10 Weekenders

“Whatever happened to the Panini?” The Sunday paper headlines.

30 years ago, 1996, the Panini Bar opens in Christchurch. The food fad that was chicken and cranberry.

Panini’s. New Kids on the Block. Kung Fu shoes. Crimping irons. Fads. Some arguably replaced by better – straighteners preferred over crinkles. Some dare to reunite. The New Kids hit Vegas this year. Some, like Panini’s, disappear into the fond memory bank.

If NKOTB dare to reunite, so should the 1996 Mahurangi College alum. There are plenty of fond memories, including the seventh form (year 13) camp to the Pinnacles in Coromandel. If one is going to dare, then dare big – venture beyond the fond memory bank and go for a reunion, challenging bodies creaking towards 50 to conquer the wilderness.

The romantic notion of a reunion begins appropriately on Valentine’s Day 2025. A group of five school girlfriends on a shared Whastapp float the idea of hiking the Pinnacles 30 years on.  It comes as a shock to realise that 30 years is less than a year away.

“Great idea Charl, count me in!”, says one. “How about a night at the Hut and one night more for a treat?” writes another.

And that was the beginnings of the plan. It’s quickly agreed a long weekend works best. So, Auckland Anniversary at the end of January 2026 is locked in. The Pinnacles Hut Saturday night, followed by a night in nearby Thames for the treat.

My special talent kicks in where I take a good idea and over complicate it. Imagine if lots of the classmates from the Mahu 1996 era came? The group of five agrees and soon Anna is flying back from the UK for the hike, Lewis is keen to come from Melbourne and lines up friends Paul and Andrew. Katie is in, a quick weekend from Brisbane. Lisa from Wellington would love to, depending on the progress of a stupid injury. Mia thinks it’s a great idea, having recently done the Pinnacles and keen to return. Gareth tees up Hayden. A new Whatsapp Group is formed “Class of ’96 Pinnacles.” People are added, some I’ve kept in touch with. Some numbers unknown to me, but not the person behind the nameless digits. A few messages are shared. It becomes the channel for communication.

The euphoria and flurry of messages amongst school connections ebbs into a lull. The grand plans of a professional flyer done in Canva weigh on my mind. Life kicks in. Over the coming months, the bare minimum ‘must do’s’ are achieved. As soon as Doc opens bookings for the upcoming season, the required number of beds are booked. The Hut has grown to 80 beds, I suppose Doc Huts can grow in 30 years just like grey hairs, chins, and thighs. A motel is found in Thames. Not quite sure if this will be the treat that Nicki had in mind. A restaurant for the Sunday night dinner proves problematic and quickly put in the Too Hard Basket only to fester on the To Do List. The much-awaited professional flyer is completed, in Word. Canva a stretch too far for my patience, or is this starting to get into the bounds of “old dog new trick?”.  Said flyer is shared with the “Class of ’96 Pinnacles.” A few updates are sent over the coming months.

Less than a week out, Kara rightly asks where dinner is on the Sunday night. The internal groan of having to address the thing in the ‘Too Hard Basket’ that now just needs to be sorted. Turns out the restaurants recommended by the Information Centre are closed on Sundays. I make a note to ring the restaurants during the week. Maybe for a long weekend they will open on a Sunday. The vision turns to fish and chips in the motel room. Again, not really the treat that was in mind. Poor Anna coming from UK. And Katie from Brisbane.

Rose sits next to me on the couch five days out. Rose loves a rain radar. “Wednesday’s not looking good,” she says. I don’t think too much of it. Summer, New Zealand. Rain. Typical.

The rain radar is accurate. Sadly, torrential rain buckets the upper half of the North Island, before making its way down much of the country. It is to become a deadly storm. The Coromandel goes into a State of Emergency. News feeds are cluttered with road closures, slips, and worse. By Thursday the Pinnacles hut is closed. By Thursday evening it’s clear there is no decision. Pinnacles is a no go.

Months of planning and procrastination comes crashing down. It had never occurred to me there would be need for a Plan B. Thames accommodation cancelled, Doc huts cancelled. Luckily no need to cancel the dinner booking.

My first thought for a walk is Coast to Coast in Auckland. Stick to suburban streets with easy to find shelter if need be, no mud, access to caffeine and Ubers. By later Thursday night the ‘let’s over complicate things’ mode kicks in and the thought of Rangitoto Island. Sharing the idea with Paul, he points out the risk of the ferries not running or cancelled. Good point. Coast to Coast it is.  

