When I opened the Facebook message inviting me to Cape Reinga for the weekend, needless to say I was thrilled. I was happy to be included in what promised to be a great weekend with friends I had met just days ago, and as soon as I saw Shay that day I knew we were both sold on the idea.
One aspect of New Zealand that never ceases to amaze me is the spontaneity of the country and the people in it. If these were my friends and I back in the US I have no doubt that this trip would have been planned at least a week in advance with definite accommodation arrangements and a solid itinerary. However, here on the island of New Zealand we were informed of the trip on the Wednesday before we were supposed to leave.
When the girls organizing the trip received an overwhelming response from people wanting to join the trip they decided to relocate the destination from Cape Reinga to the more easily accessible Coromandel peninsula. Practicing our new “go with the flow” philosophy, Shay and I agreed to the change of plans and let the girls continue their planning. As someone who likes to be in control, it was interesting and somewhat unnerving to not be the one planning and making decisions.
When I found out late Thursday night that only an eight person vehicle had been secured as transportation for the trip, I thought my fears had been relevant. Not having control meant loosing out on getting a spot in the van. Then, another car was rented and filled within minutes. It appeared as though everyone in our residence hall was going away and Shay and I were going to miss out on the whole experience.
Luckily, we didn’t give up! After hours of texting and knocking on doors we met Sophie, from Canada, and Matt, from England, flatmates from 23. In true spontaneous, New Zealand fashion we introduced ourselves and decided to travel together. Sophie and I exchanged numbers and without specific transportation or sleeping arrangements we planned to leave the next day around 3.
The next day I woke up and packed for what was an unclear, but sure to be eventful weekend. Sophie and Matt had found a car, but we still had no plans as to where we would be spending the night. As we were about to leave we acquired another travel companion. Matt from Canada had won a coin toss and therefore the fifth and final seat in the car. We packed the car, put on music, and headed for Coromandel… Lonely Planet in hand.
On our way to Coromandel I was quickly acquainted with my new travel mates. We exchanged information about where we were from, our home universities, what programs we studies, what classes we were taking, and various other topics. After a few hours and quite a few sing-a-longs, we had made it to Coromandel and we were faced with the task of making it to the town of Whitianga, and possibly even more importantly, finding a place to stay the night.
Upon entering Whitianga, Matt (our designated driver due to England’s similar choice to drive on the wrong side of the road) spotted a sign that ensured a Gazebo Lookout. Unsure of what to expect, we stopped on the side of the road and hiked up what appeared as only a few stairs but turned out to be a treacherous combination of winding stairs and hills. However, it was well worth the climb when we stumbled upon the Gazebo and were rewarded with breathtaking views of the town. A gorgeous inlet and beach houses tucked into the hills.
After our mini detour we proceeded to look for accommodations. The rest of our 18 person group had arranged to stay at a local hostel named “The Cat’s Pyjamas.” Unfortunately the hostel was full as were all of the other backpackers in town. After driving around for what seemed like hours in a town not more than one square mile we were losing hope fast due to the overwhelming number of “No Vacancy” signs prominently displayed outside of every hotel and motel. That is until we came across Holiday Park, a campsite on the outskirts of the town center complete with a pet goat. They had one cabin left and we took it and planned on moving to The Cat’s Pyjamas the next night.
We finally rejoined the other cars and went out on the town (and by town I mean what appeared to be the one and only street that housed commercial properties) for dinner (and by dinner I mean a fish burger and chips in the local sports pub). It was fantastic. We ended the night with great live music (a la Sophie) and a few drinks under the starlit sky on the beach.
Saturday I was the first one up, obviously, and after getting dressed and repacking I patiently waited for my cabin mates to do the same. Two hours later we had eaten and checked into the hostel for our next night in Whitianga. We set out for what we had heard was a secret, locals-only beach rated one of the top 20 beaches in the world. With nothing more than a simple road map we proceeded on the winding roads. Dedicated to our adventure and refusing to ask for directions we went a little out of the way. However on our detour Matt spotted what appeared to be a rope swing hanging from a tree above an abandoned creek. Without question we evacuated the car and took turns jumping into the freezing water.
After traveling a bit further down the road we located the entrance to the beach. Not only was the “secret beach” hidden by another beach proceeding it but we had to make it past the high tide, over piles of unsecured rocks, and up the side of a cliff. (Oh and did I mention we did this all without any form of shoes due to the fact that we decided to do as the Kiwis do and declare Saturday barefoot day).
The hike was well worth it. On the other side of the cliff we were greeted by the most beautiful beach I had ever seen. I was in pure bliss and my feet accepted the warm sand with a running start. We set up camp on the seemingly deserted beach and headed for the water. The warm waves were welcomed and we spent the better part of the day alternating between the soft sand and glittering waves.
It was a day for the history books, apart from nothing actually occurring other than watching some insanely
gorgeous surfers and finishing a few more chapters of my book. The hike back to the car was much easier than our hour trek to the beach and after hours in the sun we said goodbye to our secret beach.
