Roadtrip to Rotorua

We agree on a time to meet, and I start planning the night before. Countless tiny tabs on my phone in the dim light of the lamp while O sleeps. Routes plotted in the Maps app. Mental calculations: if we reach here by 10.30, will we manage to get there by 3? In the end: we leave later than we’d hoped. Of course. It wouldn’t be a family roadtrip if we left on time. But it’s not disastrous. We’re off, the Toyota Blade close behind, rainclouds battling it out with the sun for possession of the sky.

We flee Auckland, pushing 110 down the Waikato Expressway. In the back seat O grumbles and squirms, begrudgingly allowing himself to be distracted by a constant rotation of entertainment, but making it clear that a meltdown is never far away. When we hit roadworks and crawling traffic, he clamours to get out. We liberate him for a feed and he is delighted: bouncing and babbling. Through the window a thick rainbow stretches out low across the land, almost horizontal.

Just when it seems that O can take no more, we arrive at our first stop: The Lily Pad Cafe, in Cambridge. K has been wanting to take me there for years, but timings have never aligned. So I am enchanted too as we enter the gravel courtyard, with tables spilling out under a canopy of vines, bright bunches of dahlias, planter boxes overflowing with herbs. A high chair has been set up at our table, but O won’t sit there for long, preferring to be walked around the gardens, grabbing for leaves to munch upon. Time seems to stop while we’re there, we sit back and watch the elements put on a show: now it is sunny, now heavy rain beats down. Water streams off the outdoor umberellas, drips noisily onto the ground. People seated in the yard hesitate, then move in for shelter. Except for one: casting a glance at the sky, he shrugs and simply puts his baseball cap back on.

From there, the next stop is Te Waihou Walkway. We leave the main road and track through the country, which I wanted so badly for my family to see. In the back, my sister works magic with O, coaxing him from a meltdown into sleep. It has been years since I was last here, with friends now long gone, returned to the UK. Perhaps it has become a more popular spot in the interim, or perhaps it is because we are visiting on a weekend. But the small carpack is overflowing, the path crammed chockful of tourists. It is beautiful still, but its charm gone. A disappointment for me, although my family still see the beauty despite the bustle. By now, the sun has won, and beats strongly down upon us. We gulp water thirstily.

Rotorua is known for its geothermal activity, but by the time we arrive, most of the parks are closed. So we head to Kuirau, park up at the foot of the hospital, and stretch our legs around the eggy fumed frosted steam ponds. By now we’re hungry again, we raid a dairy for pies and ice cream, more cold drinks. And then away to the Redwoods, the peace of the forest.

Afternoon cedes to evening as we meander deeper into the woods. Sunlight falls across the path, but is no longer strong enough to warm us. The last time K and I were here we took the longest trail, making a day of it. This time we pick the shortest one, but everyone has fallen under the spell of the trees, our pace is exceedingly slow. Occasionally we are passed by other people, but for the main part we feel miraculously alone, as if we have the forest to ourselves. I feel my heart and breathing slow, my body relax. I could spend hours here.

Finally, we load ourselves back in the car for one last stop. When I texted my family the night before, I told them to bring swimming gear. At every stop, my sister has asked if she should get changed. Now, finally, I tell her yes. The road out of Rotorua towards Kerosene Creek is a beautiful one, by now the sun is low and brilliant in the sky. We break off down a gravel path and see steam rising from the bush. When we finally arrive, it is more magical than I had dared imagine. Pushing past the small group of people close to the carpark, we make our way into a clearing. Clouds of steam rising from a rushing river. Astonishingly it is enough to entice even those who I never thought would swim. I sit in the roots of a great tree with O, their belongings strewn around me. He too is astonished, staring out at the swimmers, then back at me, puzzled but delighted, letting out shouts and cries of excitement.

It is late now, the sun setting as we rejoin the main road. A beautiful evening, and also: one of the first sunsets I have witnessed in the past six months, as my life has been reshaped around that of my baby. I can’t get enough of the skies, blues and yellows and peaches and pinks, and then Venus is out, and Orion, and night falls as we speed back towards the city, back home.