As we got closer to leaving home last summer, New Zealand became part of a triplet placed at the end of a memorized itinerary that we employed to inform friends and family about our journey. “...Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, then back home.” The middle location in that phrase is now our temporary home at the start of autumn in the southern hemisphere, and the land of the kiwis and Middle Earth is a reality for twenty-eight days. One of my good friends is a native New Zealander who has spun tales for years about the beauty of his country, but due to its remote location, I thought I would never have the opportunity or the money to travel there. Other world travelers we know have also told us about the exquisite landscapes of the north and south islands, and we’ve looked forward to beholding them with our own eyes for a long time. So, now that we’re here, does the beauty of the kiwi countryside live up to the descriptions delivered by those lost in fond reveries? Yes, yes, it does.
The three-hour flight from Brisbane, Australia, was pleasant, and we all watched movies to pass the time. My selection was Assasin's Creed which I’m fairly certain didn’t win any Oscars, but it was engaging, and the lush musical score kept me from exploring other options. We were served a huge breakfast of cheese omelets, sausage, and potatoes with greens along with coffee and juice, which made the free flight all the more rewarding. The crew members all hailed from New Zealand, and the periodic announcements were delivered in the distinct and pleasant kiwi accent, similar to the Australian intonation but softer and more satisfying to the ear.
The long-dormant butterflies awakened in my stomach as we touched down in Auckland, and I realized the time had come to drive a car, which I hadn’t done since we traversed the Grecian Peloponnese back in November. Like the other countries headed by Queen Elizabeth, New Zealand requires residents and visitors to drive on the left side of the highway, and along with tales of the verdant countryside, I had heard stories of narrow winding roads full of loose gravel and wandering livestock. Deena used her points magic to book the car for free; her mastery of travel sorcery yielded a roomy chariot with automatic transmission, a first on this journey. When approaching a two-lane roundabout on the left side, it’s nice not to have the added worry about jamming the car into second gear on the opposite side of the body. We loaded our luggage in the boot, and I took a deep breath and entered the flow of traffic leaving the busy airport.
I began to breathe easier as I got used to the traffic patterns, and it helped that the road signs were clearly marked all the way to our destination of Glen Afton, a small village in the countryside about a ninety-minute drive from Auckland. We stopped briefly at a Countdown grocery store in the town of Huntly and filled a shopping cart with supplies for the next few days and pulled into the driveway of our cottage just as the sun was setting over the hills. The twilight chill of autumn crept into the air as we brought our luggage and bags of groceries into the house. We were thankful to be off the road and settled for the day.
The century-old cottage in which we’re staying for the next four days has been equipped with many modern conveniences, but it still retains country charm with original honey-toned oak floor boards marked by woodworm trails and an old woodstove in the parlor—the sole provider of heat. The house has clapboard siding painted white with a small deck wrapping around the rear corner, and it’s bigger inside than it appears outside with three bedrooms and a large kitchen with an old farmhouse table in the corner. The walls are all painted linen white, and the thick moldings and low ceilings produce a cozy feel that recalls simpler times. We enjoyed a quick supper of prepared lasagne, lit a fire, and relaxed in the parlor while the electric blankets warmed up the beds for which we were soon ready after a full day of travel.
I forced myself out of the warm bed into the chilly house not long after sunrise the next day and managed to get a fire going in the stove and water boiling in the coffee pot. The glass doors in the parlor face east, and soon the sun’s rays were pouring into the room adding more warmth. The deep blue backdrop of the New Zealand sky behind the green hills was like a masterpiece hung on the wall. The rest of my crew got up slowly, and after breakfast, the kids began working on their state-required achievement tests while Deena and I researched activities for the afternoon. It was Anzac Day, a national holiday that commemorates servicemen killed in battle and honors veterans. We weren’t sure about closings and such, but we headed out anyway after lunch bound for Bridal Veil Falls, a highly recommended feature at the end of a short hike.