We took a quick detour for some fish n chips by the harbor, complete with traditional newspaper wrappings. (That means I’ve had fish four times since being in New Zealand?!) We then headed to Hot Water Beach to locate the other 12 people we had come to Coromandel with. Hot Water Beach was a really cool idea, but a bit overrated in my opinion. The idea is that at certain points before and after high tide, you can dig a hole and because of some geothermal something or other when the water fills the whole you have your own personal hot tub.
Of course we were able to locate the hot spots, but it was quite a challenge to dig the appropriate holes without them being destroyed by the surf. Even at low tide the waves crashed to the shore with amazing force and kept us, and everyone else on the beach, from experiencing the “amazing Hot Water Beach.” The waves were so strong that while standing over one of the hot spots my feet were knocked out from under me and I landed on the spade one of the boys was using to dig a whole. This resulted in a painful hole in my foot and thus the end of our time on Hot Water Beach.
We ended the night yet again with a campfire type circle on the beach (minus the actual fire) after a town wide blackout. The townspeople told us that the blackout was a fairly normal occurrence and we proceeded to bond and play silly games on the beach in the pitch black night.
The next morning I had a cup of coco in the courtyard as Rachel and I waited for the rest of the group to rise and shine. There was a bit of conflict as to what everyone wanted to do the next day and I was thankful our laid back, go with the flow car was not part of the tension. We packed our car, said our goodbyes and headed out for another adventure.
After a short trip south we arrived at Cathedral Cove. It was another long trek to the beach and I could feel the hike from the day before in my legs, but luckily there were no cliff to climb this time. The beach was yet again breathtaking. I used to think a beach was a beach, but after visiting the beaches that I did over the weekend, I learned that a beautiful beach was comprised of much more than water and sand. It was the turquoise of the sparkling water, the crash of the waves, the luscious surrounding scenery, and of course the company with whom I enjoyed it.
Another day of sleeping on the beach, soaking up the sun, and playing in the sea ended just a bit too soon as we needed to return to Auckland before dark. Along the way we stopped for a bite to eat and some petrol, but before long the long winding roads and the soothing soundtrack caused the three girls in the backseat to dose off. (Okay, it may have had something to do with the completely exhausting late nights and sunny days)
Overall I had a weekend of pure bliss and it was over too soon. The “go with the flow” philosophy had paid off and even the barefoot Saturday had been rewarding. I made an abundance of new friends and memories to last a lifetime (so cliche, yet so true). While I am not exactly looking forward to classes this week, I still have two days to catch up on my work and I am eagerly looking forward to more weekend trips!
One aspect of New Zealand that never ceases to amaze me is the spontaneity of the country and the people in it. If these were my friends and I back in the US I have no doubt that this trip would have been planned at least a week in advance with definite accommodation arrangements and a solid itinerary. However, here on the island of New Zealand we were informed of the trip on the Wednesday before we were supposed to leave.
When the girls organizing the trip received an overwhelming response from people wanting to join the trip they decided to relocate the destination from Cape Reinga to the more easily accessible Coromandel peninsula. Practicing our new “go with the flow” philosophy, Shay and I agreed to the change of plans and let the girls continue their planning. As someone who likes to be in control, it was interesting and somewhat unnerving to not be the one planning and making decisions.
When I found out late Thursday night that only an eight person vehicle had been secured as transportation for the trip, I thought my fears had been relevant. Not having control meant loosing out on getting a spot in the van. Then, another car was rented and filled within minutes. It appeared as though everyone in our residence hall was going away and Shay and I were going to miss out on the whole experience.
Luckily, we didn’t give up! After hours of texting and knocking on doors we met Sophie, from Canada, and Matt, from England, flatmates from 23. In true spontaneous, New Zealand fashion we introduced ourselves and decided to travel together. Sophie and I exchanged numbers and without specific transportation or sleeping arrangements we planned to leave the next day around 3.
The next day I woke up and packed for what was an unclear, but sure to be eventful weekend. Sophie and Matt had found a car, but we still had no plans as to where we would be spending the night. As we were about to leave we acquired another travel companion. Matt from Canada had won a coin toss and therefore the fifth and final seat in the car. We packed the car, put on music, and headed for Coromandel… Lonely Planet in hand.
On our way to Coromandel I was quickly acquainted with my new travel mates. We exchanged information about where we were from, our home universities, what programs we studies, what classes we were taking, and various other topics. After a few hours and quite a few sing-a-longs, we had made it to Coromandel and we were faced with the task of making it to the town of Whitianga, and possibly even more importantly, finding a place to stay the night.
Upon entering Whitianga, Matt (our designated driver due to England’s similar choice to drive on the wrong side of the road) spotted a sign that ensured a Gazebo Lookout. Unsure of what to expect, we stopped on the side of the road and hiked up what appeared as only a few stairs but turned out to be a treacherous combination of winding stairs and hills. However, it was well worth the climb when we stumbled upon the Gazebo and were rewarded with breathtaking views of the town. A gorgeous inlet and beach houses tucked into the hills.
