TRAVEL
Whales, beaches and glaciers on a road trip to New Zealand
Sally Warren took her family on a tour of Hobbit country by camper van
I fell in love with New Zealand watching it on the big screen.
For years I held the epic scenery from The Lord of the Rings in my mind: the misty mountains, the blue rivers and the rolling countryside with the Hobbit holes.
But it didn’t occur to me to go there because it was too far, too expensive, too traumatic a flight, especially with a young child. Perhaps, unconsciously, I didn’t want the reality to spoil my dream of the place.
When a friend suggested a road trip in a camper van – a relatively keenly priced way to see the country – my husband and I were hesitant.
Once we shook ourselves out of our torpor, thanks in no small part to our 11-year-old son, who shares my cultish Tolkien devotion, we realised this would be our very own Bilbo Baggins-style adventure.
And so it proved. New Zealand is magisterially beautiful on a different scale to any place I’d visited before.
From shell-strewn, golden beaches to Garden of Eden-like fjords, it is incomparable.
Once in Auckland, we took a short domestic flight to Christchurch, the largest city in the South Island.
There we took ownership of our Maui campervan, dubbed The Beast for its impressive size, and escaped into the wilderness.
Our itinerary, organised by the Caravan and Motorhome Club, took us on a mostly coastal route anticlockwise along the top of the South Island and down the west coast to Queenstown.
We would spend only two days in the North Island, visiting the Hobbiton film set, a promise to my son and to me.
Our first stop, after a three-hour drive from Christchurch along the east coast, was the small town of Kaikoura, chosen mainly for its whale-watching opportunities.
To my sceptical mind it was inconceivable that we would see a whale. In fact we saw eight: two sperm whales and six orcas.
It was the first of our once-in-a-lifetime experiences and a magical moment for our son.
Continuing along State Highway One, watching the seals from our windows, we headed to Kaiteriteri.
This tiny resort is the gateway to the Abel Tasman National Park, the smallest of New Zealand’s 13 protected parks.
Its long stretches of empty, glittering beaches skirt a wilderness reserve wild with the sound of birdsong.
Our campsite was a stone’s throw from the beach and afforded spectacular views of the southern skies and their sunsets.
We spent three magical days here, one walking along the Abel Tasman coastal track listening to tui and bellbirds.
We also went kayaking.
Our wonderful Australian guide showed us stingrays and made us a picnic on some rocks by the Falls River.
When a seal popped its head up alongside our son’s kayak, the boy whooped for joy.
We had deliberately restricted our itinerary and allowed ourselves several days in some places; others we stopped for a night.
But the freedom of a camper van comes at a price: namely unappealing domestic tasks like emptying the toilet and although comfortable, The Beast was still tight for space. At moments, I feared we might end up killing each other at the sewage dumping station.
But we quickly transitioned and the Beast became a breeze to run. New Zealand’s campsites are clean and well-equipped with laundries, hot showers and kitchens, plus hot tubs, games rooms, cafes and all-important Wi-Fi.
It was tough leaving Kaiteriteri. But then it was tough to leave almost everywhere we went.
For the next six days we travelled along the wild west coast, stopping at remote places like Punakaiki, famed for its pancake rocks and blowholes, where columns of water shoot skyward from ancient stone formations.
At Franz Josef we trekked for an hour and a half to see the glacier of the same name.
When we finally arrived in Wanaka, after a week on the road, we were surprised to see people and shops again.
We stayed by this beautiful lakeside town for two days, the highlight being a very fast jet-boat ride along the Matukituki River into Mount Aspiring National Park.
Once we’d conquered The Beast’s domestic duties and the South Island roads we found we became free in all senses.
Our son, away from the cool code of his London friendships, became a laughing, hugging, affectionate child once again.
This was an unexpected and total joy.
One of our last stops before leaving the South Island was Milford Sound, described by Rudyard Kipling as the eighth wonder of the world. It is the only fjord in New Zealand accessible by road but, thanks to its remote location, has remained unspoilt.
Bounded by steep cliffs, waterfalls and dense rainforest, my husband remarked that it was like Eden before the Fall.
We took an overnight cruise on the fjord, going kayaking from the ship as the sun went down.
The following morning, about two minutes from docking, a pod of dolphins swam alongside the boat.
And yet it wasn’t quite over. We left the South Island for Auckland, from where we would be flying home, but not before one last trip: Hobbiton, where they filmed The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.
As we walked past those intricately detailed Hobbit homes, to my astonishment, I found myself welling up with emotion.
It had been an unexpected journey – just like Bilbo Baggins’s – and we returned home ready for another adventure. – The Telegraph
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