EDiTORiAL TEAM
Kathryn Webster
Monica Tischler
Jo Percival
DESiGN & ART DiRECTiON
Julian Pettitt
Senior Designer, SCG
HOW TO REACH US
Editorial
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PO Box 5, Auckland 1140
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COVER
Design by Julian Pettitt, photography by Nicola Edmonds
Follow AA Directions on Facebook or Instagram: @aadirections Website: aadirections.co.nz
This issue’s feature theme was inspired by multiple conversations with people in need of something more in their lives. Something good.
For whatever reason, a slightly glum mood permeated the last part of this year. Talk often turned a bit negative and friends and colleagues shared that they were grappling with feelings of helplessness in the face of fast-changing world events. Often, a chat about how winter was getting them down, how things were tough and how they needed more fun in life ended with ‘maybe I need a hobby!’ And we couldn’t agree more. When the challenges of life are overwhelming, any positive and nurturing distraction helps. OK, it might not solve seasonal, financial or global problems but it will surely boost you, emotionally, to join a choir, learn to dance, discover a love of craft or just connect with others over a shared hobby. We’ve provided a few ideas within this e-magazine and on our website but there are many, many potential hobbies to trial and, when you find one that suits, get your teeth into.
Having a hobby is good for the soul. We consider various pastimes that inspire something new, foster connections and are just downright fun.
We take a deep dive into the Z Manu World Championships, speaking with the competition’s founder and former national swimming champion, Scott Rice.
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As the world turns to silent hybrids and EVs, it’s nice to listen to the fire-breathing, big block V8 engine of a 1965 Ford Thunderbird.
Rural crossroads are common accident spots. The AA investigates cost effective ways to make them safer.
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Time spent in Whanganui includes a visit to the recently renovated Sarjeant Gallery and ample opportunity to get the creative juices flowing.
Revisiting the aptly named Bay of Plenty serves sea, sunshine, salty air, swims and moments of slowing down.
Unassuming on the outside, the interior of this Nelson home is far from ordinary with hand-made wooden features akin to living inside a tree.
We visit the studio of Kiwi wallpaper designer Maggie Lam and ogle at her portfolio of beautifully hand-drawn sketches – one even making its way onto a pair of designer shoes!
and Pacific People are quite humble, so putting themselves out there in front of a crowd to be the best took some encouragement.
Water Safety New Zealand got on board as well…
TJump off a wharf, make a ‘v’ with your body, displace as much water as possible.
o ‘pop a manu’ is a classic Kiwi summer pastime that’s been turned into an annual competition – the Z Manu World Championships at Auckland’s Viaduct Harbour – by former national swimming champion, Scott Rice.
Where did the idea for the Z Manu World Championships come from?
As a kid, I was always around water and I remember doing ‘dive bombs’. It was part of Kiwi summer. I was a pool lifeguard when I was a teenager and there were guys who would get dropped off in the morning and they’d just do bombs for five hours
straight. I thought ‘I reckon we should create an event for it’.
How did last year’s event go?
The first year is always the hardest. You’re running a bit blind and using your experience from the past to crystal ball-gaze for what may happen. Then it’s about refining the event to ensure it’s relevant to the people you want to attract.
Was it just as easy to attract entrants?
I thought we were just going to launch it and the entire bombing community would be lining up in droves. What I discovered is the audience of predominantly Māori
Running an event just to find the person who makes the biggest splash is fun but there needs to be a social benefit as well. Our key purposes were about celebrating the art of the manu, getting youth active in a non-traditional way, and water safety. The event also bought diverse communities together, with various ethnicities, ages and genders. There was an eclectic mix of people in the audience, everyone enjoying the same thing, and that was really cool.
Are you making any changes to the event this year?
Last year we ran qualifying events in Wellington, Christchurch, Hamilton and Auckland, and this year we’ve partnered with other bombing competitions to make them official qualifying events. We've gone from four cities to eight with Tauranga, Hastings, Nelson, Māngere and Whangārei. This year the prize pool is worth $40,000.
