New Zealand: Stories from the Road

New Zealand and I started off like most great love stories do: full of excitement, optimism, and a concerning lack of practicality. I didn’t know it yet, but over the next two months I’d sleep, eat, and go a little bit mad in an aggressively green campervan called Brenda, mine and Cam’s newfound home on wheels.

This isn’t a guide to the best hikes or hidden spots (though you might get a few of those by accident). It’s a collection of stories, observations, mild inconveniences, and major disasters from a trip that managed to be both ridiculous and wonderful in equal measure. It’s a reminder that travel isn’t always glamorous, but it is always worth writing about.

Part 1

One van, two idiots, and a few ducks

My flight from Perth, Australia to Auckland, New Zealand was something of a surreal one. It was the first time I had ever flown from somewhere that wasn’t home to somewhere else that wasn’t home without the comfort blanket of being dropped off by my parents. A scary experience to say the least, and one that had me wondering what this meant for my independence. Would I now, having clearly proven myself to be a capable adult, have to start paying for my own Netflix and Amazon Prime subscriptions? I shuddered at the very thought.

My clear adulting prowess was quickly demonstrated when the calming and jet-lag-busting 6 hours of sleep I had scheduled for the overnight flight was interrupted by not one but two meal services (on a SIX HOUR FLIGHT). Thus, I landed at 6am local time having had absolutely no sleep and facing the prospect of navigating the famously dedicated New Zealand customs officers. Were the hours of Border Security I had diligently watched enough to leave me adequately prepared? (Spoiler alert: they, shockingly, fail to show just how much time is spent waiting in queues).

The journey that took me from touchdown on the runway to my first breathtaking view of the trip can be chalked down as character development and we can move on swiftly without thinking about the ordeal any further. Please indulge me in skipping ahead and picking up my journey as I trundle along in my new home soon to become known as Jucy Brenda (named after Jucy, the company we hired her from, rather than being an embarrassing spelling error). I sit in the passenger seat (my rightful place and one I staunchly refused to give up for the entirety of the trip) gazing lovingly at my designated driver with a kind of glazed sparkle in my eye. Was it this jet-lag induced glaze that made that first view possibly the best?

Whatever the reason may be we just had to pull over and spend a minute simply taking in the ridiculous beauty of the scenery. Deep green islands of untouched forest lay sprawled before us, gently perched on tranquil, turquoise water dotted with sailing boats. All I could really say was ‘this must be a joke.’ Little did I know it would only get better from here, but nothing can really compare to that first moment when you realise you’ve landed in one of the most beautiful countries on earth and are about to embark on a trip that most people can only dream of. I am very lucky indeed.

When we arrived at the first camping spot of the trip the only other couple staying there confirmed what I already knew: we had most definitely picked the perfect starting point. Mahurangi Parking Area is just an hour’s drive from Auckland, it looks out on the peaceful waters of Northwest New Zealand and, during our stay, was home to the most delightful little family of ducks. Ducks, as I would later find, were to become something of a staple of my time in New Zealand. An advantage of visiting New Zealand in the spring and one which, in my opinion, absolutely justifies the erratic weather, is that there are baby animals everywhere. I very nearly got bored of spotting ducklings, lambs, and calves (very nearly, but not quite). It would also later transpire that I was rather popular amongst the duck residents of New Zealand. From the very helpful duck at the very first campsite that diligently oversaw all operations (including, but not at all limited to, cooking dinner, collecting drinking water, and trips to the toilet), to the swarm of ducks I encountered towards the end of the trip who took it upon themselves to decide when I would and wouldn’t be permitted to leave the van, they obviously knew something I didn’t.

