Auckland CBD address to Waitomo Glowworm Caves private car — Annelies's holiday

The gravel crunched under the tyres as I pulled up to the neat, if slightly weathered, villa in Parnell. It was a crisp Monday morning in mid-September, the kind where the sun has a bit of bite but there’s a definite warmth to it hinting at the spring to come. My passenger, Annelies, was waiting on the porch, a small, energetic woman with bright eyes and a firm handshake, clutching a well-worn copy of a Lonely Planet guide.

She was heading to Waitomo, she explained, just for a couple of days. A solo trip, a chance to see some of New Zealand’s famous natural wonders before catching a flight back to Amsterdam. She’d been travelling around the North Island for a few weeks already, exploring cities and coastal towns, but the glowworm caves were high on her list. I loaded her modest suitcase into the boot, and we set off, the city traffic soon giving way to the familiar rhythm of the Southern Motorway.

Annelies was quiet for the first hour, content to watch the landscape blur past. I could see her occasionally consult her book, eyes flicking from the page to the passing scenery – the sprawling suburbs of South Auckland, the rolling green pastures dotted with Friesian cows. We stopped at a small café in Huntly for a flat white and a caramel slice. She told me how much she enjoyed the quiet of the countryside, a stark contrast to the bustling city she’d left behind. She’d lived in Amsterdam her whole life, she mentioned, and sometimes felt the urge to escape the crowds, to find a bit of peace.

As we drove further south, the landscape began to change. The gentle hills became steeper, the farmland giving way to pockets of native bush. We passed through small towns like Otorohanga, places that felt like they’d been bypassed by time. Annelies pointed out a particularly striking stand of mature native trees, their massive trunks reaching towards the sky. She'd seen some impressive forests earlier in her trip and was still marveling at their ancient presence. It’s easy to take them for granted when you live here, but seeing them through the eyes of a visitor, someone experiencing them for the first time, always adds a fresh perspective.

We arrived at Waitomo late morning. The air here always feels different, cooler, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and moss. Annelies seemed excited, a nervous energy about her. She’d booked a classic boat tour, she said, wanting the traditional experience. I helped her with her luggage, and she headed towards the entrance, the small paperback guide still clutched in her hand. I watched her go, a solitary figure disappearing into the shadowed gateway of the caves. It’s always a bit of a mystery, what people will find once they step into those underground worlds. For Annelies, I hoped it would be a moment of pure wonder, a quiet awe that would stay with her long after she’d left these shores. I gave the car a quick wipe down, checked my mirrors, and pointed myself back north, the afternoon sun warming the tar seal and promising a smooth drive home.