Read the full story here:
Do you need more going on in your life, more time for yourself? Maybe you need a new hobby. We consider various pastimes, joining in on communal drumming sessions, singing in a choir, trialling art classes and taking up line dancing. Have you thought about learning to climb? How about connecting with other runners for a regular jog? Just belonging to a community is good for your soul. Finding a group that shares your interests, reveals something new and encourages you to nurture yourself – even better.
relaxation and community, and leave with more energy than when we’d arrived.
“There are no mistakes,” she added, as we sat ready with djembe goblet-shaped drums tilted between our knees.
We were a mix of beginners, like me, and more seasoned enthusiasts who’d brought their own drums, some beautifully hand carved, all encased with ropes – the tuning mechanism.
Fiona Terry enjoys a communal drumming class in Nelson.
THE ROOM WAS BUZZiNG, my hands were tingling, and as the volume of our drumming grew louder, somehow the effect was to quiet the noise in my mind.
It’s impossible, it turns out, to concentrate on replicating African hand drumming beats while worrying about the credit card bill or events of the day.
I’d joined over 30 others in a local hall for the first of a six-week-long course run by InRhythm’s Kimberley Anderson, who learnt the power of the djembe instrument after searching for a hobby to help switch off from a high-pressured corporate job in Australia.
Her quest led her to an African drumming session, something she loved so much she went on to facilitate workshops in. That was 20 years ago and since returning to New Zealand in 2014 the Kiwi has continued leading classes here, having packed 40 djembe drums into a container to shift home with her.
“Rhythm calms our limbic system, where our stress response comes from,” Kimberley says. “That’s why we rock babies and pat them because anything rhythmic calms our central nervous system.”
Most of all, Kimberley says, she wanted us to enjoy the experience, gain a sense of
“There’s no pressure to get it right,” she reassured. “No judgment. And the concept of musical entrainment means your body will want to do the same thing as all the other bodies in the room.”
As our confidence grew Kimberley danced in the middle as she drummed or played other percussion instruments, using her body’s movements to indicate which side should go louder or softer. Every now and then she’d circle her arm above her head to indicate more momentum.
Once we’d grasped some basics she’d lead part of the group into one rhythm then the other with a different beat, creating polyrhythms. The shared sense of creating music felt remarkable and quite meditative.
Read the full story here:
Emily Draper joins a Central Auckland painting class.
THERE’S SOMETHiNG ABOUT keeping the hands busy that frees up the mind. When I feel like time is passing by at an alarming rate, or I notice I’m spending too much time scrolling mindlessly on my phone, I’ve found the act of making or creating can be just what I need to slow things down and feel more like myself.
So, when presented with the chance to attend a ‘paint and sip’ night – hosted by Pinot and Picasso – I jumped at the chance.
The Central Auckland studio is a small box of a room lined with paintstained aprons. Upon entering, I see that our canvases are already laid out for us, alongside paper plates adorned with acrylic
globs of colour. A huge draw of art events like these are in what you don’t do: the setting up of equipment and the cleaning up at the end is all taken care of. All we need to do is get there and get painting.
“Take a large glob of white, and a teenytiny bit of red.”
We are painting cherries: splashes of deep maroon on a pale pink background.
The instructor guides us on how to create shadows and highlights, being careful to note where our source of light is. Anyone can pick up paints and a canvas and get to painting at home, but everyone in the room agrees it’s helpful to have some instruction and guidance as we go.
At the end of the three hours, my canvas is far from an artistic masterpiece, but I’ve caught the bug. I’m already planning my next visit – in four days’ time.
My second night on the tools, and we’ve taken a step up in difficulty. We are tasked with the artistic creation of a tablescape, complete with wine bottle, glasses, a slice of melon and a spread of playing cards.
Our instructor is once again invaluable. She teaches us how to sketch out our dimensions on the canvas, how to mix colours and alter the design to our own whims and desires and how to create texture and light.
