Manukau address to Waitomo Glowworm Caves private car — Liam's conference trip

The August morning was crisp, the kind where you can see your breath if you’re standing in the wrong breeze. I pulled up to a modern-looking place in Manukau, the frost still clinging to the manicured lawns. Out stepped Liam, a young bloke, maybe mid-twenties, with that distinctly Australian look – tanned already, despite the receding summer. He had a worn duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a determined glint in his eye. He was off to the Waitomo Glowworm Caves, he’d said, for a conference. Seemed an odd venue for a conference, but who was I to question it?

We set off south, the bypass out of Manukau busy as usual. Liam was quiet initially, staring out the window as the suburban sprawl gave way to more open fields. He'd mentioned he was from Perth, here for a bit of a working holiday that had somehow turned into a networking event in the middle of nowhere. He’d been travelling around the North Island for a few weeks already, he explained, enjoying the change of pace from the relentless Perth sunshine. He spoke about his home, the dry heat, the long drives between towns. It all sounded so different from the damp green of the Waikato unfolding before us.

As we passed through Hamilton and turned towards Otorohanga, he started to open up a bit more. He worked in digital marketing, he said, and the conference was about sustainable tourism. It struck me as a niche, but then again, New Zealand’s natural beauty is a huge drawcard, so it made sense to talk about how to preserve it while still showcasing it. He told me about how his job involved a lot of screen time, and he was actually looking forward to the conference partly because it meant getting out into the actual landscape he was trying to promote. He pointed out the rolling hills, the sheep dotting the paddies, the distinct shapes of the volcanic cones in the distance. He had an observer’s eye, noticing the details.

We stopped near Otorohanga for a quick coffee and a stretch. The air was clean and carried the scent of damp earth. Liam bought a hokey pokey ice cream, a classic Kiwi choice, and seemed genuinely pleased with it. He said it was a small ritual he’d adopted since arriving – trying a different local treat each day. He was clearly making an effort to immerse himself, not just sightsee. He was headed to a specific eco-lodge outside the main tourist hub, wanting to experience it first-hand for his work. He wasn’t just attending talks; he was doing fieldwork. That sort of dedication, I thought, would take him far.

The final stretch to Waitomo was lined with native bush, thick and ancient-looking. The road wound downwards, and soon the signs for the caves began to appear. Liam checked his phone, confirming the exact meeting point for his group. He thanked me, a genuine smile on his face this time, and paid. He hefted his duffel bag, looking ready for whatever the next few days held. As I drove away, I saw him talking animatedly with a couple of other people already gathered near the entrance. It was a strange sort of conference venue, true, but if you're talking about selling New Zealand’s natural wonders, I suppose there are few better places to be.

I turned the car around and headed back north. The late afternoon sun was casting long shadows across the paddocks, and the sky was starting to turn a soft apricot. Liam’s quiet contemplation and gentle enthusiasm had made for a peaceful drive. It’s these moments, when a passenger shares a little piece of their world and their purpose, that make the miles worthwhile. He was an observer, like me, but using his observations to build something new.