TONGARIRO NATIONAL PARK

This is probably as good a time as any to say a little about what it’s like to drive around the North Island of New Zealand. It isn’t like America, that’s for sure.

According to the latest provisional data from the Ministry of Transport, New Zealand recorded 294 motor vehicle fatalities on the roads in 2024, with the North Island experiencing a significant portion of these deaths; however, exact figures specific to the North Island alone were not readily available.

New Zealand actually saw a decrease in road deaths in 2024 compared to previous years, with the lowest per capita road toll in over a century. That’s great news! I’m glad it’s getting safer.

But as someone who has driven in many different countries, including those where the traffic drives on the left side of the road, New Zealand roads are bloody dangerous. Most of the roads are narrow, with sharp blind turns and roller coaster dips that can send you careening off the road in the blink of an eye. Then you throw in the monster trucks being driven by maniacs, confused tourons in rental cars, and excitable locals driving like bats out of hell, and it’s a demolition derby. We saw a lot of crashed vehicles during our travels. The margin of error on the tight turns is inches. And I rarely felt like I could let down my guard for even a second.

The other thing you need to factor into your plans when driving around the North Island is road work. Just like in the U.S., summer is when the road gangs come out to play, so expect long backups and delays. We added an hour for every drive we mapped out and were never disappointed.

After smelly Rotorua and our brief sidetrip to Huka Falls, we had pushed on to Turangi, a city famous for its fishing and the home of the largest prison in New Zealand. We stayed at the Turangi Leisure Lodge, where little, particleboard, two-floor houses encircled small swimming pools and grassy courtyards with shuffleboard courts and lawn darts. Given New Zealand’s delightful year-round climate, their structures rarely have any insulation, so they look sort of thin and flimsy. The lodge catered mostly to Kiwis on extended vacation with their families, and it had a glamping feel. Everyone was super friendly.

The next day, we headed south on Highway 47, Te Ponanga Saddle Road, past the snow-fringed Opatako Volcano, rising up from the brown, rocky landscape like a towering fountain of delight. We skirted the western edge of mammoth Lake Rotoaira, where the ancient lava flows and scrub cedars surrounding the blue lake reminded me of Utah. There were few towns or services. The place seemed empty and alone.

The landscape soon became more alpine, and small bridges crossed forest streams as we climbed slowly behind a convoy of recreational vehicles. We crossed the churning Mahia Rapids and ascended into a mountain forest on the entrance road to Tongariro National Park, New Zealand’s oldest national park and the fifth oldest in the world. Tongariro is home to three massive volcanoes: Tongariro, Ngauruhoe, and Ruapehu.

Our destination was the strange ski resort of Whakapapa Village. Whakapapa! Whakapapa! I just love that word. The place was hopping on a warm Friday afternoon, even though there was no snow. Coffee was in great demand.

Just above the abandoned Tongariro Resort, a stunt double for the hotel in “The Shining”, we parked next to the Skotel Alpine Resort and hiked the 4-mile-long Taranaki Falls Loop Trail around the base of Mount Ruapehu. The purple lavender and wildflowers along the trail gave off a heavenly scent and the extinct volcano seemed to follow our every move.

The hike showcases a variety of flora from a native beech forest to subalpine shrublands, culminating with spectacular Taranaki Falls (65-feet-high). The falls cascade over a towering cliff wall, which was formed when nearby Mount Ruapehu erupted thousands of years ago.

The trail rose and fell steeply as we dropped into rugged gorges with bridge crossings above fast-moving streams. It’s a popular hike, and we encountered pockets of people from beginning to end, but the constantly changing terrain tended to separate the hikers, and we often felt like we were the only ones around.

Inna and I both agreed it was one of the best hikes we have ever done together. We had driven a long way to do the much-celebrated trek—this would be as far south as we would get in New Zealand—and it would have been a bummer if the trail wasn’t the best of the best as advertised.

On the gorgeous journey north on Route 4—another white knuckle drive—we passed through about 70 miles of terraced meadowed forests and winding streams that seemed akin to grandmaster paintings than anything real. It was more like the Shire than Hobbiton!

The view from Piriaka Lookout left me utterly speechless. I stood there in utter amazement, trying to take in the lurid landscape, a volcanic montage born of fire and catastrophic upheaval, and then healed over with lush vegetation resembling green fur and draped with a riot of thick trees so tightly packed together they resembled one.

And if you ask me, the trees are what make New Zealand so unique. Some of them are familiar, like the Lombardy Poplars that are used in the valleys as toothpick wind breaks, and the very popular Monterey Pines that have become New Zealand’s favorite all-around tree. But most of the species were unfamiliar, though pleasing, to my untrained eye. New Zealand is the happy place on earth for all trees, large and small.

Nature still tantalizes down south in Kiwiland.