Over my artistic nights, I’ve learned the end result is of less importance than the process of getting there, which is a great lesson to take away from a few hours at an easel.
Read the full story here:
Aucklander Vanessa Trethewey joins a running club for women.
RUN CLUBS ARE THE NEW TiNDER – or so people say. And after a quick Google, I tend to agree. There are all manner of new clubs popping up, from early morning running groups that kick off with coffee and cookies, through to evening jaunts that finish at the pub.
As a longstanding solo runner I’ve been looking to mix it up, but where does a middle-aged, happily married woman go when she’s sick of pounding the pavements alone? Once again, Google held the answer.
After swiping left on a handful of offerings (too young, too serious, too
intimidating), I stumbled upon the Solo Girls Run Club, a women-only running group launched earlier this year by podcast host and producer Brodie Kane, and her running buddy, physio Kris Earl.
The group kicked off in April, with weekly meet-ups in Milford, Auckland at 6.15 every Tuesday morning and evening. The first morning around 20 single women turned up, and 30 on the first evening; now they’ve got around 100 regulars and 800 people following them on Facebook.
“We realised there were all these women out there who wanted to run, but didn’t
feel safe running alone, so we opened it up to all women, and that’s our kaupapa now. The Solo Girls Run Club is a safe place where all women, single or not, can come and connect, run, walk and yarn.”
I opted for the early morning shift, pulling into the Milford Beach car park as the sun came up behind Rangitoto.
My fear of not being fast enough quickly dissipated – this is a club where everybody runs at their own pace and thanks to their ‘20 minutes out, 20 minutes back’ philosophy, everyone finishes at the same time. No-one cares whether you clock up six kilometres or seven, and there are no winners or losers, just a bunch of energetic and friendly women getting together to do something they love.
“This is a club for everyone, with a range of ages and running speeds,” Kris says.
“Sometimes it’s hard to get out of bed on a Tuesday morning, but once you get here it’s such an awesome vibe. You get to talk to all sorts of amazing women, have some great chats while you’re running, and you’re always buzzing afterwards.”
Read the full story here:
Wellington writer Matthew Tso gives climbing a go.
WiTHiN THE CLiMBiNG WORLD, bouldering is the discipline that has taken off. Without the harnesses and ropes needed in other forms of climbing, all you need is a wall or rock formation to scale and a pair of climbing shoes.
The growth of the sport in Wellington has seen the opening of Faultline, a specialist bouldering gym, where I’ve been climbing for the last few weeks with a couple of mates to see what this bouldering caper is all about.
One of the most enjoyable parts of climbing is the time spent on the ground. It turns out bouldering is a nice way to hang out.
Bouldering routes – your way up the wall marked by coloured fibreglass holds – are called ‘problems’. They can be as easy as going up a ladder or involve feats that would make Spiderman nervous.
Most problems take less than a minute to complete and are followed by a spell off the wall, when you are resting, recovering and chatting with everyone else. There’s plenty of bouldering talk but a lot of just catching up, as well.
For the casual climber, there is no element of feeling like you need to compete with others. It’s about challenging yourself to climb as well as you can.
Whoever introduced ‘problem’ into climbing nomenclature hit the nail on the head, as finding the solution to complete a route can become an obsession. Each time you pick yourself up off the crash pads, you’re thinking about how to make it to that next section of the wall, and how to do it smarter, with greater efficiently, with more panache.
As problems become more complex, a greater degree of strategy is needed to progress along a route with a climber thinking several moves ahead as they might in chess.
Climbers will study a wall, mapping out what hand or what foot will go where and how to best position their body. Coordination, strength, and guile are needed, but the problemsolving element makes bouldering not feel like exercise at all.
Socially, physically, and mentally stimulating – bouldering is fun. For someone that prefers outdoor activities over regimented and repetitive exercise, climbing fills a gap when the weather’s lousy for tramping or there isn’t any surf.
Read the full story here:
gospel arrangements of renowned New Zealand musician Tony Backhouse.
