If we needed a reminder of the brutal say-it-as-it-is way of Australians, it was provided in spades by the hilarious Sally from Perth in the bar on that first night in Wellington, who, within five minutes of striking up conversation, blurted….”hey, I have a question for you guys. Do people of your age still have sex, and if so, how often?” It was the start of a truly hilarious and entertaining hour in her and her friend’s company. Not backwards in coming forwards, as my Mum would have said. 

On To South Island: Abel Tasman

Out of the airbnb by 6am, a short drive to Wellington port, through the gates and into the line of cars, trucks and camper vans all ready to leave the shores of North Island and head south. Two hours later we’re all still here, waiting for the ship’s “technical issue” to be resolved before we can drive up the ramp and on to the Bluebridge Ferry, then, just as we are starting to fear hearing the word “cancelled”, the bollards are withdrawn and we’re on our way.

The crossing is flat calm with not a wave in sight, but what really intrigues us is that for the latter two hours this doesn’t feel or look like a sea crossing at all, our large ferry wholly incongruous as it passes through the Sounds which make the waterway appear more like a wide river than the ocean which it really is, with steep wooded hills on both sides. As we draw into Picton harbour a couple of hours behind schedule, our Hyundai which has been left on the upper, open car deck, now has a proper covering of salt in a crusty layer across metal and glasswork, like castor sugar on a doughnut – but ferry staff are clearly used to this and the car is thoroughly hosed down by an obliging crew member as we approach the down ramp. Nice touch guys.

From Picton it’s straight on to the highways, through the vast stretches of vineyard in Marlborough wine country, through meadows and dairy farms, past the artificial mountains of shipping containers at Nelson port, until we arrive at our next base, the small town of Motueka near the edge of the Abel Tasman National Park.

Abel Tasman is backboned by lofty mountains which have a reputation for creating a rain shield – in other words, the western side can be under the dark clouds of rainstorms at precisely the same time as the eastern side is bathed in sunshine, despite being just a proverbial stone’s throw apart. As it happens we are to see this with our own eyes, touring the “dark side” by road on day one, then exploring the eastern coast by boat under glorious blue skies on day two. 

The day one road trip is utterly spectacular, up over the steep backbone mountains on roads which are so twisty that you could call them coiled, massive views across big country at every turn. Down from those, the quaint little town of Takaka calls us in for lunch before we head along the unusual, winding coast, stopping regularly to investigate the more intriguing corners on foot. (Incidentally, this means that in just over twelve months we’ve visited Takaka, Carcar and Lake Titicaca. Amused? Well I am). 

Birds are everywhere, including the Australasian Swamp Hen or pūkeko hanging around in the moist meadows in such great numbers that squabbles are commonplace, and the weka which is obviously a wannabe kiwi, though unfortunately we don’t catch a glimpse of the blue penguins which frequent these parts – and even have their own road crossings. We do though follow a trail up into the woodlands to the Wainui Falls which, deep into the mountainside greenery, have a certain mystical quality, kind of a fairy tale waterfall where nymphs could easily be drifting above the pool while elves dance beneath the drooping fronds of the giant ferns. Does evil dwell somewhere beneath the dark turbulent waters, or do the elves and fairies live a life of peace and tranquility?

Driving back over the mountains is almost as mysterious as ahead of us a white curtain hides the next mountain and completely swallows the valley below. Climbing the twisting road we enter the strange world of the cloud, we are so high now that we have risen some distance above the cloud line, driving the Hyundai through a white cloak as thick as a winter fog. Aircraft pilots have help with such things, for us it’s a matter of vigilance as we negotiate multiple tight bends in reduced visibility, enveloped by an unforgiving whiteness which blocks out all but the fifty yards ahead. Driving the Hyundai through the clouds.

Day two, on board the tour boat, could not be more of an antithesis to yesterday, wonderfully clear blue skies and a tanning sun opening up the stunning coastline to reveal its excessive beauty. Huge golden beaches and deep blue sea, forested hillsides sweeping down to the sand, gentle waves lapping almost deserted shores, then dramatically eroded rocks, tiny islands sprouting stunted trees, a wide inlet which becomes improbably dry for an hour or two when the tide recedes.

