The New Plymouth Debacle
This is the part of the story where my road trip goes off the rails, or maybe more aptly off-road. But before we get there, we first have to get to New Plymouth which is quite a drive, but also held some of the best road stops of my journey. Starting off in Taupo on the cold Saturday morning of July 19th, I was greeted by a car covered in frost. Quite some temperature swing from the 20 degrees and swimming in the Bay of Islands just a week before.
First stop of the day was back to the Aratiatia rapids to actually get to see them opening the dams and absolutely sloshing the valley. Arriving a bit before 10, I first got a short walk in the fog inspecting the viewing points and ruling out the furthest and highest as there was too much of the mist to see well. So instead I joined 5 other brave souls up on one of the rocks above the empty falls and waited. At exactly 10 am an alarm sounded, and shortly there after you could see how the foaming water was snaking its way down the gully; then frothing forth and licking the cliffs probably ten metres up, in what before was a dry riverbed.
Aratiatia rapids
After they closed the floodgates and the river had started sinking back down, I was off towards New Plymouth, via the Pureora forest. Turning off the highway onto a little gravel parking area, with a small sign pointing into the forest. Following the small and quite overgrown trail among the large trees and even larger stumps for around 15 minutes, I was greeted by Pouakani. The larges Totara tree in New Zealand, and almost 2000 years old, it is a might forest guardian (or unfortunately more accurately logging survivor) and a joy to behold.
Pouakani
Back in the car for just a short short drive on the highway, and I again turned off the highway and onto a gravel road. This time, however, I was not facing a short drive, and it was a nerve-racking twenty minutes of bumping along on the pothole and root strewn forest path in my little city car before I reached my destination; fingers crossed I didn’t get any bad enough scratches. My goal, a twelve-meter tall Tree Top Tower in the middle of the native forest, where I would also have my lunch. Apart from the very nice view of the giant trees, and the song and swooping of birds, the tower also had some very interesting history. In the 70s, protesters against the logging of New Zealand’s, by that point very limit, old grown native forest, would literarily put their lives on the line by camping out up in the tree tops for weeks. Because the loggers didn’t know which trees were occupied, the felling was suspended and shortly after put on indefinite hold (banned 3 years later).
The view from my forest lunch, 12 metres above the forest floor
Another extremely tense twenty minutes, and I was back on proper roads, thank god. Then another hour of driving westward through forests towards the coast, before reaching my next stop. Getting out of my car at a quaint little river, and walking maybe twenty minutes through a mixed rainforest and farmland landscape to arrive at Omaru Falls, the best waterfall I’ve seen in New Zealand so far.
A fall of more than 20 metres over a large overhang of rock, into a deep bowl, all flanked by the great trees of the background. Truly a stunning sight, and absolutely a worthy coffee spot. And the fact that the last couple of days had been rainy definitely helped as well.
Omaru Falls
Continuing westward, now moving into more mountainous areas as I approached the coast, meaning multiple quick roadside stops to look at more waterfalls. However, I was trying to keep my speed up, as the day was growing late and the drive from Omaru Falls to New Plymouth was another two hours. Making one final stop, I hit the beach of Tongapōrutu meaning to go see the Three Sisters and the Elephant Rock; only to find that they are only accessible at low tide, and we were at full flood. No matter, I would just check them out on my drive back to Auckland. And so I arrived in New Plymouth after dark, parked my car outside the hostel, and had an early evening in preparation to climb up Mt Taranaki tomorrow.
A nice view from the road, somewhere before hitting the coast
The next morning I got up early, had a solid breakfast, prepared my lunch sandwiches, and then dressed up for the chilly weather. While I wouldn’t be climbing the summit, it being winter and I do not have neither the skills nor equipment for alpine climbing, but it would still be chilly and quite exposed on the slops where I was heading. And so with a full pack and an excited lookout, I left the hostel, and headed down to my car.
Which wasn’t there! Confused I went a little bit further down, did I misjudge the distance late at night, but no, it was definitely not this far down. Then increasingly panicked I started running up and down the street, looking in the hostels reserved car park, and around the corner to the other street, but nothing. Which is when my brain finally excepted that my car had likely been stolen, I mean I guess it might have been towed, but the signage said it was fine to park here and this is where the hostel directed me. And so, after maybe fifteen minutes of panicked and irrational behaviour, plus the dread over suddenly having to deal with this catastrophe alone, abroad, and on the other side of the planet, I called the police.
Where my car should have been
After a quite confused phone call (maybe from the shock) where I first thought that it had been towed for some infringement, then that it had been towed by the thieves and that it was being reprinted, before finally getting the story straight. My car had in been stolen and taken for a joyride, then dumped a few hours later, and finally towed by the police and now waiting on forensics to take fingerprints. Fuck me, but at least the car was not gone gone, though the fate of my belongings in the car was still up in the air (nothing critical, all of that was in the hostel, just clothings, souvenirs and basically my whole life). Then the very fun phone call to the rental company, informing them that the car was stolen, and I’m stranded in New Plymouth, a couple of hours away from Auckland.