I BLAME IT ON MY OLDER SISTER. A musically adept sort, she’d demand that I sing with her when we were young so that she could practise harmonising. Six years her junior, I’d always get confused at the crucial moment and pitch my voice up instead of down or down instead of up. It never ended well.
Chastised, I’ve mostly avoided singing in earshot of other humans over the ensuing decades. So, when I recently heard a friend talking effusively about her new choir habit, I was somewhat triggered. But also intrigued.
The choir in question is called Sunny Side Up. Established 24 years ago, its 30 members meet once a week to throw their
voices together in a humble hall in South Dunedin. It’s a group with a merciful open-door policy, welcoming those who can’t read music and those who’ve caused choral distress to a sibling.
When I ask Sunny Side Up’s choirmaster Richard Holland about that open door, he says: “Music is for everyone. Once you have enough people on board it doesn’t really matter if one or two can’t really sing as well as the others – the rest of the group carries them and it works out fine. We can still make a great sound together.”
Though Sunny Side Up mostly sings gospel music, it’s not a church-aligned group. It’s one of many ‘a cappella’ choirs inspired by the lively four-part-harmony
One of the group’s choristers, Adrienne Dearnley, says that while she’s not especially religious, gospel’s uplift factor gets in and nudges her soul. “It’s full of energy and rhythm. It makes me want to move. I suspect there’s a ‘spiritual’ side as well – however you define that.”
She’s not wrong. When the sopranoalto-tenor-bass mix comes together, the resulting harmonic swell could make even the most spiritually stagnant soul feel a bit transcendental.
Science has long told us about the wideranging benefits of choir singing. Saliva samples taken from choristers have even shown changes in stress hormones and immune markers. Seems that letting your vocal chords off their daytime leash for a frolic in the company of others is quite the all-body boost: it’s gym for the brain, a tonic for the bod, balm for a harried life, and yielder of good social glue.
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Aucklander Monica Tischler slows down to learn calligraphy.
FROM THE GREEK WORDS kallos, meaning beauty, and graphein, to write – calligraphy is thought to have originated in Rome around 600BC with the advent of the Latin alphabet. Celtic monks used it to create the Book of Kells, a treasured handwritten bible; it also has strong ties to Chinese and Arabic cultures.
Here I am in 2024, sitting with Emma Pearce-Hagen of Inkberry Calligraphy inside her Auckland home studio, thousands of years on from when it all began and in a digitalised world. I’m trying my hand at the ancient art that translates to ‘beautiful writing’.
“I love how calligraphy is a connection to body and mind,” Emma says. “It’s a calming and relaxing hobby, but also has practical benefits because when you produce something it’s very satisfying.”
Watching Emma write is transfixing. Her strokes are effortless, butter smooth. As opposed to cursive writing, which is continuous lettering, calligraphy is stroke-based: “we do a stroke and then it’s pen off,” Emma says.
“The lovely thing about calligraphy is that once you’ve built up some foundation strokes, you can put a lot of letters together.” Emma explains an example: When I put a ‘C’ and a ‘J’ together, I get a ‘G’. We’re trying to achieve the same shapes and angles so that they look beautiful together.”
“I like modern calligraphy because there are no rules,” Emma says. “You can bring your own style.”
I’m taking it all in, writing within the gridline and holding my pen at a 45-degree angle, I move just my fingers as I write, not my wrist. There are underturn and overturn strokes used for linking, ascender and descender letters that go above and below the gridline, some letters begin at the ten o’clock mark while others at two o’clock depending on the ink flow required to make beautiful and consistent lettering.
“You have a busy job, huh? I can tell,” Emma says as I begin to form the letters of my name with the ink, midnight black stark against white paper. “Just breathe, slow down and keep calm.”
I am a writer; it’s what I do for a living. Usually I’m forging words by tapping on my phone or laptop, or hurriedly scribbling in my notepad. Here, I’m slowing down. I’m present.
Read the full story here:
Jo Percival joins a Hawke’s Bay line dancing class.
iT ALL STARTS with the boots.