New Zealand also appeared to be having a funny effect on me. Within a few hours of landing, I suddenly and unaccountably found myself having what is known as ‘a quick dip in the sea.’ Something I never did during my six months living just five minutes from one of the best beaches in Perth. Although in Australia I do feel that was a reasonable decision as the sea there is positively riddled with things that aren’t just able to kill you but seem to actually want to. In general swimming in the sea is not an unusual thing to do for me, what is unusual, however, is in this instance I had absolutely no indication of when I would next be able to have a real shower (it would, in fact, be a number of days). It seems that this was just the kind of devil-may-care, free-spirited traveller I had turned into in the exact moment I first delicately clambered into that van. Hello new me?

Keep an eye on your wits, they may wander off

If New Zealand taught me anything in those early days, it’s that beauty and absurdity often come as a package deal here. You are never far away from your next pinch-me moment. The only problem is you can never be sure whether it will be because of something breathtakingly beautiful or delightfully ridiculous (with just a splash of terrifying). Often the two come as a pair.

You could be wandering barefoot through a cave admiring the galaxy of glowworms above you one moment then be reminded you’ve been looking up for too long by an affectionate eel that ventured a little too close to your feet the next. You could find yourself weaving along a classic, winding New Zealand road admiring the scenery one moment then be confronted by a cow charging down the road directly at you the next (typically, the first and only time I agreed to drive on the trip). The contrast of these moments perfectly sums up New Zealand for me. It is the world’s greatest hits piled into two small islands. Nothing is done by half: the mountains are high, the valleys are low, the rivers are wide, the snow is deep, the lakes are vast, the beauty is breathtaking, and the absurdity is glorious.

The key is to remember that New Zealand will always keep you on your toes. I experienced a small slip into complacency very early on from which I, fortunately, was able to learn my lesson. After being lulled into a dream-like state of relaxation exploring the thoroughly charming seaside town of Russell I mistakenly began to think that everything was easy and familiar. My typical Yorkshire decision-making told me that we were absolutely, definitely, in no way going to pay for a ferry to make the short trip across the bay from Russell to Paihia as they were part of the same land mass and we could just drive around for free. Now, I can almost hear the readers I hope I have, who are familiar with that area, laughing at me already. After driving 15 minutes down the road to the turn off that would take us the most direct route across to Paihia we found it to be a gravel track that went on for 20 km before rejoining the state highway. Well fine, we weren’t going to do that in a rented van, we would continue on the road that was actually finished as there would surely be another turning further down. Further down ended up being 60 km away in the wrong direction. Needless to say, we turned around and paid for the ferry instead and inevitably rewarded ourselves with chips and a pint in Paihia to take the edge off the embarrassment. I’m sure the other passengers on that small car ferry didn’t actually know what we’d done but I could have sworn we were on the receiving end of a fair few knowing and pitying glances.

It turned out to be very common to find an unsealed road in New Zealand, I would later learn about the incredible story of what is known as ‘The Forgotten Highway.’ Officially State Highway 43, large sections of this road remained unsealed until it was finally completed in early 2025 at which point it became the last State Highway in the country to be fully sealed. Gravel roads aren’t even the only thing you need to worry about when driving in New Zealand. You will frequently find yourself on steep and winding tracks filled with hairpins that will make your toes curl and your hands on the steering wheel begin to sweat (although, obviously, not my hands as I remained firmly in the passenger seat following the cow incident). It won’t get much better when you steal a quick glance at the view out of the window and find a sheer drop to the valley floor just inches away. If that wasn’t enough to get your anxiety rocketing, it will when you turn the next corner and find that a landslide has taken away a chunk of the road you’re meant to be driving on. One major kernel of wisdom I can give to you: don’t assume every road in New Zealand is finished, and if it looks finished, give it a week.

It was clear that New Zealand was going to be unforgettable for so many reasons. Not just because of its wild and rugged beauty, though that helped. I was also learning how to cope with the strange freedom of living on the road, following no real plan, trying to find comfort in the uncomfortable. I had to adapt fast, lower my hygiene standards even faster, and figure out how to stay sane with only Cam for company. It would be unfair to describe this trip as a challenge. I think the best way to put it is simply: it was a privilege.