My New Zealand Roady: Not a Single (Literal) Mountain Was Climbed

Six-weeks into my trip I was sitting at a hostel telling another traveler that I was about to wrap up my time on the North Island and head South. When he asked me what hikes I had done, I told him none. You could physically see him recalculating my credibility as a traveler.

But for me, it isn’t that kind of trip.

I gave myself three goals. By the end of my six-months abroad I would like to:

Progress in surfing
Progress in yoga
Take weekly Spanish lessons

Now, nearly twelve-weeks in, I can confidently say that I am on track for all of them.

How to Start a Trip With Mild Risk

When I landed in New Zealand I flew into Auckland.

I didn’t have a single thing booked for my entire three months here. All I knew was that I was staying at a man named Michael’s house for my first couple of days. Someone a family friend met thirty years ago and hasn’t seen since. Sounds legit, right?

It actually turned out very well. His family was wonderful, and he even gave me some lessons driving on the left-hand side of the road before I picked up my rental car in the city. I had a car for 2-weeks and then used the bus for 6-weeks before Hannah arrived and we picked up our other rental.

Where Confidence Went to Die (Briefly)

As soon as I had wheels, I was off to Muriwai on the West Coast of the North Island for some car camping and surf lessons.

Muriwai is known for being pretty rugged, and it did not disappoint. I took a beginner group lesson, which usually consists of people who have never even been in the ocean before, and boards flying all over the place. It was less ‘surf lesson’ and more ‘human bumper cars in the ocean.’ It was a pretty tough spot, and I felt like I was past requiring that type of support and needed more 1:1 help. But it was still fun, and the campsite was beautiful and right on the ocean.

Irish Accents and Divine Timing

After Muriwai I made my way to Mount Maunganui. This is where the surf gods blessed me.

I was sitting on the beach with my board, trying to work up the courage to go in by myself (I had never surfed entirely alone before). Lo and behold a girl my age plops herself right beside me. Obviously, being me, I started talking to her. And what does she do for a living? Oh, she’s a surf instructor! Who just arrived in New Zealand, from Ireland.

The universe said: fine, I’ll help you.

We went in together, but I stayed on the inside and watched her kick ass, still too scared to go out the back where the real waves were.

Over the next couple of days I continued to surf with her and her other new friend, also from Ireland.

They would try to hype me up and get me to come out further with them but I continued to say no. Fortunately for me, they were very patient (and persistent) people. One day, William stayed close by on the inside with me. And before you know it, I don’t know how it happened, but I was suddenly out the back with him and Lil.

This day was my most memorable surf moment to date.

I caught loads of green waves, and was actually able to appreciate sitting out there with everyone else, rather than constantly being pummeled by the white water.

Was I on a massive 9ft foamie? Yes.

Was it practically a boat and doing all of the work for me? Also yes.

But it felt like a huge accomplishment.

Not only that, I had made two new friends that ended up tagging along on my roady to the Coromandel. Back in Auckland, I met a woman who gave me the keys to her holiday home in Matarangi. And she so graciously allowed Lil and William to come along with me. Many laughs were had and drinks were drunk over the course of a week and a half. Exactly what you’d expect when traveling with the Irish.

Santa Brought Swell

Next I was off to Raglan. My private instructor here told me I had definitely graduated from white water (broken waves), but it was so hard to get out the back where the green waves were. So, we just practiced moving forward and backward on the board to adjust my speed. At the end of the lesson, the eighteen-year-old local even drove me back to my hostel. Over the next couple of days I surfed with a kid from Quebec, a Polish guy and an Australian woman. We were even blessed with a beautiful sunny Christmas day session after tons of rain.

Could I Have Been Kidnapped? Possibly.

After that I went to New Plymouth but the local beach didn’t have great conditions for surfing. I looked at the forecast and noticed there were some waves an hour South. At this point I didn’t have a car, so I utilized the trusty old backpackers facebook page. I posted to see if anyone wanted to go with me and a couple of guys commented. One from England and another from Ukraine. They both drove 3+ hours to New Plymouth, we got together, and went and surfed at Opunake.

Could I have been stolen? It’s possible. But I was desperate for more time in the ocean. And it ended up being a pretty nice way to wrap up 2025.

The Retired Hobo Era

After New Plymouth I made my way down to Wellington and across the Cook Strait to the South Island. I went to Nelson and met up with a family friend from Ladysmith, then met William in Picton for a few days before heading to my next surf destination, Christchurch

If you read my last post, you know how much of a dumpster fire Christchurch was at the beginning. Sharks, homeless shelters, ankle monitors. But in the end I look back on that spot as one of my favourite New Zealand stops thanks to a retired hobo.

It’s Ceviche, Not Seremesie

After the city of chaos I was off to Westport. A sleepy town that I think a lot of tourists skip. And I’ll be honest, there isn’t much there at all. Unless you want to surf. Which, unfortunately for everyone else, is my entire personality now. And luckily for me, I befriended the owner of Surf Fevah, the local surf shop.