Pointy-toed, calf-height, embossed leather ideally, though ankle-length will suffice. Worn with just about anything, cowboy boots are synonymous with line dancing.
That’s how it began for Rebecca Tostevin who runs the Clive Boot Scootin’ line dancing classes in Hawke’s Bay.
“It all started when some friends and I decided to buy cowboy boots and go line dancing,” Rebecca says. “We found our boots and went along the only place that came up on Google – the RSA in Napier. It didn’t quite have the vibe I was hoping for – I wanted to wear my cowboy hat but you’re not allowed to wear hats in the RSA.
“Then one night there was a band at the Clive Pub who always play Wagon Wheel I thought ‘we should learn a line dance for
Wagon Wheel and do it there.’ So, a friend and I started teaching that one dance and it was so much fun that more people wanted to join in. The whole thing just sort of grew.”
Today, 18 months later, Rebecca runs nine classes a week in a former lawnmower shop on the main street of Clive. The classes cater to absolute beginners through to ‘improvers’ who have been attending regularly.
On a Tuesday morning, wearing my box-fresh pair of black and white cowboy boots, I stand nervously in front of a wall of mirrors. I’m one of about 20 participants. The group is comprised of a full spectrum of ages – a new mum bounces her baby on her hip as she moves alongside sprightly silver-haired women in their 70s. It’s a warm, unintimidating environment. Microphone in hand, Rebecca walks us
through the basic steps of a dance. We follow along, foot focused, mimicking her movements. “You’ve got to cook the noodles before you add the spice,” she explains, and once we’ve run through the basic routine, we do it to music.
Grapevine, rocking chair, shuffle, weave, pivot, V step, rumba, pivot. It’s a mental as well as physical workout, trying to remember the order of steps, which way to turn around the room.
“With line dancing, you’re laughing, you’re moving, you’re connected with people,” says Rebecca.
"You don’t even know these people but if you dance beside someone and you’re dancing in sync – it’s just good for your soul.”
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“THE THUNDERBiRD had been on my radar for a few years, I loved the shape, the rectangle taillights, and the shiny chrome everywhere, even inside.
The mid-sixties were a time when American automakers were experimenting with all sorts of new technology. In the ‘65 Thunderbird, Ford introduced sequential indicators in the taillights. Amazingly, they still work after 59 years.
The ‘swing-away’ steering wheel was another innovation. It’s a really convenient feature that helps you slide into the driving seat without having to contort around the steering wheel; once you are seated you simply click it back into place.
The interior is styled like a jet cockpit with individual gauges in chrome pots and a ‘ribbon’ speedometer, which is a red line that grows as you increase speed. The rear seat looks like a wrap-around sofa.
My sixteen-year-old daughter and I picked the car up in Nelson and road tripped back to Auckland. She wanted to play music from the same year as the car, so we sung along to hit songs from 1965 like Can’t Help Myself by the Four Tops.
I’ve made a few modifications, like adding the alloy wheels and the obnoxiously loud exhaust, as you do when you have 6.4 litres. The sound makes the experience so much better, especially when driving through tunnels! As the world slowly turns to silent hybrids and EVs, it’s nice to listen to the firebreathing, big block V8 echoing off surrounding buildings…
Over the years we have been to a couple of Beach Hops and chauffeured a few weddings for friends. The Thunderbird has been reliable, built in a time before cars weren’t algorithms on wheels. It just needs fuel, a spark and water to get it rolling.”
Read the full story here:
Students in SADD are making a difference
A Suzuki Swift reviewed in two halves
How to share the road with horses and tractors
A low cost fix for dangerous rural crossroads has been identified by the AA Research Foundation. Matthew Tso reports.
As the Selwyn District’s snowy paddocks and blue skies began to blur, Grant Williams felt his seatbelt tighten against his chest and waist. He couldn’t comprehend what was going on. The rear of his car had been struck by a vehicle that had failed to stop on a crossroad in rural Canterbury.