Kate secures a place in Mt Eden for the girls to stay on Saturday night. A pub meal is booked for 11 on the Saturday night. Coast to Coast walk on the Sunday. Within a couple of hours, Plan B is sorted. The irony that is life, Plan A, takes months. Plan B, hours.

Everyone is happy with the new idea, some people who couldn’t make the hike and night in Thames are now able to make dinner. Another the walk. Others are pleased with the silver linings, they can make their sons touch rugby and hit the shops in Newmarket on Saturday, another can catch up with friends in town for the weekend they would have otherwise missed. Freeze dried food can wait until next time. And Lewis luckily didn’t buy new hiking boots.

Despite the positives, nervousness kicks in. People have travelled. A long way. And we are hanging out in Auckland. Will we get along? Will there be awkward silences? What if we meet on Saturday night and realise these fond memories should be left unexplored. Worse, what if time has rewritten the memories into something resembling fondness?  What if the thought of walking 16km together on a Sunday is an atrocious idea? And of course, the rain radar suggests Sunday isn’t great.

6pm Saturday arrives. A little nervous walking into The Brit, a casual, but good pub in the heart of Britomart. Taken to our table, it’s a long, high table with stools, no cutlery is set out. I can’t help but think what a shame we couldn’t book a nice Auckland restaurant at the 11^th hour. Poor Anna, Katie and Lewis, crossing international borders for a pub meal in Auckland. Then people start to roll in. The volume lifts, there are a few looks of “I know I should recognise you” before quickly the chat unfolds. I’m surprised I didn’t recognise Paul. I calculate I’ve known Paul for 42 years. Beside him Lewis. Lewis and I go back to playcentre days, making it 45 years. I’ve been quietly looking forward to seeing these two together. The three of us spent many a time at each other’s in our primary years. We regale stories of Paul’s long hallway and literally climbing the walls and kicking a ball up and down. Tennis with Lewis’s mum as coach. Carpooling for years of soccer together. Standing in this moment, I can’t believe I haven’t seen Paul in 30 years. We live about 20 minutes apart. But in moments, time disappears. It doesn’t feel long before Paul suggests he’s hungry. I’m surprised time has flown to near on 8pm. It’s agreed pizza for all. Four and half hours later, the night is getting on. And there is 16km ahead of us tomorrow. We have talked and talked and talked. The next day everyone comments what a good set up the pub was. Great service, good food and to be able to stand and walk around and talk to each other, with a slice of pizza in hand. If we’d been seated, it would have been much more difficult. The forecast isn’t improving, but the walkers are adamant to go ahead rain or shine.

Once home, I’m the first to have to pull the pin on the chats after midnight. I’ve never been a night owl and with maturity has come the ability (generally) to not fuel myself into the early hours with a beverage(s). Instead, I opt for a camomile, perhaps not aiding longevity into the night. I’m sharing a room with Nicki and Anna. Soon the bedroom banter begins. Nearing 2am I have the wonderful recollection of sleeps overs. Even though it’s decades since, the feeling comes flooding back where I feel the heavy eyelids but want to stay in the conversation. Soon I give up and declare time for sleep but encourage the girls to keep on chatting. I’m not sure if they do.

We wake up. None of us slept well. Despite that, the day is quick to carry on where we left off pre-sleep. Chats and chats and chats. Warmth and laughter. The walkers stick with their tramping attire. I regret not bringing mine to help with the make believe of hiking. I go with city appropriate activewear.

The girls head for breakfast in Onehunga. A few big breakfasts, or similar ordered. A big day ahead. Running a little late, I message Paul. The boys are waiting at the agreed meeting spot. Then the rain absolutely buckets down. The boys stay dry in their car, rocking from the wind. Auckland being Auckland, the heavy rain shower passes after a few minutes. A quick photo on the west coast, goodbyes to the non-walkers, we set off at 10:45am exploring our home city.

About half an hour in, we are sheltering under a shop veranda in Royal Oak. We’ve weaved our way through the streets of Onehunga and taken in some of Auckland’s classic weatherboard villas and bungalows. Then it’s Cornwall Park and ascending One Tree Hill. At the top Sarah explains its now nine tree hill as they look for the heir to the former one tree. The stories are shared, the wind buffeting us, reminding Paul of his beachside wedding photoshoot and tales from Lewis’s wedding too.

