Beaches and being behind the wheel.

An Auckland Adventure:
August 3 – Sunday

We had to get up early on Sunday to make sure we gave ourselves ample time to get lost on the way to Pakiri. We knew the drive would take at least an hour and a half, and we had made a booking for 10 a.m., so we left the hostel at 7:30. I’m sure we woke Una and Melinda up with our scuffling and packing, but it really couldn’t be helped. Since we were flying out later that night, we had to take all of our things with us. This included, for Jamie and Andrea, giant bags of guide books and brochures they’d acquired on Friday and now didn’t have anywhere to put except in large, crinkly plastic bags.

We hit the road with Jamie driving once again and me navigating. It wasn’t too bad, though it would have perhaps been less stressful had it not been raining.

We managed to make our way to Highway 1 and get over the harbor bridge. (Though, when we were on the bridge, Jamie and Andrea kept insisting we weren’t because we were to the side of the metal bits of the bridge and not under them, so I had to tell them we were “on the fucking bridge!”) From there, it was highway driving for a bit, and we all settled down.

Jamie pulled over at a rest stop so we could grab breakfast and so I could take over the wheel. I ended up driving us all the way to Pakiri. Driving wasn’t as difficult as I’d feared. The hardest part was not getting the windshield wipers and turn signals confused, since they’re opposite where I’m used to them being. We all had a problem with this, and I’m sure other cars really appreciated us signaling our turns with a flick of our wipers.. heh.

But really, things went well. The roads got more and more windy the further north we went, but the landscape was worth it. We were back into rolling green hills and mountains, and awesome forestscapes. When we got far enough up north, we even got peeks of ocean every now and then between the trees.

We only made a wrong turn once, and it was – of course – not five minutes after Andrea noted how we hadn’t gotten lost yet. We amended our mistake quickly, however, and I pulled a U-turn right after a one-lane bridge (a New Zealand favorite). We were out in farmland by that point, and there were cows watching us by the side of the road. We’d gotten a bit silly by that point, having just finished driving up and down a narrow, twisting mountain road with no shoulder and certainly no guard rails. Our car, a Mazda Familia which we christened Guadalupe – had started making random squealing sounds, and we were beside ourselves trying not to dissolve into giggles.

As a certain white-faced brown cow stared our car down as I made the U-turn, Andrea looked at him and said, very matter-of-fact, “Byron.” Jamie and I were confused, as asked how she knew his name was Byron. “I read his nametag,” she said. Jamie and I didn’t think anything of this, until Andrea started cracking up. Then we realized how stupid it was – “Cows don’t wear nametags!” Andrea finally howled. She wanted a picture of Byron, but we decided we didn’t have enough time to turn around again, and I said we could stop on the way back. “Byron will be beef by then,” Andrea said, again very matter-of-fact. That was pretty much it – we were all laughs until we made it to Pakiri Beach Stables.

Once arriving, we got geared up in rain coats and helmets, and played with the stable’s two dogs, one of which was a dalmation that Andrea was in love with. Our horses were soon ready, and our two trail guides helped us all mount. I was on a reddish-brown horse named Cookie, Jamie got a grey named (inventively) Grey, and Andrea was on a caramel-colored horse name Bailey.

We set out from the paddock as the breeze blew away the last remnants of cloud. Yet again, the weather was in our favor, and the sun lit up the land around us. All was owned by the stable, and we could see we were in for a real treat on this ride.

First we crossed a stream, Andrea’s horse balking at going through, and Andrea helplessly kicking at his sides to try and make him move. This would persist throughout much of the ride – Bailey seemed much more concerned with grabbing a bite to eat than actually walking. Eventually we all crossed, and trekked through some woods for a time, the dogs dashing ahead of us to lead the way.

We eventually reached some sand dunes and, riding between two low ones, took in a breathtaking sight. A white sand beach stretched out before us, small waves breaking on its pristine shore, washing over shells before retreating back again. The sun reflected off the water as sea birds dived in and out of the surf. I still can’t believe I was really there.