The hour-long drive to the trailhead was easy and picturesque with rolling hills covered in tight, bright green grass and small stands of evergreen trees in the valleys. The hillsides were full of black and brown cattle and sheep looking thin from a recent shearing and still sporting tracks from the clippers on their backs. Other than the sight of a few tropical-looking trees and the absence of stone fences, the New Zealand countryside looked similar to the Irish and North Carolina mountain landscape. After months spent in the jungles of southeast Asia, it was a welcome and familiar sight.
The trail to the falls was lively with families celebrating the holiday together. We joined them in a short walk through the bush canopy with air made cool and damp by the slow-flowing green river and the close tree cover. The plants and roots near the ground were moss covered, and strange trees with thick brown trunks fanned out with foliage overhead in the shape of giant ferns. We stopped for a brief break and were delighted when a shaggy-legged goat appeared from the thick vines across the river and slid down the muddy bank for a drink. At the end of the trail, the forest opened up to vast blue sky behind faraway craggy mountain peaks and the roar of Bridal Veil Falls as the constricted flow of the river spread into a whitewater plunge from the basalt tip fifty-five meters down into the wide sandstone pool at the bottom. We spent some time taking pictures of this spectacular place before hiking back and taking to the road again.
We wound up in Raglan, a sleepy coastal town home to Ngarunui Beach famous for its tall cliffs, wide shoreline, and powerful waves which makes it a popular destination for surfers. We got a bit lost, but it didn’t matter since the area was nice to view. We eventually made our way to the cliffs overlooking the seashore and watched the surfers in the water and a guy paragliding along the tall precipice in front of us. We drove back to town, found easy parking, and spent an hour walking the streets along with the backpackers and surfers and eventually stopped at a small cafe that served tasty cookies and brownies and a rich cup of coffee. I topped off the gas tank for the drive home, which took less than an hour and found us once again in the driveway just as the sun set behind the hilltops.
Mysterious glow worms inhabit caves and crevices in cliff walls in this part of New Zealand, and we had hoped to view this natural phenomenon, but cave tour prices were high, so we did some research and found a way to view them on our own—for free. We spent a lazy day around the house and continued achievement testing and writing and enjoyed a sunny day in our neighborhood. The Waitomo Village was our chosen glow worm destination which was about a ninety-minute drive from our cottage through rolling countryside. We started out late in the afternoon to time our arrival near sunset.
There weren’t many cars on the road, and we had an easy drive to the Waitomo area and got there in plenty of time to do some hiking before supper. Deena found the Ruakuri Bush Walk online, considered one of New Zealand’s best short hikes, located about four kilometers from the Waitomo Village, and it involved a moderate march through thick forest along high lichen covered cliffs with trails through rock tunnels, over natural bridges, and into dark caves—it was spectacular. After an hour of hiking, we drove back to the village to search for supper before returning to the trail after dark.
On a tip from a village campground owner, we drove several kilometers up a dark mountainside on the outskirts of town and then twisted along a gravel road until we arrived at Roseland, a campground/hotel/restaurant establishment that boasted an inexpensive buffet. We found a table in front of a giant TV screen with a rugby match in full scrum and tucked into big bowls of roasted potatoes and tender beef stew with thick gravy—good plain Hobbit fare, which warmed our bellies and sturdied us for the nighttime journey ahead.
I made friends with the proprietor, Ben, who asked if we wanted to see some glow worms before we tackled our night hike, and we readily agreed. We walked outside to the parking lot ,which by now was completely dark, and finally got a full on look at the night sky in the southern hemisphere—breathtaking. Ben led us down a short trail bordering the restaurant property and stopped in front of some low rock formations full of moss-covered, scooped-out crevices, pinpointed with the soft neon blue light of glow worms. This particular species of insect is native to New Zealand, and in its larval stage, spins sticky webs to catch other insects for food. The hapless prey is lured by the light produced by chemicals in the worms' bodies reacting with oxygen. Ben gave us a quick lecture about other local flora and fauna before being called back to the restaurant, and we thanked him for his kindness.
