The versatility of “freedom camping” in a van…
Here on the beach at Waipu, cosseted in the luxurious interior of Car-lotta, I was lullabied to sleep by the sound of the rolling surf just metres from the door.
The gentle rock of the van was a combination of the reverberating snore of Navigator Simon and a breeze that had worked its way in and around the Waipu dunes, playfully licking the suspension of our home away from home.
After awaking to the smell of coffee beans and fresh croissants from Car-lotta’s kitchen, (we may be in the country but we are not savages) Navigator and I separated; the last I saw of Simon was a bright yellow vision wobbling off down towards the Brynderwyns’ and Auckland on his Vespa, top heavy and overloaded with the fresh fish, chocolate and eggs that he had collected at our numerous stops on our way up the coast.
Now I am free to hit the open road solo, turn up some Bob Marley and chill with the wind in my hair … wind in my hair? Ooops, that's the ceiling vent I accidentally left open. Note to self - check all windows and hatches before leaving the safety of your site, especially making sure that the van is disconnected from “Shore” power. (A real beginner’s oversight.)
Judging by the traffic, New Zealanders seem to have taken to the road just as I have and are discovering our beautiful country. Although unlike yesterday’s drive to Waipu, the trip today would have no stops until I reached the peak of the hill marking the entrance to Paihia and the Bay of Islands.
When my family first arrived here to live in the late 60s, Paihia had 12 motels. Now there are hundreds of them, and at least three camping grounds. It was promoted then as the Winterless North - a name that sticks today.
New Zealand was a very different place then. When a Kiwi went on holiday, they either came here to the Bay of Islands, Rotorua, or maybe, if they were adventurous, Napier. People rarely travelled overseas and if you went to Australia or Fiji, you were very posh. The Bay was as exotic as it got, with its 144 islands of all shapes and sizes, its crystal clear water, dolphins and stunning scenery, all of which fortunately hasn’t changed.
Here in the new 'Covid World', this area is being rediscovered by Kiwis and now that we are open again it's pumping to the vibe of a different beat with clutches of jandaled tourists wearing Hawaiian shirts and shorts. I feel at home - as if I’d never left.
I spent a formative childhood here, swimming, sailing, riding horses along the beach and generally being a kid. We raided orchards and played truant from school (sorry Mother). Our childhood here really was idyllic; we barely knew what shoes were for. We would leave home in the morning to play and as long as we got home by dark, we weren't in too much trouble. Today the town has matured and grown but its charms still remain - pristine beaches, a safe harbour and more to do on a lazy afternoon than you could shake a li-lo at.
Parking Car-lotta on the waterfront in Ti Bay in front of our old family homestead, I am able to explore the versatility of “freedom camping” in a van. Unplugged of external power sources and relying on the house battery, I am completely self sufficient with all the joys of home, including Neon, Netflix, and a fridge full of provisions.
After a swim and a few glasses of bubbles the day led to dusk with a reunion of old school friends investigating my bar and new mobile abode. We set up the van’s BBQ on the beach, made a cheese platter and watched the sea gulls scrap and scream over the crackers and morsels that flew their way.
The Bay Of Islands had become a big port for cruise ships pre-Covid. This time of year it would normally be packed with day trippers revelling in what the area has to offer. Now that it's bereft of foreigners, the area is quickly adapting to the new environment. The harbour may be empty of liners, but it’s now full of small pleasure boats, sailing vessels and the several pods of dolphins which frolic here.
As dusk gave way to night and the stars appeared, the gentle lap of the waves on the beach replaced the distant memory of Auckland’s traffic and Ponsonby's nightlife - replaced but not forgotten. (ROSS THORBY)
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