After our mini detour we proceeded to look for accommodations. The rest of our 18 person group had arranged to stay at a local hostel named “The Cat’s Pyjamas.” Unfortunately the hostel was full as were all of the other backpackers in town. After driving around for what seemed like hours in a town not more than one square mile we were losing hope fast due to the overwhelming number of “No Vacancy” signs prominently displayed outside of every hotel and motel. That is until we came across Holiday Park, a campsite on the outskirts of the town center complete with a pet goat. They had one cabin left and we took it and planned on moving to The Cat’s Pyjamas the next night.
We finally rejoined the other cars and went out on the town (and by town I mean what appeared to be the one and only street that housed commercial properties) for dinner (and by dinner I mean a fish burger and chips in the local sports pub). It was fantastic. We ended the night with great live music (a la Sophie) and a few drinks under the starlit sky on the beach.
Saturday I was the first one up, obviously, and after getting dressed and repacking I patiently waited for my cabin mates to do the same. Two hours later we had eaten and checked into the hostel for our next night in Whitianga. We set out for what we had heard was a secret, locals-only beach rated one of the top 20 beaches in the world. With nothing more than a simple road map we proceeded on the winding roads. Dedicated to our adventure and refusing to ask for directions we went a little out of the way. However on our detour Matt spotted what appeared to be a rope swing hanging from a tree above an abandoned creek. Without question we evacuated the car and took turns jumping into the freezing water.
After traveling a bit further down the road we located the entrance to the beach. Not only was the “secret beach” hidden by another beach proceeding it but we had to make it past the high tide, over piles of unsecured rocks, and up the side of a cliff. (Oh and did I mention we did this all without any form of shoes due to the fact that we decided to do as the Kiwis do and declare Saturday barefoot day).
The hike was well worth it. On the other side of the cliff we were greeted by the most beautiful beach I had ever seen. I was in pure bliss and my feet accepted the warm sand with a running start. We set up camp on the seemingly deserted beach and headed for the water. The warm waves were welcomed and we spent the better part of the day alternating between the soft sand and glittering waves.
It was a day for the history books, apart from nothing actually occurring other than watching some insanely
gorgeous surfers and finishing a few more chapters of my book. The hike back to the car was much easier than our hour trek to the beach and after hours in the sun we said goodbye to our secret beach.
We took a quick detour for some fish n chips by the harbor, complete with traditional newspaper wrappings. (That means I’ve had fish four times since being in New Zealand?!) We then headed to Hot Water Beach to locate the other 12 people we had come to Coromandel with. Hot Water Beach was a really cool idea, but a bit overrated in my opinion. The idea is that at certain points before and after high tide, you can dig a hole and because of some geothermal something or other when the water fills the whole you have your own personal hot tub.
Of course we were able to locate the hot spots, but it was quite a challenge to dig the appropriate holes without them being destroyed by the surf. Even at low tide the waves crashed to the shore with amazing force and kept us, and everyone else on the beach, from experiencing the “amazing Hot Water Beach.” The waves were so strong that while standing over one of the hot spots my feet were knocked out from under me and I landed on the spade one of the boys was using to dig a whole. This resulted in a painful hole in my foot and thus the end of our time on Hot Water Beach.
We ended the night yet again with a campfire type circle on the beach (minus the actual fire) after a town wide blackout. The townspeople told us that the blackout was a fairly normal occurrence and we proceeded to bond and play silly games on the beach in the pitch black night.
The next morning I had a cup of coco in the courtyard as Rachel and I waited for the rest of the group to rise and shine. There was a bit of conflict as to what everyone wanted to do the next day and I was thankful our laid back, go with the flow car was not part of the tension. We packed our car, said our goodbyes and headed out for another adventure.
After a short trip south we arrived at Cathedral Cove. It was another long trek to the beach and I could feel the hike from the day before in my legs, but luckily there were no cliff to climb this time. The beach was yet again breathtaking. I used to think a beach was a beach, but after visiting the beaches that I did over the weekend, I learned that a beautiful beach was comprised of much more than water and sand. It was the turquoise of the sparkling water, the crash of the waves, the luscious surrounding scenery, and of course the company with whom I enjoyed it.
Another day of sleeping on the beach, soaking up the sun, and playing in the sea ended just a bit too soon as we needed to return to Auckland before dark. Along the way we stopped for a bite to eat and some petrol, but before long the long winding roads and the soothing soundtrack caused the three girls in the backseat to dose off. (Okay, it may have had something to do with the completely exhausting late nights and sunny days)
Overall I had a weekend of pure bliss and it was over too soon. The “go with the flow” philosophy had paid off and even the barefoot Saturday had been rewarding. I made an abundance of new friends and memories to last a lifetime (so cliche, yet so true). While I am not exactly looking forward to classes this week, I still have two days to catch up on my work and I am eagerly looking forward to more weekend trips!
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