SkyCity Hotel to Ohope Beach private car — Eleanor's special occasion

The afternoon of January 5th, 2025, started with a familiar churn of anticipation, not for me, but for the passenger I was about to meet. January is a busy month, of course, with holidays winding down and the serious business of the year starting up again for many. But for some, it’s also peak celebration time. The sky over Auckland City was a washed-out blue, the kind that promises heat without the oppressive humidity the summer can sometimes deliver. My usual checks were done, the car polished and interior fresh. I found my way to the SkyCity Hotel, a glass and steel giant that always feels a bit like landing amongst giants myself when I pull up.

Eleanor R. was waiting near the lobby entrance, a compact, smartly dressed woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine from twenty years ago – in the best possible way. She had a small, elegant suitcase that seemed to contain more style than substance, perfectly matching her understated grey blazer and sensible, yet chic, low heels. She’d flown in from Manchester a few days earlier, she mentioned, to attend a wedding. Not her own, but a close friend's. The kind of wedding that draws people from all corners of the globe, this one being held in a coastal spot near Whakatāne. It was a long drive, certainly, but she’d wanted to avoid the hassle of flights and transfers at the other end. The promise of a quiet journey, with time to look out the window, had appealed.

We made our way south, the early afternoon traffic on the Southern Motorway easing as we passed the sprawling suburbs. Passing through Ngaruawahia, I pointed out the Hakarimata Range, its distinctive hump always a landmark. Eleanor seemed content to observe, her gaze drifting over the farmland, the patches of native bush clinging to the hillsides, the meandering Waikato River. We continued on, eventually turning off SH1 towards the Bay of Plenty, heading over the Kaimai Range. She spoke a little about the friend getting married, a whirlwind romance that had culminated in this destination wedding. It sounded like the sort of thing you read about rather than experience, a storybook affair unfolding on sandy shores. She had known the bride for decades, back to school days in Lancashire, and the thought of seeing her transform into a bride had been a powerful pull. She’d also, quite frankly, admitted to a longing for a bit of sunshine and a break from the damp, grey Mancunian winter, a sentiment I understood perfectly.

The journey to the Bay of Plenty is always a scenic one, especially once you’re past the mountains. We drove through Te Puke, the landscape growing flatter, greener, punctuated by orchards and fields of kiwifruit, before reaching Paengaroa. From there, it was a straightforward run towards Whakatāne and then Ohope. I noticed Eleanor’s posture shift as we drew nearer, a subtle leaning forward, as if sensing the proximity of her destination. She told me about a particular cove she remembered from a previous visit years ago, a small, sheltered spot where the sand was exceptionally fine. It was close to the wedding venue, she explained, and she hoped to visit it briefly before the ceremony.

As we approached Ohope Beach, the afternoon sun was starting to cast long shadows. The air carried a faint scent of salt and sunscreen. I pulled up to the small, charming bach she had booked. The sea was a brilliant sapphire, stretching out to meet a clear horizon. Eleanor gathered her belongings, a quiet smile on her face betraying a deeper sense of satisfaction. She thanked me, her voice soft, and stepped out into the warm air. There was a lightness about her departure, a sense of stepping into a moment she had looked forward to for a long time. I watched her walk towards the little cottage, a figure silhouetted in a sun-drenched landscape, before turning the car around and heading back towards the motorway, the quiet hum of the engine a simple, familiar rhythm.