Newmarket office to Tauranga private car — Laurent's conference trip

The BMW sedan had been gleaming outside the Newmarket office block for a good ten minutes already. Not a speck of dust, not a hurried last-minute polish needed on its obsidian paintwork, even under the overcast August sky. It felt right, parked there amidst the muted rush of Auckland’s morning business. The man I was meeting, Laurent D., stepped out precisely on time, his crisp suit a stark contrast to the grey pavement. He carried a small, expensive-looking leather briefcase. He looked exactly like someone about to discuss multinational finance, which, as it turned out, was close to the mark.

He was heading down to Tauranga for a conference. Not IT, not tech, but something in global trade or logistics. He explained it in broad strokes as we pulled away from the kerb, the usual morning crawl through the city’s arteries before we hit the Southern Motorway. He’d flown in from Nouméa a couple of days prior and was based there, but spent a fair bit of time travelling for these sorts of events. He spoke with a gentle French accent, modulated and polite, the kind that makes even detailed explanations of shipping manifests sound vaguely poetic. The car was quiet, a comfortable hum against the drone of city traffic.

We cleared the Bombay Hills and the landscape opened up. The Waikato plains were a soft, muted green under the low cloud. We continued south on State Highway 1, then took the turn-off onto State Highway 2 towards the Coromandel and Bay of Plenty. Laurent pointed out a particular peak as we ascended towards the Kaimai Range, mentioning he’d read about the old railway tunnel. He wasn’t asking questions, just making observations, as if sharing pieces of a mental map of the country he’d been studying. I kept the conversation light, offering insights into the local scene here and there – a mention of the unique flora and fauna in the protected areas as we skirted the edges of native bush.

Through the Karangahake Gorge, we paused for a moment. It wasn't a scheduled stop, but the sheer drama of the place — the river carving through ancient rock, the remnants of gold mining structures clinging to the steep sides – felt worth a brief interruption. Laurent got out and walked to the edge of a viewing platform, a solitary figure against the vastness of the landscape. He didn’t say much, just a quiet “Magnifique,” before we continued. The air in the gorge had a damp, earthy smell, a welcome change from the car's climate control. He seemed to absorb the silence and the raw beauty, his usual professional demeanour softening.

As we dropped into the Bay of Plenty, the sky began to break up. Patches of blue appeared, and the light shifted, giving the rolling farmland a warmer hue. The destination was an exhibition centre on the outskirts of Tauranga, a modern building known for hosting agricultural and trade shows. Laurent indicated the turn-off, his eyes already scanning the horizon for the conference venue. He’d found the journey itself engaging, a welcome period of transition and reflection between New Caledonia and the business ahead.

We arrived a little ahead of schedule. He thanked me, his handshake firm and brief. He looked ready, that quiet intensity back in his eyes, the weight of his profession settling back onto his shoulders. As I watched him walk towards the entrance, a professional traveller stepping into his arena, I thought about the quiet pride he’d shown earlier, admiring a stark, rugged landscape. It was a reminder that even the most focused individuals can find moments of stillness and wonder on the road, absorbing a new place in their own way, even if it’s just a fleeting glimpse on the way to a conference. I turned the car around, the familiar loop of the journey complete, and headed back towards the motorways, the late afternoon light beginning to fade.