Here a remarkable rock known as The Split Apple, there a driftwood strewn beach accessible only by boat. Gulls dive in to the water to catch fishy snacks, herons marshal the shoreline, pied shags fool us for a moment into thinking they are the elusive penguins, stingrays glide beneath our boat in the shallows, yet the absolute star of the whole show is the scenery itself, the verdant hillsides protecting the gold and the blue, every cove displaying an air of secrecy and solitude. This is truly beautiful coastline.

Our boat trip starts and ends at Kaiteriteri where the offices for boat trips and kayaking, the cafes spawned by same, and the large dusty car park and overnight camper van plots still can’t detract from this splendid and beautiful corner of the world. It’s stunning. All of it.

Towns around here are really too small to justify that name, more like villages with an activity vein. Our own town of Motueka boasts just one main street with limited facilities and a modest grid of homesteads and second homes, but town isn’t what anybody comes here for and everything is over and done by 9pm. The draw of Abel Tasman is not its towns, splendid as they are, and certainly not its nightlife, but its wonderful, largely unspoilt scenery, and for that you simply couldn’t ask for more.

March 22nd, it’s Spring now back home, the daffodils will be painting gardens with splashes of yellow and the buds on the bluebells will be tinted with the faintest of blue brushstrokes. Here though in Aotearoa New Zealand autumn is just around the corner and there are hints of russet among the green leaves, pine cones are dropping to the ground and there’s a definite chill in the evening air. We must continue our journey south, towards the exciting places yet to come and towards the Easter wedding which awaits.

Time to hit the highway once more.

NZ Road Trip: South To Kaikoura

We are seriously beginning to think that there isn’t a single drive in this country which is anything less than spectacular. From Motueka on the edge of Abel Tasman we retrace our steps though Nelson city and Marlborough wine country then, turning south past Blenheim we are suddenly confronted by terrain completely different from all previous scenery: large barren hills devoid of greenery, the first treeless tracts of land so far. Bone dry straw coloured landscape.

Slowly the green returns, as do the lines of vines, until we rise over the top of the next hill and there stretched out before us is the incredible turquoise ocean which will accompany us all the way to Kaikoura. It’s impossible to not keep stopping just to soak in the breathtaking views: the alluring sea separated from black volcanic sands by a line of pure white surf, and, the other way, the towering peaks of the Kaikoura mountain range. 

Eager to see more we drop the backpacks at the motel and head straight back out, up to the Kaikoura Lookout where the coastal views across two sweeping bays, one in each direction, and inland to the giant massif, simply leave us speechless. This is beyond special. Later, while sharing a beer with a couple we meet in The Whaler, the lady comes up with a good phrase to describe NZ, saying:

“I made a mistake with packing my bags. I didn’t put enough wows in my case and ran out after the first week”. Nicely put.

You know, Kaikoura is situated in such picturesque, gentle countryside that it would be a splendid little town even if there was nothing else – yet on one side there is the fabulous rolling coastline and on the other the spectacular mountains of the Kaikoura range. When sumptuous views were handed out, Kaikoura must have had first refusal on everything. There’s even still a hint of snow on the highest peaks.

We do like the fact too that we keep stumbling across humour in this country. Back in Rotorua where two traffic lanes became one on the approach to town, the sign read “merge like a zipper” and sported a big drawing of a zip fastener. Here in Kaikoura which has a huge reputation for quality whale watching, the route down to the train line is called Whaleway Station Road.

Before we indulge in the essential whale watching trip we take a rewarding hike along the top of the cliffs, marvelling all the way at the incredible views along the rocky shore and watching large numbers of fur seals playing in the shallow water and basking on those rocks. Mums and pups seem to be having fun for the sake of having fun, splashing and rolling and squealing with what sounds like delight. Seal squeals. We learnt in Kaiteriteri that female fur seals conceive every single year, and the gestation period is 50 weeks, meaning that apart from a two-week annual vacation they are permanently pregnant. Bit harsh, huh.

