Ibis Budget Auckland to Opononi private car — Urs's business trip

The lobby of the Ibis Budget, right in the heart of Auckland's CBD, has a sort of utilitarian charm. Fluorescent lights, the faint smell of commercial cleaner, and a constant hum from the air conditioning. It’s a good place to start a journey, though; you know exactly what you’re getting. When Urs M. stepped out, he looked exactly like someone who’d just spent a night in a place like this. Not dishevelled, mind you, but…purposeful. All sharp lines in his grey suit, crisp white shirt, and a sleek, dark carry-on. He had the air of a man whose mind was already three steps ahead, likely wrestling with spreadsheets or client calls rather than the morning traffic snarls awaiting us.

He was from Switzerland, he told me as we loaded his bag into the wagon. Not originally, not quite. He worked for a firm that had offices in Zurich and also, it turned out, in Auckland. This trip was a rare hop across the Tasman to check on a project. He was heading up to Opononi. Now, Opononi isn’t exactly a common business destination. Most people heading north that far are tourists, or people visiting family. Urs explained his company had bought a small local business there, and he was there to do a firsthand assessment. The meeting wasn’t until Friday, giving him a couple of days to get acquainted with the place and its people. It sounded like an interesting divergence from his usual corporate beat.

We cleared the city traffic with surprising ease. December in Auckland, and the traffic gods were smiling, or perhaps everyone else was already at the beach. The route north towards State Highway 1 was familiar territory for me, a comfortable rhythm of motorway driving, then the turn-off towards Wellsford. Urs sat quietly, his eyes often fixed on the passing landscape, but there was a focused intensity about him that suggested he was processing everything, filing it away. He pointed out a particular stand of native bush we passed, remarking on the unique biodiversity of this part of Aotearoa. He’d clearly done his homework, or perhaps he just had a natural eye for detail.

As we moved further north, the landscape began to shift. The manicured farms gave way to more rugged hills, dotted with pines and flax. The air grew saltier, carrying the distant scent of the Tasman Sea. We stopped for a quick coffee at a place just outside Waipapa. While I grabbed a flat white, Urs bought a hot chocolate and a slightly sad-looking scone. He didn’t complain; he just dunked the scone in his drink with a small, almost imperceptible smile. We talked briefly about the differences in pace between Switzerland and New Zealand, his observations on our approach to business, less rushed maybe, but perhaps less… structured? He mentioned it wasn’t a criticism, just an observation. He seemed to appreciate the subtle contrasts.

As we neared the Hokianga Harbour, the roads became winding, narrower. The forest closed in, creating tunnels of green. The sunlight dappled through the leaves, and the feeling of being in a more remote, wilder place intensified. Opononi itself appeared gradually, a quiet settlement clinging to the southern shore of the harbour. The water was a deep, calm blue, reflecting the bright December sky. Urs pointed towards the sand dunes on the opposite side, a stark, beautiful contrast to the lush hills behind the town.

Dropping him at his accommodation, a tidy motel overlooking the water, felt like completing a different kind of mission. He thanked me, his handshake firm and precise. He still looked like a man ready for business, but there was also a slight softening around his eyes. As I pulled away, I glanced back. He stood for a moment, looking out across the harbour, the wind ruffling his hair slightly. He’d arrived, business in hand, but I had a feeling he might also be taking a moment, just a breath, to absorb the quiet beauty of Opononi. He’d come for the spreadsheets and the assessments, but I suspected the landscape, too, would leave its mark.