Manukau address to Whangapoua private car — Melanie's conference trip

The sky had that bruised, grey look about it that early July mornings in Auckland often do. Not quite raining, but holding the promise of it, the air heavy and damp. I pulled up to the Manukau address, a neat suburban house with a slightly overgrown garden. A quick glance at the booking confirmed it: Melanie S, heading to Whangapoua for a conference. Usually, the Coromandel folk are off to conferences in the city, not the other way around, so I was already a bit intrigued.

Melanie emerged, pulling a small, wheeled suitcase and a smart laptop bag. She looked sharp, dressed in professional attire, but there was a faint tiredness etched around her eyes. She settled into the back seat, and we exchanged the usual pleasantries. She was attending a sustainability conference at the 100% Pure Coromandel Events Centre. I’d heard of it; they held a few different things up there throughout the year, usually drawing a good crowd.

The drive south through the city was as expected for a Sunday morning – lighter traffic, but still the usual congestion around the Southern Motorway. Once we cleared the city and hit State Highway 1, heading towards Bombay, the landscape started to open up. The rolling hills, still a bit brown from winter, were beginning to show the first hints of green. We passed through Pokeno, a little town famous for its ice cream, and then the scenery became more rural – farmland, stands of pine trees, and the occasional glimpse of the Firth of Thames glinting under the overcast sky.

Melanie was quiet for the first hour or so, gazing out the window, perhaps gathering her thoughts before the conference. I kept my focus on the road, keeping the radio low. I noticed her checking her phone occasionally, and I figured she was likely reviewing her notes or catching up on emails. I didn't push for conversation; some passengers prefer the journey to be a peaceful buffer before their destination.

Around Kopu, after turning off SH25, the road started to narrow, winding more as we followed the coast. It’s a beautiful drive, but you have to be alert. We hit a short patch of roadworks just before Thames, adding a few minutes to our timing, but nothing too dramatic. I took the turn-off for the Coromandel Peninsula, then towards Whitianga, making good time. The smell of the sea started to creep into the air, a reminder that we were getting close to the coast.

As we approached the turn-off for Whangapoua, the landscape changed again. It became more rugged, the hills steeper, clothed in thicker bush. The road to Whangapoua itself is a bit of a winding track, often one lane in places, hugging the contours of the land. I saw Melanie straighten up in her seat, a slight smile appearing. I pointed out the view down into the bay as we rounded a bend – a stretch of golden sand, fringed by pohutukawa trees, currently bare of their summer bloom but still striking.

She mentioned, in a soft voice, that she’d grown up near Wellington and hadn't been up this way in years. She remembered visiting as a child, the beach looking very different then, more wild and less developed. She told me that her work involved advocating for coastal protection initiatives, and this conference was a chance to connect with others doing similar work and to share strategies. Her passion for the environment was evident, not in an overbearing way, but as a deep-seated conviction. She spoke about the challenges of balancing development with conservation, especially in places as beautiful and fragile as the Coromandel.

We pulled up to the small, modern conference venue nestled on the edge of the village, just as the first groups of attendees were arriving, shaking off the chill. I helped her with her bags. As she stepped out, she looked more composed, the tiredness replaced by a focused energy. She thanked me for the smooth ride.

"Got a busy few days ahead," she said, a genuine smile finally reaching her eyes. I wished her well for the conference, and she headed off to check in. On the drive back towards the main road, the sky had begun to clear a little, a weak sun fighting through the clouds. It was a good reminder of why people were drawn to places like Whangapoua, even in the depths of winter. The quiet beauty of the coast, the sense of community, and the people working to protect it—it all added up to something worthwhile.