“Coach?”

“No… I didn’t really like cricket that much.” We all laugh, given the time I (and my family) committed to the sport in the 1990s. It’s wonderful to be with people where your life has stood still.

Conversation ebbs and flows covering off thirty years and the fond memories of before. Andrew has achieved National Champ status in spearfishing, myself, an NZ record in kettlebells. We can’t decide which is more obscure. I’m sure it’s Paul again that triggers the food conversation. No lunches have been packed, even though some are dressed like a tramper, why have a soggy ham sandwich when cafes are aplenty? By now it’s getting on for 1pm and the boys have only had muesli for breakfast, whereas the girls are totally fine with our big breakfasts. And so on we walk and talk. At the base of Mt Eden, a slight pause for one of the walkers to get in an Uber and head off to another family occasion. Then up the volcano we go. The wind strikes again, but visibility is clear to see north, south, east and west. The Waitakeres, the volcanoes, Sky City and harbour bridge. Rangitoto and the look alike in the distance, the Maunga of Mahurangi, Tamahunga. We pause for a moment looking at the Manukau harbour, trying to pinpoint where we began the walk and around to the Waitemata, our finishing point. Coast to Coast. We marvel had how far we have come. Little is said about how far to go, but certainly over halfway. Auckland. Perhaps, in the notion of romance, there is something poetic about celebrating Auckland on its anniversary weekend. By now any fear of a weekend failure long forgotten. This is beyond fun. This is special.

Part way down the Maunga, we stop at the café on the side appropriately called “Friends and [Maunga]Whau” café. It’s probably an hour since we talked about a lunch spot. Poor boys, it’s only on reflection I realise we made them hike over Mt Eden, no doubt their muesli stores well depleted. The boys enjoy their steak and cheese pies and custard squares. Good classic school tuck shop food, although these didn’t come in a white paper bag like Mrs Lewington’s.

We set off in the same spirits that have carried us through the day. High energy, talk and talk and talk. We enjoy the native bush of Lovers Lane in the Auckland Domain, with the shingle crunching beneath our shoes and river trickling beside. It’s a taste of the Pinnacles. A rimu tree gives shelter, with another nasty shower passing. And then up through the University. For three in the group, this is their old stomping ground. I can hear Katie, the now architect and Paul, the now engineer, chatting about all things construction, both Auckland Uni alum. Albert Park is in full, colourful bloom, before we make our final descent into the heart of the city. Anna and I are chatting, before mid sentence “Vulcan Lane?!” she says excited and we make a quick change of direction to wander down the historic lane onto Queen Street. We near Britomart and the train station. Certainly, an improvement in 30 years from the Yellow Bus’s we’d sometimes catch as independent teens from Warkworth to the dark, grotty and unsavoury downtown bus station.

And we arrive. 3:45pm. 16km from the west coast to the east. It’s only on pausing, I feel a bit stiff and tired. Amazing how talking constantly for five hours can trick the mind and body to overlook middle age muscles and joints. We finish with a celebratory drink at the Viaduct.

Some of the walkers kept the “Class of ’96 Pinnacles” group updated with photos of progress on Whatsapp. Messages came back from those sharing in the get together from afar. Perhaps best summed up by Miriam starting her message with, “Awww hiiiii old friends…”

Somethings have changed in 30 years, no more Yellow Bendy Buses, no more East Coast Bays road now with a motorway from Warkworth to the city, the Viaduct and Britomart. The Panini has disappeared, but after this weekend, the 1996 Mahu Alum is alive and kicking with talks of a Bridgehouse get together in a few years (already the “let’s over complicate” is pondering a walk from Pakiri to Mt Tamahu, 7km, although packed lunch required). There is an absolute conviction not to leave it 30 years again (that would make us 77 and I suspect even then the freeze-dried food will be passed its use by date).

30 years has grown the greys, chins and thighs. The next generation is well underway, many teenagers now. Challenges have been and will be conquered. Careers have developed. Adventures been had. It took what felt like a few minutes to catch up on the job, the family, the children, the parents, the siblings. But it was the richness to truly re-connect through the casual, standing pizza dinner, the slumber party and the 16km walk. At heart, we are still the same.

Thirty years ago, we left Mahurangi College as a wonderful group of young adults. And we still are.

“Awww hiiiii old friends…”