As we board the boat for whale watching, we are given in depth instructions regarding seasickness – apparently today’s rating is “rough” and chances of sickness are high, but, as it turns out, the wonderful episode of nature’s show we are about to see would take anyone’s mind off something as trivial as a dicky tummy.

Only a relatively short distance from shore we encounter a humpback whale being trailed by a school of dolphins; a further three miles or so out we are lucky enough to get a long, lingering look at a huge sperm whale, concluding with the classic deep dive and a swish of its giant tail. Fantastic. We do tend to get lucky with things like this. In the air above the water we see two species of albatross, including a Northern Royal Albatross with its gigantic wingspan, a Hutton’s Shearwater and a Southern Giant Petrel, all noteworthy sightings.

On the return towards Kaikoura, one last magnificent display, put on by a large  – and we mean LARGE – school of dolphins, somersaulting and backflipping out of the water as if putting on a show especially for the tour boat. It’s fabulous, it’s thrilling, and it’s undeniably amusing – these guys really do look like they’re doing it just for fun. It’s been a very rewarding trip out to sea, enhanced by the enthusiasm and delight of the Yorkshire lass who is our compere on the boat, she’s clearly as excited as we are with what we see today and delivers her knowledgeable commentary with an endearing childlike joy.

We’re sporting tanned faces now. With the famed hole in the ozone layer directly above this part of the world, there is a disparity between the official temperature and the strength of the rays, it’s around 21 degrees but the sun feels a lot stronger than that number would suggest.

Kaikoura is absolutely lovely and is yet another place on this trip where we could easily be persuaded to stay longer, but, as ever, there’s more to see.

A Day On The Road: From Kaikoura To Glacier Country

With seven hours’ driving time ahead of us to make it to our next destination, we decide that our best option is to make a full day of it and allow for a few stops in small towns along the way, rather like we have done previously on our US road trips. So with the darkness of night still awaiting the sunrise and Kaikoura still asleep we drop the motel key into the night box, pull out of the car park and turn to the right, out on to the highway, the ocean away to our left rolling in heard but not seen.

It’s still dark half an hour later as we leave the coast and turn inland, heading west towards the centre of the island as a fine drizzle starts to settle on the windscreen. As light finally begins to dawn, the scenery drifts in and out of sight as the murky morning mist rolls around the mountainsides, eventually becoming a full-on fog by the time we near our first stop, Hanmer Springs. Hanmer is, as the name suggests, a spa town, one which has spawned a tourist industry evident as soon as we stroll down its surprisingly chilly main street.

Spa resorts and hotels nestle behind trees, waymarker signs indicate routes to springs and falls and even though we’re two hours into our journey the little town is only just rubbing its bleary eyes and rising from sleep. The fog, or cloud, stays just out of town and hugs the surrounding mountains. Inside the coffee shop the lady owner is the counterbalance to the weather, full of life, energy and chatter and as interested in our journey through NZ as we are in her coffee and bacon and egg bagel. She’s one of those thoroughly engaging machine-gun chatterers, to us and to every other customer who comes in through the creaking door. Her husband cooks the breakfasts and speaks only in monosyllables, presumably long since used to playing second fiddle in this particular orchestra.

It’s still chilly, about 10C, as we leave the cafe, and the air is damp, carrying the moisture of the fog down to the street. Souvenir shops are still determinedly shut, a cafe owner pulls up the shutters and the barber sweeps yesterday’s cuttings from his floor. Dog walkers and their dogs share a look which suggests they both wish they’d stayed in bed for another hour. Michaela takes over the driving.

From Hanmer Springs we turn on to the Lewis Pass through wide glacial valleys strung between lofty mountains – we can’t help but compare this part of the journey with a drive through Wales, even down to the heavy cloud and intermittent drizzle. To skirt the mountains it’s necessary to travel north west for a time even though south west is our overall direction.