“All I remember is my wife yelling ‘he’s not going to stop!’,” Grant says
His wife, in the passenger seat, was talking about the driver of a Mitsubishi that blasted through stop signs where Leaches Rd meets State Highway 77, along which they’d been travelling.
It punched into the driver’s-side passenger door, sending Grant and his wife spinning across the chipseal. Astonishingly, no one was hurt. Grant believes someone could have been killed had the timing been different.
“All the power poles and posts along the road… I don’t know how we didn’t hit one, or flip.”
A volunteer firefighter of 46 years, the Springfield Fire Chief has attended his share of crashes. He says crossroads are a common site for such events.
There are about 1,800 rural crossroads around New Zealand. A recent AA Research Foundation study attributed 95% of examined crashes at rural crossroads to a driver failing to stop, while nearly a third of accidents occurred when a yielding driver (one meant to stop and give way) did not detect the intersection or other vehicles ahead.
AA road safety spokesperson Dylan Thomsen says the study, undertaken by Mackie Research, aimed to get a better grasp on how and why failures to detect oncoming rural crossroads occurred,
and what could be done to better alert drivers. Rural crossroads are often located in areas that feature roading and environmental characteristics that promote certain driver behaviours or decisions which could lead to a crash.
Many rural roads are high speed areas with long straight sections with light traffic. Visibility of upcoming intersections and bisecting roads is often poor, and signage and markings can be minimal. They also commonly feature rows of trees or poles that draw the eye through intersections.
The research looked for likely causes of ‘failure to detect’ crashes and to see how often they happened. A second component of the study looked at what safety features might reduce the chances of a crash using a virtual simulation test.
Sixty test participants viewed video footage of real rural roads in New
Zealand, each with three levels of warning infrastructure known as ‘treatments’. One video featured the standard treatment used at a rural crossroads consisting of a stop sign on the lefthand side of the road where the two roads bisected each other. The other two had additional treatments featuring larger stop signs on both sides of the road and ‘STOP’ painted on the road at the intersection. They also each had another set of signage further back from the crossroad, while one of these had a further treatment – raised tactile lines and
‘STOP AHEAD’ painted on the approach to the intersection.
The participants were asked to press a button when they recognised that they needed to stop or give way ahead.
On average, participants realised there was an upcoming intersection and that they needed to stop 160 metres earlier when there were warning interventions on the approach to the crossroads.
Many rural crossroads are known blackspots with environmental features and insufficient safety infrastructure
resulting in drivers making the same mistakes. Dyan says this AA Research Foundation study demonstrates how lowcost safety interventions can markedly improve a driver’s awareness of an oncoming intersection.
The paper is an excellent resource for road controlling authorities looking for possible solutions to reduce the number of crashes and improve safety at rural crossroads, he says.
Read the full story here:
Jo Percival gets a hands-on experience of art in Whanganui.
here’s something incredibly satisfying about making something with your own hands. Having a tangible object, imbued with personal significance, flaws and all, of which you can say “I made that.”
TIn Whanganui my creative endeavours begin with bone.
Carver Martin Winchcombe runs classes and workshops from a small studio at the back of his garden. The process begins by sketching a rough shape and selecting an appropriately sized section of bleached beef femur to work with.
Dressed in goggles, ear muffs and a mask to protect against the pungent dust, I grind back the section of bone to my pencilled outline, scuffing with increasingly fine grades of sandpaper and then buffing the curved sliver to a pale sheen. The warm shape feels pleasingly smooth and primal.
My second DIY session is not as tactile, for obvious safety reasons. Glass is molten at 1,200°C when, in the New Zealand Glassworks hot shop, it’s scooped out of the kiln and melded into all kinds of
beautiful, fragile, colourful creations. Though my first attempt is less delicate and more of a solid blob.
Using oversized iron tweezers I pluck at the glass, twisting it into points and shapes as it rapidly changes texture from soft fudge to sticky toffee. The whole process takes just 30 minutes – molten glass is not a medium to linger over.
