Part 2: Blights and Blessings

Hunua Ranges Regional Park rises from the peripheral towns of Auckland’s south-east, a bush-covered range of hills mirroring the Waitakere Ranges that overlook the north-west of the city. Barely half an hour’s drive from Manukau and through the satellite towns of Papakura and Clevedon, we turned a corner and laid eyes on the spectacularly inviting turquoise waters and chalky white coral sand beaches that edge the Firth of Thames. The weather had improved, and compared with the rugged wind-battered coast of Muriwai and Piha, the body of water in Kawakawa Bay was a millpond, protected from the open Pacific by the spinal peaks of the Coramandel Pensinsula on the horizon. We followed the coastline round, finding more empty picture-perfect beaches, and after traversing winding climbs and descents worthy of the Tour de France, we eventually came across a tiny campsite beside the sea, Tapapakanga.

Auckland’s regional parks are home to an abundance of little campsites littered amongst the hills and bays. Council-run, they cost $5 - $10 per night and are marvellous little escapist idylls. They’re not manned and maintained like a private holiday park, and the facilities are rarely beyond a long-drop and a tap for drinking water, but for small cost we had a beachfront campsite all to ourselves, barely seeing another soul for two days. An information board and phone with a direct line to a central office allow you to make your bookings, before a park ranger does their rounds late in the evening to ensure visitors have paid for the privilege. People pay thousands – even millions – on a private beach. We got ours for under £10. Tapakanga beach was long and white, a thin strip with shallow, clear blue waters one side and bright red, crumbling cliffs on the other. Giant ancient trees twisted their way into the rock face, clinging on for dear life, while the bleached skeletal remains of those trees unlucky to have already collapsed into the sea made the shoreline look Jurassic. We were in blissful solitude, sharing the beautiful surroundings with only each other, or so we thought…

Of all the things we left in the van while she was repaired, there is one item I bitterly regret forgetting: insect repellent. The local critters decided to make us acutely aware that we were not alone. After a few days amidst the wilderness, my feet had amassed a brutal collection of bites. Little black Sandflies had decimated my lower legs, while mosquitos made short work of making their presence known. All in all, I had over thirty bites. My blotchy, swollen feet looked like I was in suffering a bout of syphilis unfortunately coinciding with elephantiasis. If any of you reading this take only one lesson home from this entry, let it be this one: Sunscreen will save your life; Insect repellent will save your sanity. I’ve been itching non-stop since.

It had been a week since the van went back to the garage, so we called Dave again to see what progress had been made. He confirmed the worst-case scenario -  a blown head gasket – but assured us that the van would be ready for the following day. We spent the next night amongst the rolling bush of Hunua Ranges park, again with a campsite to ourselves, and visited nearby Hunua Falls the next morning. Sure enough we had the van back by the afternoon.

Sadly, I’d missed out on the travel writer opportunity in Napier, but I wasn’t resentful. We had no commitments again, so after a moment of deliberation we decided our next stop should be the steamy thermal town of Rotorua, and finally hit the road.

Part 1: Blow-out

Setting out on this journey, I knew some things would come to test our strength of character. But I hadn’t counted on these trials coming so soon.

If we’ve learnt one thing quicker than anything else, it’s that New Zealand is not a cheap place to visit. After the initial purchase of the van and all its necessary tranklements, we soon realised that we could do with a job sooner rather than later. Many jobs suitable for backpackers are posted on an invaluable website, and within moments I’d found my ideal job: Travel Writer and Researcher. While the position wasn’t paid, it instead promised a roof and bed, laundry and some comfortable living. Based in Napier, a city at the far south-eastern corner of the North Island, the accommodation was to be provided in the form of a converted old prison on the seafront – a quirky chance to call a jail cell ‘home’, and could give us the chance to explore the vineyards and coastline of Hawkes Bay, so I drafted a quick cover email and applied immediately. Within moments, I had a reply, “When can you start?”.

So, remember the van I told you about in my last post? Our ‘awesome’ van? Well, it turned out that its awesomeness was little more than a façade. Little over an hour after I had posted my previous blog entry, our mobile home came to a steaming halt on the side of the motorway as we hoped to leave the Auckland region for pastures new. So much for paying that extra cash for our peace of mind. Immediately, we called the guy we bought it from, as we had certainly not put the vehicle through its paces in the few days we’d had her. Thankfully, it had turned out we’d bought from a good dealer; that extra cash wasn’t completely lost. He apologetically arranged for a tow back to his garage, and we soon found ourselves amongst the warehouses, cheap motels and car dealerships of on the edge Manukau.

At first, Dave’s prognosis seemed fairly optimistic. “Oh, it’s probably a couple of valves that have just seen better days. It should be ready for ya by tomorrow”. He lent us his Volvo estate as courtesy car, and we turned back to Matt and Fiona’s with our tails between our legs. With Dave’s optimism fresh in our minds, we headed back to Manukau late the following afternoon, but the 24 hours had seen Dave’s chirpy diagnosis become rather more solemn. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but ya van is… dying” he said, trying to hold back tears. “I’m sorry for ya loss”. And with that, he collapsed into hysterical weeping.