By the time we reach our next change of driver point, Reefton, the cloud has lifted and the day is brighter. When choosing Reefton as our next stop we had no idea what a fascinating little town it would be – a gold rush town so reminiscent of those in America, looking like a scene from a Western movie. Information about the history of mining in the area abounds with notice boards and stories on most of the buildings, a restored steam engine mounted on tracks and tales of boom and bust told in absorbing detail. This time the lady in the coffee shop has nothing to say, so we take a table outdoors, sip a long black and watch life carry on in this town where once the hordes arrived, got rich, and left. Like every other gold rush town.

(SIDE NOTE: there’s a cool story here in Reefton. As the mining companies unearthed the gold, the absence of a Bank in town added an unnecessary barrier to trade. The leading companies declared that for whichever Bank was first to open in Reefton, they would fix the price of gold sold to the Bank for twelve months. NZ’s two biggest Banks colluded, and opened their respective branches at precisely the same time on the same day, so meaning they each benefited from the offer).

On from Reefton we hit the west coast at the nondescript looking town of Greymouth with its international fast food outlets strung along the main drag and head south, having now completed the coast-to-coast section of our seven hour drive. Michaela’s determination to not leave NZ without some greenstone jewellery dictates our next stop, the town of Hokitika with its reputation for providing quality examples of the stuff at less than touristy prices. It works, she finds exactly what she wants, and she’s happy.

Hokitika looks very much the seaside resort town with tat shops selling fluffy kiwis and more ice cream parlours than can surely be necessary anywhere. Greenstone shops abound too, as we had heard. Known in local tongue as pounamu, greenstone is a highly valued form of jade long treasured and considered sacred by the Maori, and comes in a number of forms, each with its own characteristics and significance in Maori culture.

Hokitika clock tower & Museum

From the river bank in Hokitika we catch our first glimpses of the snow capped glaciers which are our destination at the end of this long drive – they’re still some distance away but so large that they are already clearly visible to the south. Back into the car and out of Hokitika via bunkering at the BP station, we’re heading to glacier country and what should be a thrilling adventure.

The duo of glaciers, Franz Josef and Fox, move ever closer as we head south, soaring high amongst the peaks of the Southern Alps, looking dominant, snow on the summits and ice sheets clinging to the upper slopes. The village of Franz Josef, our next base, basks in warm afternoon sunshine, its main street a collection of bars, cafes and agents selling helicopter rides to the glacier, and virtually nothing else. After all, a trip to the glacier including a high altitude landing and a walk on the snow is why everybody comes here – including us. 

As we sip a cold beer in the sun, those helicopters buzz around, one taking off or landing every few minutes. This will be one exciting experience, one of the few things we booked before we set foot in this country, so determined were we not to miss out. Our turn will come in the morning. Except it doesn’t. With a most unfortunate piece of timing, the poor weather we’ve been hearing threatened for several days arrives a couple of hours before our fun is due, heavy clouds swirl in around the summits and the helicopters are grounded, all flights suspended for the rest of the day. We provisionally rebook for tomorrow, but the forecast does not give reason for optimism.

So instead of helicoptering up to take a stroll on snow high up on the glacier, we follow local trails through the rainforest and across the river, taking in great views of the glacier which towers above us, learning as we go of the creation of the glacial valley and the milky river which flows through it, and of the speed of movement of the ice. We see too, from photographs comparing the two eras, of just how much the ice layer has receded since the early 1900s. It was a very different place back then.

Our trails are interrupted regularly by squally showers, pools formed by ice which descended from the glacier and then thawed bubble with the plop of falling raindrops, the mountain peaks drift in and out of sight as the storm clouds wrap themselves around the slopes. Thursday morning arrives and the weather is unfortunately significantly worse than yesterday, there’s no chance of heading up in that helicopter now; we call in at the depot just to make sure, and receive the expected confirmation that there will be no more flights now before we have to move on. It’s disappointing to miss out on the very event we came to this village for, maybe we’ll have to return some other time to try again.

For once again it’s now time to move on, we have a further five hours of our southbound journey to take on before our next destination, one we’ve long looked forward to visiting, in my case ever since my son tarried here during his gap year more than twenty years ago.

Queenstown here we come.

