Epsom address to Coromandel Town private car — Eleanor's family visit

The early January sun was already promising a warm day in Auckland as I pulled up to the Epsom address. It was a grand old house, one of those solid villas with a wide verandah, where the kind of people who’d owned property in the city for generations still lived. The air buzzed with the energy of the holiday season, even though summer was well underway. A moment later, Eleanor P emerged. She looked every bit the part – neat, sensible shoes, a good quality travel coat despite the heat, and a carry-on bag that suggested she travelled often, but always with a certain economy born of long habit. She’d come over from the UK for a family visit, a tradition she maintained every few years, and this time her destination was the Coromandel Peninsula.

As we settled into the drive, Eleanor pointed out a few landmarks on the way out of the city. She had a quiet way about her, content to observe rather than demand conversation. I learned she was originally from Bristol, a city she spoke of with a fondness that hinted at deep roots. The Coromandel visit was to see her sister, who had moved there some years ago and embraced a slower pace of life. Eleanor, on the other hand, was still firmly embedded in the hustle of London, and this annual trip was her primary escape valve.

We headed south from Auckland, joining State Highway 1, which was its usual busy self with holiday traffic. We soon turned off onto State Highway 2, heading east towards the Coromandel. The landscape quickly changed from urban sprawl to the rolling green hills of the Hauraki Plains. Eleanor seemed to find the scenery calming, a welcome contrast to the concrete and steel she was accustomed to. I confess, I often feel the same. There's a unique peace in the green hills and the slow-moving rivers, a kind of breathing space that the city just doesn't offer.

Our route took us towards Thames, and the scenery began to change again. The wide plains gave way to the undulating hills that characterise the start of the Coromandel ranges. The air grew saltier as we neared the Firth of Thames, and the distinctive scent of pohutukawa blossoms, even past their peak, hung in the air. Eleanor mentioned that her sister’s cottage was quite remote, accessible down a gravel track, and that she was looking forward to the quiet. Her London life, she elaborated, involved a lot of early mornings and a constant proximity to noise, an aspect of her existence she clearly found draining.

We stopped for a coffee and a stretch at a small roadside café just outside of Thames. It was a typical kiwi stop – mismatched furniture, local art on the walls, and a good range of baked goods. Eleanor chose a lemon slice, which she ate slowly, savouring each bite. She told me a little more about her sister, how they'd drifted apart as adults but found their way back to each other through these annual visits. It was a quiet admission of the way family ties can fray and mend, a common theme I’ve heard from many travellers.

As we continued north along State Highway 25 towards Coromandel Town, the road narrowed and wound its way along the coast. The water of the Firth of Thames shimmered under the bright sun. The density of the bush increased, a lush green carpet covering the hillsides. Eleanor pointed out a particular type of fern, remembering it from childhood visits. These small memories, she mused, were what she held onto. The Coromandel Town itself, when we arrived, was a picture of quaint historical charm, its period buildings and quiet harbour a stark contrast to the London she called home.

I dropped Eleanor at the gravel track leading to her sister's place. She thanked me warmly, her earlier reserve replaced by a genuine smile. It was a simple trip, a journey from one kind of life to another, a chance for connection and reflection. As I turned the car around for the drive back to Auckland, the low afternoon sun cast long shadows across the peninsula. I thought about Eleanor and her sister, and the enduring pull of family, a force as strong as any tide on this coast.