Sofitel Auckland Viaduct to Mount Maunganui private car — Rhys's business trip

The Sofitel at the Viaduct is always a bit more polished than your average pickup. Crystal chandeliers, hushed tones, people looking very important. So when Rhys B stepped out, looking a touch rumpled, carrying a surprisingly modest laptop bag, he stood out in a quiet sort of way. He had that look of someone who’d been wrestling with spreadsheets until the early hours, a common enough sight before a big business trip, but he also had a friendly, open face that suggested he’d rather be doing something else.

He was headed down to Maunganui. Business, he’d said on the phone. A new venture, perhaps, or a critical meeting. He didn’t offer much detail, and I never pry. My job is to get people from A to B, comfortably and safely. The rest is their story. We loaded his bag into the boot, a quick nod to the valet, and we were on our way, slicing through the quiet morning traffic of the central city.

We cleared the city limits and headed south, the Sky Tower shrinking in the rearview mirror. Rhys settled back, gazing out the window. September can be a tricky month on the North Island – the last gasps of winter clinging on, but with promises of spring in the air. The Waikato greens were starting to sharpen, the gum trees lining the road looking fresh after a good rain. We passed the turn-off for Bombay, the market gardens still mostly bare but hinting at the bounty to come. I usually offer a bit of local colour, but Rhys seemed content in his own thoughts. I kept the radio low, a gentle background hum.

Around Huntly, the conversation started to flow, as it often does once the initial awkwardness of a long drive fades. Rhys mentioned he was originally from a small village in North Wales, near Snowdonia. He had a soft accent, a melody of Welsh inflections woven through his English. He was over here for a tech conference in Auckland, but this trip down to the Mount was the real reason for his visit. He’d been working remotely for a few months, building an app for sustainable tourism, and he was meeting with potential investors and partners down there. An exciting prospect, but one that clearly came with a lot of pressure.

He spoke about the rolling hills of his homeland, the stone cottages, the sea air. It sounded a world away from the bustling urban landscape of Auckland or the more industrial edges of the drive we were currently navigating. He missed the access to nature, he said, the wildness of it. He’d chosen Maunganui because it felt like a place that valued that connection, a place where people found balance. He’d spent the last few days at the conference, meeting a lot of people, but feeling a bit disconnected from his actual work. This drive was a chance to clear his head, to reconnect with the purpose behind the business.

We stopped for a coffee break at the BP in Tirau, the corrugated iron town that always brings a smile. It was just after midday. The place was busy, a mix of families heading away for the weekend and other business travellers like Rhys. He bought a flat white and a surprisingly healthy-looking fruit muffin. We sat outside for a few minutes, watching the world go by. He pointed out a bird perched on a signpost, a small, bright thing flitting about. "See? Even here, there's beauty," he mused, a genuine warmth in his voice that hadn't been there at the start of the trip.

The rest of the drive passed in comfortable silence for a while, broken only by the occasional comment on the changing landscape. As we got closer to Tauranga, the air began to smell different, a salty tang carried on the breeze. The traffic picked up, a steady stream of vehicles heading towards the popular coastal areas. Rhys mentioned that he’d never been to Mount Maunganui before, but he’d heard great things from friends who'd visited. He was looking forward to seeing the famous mountain, and perhaps, if time permitted, getting in a short walk.

We navigated the approaches to the Mount, the familiar sight of the ocean appearing on the horizon as we neared the coast. The traffic slowed considerably as we entered the town itself, a hive of activity with people making the most of the unseasonably pleasant late September weather. I dropped Rhys right at his hotel, a modern building not far from the beach. He thanked me, his handshake firm, his eyes a little brighter than they'd been that morning.

"Thanks, Harry. Good to talk. Sometimes you just need to get on the road to get things into perspective," he said. I just nodded. It’s true, isn’t it? The rhythm of the road, the passing scenery, it has a way of untangling things. As I pulled away, reversing carefully out of the hotel's driveway, I thought about his app, about the blend of technology and nature Rhys was trying to foster. It felt like a good mission, a worthwhile pursuit. I hoped his meetings – and the Mount itself – would give him the clarity and confidence he needed. I had a long drive back to Auckland, but the afternoon sun was warm on the windscreen, and the road ahead felt clear.