There’s no immediate gratification – my paperweight needs to spend the night in the annealer to slowly cool to room temperature.
In the meantime, I immerse myself in the world of actual artists at the Sarjeant Gallery. After a protracted, decade-long restoration and expansion project, the Sarjeant has reopened in Pukenamu Queens Park in the heart of Whanganui. Sitting regally like a pale beacon at the top of the Queens Park stairs, the dometopped gallery has been an enticing icon on my previous visits to the riverside city, so I’m excited to finally see inside.
The te reo Māori name for the Sarjeant is Te Whare o Rehua, which translates as ‘the house of inspiration.’ It is an apt moniker for a building that, after a $70 million repair
and expansion project, creates a literal bridge between Whanganui’s rich cultural history and exciting future.
There’s more creativity on display at Whanganui’s weekly River Markets. True to name stallholders set up right on banks of the awa. I peruse plants and pottery, woodwork, crochet and carving through a haze of woodsmoke and reggae. There’s glow-in-the-dark artwork, trinkets and tinctures. All-natural dog treats, kombucha and woolly socks. I’m tempted by scented candles, macarons and big cups of new season strawberries drizzled in caramel or chocolate sauce.
Read the full, inspiring story here:
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Take a lighthearted roadie to Northland Tasman cycling at its best Australia's Kakadu is wild and wonderful
The climb to the summit of Mauao, Mount Maunganui is harder than I remember.
Several decades ago, I would scuttle up the flank of the mountain, racing my siblings, no sweat. Today I stop, often, to take in the vista, the coastline stretched under a faded-blue sky, the birdsong, vegetation dancing in a light salt-scented wind. Of course, the effort is worth it.
A lot of people are climbing the day I do. Solo walkers, couples, small groups speaking in languages from elsewhere.
It’s a magnet, the Mount, standing proud of the horizon, visible from all over the Bay. It demands attention, whether that’s by climbing it, walking around it, bathing in the pools at its base, walking the beaches that stretch out at its feet. We do all of these, my travelling companion and I, on a three-day Bay of Plenty spin from Auckland.
To celebrate arriving in the region, we stop at Waihi Beach’s Surf Shack Eatery for a relaxed lunch in the sun. It is the first of many excellent food experiences.
One evening we go to The Mount Hot Pools before dinner, which is a mistake; the silky, steamy mineral-rich soak tires us so thoroughly, we revise plans and head back to base in Tauranga for one of the deepest sleeps either of us has had in a long time.
Our room in Clarence Hotel helps with the magical sleeping. Cocooned within the solid walls of what was once Tauranga’s post office, our suite is a wonderfully tranquil space with high ceilings, beautiful old windows and a
modern, comfortable fit-out. With only ten rooms, it’s a genuinely boutique hotel.
Creative and enterprising are perfect words, too, to describe Matahui Distillery’s ‘source to sip’ experience.
Located on a rural property near Katikati, the boutique distillery sells direct and welcomes gin-curious guests to learn about the distilling process.
I dab drops of various botanical flavours on my hand and then my tongue: juniper, coriander, horopito, sage, lemongrass, cinnamon. There are around 20 flavours to consider, distilled from ingredients mostly grown on the Matahui property. I put aside the ones I like and narrow it down, with a lot of advice, to a unique recipe. While we wait for a bottle of my own special gin to be formulated, we hear about Matahui’s various small-batch liqueurs, including a seriously delicious limoncello and an award-winning fennel liqueur.
On the outskirts of Katikati we find the Avocado Orchard Tour and spend a couple of happy hours learning about how this splendid fruit is grown. Orchard owner Tim’s enthusiasm is compelling. Did you know a mature tree pings with a million flowers but only a tiny percentage produce fruit? The flowers only live a couple of days so it’s a mad dash for half a million guest bees to get the pollination job done.
After all that indulgence – gin, avocados, meals out, hot swims – it’s time to tackle an activity. Smallgusta is golf in miniature, an authentic nine-hole tiny course with stunning views across farmland all the way back to the Mount.
