7th May 2017

Jamie was up early, watching the sunrise, while I indulged in a few more precious minutes of blissful sleep, snug in my wonderfully cosy sleeping bag. Our camper van is equipped with duvets, blankets, and pillows for four people, but I think I’ll stick with the sleeping bag I brought along.

The van is similar to the one we had in Australia, but it feels far more sophisticated. The equipment slides easily into place rather than needing to be assembled. We have our own WiFi, microwave, gas hob, and fridge, along with radios and a sound system in both the front and back, plus the all-important USB sockets.

It was another day of clear blue skies.

When Jamie returned with stories of a stunning beach just 25 metres away, I had to see for myself. He wasn’t exaggerating: white sand, little islets just offshore, and a shimmering blue sea. I took plenty of photos.

We had a simple breakfast of cereal before setting off early to catch the tide at our next destination, the rather misleadingly named Hot Water Beach. It lay about twenty minutes south, along a winding coastal road with hardly any traffic so early on a Saturday morning.

As we descended into the small bay, steam rising from the surf was clearly visible. After parking, we decided to take a look around before changing into our trunks and grabbing a towel. Near an outcrop of rocks beside a sandstone cliff, we spotted a handful of early risers, busy with spades, digging holes in the sand. The idea was to let the holes fill with water heated by the thermal activity below. Some were already lounging in the pools, while others dug furiously, eager to secure the best spots.

Curious, we dipped our fingers into one of the pools, not quite as warm as we’d hoped. Moments later, a wave rolled in, flooding the freshly dug holes and sweeping away towels and clothing. The surprised occupants scrambled, lifting themselves onto their fingertips and toes to escape the unwelcome chill of the seawater.

We decided not to bother and made our way back along the beach to the van.

Our next destination was Mount Maunganui. Driving in New Zealand is a joy, the scenery is diverse and spectacular, with every bend revealing a new vista of lush valleys, ancient volcanoes, or breathtaking seascapes. Cows are everywhere, but surprisingly few sheep. You won’t travel far in this country without encountering a rugby pitch, it’s odd-ball heaven!

We made several stops along the way, some to snap photos, once for a quick wander around a bustling Saturday market, and another to deal with our rogue tyre. A firmly embedded screw had left it deflated. Spotting a tyre shop, we pulled in and explained the issue. To our surprise, they repaired it without charging a penny.

I may have misjudged the Kiwis, long believed to be part of some dark rugby force, intent on obliterating all that is good and English. As it turns out, they’re really rather pleasant. Lovely, even. Though clearly, they’ve no idea how to make a living!

Mount Maunganui sits just outside Tauranga City and, while not towering, is visible from quite a distance. It’s a seaside resort with a touch of sophistication (so naturally, a perfect stop for us). We easily found a parking space, they’re all free, and changed into shorts and T-shirts as the day began to heat up.

We chose the more direct (and therefore steeper) route to the summit. A fair amount of sweat was sacrificed, and by the time we reached the top, we were panting heavily. But the effort was well rewarded, the views on all sides were spectacular, made even better by the glistening azure sea stretching out on three sides.

Climbing to the top seems to be a rite of passage for visitors. Some even ran up it, well, they ran past us at least. I can’t say what happened once they were out of sight, but I imagine they were probably bent over in the bushes somewhere. That might explain why it’s so green up there!

As with our ascent, we took our time heading back down. At the foot of the mountain, we checked the van into a small trailer park and were fortunate to secure a spot right next to the beach.

Afterwards, we wandered into the small town, found a place to eat, and devoured two enormous burgers, washed down with suitable refreshments. A bit of window shopping followed before we strolled onto the beach. Crossing a narrow strip of sand, we climbed onto a small offshore island. Alongside several other tourists, we explored its charms.

We made our way back to the van along the water’s edge, Jamie barefoot and in wet shorts, while I searched the high tide line for interesting shells (I found none that would have impressed Sue). I spent the next couple of hours in the van, watching the world go by, listening to rock music, while Jamie went off for a wander.

Being Saturday night, we ventured back into town and paused at a sports bar to watch a Super Twelve rugby match on TV. A friendly couple struck up a conversation, curious about where we were from, which passed the time pleasantly. Later, we grabbed a couple of subs from Subway and ate at the outdoor tables. It was a warm, balmy evening, and we couldn’t help but wonder where everyone was. Downtown Maunganui felt peaceful and still.

Returning to the van, Jamie dedicated some time to splatting the mosquitoes that had somehow breached our defences. We played cards until sleep eventually called time on the game.