Queenstown: Both Popular And Beautiful

We leave Franz Josef in the heavy weather which caused us to miss out on the glacier flight, on one of those mornings where any excursion out of the car is a dash to the next piece of shelter in a race against the downpour in order to stay as dry as possible. The early part of our route takes us through the “other” adventure village, Fox Glacier, but this morning’s cloud cover is so thick that we don’t even catch a glimpse of the glacier itself, just an immense white curtain excluding it from view.

If there is any benefit on a morning such as this then it is the sight of the raging sea, so several times along the highway we are forced to pull over to watch the angry waves crashing against the rocks. Relentless power, incessant noise. The sea is proper moody this morning, writhing in large swathes of foaming surf as the waves break early and clash with those waves which are rebounding from shore: it’s quite thrilling to stand in the squall and watch the manic action which all takes place in the natural monochrome of a stormy morning. Shades of grey and white.

Route 6 is evidently another cafe free zone with long distances between towns and villages, so not for the first time on our NZ travels we are well overdue a caffeine fix before we eventually pull into a small village with an obliging coffee shop – this time Makarora. As it happens it’s a ham and cheese toastie fix as well as the welcome caffeine. From Makarora we continue further south and detour briefly to the attractive and lively town of Wanaka nestled by its lake, bustling with visitors.

South of Wanaka the scenery, if this is in any way possible, is suddenly some of the most spectacular we’ve seen in this country of endless wows. At Crown Range Scenic Lookout, way above the valley bottom hundreds of feet below, we climb up to the lookout point and stand with other travellers in complete awe at the absolutely unreal vista lying ahead, gigantic sides to the valley towering over the village of Cromwell which sits somewhere down in the bottom.

And so on to Queenstown, a place I’ve kind of hoped to see ever since my son Steve came home with special memories of the place when he visited during his gap year more than 20 years ago. Now, one point we’ve often made on this blog site is that touristy towns have become a destination for a reason, and that reason is never because they’re dull and boring – no, it’s because they have something special to offer. Both things are instantly obvious in Queenstown: both its status as a tourist destination and its incredibly wonderful natural setting.

Curved enticingly around the bottom corner of Lake Wakatipu, the tranquil waters of the large lake stretching for miles ahead and surrounded by towering mountains, Queenstown nestles with pride and confidence in its wonderful setting. Beautiful yes, touristy yes. Gotta love the fact that the muscling hard rock mountains which tower over one corner of the lake, distinguishable from the others through their bare rock, tree-free appearance, are called The Remarkables.

Wakatipu translates roughly as “smoky water”, a name given to the lake by the Maoris as an interpretation of the morning mist which forms every day and glides across the surface as it gradually disperses. In the Land Of The Long White Cloud, here in Queenstown a long white cloud heralds the start of every day, lying low above the lake. So atmospheric. Smoke on the water.

The TSS Earnslaw was one of a number of steamships which in times gone by used to deliver supplies to the remote sheep and cow stations at the southern end of Lake Wakatipu which were otherwise unreachable, there being no roads reaching that far – in fact there are still two sheep stations in these mountains which to this day have no road access whatsoever. Nowadays though the Earnslaw earns its keep as a tourist lake cruiser taking passengers through the spectacular scenery as far as the Walter Peak High Country Farm.

Queenstown’s setting really is very special, the towering mountains on all sides of the water of the lake which can switch from a mirror-like surface to wind driven turbulence in minutes. Still a genuine steam driven vessel, operatives shovelling coal into the burners at a furious pace throughout the 2-hour cruise, the Earnslaw provides a wonderful opportunity to fully appreciate the big country scenery around the lake and the town.

A very different perspective, one from on high, is the reward for journeying up the mountain in the gondola cable car, the shape of the lake appearing quickly as the car ascends at a surprisingly steep angle – the climb feels almost vertical in the early stages. 

When the rain returns on our last day in Queenstown we drive to Lake Wakatipu’s southern extremity to the little settlement of Glenorchy, intending to take a stroll along its walkway renowned for both scenery and wildlife, but within minutes the heavy weather rolls in and we are defeated by the downpour. Good coffee though.

