Hilton Auckland to Hot Water Beach private car — Jing's special occasion

The limousine outside the Hilton might as well have been a spaceship for all the attention it drew. Mine’s usually the first car people notice at a hotel, a decent sedan that looks professional but not ostentatious. This one, though, all sharp angles and polished chrome, was something else. It was waiting for me, or rather, I was waiting in it. The weather was a typical September day in Auckland – a bit of a crispness to the air, the sun trying its best to cut through a few lingering clouds, hinting at spring but not quite committed.

My passenger, Jing, appeared just as the valet was finishing polishing a smudge I hadn't even seen. She was small, neat, dressed in smart travel clothes, a subtle elegance about her. She carried a single, rather large, gift-wrapped box, which she handled with great care. We exchanged the usual pleasantries, and I confirmed the destination: Hot Water Beach. That’s a bit of a haul from the city, especially when you factor in the narrow, winding roads that lead to the Coromandel Peninsula. I’d driven it dozens of times, but it always felt like a mini-adventure, a world away from the urban sprawl.

She settled into the back seat with her box, and we set off. The CBD traffic was its usual self, a slow crawl through the Symonds Street on-ramp, but soon we were on the open road, heading south-east. I kept the radio low, a soft jazz station playing unobtrusively. Jing was quiet for the first hour or so, gazing out at the passing scenery, the green hills giving way to more of the pastoral landscapes typical of the region. She pointed out a particularly vibrant patch of native bush at one point, a small smile playing on her lips. She told me she was travelling from Shanghai, and this was her first trip to New Zealand.

The route towards the Coromandel is always interesting. You pass through towns like Ngatea and then the landscape starts to change, becoming more dramatic as you approach the Firth of Thames. I took the turn-off towards Thames, knowing that the next section would require careful driving. The roads narrow considerably in places, winding through hills and alongside the coast. We passed through the Karangahake Gorge, the old mining tunnels a stark reminder of a different era. The river here, the Ohinemuri, was a deep green, rushing over rocks. Jing was fascinated by the changes, remarking on the wildness of the place.

She mentioned she was here for a friend’s wedding. A very special occasion, she explained, and she had brought a gift from her family. She clutched the large box on her lap, a subtle gesture of affection and responsibility. As we got closer to Hot Water Beach, where the road hugs the coastline more closely, she became more animated. She’d clearly done her research, talking about the famous hot springs that bubble up on the beach at low tide. She wanted to experience it, to dig her own little pool right there on the sand.

The final stretch to Hot Water Beach from Thames is a charmingly winding road, often with glimpses of the ocean through the trees. The air grew saltier, the breeze stronger. I let her know that low tide was approaching and that she’d be able to dig her pool right on time. She seemed delighted, a genuine excitement lighting up her face. She’d travelled such a long way for this wedding, for this moment on the beach. It struck me then, how many different kinds of journeys people take. Some are for business, some for family emergencies, some just for a holiday. Hers felt like a mission of pure celebration, of friendship, steeped in tradition and personal significance.

I pulled up to the accommodation she had booked near the beach. It was a quiet, modern bach, just a short walk from the sand. She thanked me warmly, her eyes bright. As she stepped out with her precious gift, I couldn’t help but think about the simple act of digging a hole in the sand to capture hot spring water. It’s a beautiful, almost primal thing to do, especially when you’ve crossed half the world to be there. I watched her go, a slender figure against the vast expanse of the coastline, and then I turned the car around, heading back the way we came. The sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon, casting a warm, golden light across the landscape, and I looked forward to a quiet drive back to Auckland.