There is something beautiful about the brief seconds of a new idea. Especially an idea of an adventure. An idea is just that, an idea. In the initial seconds of conjuring up an idea there is no decision making, no thoughts of Plan B for the ‘what ifs.’ It’s an idea in its purest form. Fun. Joyful. Energetic. At lot can happen in those brief seconds, a vision is formed. The vision teleports you straight to the adventure, no need to research online and make a booking. No need to part company with earnings. You can see the adventure unfolding only in sunshine. The teenagers wear a smile of genuine rapture from go to woe.
My birthday is conveniently on a Saturday and the new idea of an adventure begins. I’d like to do something with Rose and the boys. A day trip. I’ve never been to Lake Karapiro, not too far south of home. With that, the brief moments of idea purity evolve to planning. In fairness I love the planning stage as much as a fresh idea. Quickly Google provides the answer to “Karapiro family day out.” A tri-adventure. I like the sound of that. As I seem to do, I sit on the idea for a few weeks. Rose has previously suggested to aid the longevity of our relationship; I am best to not share any new ideas of adventure until I’m fully committed. She too shares in those brief seconds of joy about an idea; her visions start to form only for me to announce days later “I’ve moved on from that idea.” I have quite a few new ideas of adventure.
The idea of the tri-adventure settles in. While I wait for the dye to take hold of my hair one afternoon I make the booking. A walk, bike and kayak along the Waikato River. Earnings are transferred to Riverside Adventures. The date is booked into the shared calendar that neither looks at.
A few months pass with the tri-adventure sitting at the back of our minds. Strategically, every now and then, mention is made to the teens of the upcoming outdoor activity. Specific mention is made that it’s to celebrate my birthday. This kind of snookers them, there is no choice about participation. Slowly the little gems are woven into conversation, like the 7:15am Saturday morning departure time. And the 90 minute drive. One way. I’m being unfair to the boys. They are good young lads, however, like many others their age, if asked, they’d prefer being at home with the basketball hoop, devices and air fryer.
The day arrives. And just like the vision, it’s brilliant sunshine and forecast to stay that way. There is no wind.
We start the car trip, Gus reading an activity from the “Road Trip” book he’d brought me the previous Christmas for our drive to Wellington. The activity – list countries in the world. The person that can’t name one loses. I lost. But that’s okay, it’s my birthday, the sun is shining and we are about to hit the countryside. 20 Questions then follows, and I get scolded for choosing tow bar. Apparently, it was too hard as the 20 questions pass by without success.
Arriving at our destination, Harry asks as we stand beside a body of water, if this is Lake Karapiro or the Waikato River. I am embarrassed to admit I’m not entirely sure. It’s the first question I ask Steve as we are greeted at the container beside the water. We are beside the southern end of Lake Karapiro and the Waikato River runs through it. Steve has our bikes waiting. After a quick trial on the bikes to make any adjustments, the bikes are loaded onto the trailer. We fit our helmets and load into the van joined by a brother and sister from Wales. We set off for the 20 minute drive down the road.
I do like the countryside. My childhood comes rushing back. And in Spring, it’s at its best with the green rolling hills, rocky outcrops and glimpses of the river we will soon be exploring. Recently I travelled to Portugal. At the hotel in Lisbon an American lady was chatting to mum. It was a little surprising the lady’s favourite place in New Zealand is the Waikato. But today, I can see why.
A few tips from Steve and we start the self -guided 5km walk, the first part of the day on the Waikato Trails. About half a km in Gus moans “why do we always have to walk up hills?” We don’t do a lot of walks. And this is hardly a hill, so neither Rose or I bother with a response. Not long after, we all take the steeper side path to the recommended lookout. It’s kind of a 1950s Brady Bunch picturesque scene. The green paddocks dotted with cows and the different shades of green from the dark of the totaras, through to the rolling hills of green grass. The river sparkles, a camp site either side with campers enjoying the uncrowded spots. A few small sail boats float atop the water. Any noise is gently created only by nature.
We carry on our walk. One thing Rose and I try to do every now and then is take the boys on an outing. It gets them interacting with each other. Soon the early start thaws, the two walk ahead side by side chatting away. This warms their mother’s heart. While they make distance on us, we pause beside a paddock. One side is the beautiful native bush and river. The other, a beautiful herd of Friesians munching away on the plentiful grass. I explain what the “munch bunch” is to Rose. For the farm girl in me, there is something delightful about the sound of cows munching away in the paddock. We pause and muck around on the track covered in white cotton from the tall trees above. It’s closest to snow we’ll get this festive season. Not long after, we meet Steve and our bikes.