Queenstown continues to be a hugely attractive town in an absolutely magnificent setting, and is a town with a welcoming feel due to it being such a popular tourist destination. There’s still plenty of young travellers here as there would have been when Steve visited, though prices in the bars and restaurants would suggest that it’s no longer the backpackers’ haven it may once have been. 

Overriding it all is the comment we made earlier – places become popular because they’re special, not because they’re ugly. And Queenstown, it’s fair to say, is a queen amongst towns.

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NZ Road Trip: Queenstown To Milford Sound

Heading out of Queenstown towards our next destination we detour first to the small but absorbing Arrowtown, another gold rush town but one with an additional draw. Like Reefton before on this NZ odyssey Arrowtown has all of the classic looks of a gold rush town, so reminiscent of those in California and, we are sure, other locations worldwide, its main street looking like something from the Wild West. But there’s an additional twist here in the shape of the reconstructed and renovated Chinese village where the homes of emigrants from that country came in search of fortune.

How odd it must have been to hear rumours – rumours is all they were, surely, there was after all no international media in the late 19th century – of the discovery of gold thousands of miles away and, driven by that rumour, simply boarding a ship, leaving everything and everyone you knew behind in the homeland, travelling in hope more than expectation. Life here was tough for the small Chinese community, in particular the harsh NZ winters of which they knew nothing beforehand, toiling in the mines for long hours every day, facing both freezing temperatures and open hostility from the local population. Most had been peasant farmers back home, so despite the hardships many did indeed enhance their wealth and thrive, making enough money to either bring over their family or return home substantially better off when the gold supply eventually dwindled. Those that stayed integrated into society and contributed fully to making Arrowtown the thriving community which it was to become.

From Arrowtown it’s another long drive through magnificent scenery, pausing briefly at the far end of Lake Wakatipu where we rest awhile in the sunshine next to the gently lapping waters which are home to a variety of ducks, geese and waders. As the ducks grow to trust our presence and move closer to us, it’s fun to watch them play, entering the water en masse to ride the waves of a boat’s wake as it nears the shore – we can almost sense them chuckling with pleasure as they bob up and down.

On we go, entering eventually the spectacular region known as Fiordland, New Zealand’s largest national park, where our next destination Te Anau sits modestly at the side of the lake which bears its name. It’s from here that we take a day to explore the famed Milford Sound, one of the World’s most iconic natural locations, and we are certainly not disappointed by the day which unfolds.

Collected by minibus from Te Anau village, we head out on the roads towards the coast, stopping at several impressive viewpoints along the way, starting with the well named Mirror Lakes before pausing to admire a number of stunning canyons and mountain vistas. Eventually we drop down into Milford Sound where our tourist boat awaits. Milford Sound was incorrectly named by the first explorers, as it is in reality a fjord rather than a sound, but the misnomer has stuck and, with its worldwide fame, can’t be changed now, just like the Gulf Of Mexico can’t be changed, ahem.

The two-hour cruise is sublime, the scenery utterly breathtaking and, what’s more, we complete it on a day of sunshine in a place which “suffers” 200+ days of rain per year and receives a greater quantity of annual rainfall than the Amazon rainforest. It is, as all of the guidebooks and websites say, one of the World’s greatest natural sights, formidable in its size and dramatic in its design, massive cliffs plunging into the sea, waterfalls cascading over the gigantic sides. Everywhere we look there is something else, something special.

Refreshed by our awestruck time on the cruiser we hike for 90-odd minutes along the Milford Track, as far as the Giant Gate Falls, enjoying the wildlife as we go. When we dare to stand still in a cloud of sandflies for a few minutes we are rewarded by the stimulating experience of fantail birds circling our bodies, feeding off the little blighters who are in turn trying to feed off us. Having such pretty butterfly-like birds fluttering just inches from our bodies in circular movements is such a lovely moment, a moment with real tingle factor.

The following day, still talking about the joy which is Milford Sound, we drive out to another lake – Manapouri – where the serenity of calm waters and benign weather combine to lull us into a lakeshore slumber, only the sounds of nature and gently lapping waves to break the beautiful calm. Some places are just made for snoozing.

