Strong Heart, Weak Car

Fourteen kilometres of unlevelled road, potholes the size of footballs and muddy puddles do not make for good rental car driving. Yet with a reluctant willingness to face the potential of being charged for a new paint job on the car, I drove towards Mitimiti, a tiny settlement of houses that could hardly call itself a village.

Mitimiti, along the western coast of Northland, New Zealand, is bruised by the Tasman Sea, which separates it from Australia. Compared to the calm of the Bay of Islands, Northlands eastern tourist hub, the west coast is wild, isolated, and dominated by the sea etching away at dark boulders and crash after crash of white foam. Found by winding through mountain roads to reach miles of golden sand beaches, this is a part of New Zealand less travelled.

It was the end of April, and the days were shortening and intermittent torrential rain and blue sky had left a huge grey streak of cloud from the horizon towards the coast. It looked like a hand had smeared grey paint across a light blue canvas. The coastline undulated and squiggled, creating sheltered inlets, and verdant grassland swayed in the sea breeze, about three meters above the beach. Little tracks to ponder traced through the grassy dunes, and if I’d had a stove it would’ve been the perfect place for a daytime feast in the winter chill. Instead, I had bought just enough snacks to watch the sunset earlier in a village shop. In reality, the almost 40km, golden and unspoilt beach would have been perfect for a full day of exploring, regardless of the weather.

Sunset itself was a slow, serene process, slicing the sky into blocks of colour. Behind me was the moon, full and bright as the sky darkened to black, while the light purple and golden horizon were separated by the smear of grey cloud. The lowest colour reflected around the water slowly sliding across the beach, smooth and calm as the rocks further out bore the brunt of the sea. And as the sun sunk, mist engulfed the coastline, and the peninsula in the distance began to burn bronze, so much so that the air too reflected the colour.

The beach was the perfect antithesis to the tourist bustle of the eastern coast of Northland. The serenity of isolation, even when cold with droplets in the air, whilst looking out over a Sea nestled into the corner of the map, was unmatched.

Worth the car scratches.