We set off on the 12km bike ride. Following Steve’s recommendation, we dismount about 3km in and explore the Arapuni power station. The walk across the swing bridge shows off the glory of the thick native bush either side of this narrow part of the river, with the water rushing beneath. We take time to read the information boards at the top of the cliff. Built in the late 1920s, there is a photo of the power station painted and covered in bush and bracken to camouflage it from the threat of Japanese invasion in the second world war.
The ride continues, next landmark a bowling green. Here we will turn off to the small village of Arapuni for lunch.
The tempo picks up, I feel the joy of riding down hill, the speed thrilling as I weave along boardwalks, using my body weight like a pro to navigate the bends this way and that. We arrive at Lakeside Delta. Another of the freedom camps along the Waikato. Something rings a bell about Delta which suggests we are long past the bowling green. A sign with a map of the track proves my inkling right. But just to make sure, we check with technology and sure enough, we are nearly back at base. We carry on back to base, where we then jump in the car for the 10 minute drive back to Arapuni.
Lunch is in the beautiful garden at the back of Rhubarb Café. The boys both order burgers. I wonder if this an ideal balanced diet given my already announced birthday dinner is a Flame Grilled Whopper. But I suppose there is nothing wrong with two burgers on a birthday. As wet set to munching on our meals, I ask what activity the boys would want to do on a weekend away. “I wouldn’t choose biking” Harry replies quickly.
To clarify, we did enjoy the bike ride alongside the Waikato. We all agree, however, we aren’t a biking family. While we don’t mind the odd ride from time to time, a whole weekend of it isn’t our thing. Harry adds, “It’s hard to talk and engage while biking, not like walking.” The one downside of this part of the Waikato Trail is it is narrow, so riding side by side isn’t doable.
Alas, the hint of a preference for walking has me hopeful. Although, I’ve learnt as a step mother that sometimes what appears to be an opening for a suggestion, is not. Despite this, I make the conscious decision to chance my arm. “We should walk Mt Parongia” I deliberately choose the word walk over tramp or hike. It doesn’t take much enquiry from Harry to learn it’s an overnight hike. He doesn’t bother choosing his words explaining that’s a horrible idea. Oh well, I tried and still live in hope there is a Doc Hut somewhere in the future for our family.
Back to base and time for the kayak. By now it’s around 2pm. The day is hot. There are several boats on the lake/river waterskiing. More small sail boats. The boys are horrified to hear the kayak is circa two hours. In their pre adventure visions, they’d assumed 30 minutes tops. We layer up another round of sun screen and adorn our caps. Harry shows up with a flimsy Temu purchase that doesn’t sit right, a Maga hat. For some reason he chooses not to wear it. I later learn, he doesn’t bother to put sun screen on his legs courtesy of guidance from his mum. The lack of hat, drink bottle and sunscreen on the legs proves to later be a bad decision for the 14-year-old (unsurprisingly).
The kayak is gentle. A few ripples from the passing boats add a little fun. Rose and Harry go solo. Gus and I are in a double. We take the turn up a side river and not long into the river we are in the canyon. This is the money shot on the website and it doesn’t disappoint, with the narrowing of the river framed by tall, tree clad cliffs. Birds nest in holes in the cliff walls. The serenity indescribable. Only complaint is it’s too short. We turn to go back to base. No paddling required with the gentle flow now with us (not that we had to paddle very hard coming the other way). This is bliss. The beauty of the canyon, the gentle flow of the water taking us. We all decide this is the highlight of the trip. I go as far to say this is the best kayak I’ve done, which would imply I’ve done a lot of kayaking and am a good authority. I’ve done a bit kayaking and far from authoritative on the matter. Nevertheless, the others all agree (also having little authority on the matter of good kayak trips). This time I decide not to chance my arm and suggest a family kayaking or rafting holiday. Maybe, just maybe, the boys might suggest something along the lines one day.
Back to base, we pull our kayaks to shore, surprised to learn we were on the water for an hour and a half.
I ask Steve about the mountain in the distance. It’s Mt Maungatautari, a bird sanctuary and apparently a must visit with its unique native trees and plentiful bird life. That goes on the mental to do list. We talk a little about the Waikato Trails. The trails are 120km long, from north of Hamilton to about 20km north of Taupo. Steve helpfully has a trail map on the wall and recommends the best bit is an overnight on the southern end of the trails. Another one for the mental list, the lunchtime conversation about biking forgotten, although this might be an adult only ride.
We buy ourselves a fizzy drink for the drive home. As we head off, I decide I feel like potato salad for some unknown reason (it’s not a regular on my favourite food list) and a nice steak, a Whopper no longer appeals. The conversation turns to the pending arrival home, walking the dogs, a trip to the grocery store for items, Rose will do the salad while I do the BBQ. The boys, they have deserved their device time. And this is what 10 Weekenders is all about – a brief escape. Some fun in fresh air, exploring lands not far, before returning home.
Highly recommend.
10 Weekenders 