And then we’re off on the road again, heading to the location of my nephew’s wedding, taking on more of NZ’s wonderful and stimulating highways. It’s often said that true travellers don’t keep count – but I can’t help myself, I’m a numbers person and I’m a lists person, and we’ve just passed two significant landmarks. Firstly, en route to Arrowtown, we chalked up 2,000 miles in the hire car since we picked it up in Auckland. Secondly, as a way of recording our travels, we’ve kept count of every town, city and village outside of GB where we’ve stayed at least one night since we first got together in 2011 – and Te Anau is number 400. Four hundred places, a million memories or more. 

Time to head to the wedding…

NZ Road Trip: Wedding Weekend In Warrington

My nephew Jack, my sister’s boy, came out to New Zealand with his girlfriend on a short term work visa, liked what he saw, applied for residency, and soon started his own business. That was fourteen years ago or thereabouts, and it’s abundantly clear that returning home will never be on his/their agenda. So here we are, after another long drive along these spectacular routes, back on the east coast of South Island in the hamlet of Warrington some twenty minutes north of Dunedin.

The rather lovely ceremony is, in keeping with both the character of the happy couple and with kiwi culture, unconventional and innovative, taking place in the greenery of their own garden with a celebrant who is about as far removed from formality as it’s possible to imagine. It’s a lovely hour or so, and the two imponderables, the weather and the baby daughter, both play ball, the former holding off the heavy rain until we’re safely ensconced at the reception party at the local brewery and baby Junie smiling her way through the entire event.

Warrington sports a huge stretch of deserted beach but within easy drives are excellent viewing points for seals, sea lions and albatrosses, in different places. During our time here we venture out to each, the high point possibly being the beach at Sandfly Bay where around fifteen sea lions are sleeping off the exertions of their fishing expeditions – well, apart from the young males who seem far more interested in chasing girls than taking a rest. You know, sea lions can move pretty quickly if given the right motivation.

We get lucky too with the albatross spotting, arriving at the headland on the Otago Peninsula just as the winds ramp up and the majestic birds with their giant wingspans take to riding the thermals. These guys really are an impressive sight, especially when airborne on a windy day like today.

Almost as impressive, in an obviously different way, is Dunedin railway station – what a magnificent creation this place is, with its tiled interior, its stained glass windows and its vast, bold exterior. There’s something very special about grand railway stations, just something about the fact that they only ever needed to be functional yet are often so much more, as if the novelty of a new form of transport triggered the need to be boldly inspirational rather than just clinically efficient. I love that. Art for art’s sake. Gratuitous pleasure in design. “Build me the most ostentatious station on the planet”, you can imagine someone saying. 

The rains come and go over the Easter weekend, thankfully sparing the wedding ceremony from the worst of the downpours and granting us a dry spell at the sea lion beach. It’s been so good seeing family – Jack the bridegroom has three siblings so we’ve caught up with no less than fourteen family members in total, not to mention racking up a PB for “distance travelled to a wedding” which will never be beaten.

We bid our farewells to them all and move on. This has been the southernmost point of our NZ odyssey, from here we turn back north, heading once more for mountains and lakes and finally back to the coast. Not quite done with Aotearoa New Zealand just yet.

The Final NZ Chapter: Mt Cook, Lake Tekapo & Akaroa

Another long drive, yet another great cafe stop. Honestly, the ability of New Zealand to keep coming up with unexpectedly good food in terrific little cafes is ridiculous and after all these weeks we still haven’t found a bad one. Today, eggs benedict and a long black in Kurow, delicious as ever, served with a smile and, wait for it, a 15% surcharge because it’s Easter Monday.

We’re en route to Lake Tekapo but detouring to Aoraki Mount Cook, the highest of all of New Zealand’s mountains at 3,724 metres above sea level and another of this country’s iconic sights. Unfortunately the cloud cover is stubbornly thick and the famed peak hides somewhere way above it, staying out of view throughout our visit despite our patience, but unbeknown to us its neighbours are about to give us an unexpected thrill. 