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but it was decidedly worse than a seized valve. It turned out that it could be a blocked radiator, or failing that, the head gasket had blown-out. I’m not a mechanical man, but I know that either of those aren’t good and generally mean a much lighter wallet on the horizon, potentially even a write-off. But Dave assured us that he would cover the cost of any work done, seemingly ashamed that he’d sold a faulty vehicle. Trundling away in the Volvo, we resigned ourselves to the tiny two-man tent I’d brought with us as an emergency back-up, and we found the nearest campsite.

After a couple of days and no update on the van’s condition, we realised that this gave us the opportunity to explore areas that we would have otherwise passed by. Initially, we headed out west again, visiting a windy Waikato beach. The shoreline shared the same black sand found on Piha and Muriwai, but the wind tore the surf to shreds and the cloud cover made sunbathing or swimming unappealing so we didn’t linger. The drive over, however, took us to our first Lord of the Rings film location. The karst limestone scenery nestled behind the seafront cliffs provided the backdrop of the Weathertop set, but identifying the actual rocky prominence of the set amongst the white crags and rocky crenulations seemed impossible. With our morale dampened and the likelihood that we weren’t going to get the van back in the next few days, we decided to take our chances and head out to the east coast for a change.

Auckland, Wheels and the Ranges

Finally, after a week of scouring Auckland's second hand car auctions, markets and Trademe.co.nz, we have ourselves a campervan. A 1992 Mitsubishi Delica to be precise -  a decorator's old van, splattered with emulsion, its doors not without their dents, and containing a roughly-hewn bed frame and mattress in the back. It's not luxury living, but at the least it's a space we can call our home as we make our way around the country.

But the search certainly hasn't been without its benefits. With a trusty A-to-Z, we have criss-crossed the city and can now say we know Auckland like the back of our hand. It's a unique metropolis. Sandwiched between two harbours, it sits on a narrow land bridge, framed by forested hills to the north and an iconic harbour bridge to the east, and all of it is dominated by the futuristic concrete spire of the Sky Tower, reaching from the heart of the city. While the centre itself is far more administrative than anything else, the edges of the city - the harbour with its countless yacht sails and rich seafood market, or the northern seafront lined by the Cloud complex, provide far more tourist interest. Boat trips out to the nearby island nature reserves of Rangitoto and Motutapo thrive on the fringes of the main harbour, beside charming 19th century buildings that echo the city's past as New Zealand's old capital. 

One thing the city is not short of is food. Auckland is a rich multicultural hub drawing a fusion of every kind of cooking from the world over, and although there isn't a lot of shopping to be done in the centre, there is no scarcity of places to eat. After hungered deliberation, we eventually decided to eat at the Waterfront Cafe, situated by the water's edge, beside the Maritime Museum. Despite being on a tight budget, we enjoyed a magnificent creamy chowder for only $17. Tummies full, we made our way to the Sky Tower, but while the prospect of flinging ourselves off the 328m high building appealed, the chowder made sure we would save it for another day.

Our hunt for for a vehicle went on, and took us to Manukau - a district towards the south of city. While most of the area is unremarkable - comprised mainly of garages, suburbs and car markets - the place is home to the glorious Auckland Regional Botantic Gardens, a swathe of parkland celebrating the diversity of the island nation's plant life, but also a reminder of the threats that many native species here face. 

Anyway, we found a van. An awesome van. The week of hunting gave us the chance needed to gauge what we could get for our money and buy from a trustworthy source. We ended up paying $3250 - admittedly rather higher than I had budgeted for - but with it came the assurance of a fresh Warranty of Fitness (or WOF, the NZ equivalent of an MOT), a fresh service and younger model than other vans we had seen for a similar price bracket (1992 may sound old, but the vehicles here aren't subject to the same ravages of salt and rust as in the UK). After a couple of days cleaning her up, kitting her out, and expelling the resident ant colony from beneath the passenger seat, she was ready to roll. Amy, Fiona and Olivia had replaced the garish olive green and fuchsia pink floral curtains with new blue ones crafted from an old besheet, while Matt and I tightened up a wing mirror with a piece of wetsuit, true surfer-van style.

Spending our first night in the van at Muriwai beach (we kept it local to start with), we decided to explore the Waitakere Ranges Regional Park properly, taking Scenic Drive right through the rainforest to Piha, a community on the steep hillsides where the rainforests drop down and meet the Tasman sea. The winding road snaked through kilometres of dense vegetation, and when the chance to explore it and stretch our legs came, we quickly took it up. As we rounded yet another hairpin bend, we spotted a sign for 'Fairy Falls' - a blink-and-you-miss-it entrance to a well-made pathway that takes you under the canopy of palm fronds, tree ferns and vines. After half an hour of walking, the rush of running water became louder, and the path began to descend deeper in the valley, suddenly opening up to a spectacular, paradisaical cascade. The ascent back to the car was taxing in the humidity, but well worth it.

The road wound its way some more through the rainforest before the trees quickly opened out to the coast - beaches of black sand interrupted by the volcanic monolith of Lion Rock set right in the middle of the bay. Though famed for its consistent surf, the swell had apparently decided to have a rest for our time there. We spent our first night of freedom camping there, and apart from getting the van stuck in stuck in sand and having to be dug out by locals, it was altogether rather successful. Waking to drizzle and decimated by mosquito bites, we climbed the precarious walkway up Lion Rock the following morning to take in the majesty of the bay, with it's gnarled, crumbling rock faces staring out into the grey sea, or looking back at the endless hills of rainforest behind. Even in the miserable drizzle, it was glorious.