The Hotel Britomart to Papamoa private car — Dirk's conference trip

The air conditioning in the lobby of The Hotel Britomart was a welcome balm after wrestling my carry-on bag through the late-morning Auckland sun. I’d parked just around the corner, glad for the relatively short walk and the brief reprieve from the steering wheel. My passenger, Dirk S., was waiting by the concierge desk, looking up from his phone with a slight nod as I approached. He had the slightly weathered look of someone who’d spent a good bit of time outdoors, and a sturdy build you often see in South Africans. He confirmed he was heading to Papamoa, a conference there. He mentioned he was meeting up with friends from back home who were also attending, which sounded like a nice bit of serendipity.

The drive out of the city was ticking along nicely, the usual Monday traffic easing up as we cleared the central areas. We skirted around the Manukau Harbour, the water a steely grey under the bright sky. Dirk was quiet for a while, just watching the urban sprawl give way to the green farmland of the Waikato. He’d lived in Cape Town for years, he told me, and had only recently moved over to New Zealand for work, settling just north of Auckland. He was on his way to Papamoa for a tech conference, though he admitted he was more looking forward to the beach time and catching up with old mates than the keynote speeches. He said the last time he’d been to Papamoa was for a holiday years ago, and he remembered it fondly.

We stopped at Pokeno for a coffee and a stretch. It’s become a bit of a ritual for me, that little roundabout and the smell of bacon from the famous bacon onion donuts. Dirk bought a couple to try, and while he declared them “interesting,” he stuck to a flat white. He watched the families milling about, some heading to the playgrounds or the ice cream shop. He commented on how much more relaxed things felt here compared to the hustle of his previous life, a sentiment I hear a fair bit from recent arrivals. He spoke about the sheer speed of life back in South Africa, the intensity of it, and how he was still adjusting to a slightly slower pace. He wasn’t complaining, just observing, a thoughtful tone in his voice.

Back on the road, the landscape began to shift again as we approached the Hauraki Plains. The fields straightened out, and the air took on a different quality, a hint of salt on the breeze as we got closer to the coast. We were on State Highway 2 now, heading towards the Bay of Plenty. Dirk pointed out a particularly striking view of the Kaimai Range ahead, its peaks softened by the distance and the haze of a warm December day. He recalled vaguely remembering driving through there on a previous trip to the North Island but couldn't quite place it.

As we headed into the Karangahake Gorge, it loomed large. It’s always a dramatic stretch of road, the river carving its way through ancient rock. Even in the summer heat, there was a cool, damp feeling that seeped from the dense bush clinging to the steep sides. Dirk was quiet again, taking it all in, the sheer scale of the landscape. He mentioned that while South Africa had its own stunning natural beauty, from the Drakensberg mountains to the coastline, there was a certain lushness and scale to New Zealand’s native bush that was quite unique. He told me he’d spent time hiking in the mountains back home, and the sheer, unfiltered wilderness of places like this gorge always stirred something in him.

The final stretch into Papamoa was smooth sailing. The road opened up, and the familiar sight of the ocean appeared on our right, the blue expanse stretching out towards the horizon. The air grew warmer, thicker with the salty tang. Dirk pointed out the turn-off for his accommodation, a modern apartment complex not far from the beach. As I pulled up to the side of the road where he could safely exit, he thanked me for the comfortable ride. He mentioned he was meeting his friends for lunch before the conference sessions kicked off that afternoon. He seemed relaxed, ready for the break and the company. I wished him a good conference and a great time with his friends, and with that, Dirk S. shouldered his bag and headed off towards the beach, leaving me with the faint scent of salt and coconut sunscreen in the car.