When I tell you this guy was a legend I mean it in every way.

I had been emailing him previously because apparently he has a yurt. Hannah and I were thinking about staying in it before we found a super cheap apartment right on the beach.

So when we walked into the shop and I let him know I’m the Canadian he’s been emailing, this guy goes off.

He is the most animated, excitable dude I’d ever met, picture a human espresso shot. Turns out, he was shocked that I was who I was. He thought he was emailing an old lady. Apparently I write like a 70-year-old accountant.

With our new friend, we surfed everything we could: the river at Shingles, the tip at Westport, Tauranga Bay when conditions lined up. I couldn’t believe some of the waves I was paddling for after only a few weeks of taking surfing seriously. I realized that the best stories happen when you ignore your fear and paddle out anyway.

Cargs helped us every step of the way and even took us for lessons on his electric skateboards to practice our turns.

The skateboard exercises consisted of us moving really slowly and then running off the road into the ditch. Natural athletes, you could say.

It felt like this guy had the answer to everything (except the definition of foreshadowing and how to say ceviche).

By the end of the week, we weren’t ready to leave. We had a place an hour South already booked and paid for, but then we had two spare days before needing to be in Dunedin. So, we went to Punakaiki and then headed right back to Westport, where we did end up staying in the yurt after all.

Tucked away in a quiet corner of Carg’s property was a yurt with an ocean view and TWO double beds for Hannah and I. This felt luxurious after sharing one double bed for two-weeks.

Cargs took us fishing where he caught enough for lunch and dinner both days. We golfed on his property. We even tried to help with some garden maintenance but he wouldn’t let us. Either because he wanted us to enjoy our trip or because he is high strung over his lawn, I’m not so sure.

I suspect the lawn.

We definitely didn’t struggle to have fun. One day I surfed Taraunga in the morning, then the tip in the afternoon, then the tip at sunset again.

Each session provided sore deltoids and a bit more confidence than the last.

On our final morning we went to Nine Mile Beach (where I almost ran over Cargs sister, whoops) and then ate, you guessed it, more fish.

A Fair Trade

Before saying goodbye, Cargs alluded to the fact that he might want to buy my board since I was leaving the country soon. This felt like the perfect opportunity to tell him what I was thinking.

In Christchurch, I bought an Aloha Ecoskin 7’6’’ board. It is beautiful, it’s got a lot of volume, and it just felt right. It’s my first board, and it feels extremely special to me. I wasn’t ready to let it go knowing I had two more surf destinations (Dunedin and Curio), but I told Cargs I wanted to gift it to him at the end.

Turns out, he has family where we are going for our final stop. So, I told him it’s his at the end of my time in New Zealand, as long as he never sells it and I can use it when (not if) I come back.

He happily agreed.

And so there you have it. My special board is going to a special dude that helped mine and Hannah’s surfing progress more than we ever thought was possible in such a short amount of time. Because of Cargs I will never forget Westport, I’ve eaten a shark, and I am a better surfer than I was before.

Thank god he gave me a chance after my lame ass emails.

Leaving Westport was really hard for me. It was the first place in all of my travels that really felt like home. But it wasn’t a goodbye, just a see you later.

Sea Lions > Us

Next on the roady was Dunedin. The drive there from Westport was crazy with scenery changing every 5-minutes.

Cargs had told us stories of people getting chased by sea lions there. We thought, okay you’re just dramatic, I’m sure it’s happened like once.

Sure enough the second we got to the surf spot there’s the biggest sea lion I’ve ever seen, a mum and a pup. As well as signs everywhere saying to stay twenty-meters from them. But how do you do that when you’re in the water and can’t see them?

Safe to say we opted out of St Kildas beach and went down the beach a bit to St Clairs. The conditions were nice while we were there, and there were loads of surfers out constantly. Just an overall really nice laid back city. It was cold though, the further South we got.

The Coldest Water, The Warmest Moments

Believe it or not it was even colder in our final surf spot, Curio Bay, where we stayed in a ‘Gypsy Wagon’. The water was fourteen degrees and outside was six to fourteen. We had thick wetties and caps on our heads and still froze. Even though I couldn’t feel my hands and toes I had one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life. Three dolphins came and swam right up to me, looking directly in my eyes. They swam under my board as if they were asking me to play. And when I paddled for a wave they were inside of it next to me, as if we were surfing together.

Saltwater, Sore Shoulders, Full Heart

It’s been three months of unforgettable moments.

I still have another week in New Zealand, we are going to Te Anau, Milford Sound and Queenstown, so it’s not over yet.

But looking back I simply cannot believe everything this country has offered me.

It’s the place that just keeps giving. In waves. In generous strangers. In moments that I will remember for the rest of my life.