North Island Driving

The heat haze was thick on the tarmac as I wound through the mountain pass from Taupo to Gismore. The road is deemed to be a right of passage for kiwis, a stunning highway that winds through thick native forest, onto farmland and sprawling vineyards. It’s remote and petrol stations are problematically sparse. Perhaps woefully misinformed, I believe that turning lights off, unplugging charging cables, and not using the AC saves petrol. So I drove unlit, charge dwindling on my phone, the only source for navigation, and in the sweltering heat, all to save fuel. I was in the red, nearly empty, and felt strongly that this was not the place to run out. I’d be waiting hours for anyone to pass. With no signal, phoning for help was also not an option. I was too nervous to glance down at the fuel gauge, preferring to be ignorant about my fate. Only when the car began incessantly beeping at me did I sit up. Beads of sweat ran down my face, part stress, part due to temperate inside the car being 33 degrees. The relief brought on by turning the corner to see a petrol pump, caused me to cry out loud. A happy cry. I often talk to myself, a sign of madness I welcome on long solo car journeys. I gladly paid the overpriced fuel on the remote road. It was going to be ok.

A day on the beach reading children’s books. Nothing beats it, especially with the company of a duck.