Mount Maunganui to Auckland City private car — Léa's holiday

The air this morning had a crispness to it, the kind that bites just enough to make you appreciate the warmth of a good sweater. August in the Bay of Plenty can be like that – bright one minute, with the sun glinting off the Pacific, and then a cool breeze rolling in. It’s a different kind of chill than what you get on the west coast, that’s for sure.

Léa D. was staying at a hotel right on The Mount, a place that always seems to catch the first and last light of the day. She emerged into the lobby looking perfectly put together, with a bright scarf that suggested she hadn't entirely given up on summer vibes, even in the depths of winter. She radiated a quiet excitement, a sense of anticipation for the journey north. She mentioned, in passing, that this was her first time in New Zealand, a small burst of curiosity about where she’d ended up.

The drive back to Auckland is a familiar ribbon of road for me. We bypassed the main city centre, heading straight for the airport, or at least that was the initial plan. She’d booked a transfer to meet her family coming in from overseas. The conversation started slowly, as it often does on these first morning trips. She pointed out the greenness of the paddocks, the small farmhouses dotting the landscape, and I found myself noticing the familiar details through her fresh eyes. The route through the Karangahake Gorge was out, as it's a bit of a detour and not ideal for an efficient airport run, so we stuck to the main trunk road, passing through places like Paeroa and Ngatea – the heart of the Hauraki Plains, though she’d already seen Hobbiton on a previous trip, she explained.

As we climbed the hills towards the Bombay Hills, the conversation opened up a little more. Léa told me she was from Nouméa, New Caledonia, and had spent a few days exploring the Mount Maunganui area before her family arrived. She spoke about the differences in the landscape, the sheer scale of the volcanic peaks here compared to the coral reefs she knew. She'd heard about the glowworm caves, and while her family was here for a short visit, she was hoping to squeeze in a trip to Rotorua if they had time. It’s interesting how travellers from island nations often have a fascination with the landlocked, with the sheer expanse of mountains and forests.

We hit a bit of traffic just after Drury, the usual Monday bottleneck building up as the Auckland commuters started their afternoon migrations. It gave us time to pause. Léa pulled out a small, worn notebook and started sketching the rolling hills we’d just passed, her movements fluid and confident. She was an artist, she explained, inspired by the colours and shapes of the natural world. She’d been drawn to New Zealand by photographs, by the dramatic coastlines and ancient forests, and here she was finally experiencing it. Her sketchbook was already filling up with quick impressions – a gnarled pohutukawa tree near the coast, the distant silhouette of the Hunua Ranges, the textured clouds gathering overhead.

As we approached the airport, the energy shifted again. The quiet anticipation was now mixed with the practicalities of meeting family. She thanked me, her voice warm and sincere, and paid for the trip. There was a brief moment where I wondered if she’d ever be back. The flight from New Caledonia arrives late, and often the first impression of Auckland is the sprawling urban landscape, not the natural beauty she’d been absorbing. But as she stepped out, her scarf bright against the grey of the departure drop-off zone, I saw her glance back, a faint smile on her face, her sketchbook tucked securely under her arm. She carried the colours of the Bay of Plenty with her, a piece of the northern landscape held within her art.

Driving away, heading back towards the city to start the next leg of my day, I thought about how small the world feels sometimes, and how vast it remains. A few hours on the road, a brief window into another life, another continent. Just another Monday, but one that left a lingering impression of colour and quiet creativity.