By the time we arrived back at the Ruakuri trailhead, it was so dark I could barely see my hand flapping in front of my face, and there was only one other car in the parking lot which added to the creepiness factor. When we got out of our car, the night sky was so intense with stars it stopped us in our tracks. The soft swirl of the Milky Way looked like a wide cloudy vein revealed from the depths of a vast slab of black marble, and at the pointed tip of the lode, the regal Southern Cross constellation sat boldly in the center of the sky. The fabled Southern Cross has been the subject of songs and poems and serves as an emblem on the flags of five countries, and standing on the earth staring transfixed by this beautiful group of bright stars, we could see why.
We had a short hike back down the trail to a wooden bridge that spanned a low point in the towering gorge where the swift river cut through the caves and tunnels in the area. Following the advice gleaned from all the travel forums, we walked to the center of the bridge and turned our flashlights off. Our collective sharp intake of breath reflected our surprise and delight at the sudden view of the high rock walls of the gorge illuminated by hundreds of glow worms in groups of hazy blue luminescent lights that appeared to float from the vertical surfaces like miniature constellations. We stayed there for a long time until the chill of the night air forced us back down the trail. We declared the display by the glow worms of the Ruakuri Bush Walk one of the coolest things we’ve ever seen—a rare distinction. It was a long drive home through the dark countryside, but it seemed to pass quickly thanks to strong coffee and a lively conversation about the wonderful things we had seen that day.
With another travel day looming, we chose to spend our last day in Glen Afton hanging around the cottage that we had come to love in such a short time. We became master woodstove fire builders and kept the place toasty warm while we spent the day reading and finally finishing achievement testing for the kids. Their reward was a quick trip out to town for an ice cream cone reward. We did a little packing that night and popped some popcorn to munch on while watching HGTV fixer-upper shows before turning in and closing our time in the serene north island countryside.
By 9:00 the next morning, we were packed and on the road headed toward the town of Matamata and the nearby Hobbiton Movie Set, one of my most anticipated activities of this entire trip and one that I thought would never get here. I’ve written before about my fascination with J.R.R.Tolkien’s literary opus, The Lord of the Rings, which I’ve read thirty-eight times, once a year, since I was twelve-years old, and I’m not ashamed to admit that if there was a way, I’d relocate to Middle Earth in a Hobbit’s heartbeat. I’ve seen the movies countless times as well, and I enjoy getting into heated trivia matches with other Tolkien enthusiasts who soon succumb to my superior knowledge. I remember going to the first movie in 2001 with a skeptical attitude thinking there’s no way they’ve done justice to Frodo and the gang, and I sat in my seat with my arms crossed waiting to be disappointed. Then the movie started and the rich images of Middle Earth appeared on the screen, and I remember my jaw dropping as I thought, “Oh my goodness, they nailed it.” The Shire looked exactly like I had pictured it my mind for decades, and I was greatly moved.
We drove an hour and a half from Glen Afton to Matamata through thick fog, which slowly gave way to blue skies and bright sunshine making the dew on the grass in the pastures look like diamonds. We arrived at the Hobbiton complex five minutes before our reserved tour time and soon were seated on a coach entering the the private farmland of the Alexander family who maintain the movie set and I’m sure profits handsomely from the tourists—good for them. For the next two hours, we wandered the undulating trails of Hobbiton lined with flowers and gardens full of multicolored squash and gourds and listened to stories about the filming and the director’s obsession with detail.
My face hurt from smiling so much, and we took many pictures including a shot in front of the painter’s house, which turned out was the only one where visitors could go—I even got to hold one of the brushes for the photo. Other fun stops were Frodo and Bilbo’s home at Bag End, the Party Tree, and The Green Dragon Inn, where we enjoyed mugs of local brew looking out over the pond and grist mill as a raft of ducks cavorted in the reeds near the bank. I had an unbelievable time seeing this place in person, and I was pleased that my family had just as much fun as I did in this whimsical visit to Middle Earth. We had a quick lunch back at the tour office before heading down the highway again bound for the town of Tauranga on the Bay of Plenty as our discovery of New Zealand continues.
Painter's house
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