Leaving the big city behind, we headed up to Northland in our large “upgraded” rental car, which is car rental company speak for “We can’t be bothered honouring your reservation request for a small car and never had any intention of doing so – here’s what we want to get off our lot – an ‘upgrade’!” Aside from fuel efficiency concerns, there was another reason to want a smaller car – think narrow, hilly and mountainous, switchback roads with no shoulders! I spent most of my white-knuckled passenger time clutching the side of the door in a valiant effort to keep the car from sliding into the gullies a mere 6 inches away or scraping the side of the cliffs. (Well maybe not 6 inches, after all New Zealand is metric, and exaggeration is possible but from my point of view, perched on the wrong side of the road, highly unlikely).
Two hours out of Auckland we stopped in Wharangei, the region’s largest city, for lunch and supplies then continued on another 40 minutes along turquoise water beaches and through forests of tree ferns into the rolling farmland hills, shades of green and now mid-summer brown. Everywhere along the roads, purple and white Agapanthus bloomed wild, a favourite.
When we reached our hilltop which was to be home for the next few days, I poured a glass of New Zealand’s finest and sat out on the terrace, absorbing the views and the quiet. The silence and solitude, after the traffic drive and noise of the city, was initially disorienting. No cars, no voices, no machinery, nothing – just outstanding views and extraordinary beauty. The shoulders relax, the breath deepens. On these rolling hills I could make out specks of dark and gray – herds of cattle and sheep, and here and there, glimpses of a country road and farm outbuildings and houses.
After sitting there for awhile, it became apparent that it wasn’t a silent place after all. As my ears became accustomed to the lack of human noise, I started to hear the birds, insects and bees, the breeze through the trees close to the house and even from miles and miles away, the sounds of a rooster and occasional sheep or cow.
The following morning we were ready to explore and descended from our hilltop paradise to make our way to a “tramp” as they call a “hike” there, through Bream Head with its views and coves and beaches. It was 11:00 am. On the way we came upon a police roadblock, stopping traffic in both directions on this small coastline road. A very pleasant female officer informed us that it was a breathalyzer stop and all drivers had to state their names and blow into the machine. (“Oh damn, wish I hadn’t had those 6 beers for breakfast!”) The incident became the source of many jokes during the next weeks. What kind of place is this where the locals are pissed by 11:00? More likely, preventive maintenance – send an early message so people will think twice later on.
There’s a lot to explore in Northland but we soon decided to explore our immediate surroundings instead of doing a lot of driving to go further afield. We’d look out at the view and choose – what do you think that estuary is like, how do you suppose we get to that cove, what is that beach off in the distance. As navigator I was hopeless and kept us completely off-track, missing turns all the time. No matter. Missed that cove? There’s another beauty just ahead. It was high summer in New Zealand and the kids were still off on summer vacation but nowhere was it crowded. Most beaches and coves had at most one or two other families on it, and sometimes no one at all. Our exploration of the estuary was memorable – as we turned to go back to where we parked we found ourselves totally outnumbered by a bunch of sheep that had made their way down to waters edge and were nibbling at something on the beach. Too much excitement. We never made it back into town. Lunches were at the local pub on the water and dinners were light on our hilltop watching the sunset.
Off shore within view of our place were a group of islands and one day we decided to get out on the water to check it out instead of just gazing at it from the beaches. An hour’s drive up the coast was Tutukaka and a “Perfect Day”.
Perfect Day was the boat and non-diver sister program of Dive! Tutukaka, one of the dive operations servicing Poor Knights Islands, the islands we could see offshore. Jacques Cousteau had apparently said at one time that it was “one of the top ten dive sites in the world”. I don’t dive anymore but if it’s good enough for Jacques Cousteau…
There were quite a few people on board including several children, this being summer holidays and all, but it didn’t feel crowded. There were a few divers among them, who suited up and entered the water before everyone else, but I suspect they were part of non-diving groups. I did notice several other dedicated dive boats anchored not far from us, so no doubt it is a popular dive location. The crew were as expected, young, friendly, fit, tanned and good looking; the captain and tour narrator was a bit of a stand up comic. On board Perfect Day for our day trip to the islands were wetsuits, masks, flippers, kayaks, paddleboards, showers, lunch…I went snorkeling twice along the cliff shoreline, bobbing along in the small waves and currents, watching the kelp sway and peering into the shapes and movements of life below. “Remember this” I told myself. “Remember this”. I hovered above a mass of bubbles rising to the surface from well below me, glittering in the sunshine. Divers below. I wished I was still there.
Poor Knights Islands was named by Captain Cook during his exploration and mapping of these waters for reasons unfortunately he did not record at the time. Around 1820 there was a Maori settlement there, where the people farmed and fished, until one day the warrior men went off to fight their enemy tribe, leaving the women, children and elders at home. While they were gone, another group of enemy bad guys, alerted to the fact that the settlement was undefended, landed on the island and murdered most people. When the men returned it was to this scene of sorrow and destruction. The settlement was abandoned after that, it was a sacred place in their story and no one was to live there again.
In more recent times the islands have been designated as marine and nature reserves and no one is allowed to even land on them. As a result of these many years of isolation, as well as its own micro climate where warm ocean currents converge, the islands have a unique ecosystem, far from introduced plant species that become invasive (agapanthus?) and animal and human predators. They are a nesting refuge for many migratory birds including some that travel back and forth from the Arctic, pausing here to nest. Among the many and varied species on the island are the world’s largest insect as well as – wait for it – the world’s only surviving dinosaur, the tuatara, Or so they say. As I said, we weren’t allowed to land.
What we could see from the boat as we traveled around and through the islands before heading back to shore was a landscape of huge cliffs emerging from the sea, with many archways and tunnels and caves at its edges. We entered what was described as the world’s largest sea cave to see up close the walls streaked with colours and shapes from its erosion by the salt sea below and the dripping through from the land above for however many years since this island erupted and cooled.
Back on land at the marina after, yes, a perfect day, I watched as the boats were cleaned, gear was offloaded for cleaning, crew and dive instructors headed for the bar where groups of divers were hunched over their log books pen in hand. It took me back.
After four days in Northland and some pretty heavy duty relaxing we headed back down the highway to Auckland airport and a short flight to Wellington where we were to stop for a couple of days before taking another boat over to South Island and more good times.