Parnell address to Paihia private car — Lars's business trip

The sky over Parnell had that bleached, late-summer look to it, the sort of pale blue that promised another scorcher. My cab was parked neatly under a large pohutukawa tree on Gladstone Road, the last of its crimson flowers drifting down like confetti. It was just past nine in the morning when I got the ping for Lars.

Lars M. met me at the door. He had that quiet, efficient air about him, common in people who spend a lot of time thinking. He was originally from Denmark, he told me as we loaded his single, sensible suitcase into the boot. He was here on business, a series of meetings up in Northland, culminating with a presentation to a potential client in Paihia. It wasn't a holiday, but he mentioned he was looking forward to seeing a bit of the Bay of Islands before he had to fly back out.

The drive north started with the usual crawl out of Auckland. The traffic through the northern suburbs wasn't too bad, but Warkworth always seems to have a bottleneck, even on a Wednesday. Lars seemed content to watch the landscape blur by. He hadn't picked up his phone for quite some time, which is rare these days. He just gazed out at the rolling green pastures, dotted with sheep, the occasional stand of eucalyptus trees catching the sun. He mentioned his home town, a small place outside Copenhagen, very different from this sprawling, verdant countryside.

We stopped for coffee at the BP in Wellsford, a standard refuel. Lars ordered a flat white, strong, no sugar. He said he found New Zealand coffee to be generally very good, a point I often hear from international visitors. He also commented on the fresh air, the lack of industrial smell that sometimes hangs over European cities. It was a small observation, but it spoke volumes about how he was perceiving the journey, soaking it all in.

As we continued, the terrain started to change, becoming more undulating. The road wound through hills that were a deeper, almost emerald green. We passed through Waipu, its distinctive cove visible in the distance, and then Brynderwyn, a climb that always gives the engine a good workout. Lars pointed out a patch of native bush, explaining that he was an architect and had a keen interest in sustainable design, often drawing inspiration from natural forms. He was working on a project that involved integrating natural elements into urban spaces, a stark contrast to the wildness we were driving through.

He’d spent some time in Auckland already, doing his initial meetings, but this was his first real taste of the Northland landscape. He’d read about the Kauri trees and expressed a hope that if time permitted, he might see some of the giants on a future trip. He spoke about his work with a quiet passion, the careful consideration that went into urban planning, and how it differed so much from the organic growth he was witnessing out the window. He told me that the client in Paihia was a tech startup that valued sustainability, which was why he was making the trip himself.

By the time we were approaching Kawakawa, the sun was starting its slow descent, casting long shadows across the road. The air grew warmer, carrying the scent of salt as we neared the coast. The landscape opened up, revealing glimpses of turquoise water between the hills. For him, it was a long way from Denmark, a different continent for a business meeting, a calculated risk, perhaps, but one driven by a vision for his work.

When we finally pulled into Paihia, the early evening light was soft. The ferry terminal buzzed with activity, visitors heading off to Russell. Lars thanked me, a genuine smile finally breaking through his professional reserve. He was looking forward to settling into his accommodation, he said, and then maybe taking a short walk along the waterfront before his big day tomorrow. He paid electronically, a quick tap, and picked up his suitcase. As he walked away, heading towards the waterfront, I felt a quiet satisfaction. It wasn't just about getting him from A to B, but about offering a small window into the varied beauty of our country, a brief respite for someone on a mission.