We rode down the beach for what seemed like hours, with no other living beings, human or beast, in sight. The dogs chased each other up and down the beach, and the horses seemed to liven up once we got on the sand. Kenny, the Japanese guide with us, took pictures of all of us on horseback. We took plenty of pictures for ourselves, too.

It’s always been a dream of mine to go horseback riding on a beach. And, I must say, the reality of a Pakiri Beach ride quite lived up to my fantasy. Perhaps even surpassed it. The fact that the weather turned out to be perfect for a leisurely ride certainly didn’t hurt, either.

After riding down the beach long enough for it to sink in that we were riding horses on a remote private beach in New Zealand, we headed back up into the dunes. On the way back to the stables, the sea was still visible, glimmering right on the edge of the horizon. I was sad when it finally passed from sight, hidden by the dunes.

After we had dismounted, thanked our guides, and rubbed our sore knees, it was back into the car. Jamie got back behind the wheel, and decided that before we left Pakiri, we needed a picture of Byron the cow. We couldn’t find Byron, however, so we decided to continue driving until we hit (the official) Pakiri Beach. Along the way we came across another brown cow, this one ambling along outside of any fence, chewing grass on the side of the road. Andrea dubbed him Willard, and decided he was Byron’s son.

We arrived at Pakiri Beach along with a few guys with longboards. This beach was just as pretty as the last, and nearly just as deserted. The wind had picked up, and the sand was whipped across the beach and around our feet. We all climbed up a dune to take pictures and to take in the scene. We hunted for sea shells until the clouds started to roll in again and the wind to become chilly. Then we said goodbye to the white sand and crash of surf (for there was surf here, and a few surfers, too) and headed back to Guadalupe.

Andrea took her turn behind the wheel, and got us back to Highway 1. We stopped for lunch at a farm café and had cheese toasties and caramel slices. Andrea also pulled over a few times on the drive back to the highway so we could take some more pictures of spectacular views.

Once we were back on the highway, however, Andrea got a bit flustered. And once a car honked at her for using her wipers instead of a turn signal, she decided to give the wheel back over to Jamie.

Since it was by then late in the afternoon and we had a plane to catch at 7:30, we decided to just drop the car off at the airport and kill time at Sylvia Park in Mt. Wellington, just south of Auckland. We got ourselves there thanks to a map and highway signs (aren’t you proud, Dad?). Sylvia Park is actually just a large shopping center, so we wandered around and got McDonalds and some ice cream.

We left for the airport at 5:30, and were able once again to find our way there, even with Andrea spastically reading out road signs from the backseat. We only had one mishap while driving to the airport: Apparently we took too long turning onto a road, and the guy behind us beeped at us angrily. When we made the turn, we realized we were in the wrong lane, so Jamie signaled to get over, and the guy from behind us pulled up beside us, rolled down his window, blinked at us, and said “Fuck!” and then drove away. It was one of the funniest instances of road rage I’ve ever witnessed.

We stopped to put gas into Guadalupe before dropping her back off at the car rental place, and then we headed for our terminal. Our flight was delayed 20 minutes due to some glitch in a printer, but we didn’t mind. Afer our hectic weekend, we didn’t mind just sitting with nothing to do.

We got back to Wellington without any incident. We got free muffins on the plane, and even scored extras to save for the next day (except Jamie, who ate both her muffins on the plane… pig). I dozed off right before landing, and had the oddest sensation when we touched down. I was aware that I was arriving somewhere, but the jolt of landing made me think I was in a car that was coming up to a toll booth on the Turnpike. I remember wondering if I had correct change before realizing that I was on a plane in New Zealand and nowhere near the Ohio Turnpike.

Exhausted, we caught a shuttle back to our respective residencies, and I went promptly to bed. It was a very satisfying and fun-filled weekend, and I can’t wait to see what else New Zealand has in store for us in the future!