Funny sculpture on the New Plymouth beachfront
After decompressing for maybe an hour and calming my nerves with a coffee and some YouTube, I decided I couldn’t do anything more with it being a Sunday, and might as well try and see some of the sights in New Plymouth. So, as it looked like I’d be carless for the foreseeable future, my first port of call was to get a bus card. With that done, I then walked down the New Plymouth beach promenade with my sights set on Paritutu Rock. It turned out to bit quite a bit of a walk, five kilometres as the crow flies, first along the beach and then navigating through the industrial sector. I had my lunch at the foot of the 150-metre tall rock in the beautifully sunny weather, and then climbed up it to enjoy the stunning view of the Tasman Sea on one hand, and majestic Taranaki on the other, through the peak was shrouded in clouds.
Paritutu Rock, from the west
Then down, and after some checking I found I could continue west on the beach for another little while and then grab a bus back home. First thing I went out on the rocks at the bottom of Paritutu Rock, but that was cut short when I ran into fur seals, very cool, but didn’t want to intrude too far into their territory. So onwards down the beach, in the beautiful weather, sharing it with quite a few people and a lot of dogs.
When I to the bus stop, I sadly made another discovery: No bus service on weekends. Ouch. As a bit of a comfort, I stumbled across a local stone and gem cutting club that was open, and they were kind enough to give me a little tour. But then there was nothing for it by to use my to feet and trudge back to the hostel, though I did go past the police station trying to see if I could spot my car and the damages to it; no luck. That evening, a sombre Jonatan called home for some comforting, support and advice, with the plan being that I’d tomorrow try and get a hold of a physical police to get some more concrete details on what would happen next, and what on I were to do.
Mount Taranaki
The next morning (the 21st), I again set out early, but this time to visit the police. My first attempt went poorly, reaching the central police station and finding that they did not have a reception open to just walk in, instead referring to the national police call line. So then I tried that, and got told that no, you can get updates through an online form. Really feeling quite beat down by this point, I made it my last resort to walk up to the local neighbourhood police in Westown. And there I finally got to speak to a person, the very kind policewoman Claire, who was also quite confused by what I had been told, and at first couldn’t find the information. But after a bit of poking around, she managed to find that yes, my car was in a salvage yard in New Plymouth, having been towed just hours after being stolen. Furthermore, she could confirm that only one of the small back windows had been damaged, and then called up the salvage yard, and they confirmed that it seems like all my stuff was still there. And I would be able to pick up my things once forensics were done, which she believed could be this same day. With that huge relief, and her phone number and promise that she’d keep me posted, I left and had a very well deserved flat white.
Huatoki stream
Then I made my way back to the hostel, via the salvage yard just to again see if I could spy out my car, but no luck. However, Monday came and went with no updates, so Tuesday morning I called Claire again, and she promised to go poking at the forensics guys as I was by this point running very short on time to be able to get back to Auckland in time for my midday Wednesday flight. While waiting, I headed out to Fitzroy Beach north of New Plymouth for some fantastic views of the ocean and Mt Taranaki in all it’s glory.
Fitzroy Beach
And as I reach the furthest point, standing out on the pier, I finally got the phone call; they were done with that forensics and I could go and grab my things. Which was another five-kilometre hike. At the salvage yard there she was, my trusty RFZ200, with a small back window smashed, the ignition totally ruined, eliminating any hopes of driving back to Auckland. But none of that really mattered, because all my things were there, untouched, my senile iPad, my diving and climbing gear, my shell and rock collection, my miniatures and paints, my one of a kind Hobbiton pottery mug, and all my clothes and gear and everything. After confirming with the rental company, I left the car keys with the car, and then the guys at the yard were kind enough to drive me back to the hostel, don’t know how I would have managed otherwise.
Bye New Plymouth
Now I just had the small problem of a flight in 24 hours, from a city five hours drive away, in a country with no public intercity transport. Which was a nut I did not manage to crack. Instead, I ended up booking a new flight from New Plymouth to Christchurch instead (luckily the Auckland flight was very cheap, and the new one not too bad). Then spent the rest of the day buying a few extra bags (my car packing was not made for flying), repacking and getting everything ready to fly to Christchurch on the 23rd. Which I did, and what an amazing flight it was, in a small-ish propeller plane on a day with great visibility. So at least I got a gorgeous view of Mount Taranaki from the air, even if I didn’t get to climb it.
Mount Taranaki, from the air, note that the funky looking circle is one of the largest manmade circle in the world, stemming from the national park centred on the peak with a 6-mile radius
Some meta talk here at the end, writing almost 4 months later. First of all I got everything covered by my travel insurance, so in the end nothing more lost than a few days and a lot of stress. But by god it was a lot of stress, just writing about it now brought my pulse up a bit. But hey, we live and we learn, and it could have been so much worse.
