M Social Auckland to Kawhia private car — Fiona's conference trip

The usual flurry of a hotel pickup. M Social in Auckland’s waterfront precinct, always a bit of a shuffle with the valet, checking numbers, pointing drivers in the right direction. This time, it was just me and Fiona, a woman with that unmistakable calm that comes from being somewhere else for a good while, and now finding herself back in the familiar hustle. She’d been in Auckland for a week, a specialist conference on marine engineering. Not my usual kind of chat, but I always find it interesting to hear what people do. She mentioned she was back in Scotland for a few weeks before heading to her next posting, and I gathered the conference was her final engagement here.

The drive south started with the predictable build-up around Spaghetti Junction, a grey morning threatening a bit of drizzle. Fiona wasn’t one for idle chatter, which suited me fine. I let the landscape do the talking. Passing through the Waikato, the paddocks were a deep, rich green, cows scattered like black and white confetti. We got onto State Highway 1, the Bombay Hills looking their usual imposing self. She was heading to Kawhia, a place I don't get very often. It’s a bit off the beaten track, a coastal settlement that feels like it's still on its own time.

We stopped at a small service station in Huntly for a quick coffee. The air was cool, the sort of damp chill that September can bring to the North Island. Fiona bought a packet of biscuits and watched the other travellers, a quiet observer. She told me she’d grown up near Stirling, the kind of place where generations of families tend to stay put. Her work, though, had taken her all over the world – Norway, Singapore, Canada. Auckland was a familiar enough stopover, but she hadn’t explored much beyond the city centre this time.

Leaving the main highway at Hamilton, we took the back roads towards Ōtorohanga and then west. The landscape changed, flattening out, becoming more windswept as we neared the coast. The tarmac grew rougher in places, the signposts weathered. Fiona pointed out a solitary gannet soaring high above a field, its wings catching the uncertain sunlight. It was a small detail, but it showed she was connected to the environment, even inland. She mentioned she’d always loved the sea, a connection that felt deeper than just a career choice.

As we got closer to Kawhia, the road narrowed, winding through farmland that sloped down towards the harbour. The sea wasn't visible yet, but you could feel its presence – the change in vegetation, the distinct smell of salt in the air. She was meeting an old university friend, someone she hadn't seen in fifteen years. A chance to reconnect, to share stories from the decades that had passed. I could sense a touch of anticipation, a quiet excitement mixed with the travel fatigue.

Pulling up outside a simple bach near the waterfront, the air was noticeably cooler, the sound of waves a low murmur in the background. She thanked me, her Scottish accent a pleasant lilt. As I watched her walk towards the door, suitcase in hand, I felt that familiar sense of satisfaction. Another driver for NZ Intercity Cabs had done their job, facilitating a connection, a reunion, a moment of peace at the end of a long journey. It wasn’t about the destination, not really, but the quiet rhythm of the road that got her there.