As we arrive after a half hour trek to a renowned viewpoint and admire the blue lake below, a rumble similar to rolling thunder grows in intensity and reverberates around the valley. We turn – and there, before our eyes on the slopes of Mount Sefton, an ice fall, or avalanche, is powering down the mountainside. To hear the power, see the unstoppable movement of ice throwing boulders which crash hundreds of feet below, is as dramatic as it is spectacular. We hoped we might see Mt Cook, we had no expectations of anything like this.

From Mount Cook to Lake Tekapo the lakes are beyond beautiful, deep blues, greens and turquoises competing for best colour, flat surfaced waters reflecting the mountains in perfect splendour. We spend just one full day (two nights) at Lake Tekapo, the town itself is an uninspiring creation built simply for tourism but the surrounding scenery is yet again magnificent, classic mountain and lake territory. The views from the top of Mount John are absolutely stunning, over what seems like hundreds of miles of rolling scenery painted around those huge and beautiful lakes.

Sadly we’re nearing the end of this kiwi odyssey, with just one proper call left via one last long drive back to the coast, this time to the north east and out on to a spectacularly unusual headland. The four hour drive takes us through more agricultural land (read: more wide open spaces) and, as we skirt the city of Christchurch without seeing a single hint of it, along the flattest, straightest roads we’ve encountered on this trip where everywhere else has been twists, turns and hairpins. In time we reach the water, turning left towards that unusual peninsula.

The pretty seaside village of Akaroa sits within a remarkable geographical feature, its unusual position highlighted on the map below:-

The almost circular sea inlet here is actually a caldera created millennia ago by a succession of giant volcanic eruptions. Over time the constant pounding of the Pacific Ocean breached the outer caldera wall, flooding the entire crater and forming the highly unusual setting we now find ourselves enjoying. The highest point of the peninsula is a dramatic 2000ft above sea level – taking a drive along and around the aptly named Summit Road affords magnificent views, often with the ocean on both sides. The road itself is fun too, a truly terrific drive.

But of all the fabulous scenery of this beautiful corner of the world the star of the show is the French influenced Akaroa village – this may sound impossible but this is one of the loveliest places we’ve found in Aotearoa New Zealand and, believe us, that really is saying something. Curved around its long natural harbour and effectively split into two by cliffs and shoreline, Akaroa is a quietly seductive village where the pace of life is, implausibly, another notch down from the rest of the country.

Top quality restaurants look out to the sea (if you come here, eat at AIHE!) while waves rendered gentle by the 16-kilometre long inlet softly caress the stony shore. Seabirds and waders feed on the endless supply left by the ebbing tide and a strong sense of peace envelopes the whole village, as if the gentle waters dictate the mood. Don’t come to Akaroa for nightlife: as we wander home at 8:30pm after another sumptuous meal there is barely another soul to be seen, tables are being stacked and everyone is presumably tucked up early in readiness for tomorrow’s sunrise.

Taking what is to be our final boat trip of this NZ adventure, we spot yet another mammal which is new to us, namely some Hector’s dolphins playfully feeding just outside the caldera in the open seas. 

We have absolutely loved New Zealand, so to find yet another wonderful corner, one which in some respects tops them all, is both a massive bonus and a fitting end to a magnificent trip. Oh, Akaroa, we have loved you.

It’s on our penultimate day in Akaroa that news starts to filter through that New Zealand is poised to be hit by a major storm in the shape of Cyclone Vaianu, racing towards the North Island and due to make landfall on Saturday evening/Sunday morning. Fearing cancellation of our first flight, we are relieved to make it from Christchurch to Auckland…but, next, Auckland is due to be in the eye of the storm in the 20-odd hours we are here. What we will witness, and whether our flight to Hong Kong will get off the ground, remains to be seen. As we touch down on Auckland runway and everyone switches on their phone, the cabin fills with the sound of severe weather alerts buzzing from every row, including our own phones (see the screenshot of the alert below). We were prepared for anything… yet it all passed without interruption and our flight to Hong Kong did after all depart on time…