It is a delightful slow-down moment, taking in the dips and curves of the various greens before swinging the club, relaxing into the mood, occasionally making par. No idea who won.
Seeing the triangular Mount poking up on the horizon, I wonder about its journey; had it been dragged by patupaiarehe through Oropi? Legend has it the mountain was hauled to its current location after his love for another mountain was rebuffed.
Wayfinding signs along the path share the history and stories of Mauao and explain the project which has replaced the trig at the mountain’s summit with a cultural compass, incorporating a pounamu touchstone.
I sense the vital spirit of the place. Despite its sad origin story, the mountain whose name means ‘caught by the dawn’ stands at the mouth of Tauranga Moana, bristling with mana and beauty, much loved and much honoured.
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Since Brian Cooper turned his love of working with wood into a house renovating project, his wife has described their Golden Bay home as like living inside a tree.
Karen says it’s a magical place. “At night, when the lights are on inside, it’s incredible looking back in through the windows because you see the warmth – it glows like it’s alive,” she says.
Brian took up woodwork as a hobby in his 20s. “I wasn’t a builder but people started asking if I could help with their kitchens, or bathrooms, or build them tables – that’s how I realised I could do it. I’ve had lots of different jobs, usually in building, but I was never trained with tools.”
Each time he’d create something in his spare time he became more adventurous, teaching himself to build dressers too, and was surprised when people asked to buy them.
Eventually, after meeting Karen in 1998, he turned his hobby into a business, selling bespoke furniture with quirky
characteristics. While other people viewed knots in wood as potential problems, Brian saw them as unique creative elements.
“I love how that makes each piece different,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly imitate that. To me, the more natural features you leave, including the branches and waney edges, the better.”
He became adept at peeling bark and hand sanding to create as natural a finish as possible. Karen too would sometimes get involved in creating furniture; a dresser they built together from a tree grown by her father has pride of place alongside a bed they made.
It took Brian 14 months to renovate their home; the most rewarding part, he says, was what he created inside with wood. His favourite feature is what the grandchildren call ‘the tornado tree’ which looks like it’s growing and swirling through the living area.
The flooring through the building is Lawson Cypress. Rich cinnamon-
coloured shelves in the lounge are made from blackwood grown on their land. Stunning natural redwood slabs shiplap the walls, with wavy edges appearing as if they’re melting towards the floor.
At the head of a beautifully oiled macrocarpa table – made from a single slab cut from a local tree being cleared by lines-people – is a chair with heart-shapes within knots. “That would have been a throwaway piece of wood at a timber mill. It was all bark and ugly, but I recognised there was a diamond within it.”
s the sole creative behind her eponymous brand Maggie Lam Surface Design, the Auckland artist has her hands full. Often, she is busy with a paint brush or pencil bringing to life her bespoke range of fabrics and wallpapers with delightful sketches.
ABut when a senior designer for high-end Canadian department store Holt Renfrew approached Maggie Lam to create a bespoke pattern for its Christmas holiday campaign, her initial reaction was: “No way! Why me?”
Looking at the designer’s portfolio comprising joyous hand-drawn scenes evocative of quaint English countryside, Chinoiserie landscapes of ponds and pergolas, exotic animals and highly detailed fruits and florals, it’s clear why she was given the job: her talent is special.
The Holt Renfrew design, based on Maggie’s signature Toile de Jouy motifs, later found its way onto luxury designer Manolo Blahnik shoes.
Although Maggie has always believed in the notion of dreaming big, she admits being a creative comes with self-doubt.
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“Most – if not all – creative people tend to be very sensitive about what others think of their work,” she says. “I’m still learning to be an artist and how to run my business, but if I get to share my thoughts with those wanting to pave a career in the creative industry, I tell them that there are many different styles of art and that people have different tastes in art. Not everyone is going to love your style; you just find your tribe. Then keep creating, keep moving forward.”
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