← PreviousA volcanic adventure in New Zealand: Frying Pan Lake, Wonderland and geysersWellington was also known as the base camp of The Lord of the Rings, and it was easy to find filming locations there. We were surprised to find a very famous one right in the heart of the city, in the tiny forest overlooking the buildings. The scene where the hobbits hide beneath the huge root of an equally huge tree was filmed fifty metres from a road, and we had fun recreating it while taking photos. We realised the magic of cinema, which can take you to a fairy-tale world while filming in a place where you can hear cars, planes and boats.
In the city centre, a cable car takes you up to a botanic garden that also overlooks the city. The walk was pleasant; a little lady with an umbrella caught our French accent and struck up a conversation. She was charming and told us about her love for the south of our country; she seemed surprised to hear it was snowing in Paris at that very moment and concluded the conversation with "well, maybe we're better off here." We certainly agreed and set off hunting for filming locations, including Rivendell, Minas Tirith and Isengard, which had rather more style on screen once the special effects were added.
We took Route 2 to our lodging for the night. We were welcomed by a very charming couple in their fifties, with the TV showing a rerun of a stage of the previous year's Tour de France. Seeing our surprise, they explained that New Zealanders love the coverage showing off the landscapes and enjoy having it on in the background while chatting. The same goes for the Paris marathon, shown several times a year, more out of interest in the place than the sporting performance. Joël and Lauren insisted we share their pie for dinner, which we did after going for a run, and they were just as generous with the beer, which we enjoyed in moderation.
The next day we drove down to Cape Palliser, the southernmost tip of the North Island. There we admired a colony of sea lions sprawled on the rocks soaking up the sun like the best tourists on the Côte d'Azur. We respected their rest, which wasn't the case for all visitors; some tried various ploys to make them move, but the big marine animals remained unmoved, which delighted us. A short hike of a couple of hours led to the Putangirua Pinnacles, and we climbed it, partly for the beauty of the place but also to see the entrance to Aragorn's Paths of the Dead. The heat was scorching and Cassandre was starting to have an allergic reaction, so we didn't hang about getting back to the car. We headed for Levin via Route 2 and then Route 1, each as beautiful as the other. They were winding, crossing lush green forests, rising and falling with the mountains. We didn't pass many people, but we were often overtaken.
It came as a surprise to us, but New Zealanders were very edgy on the road as well as impatient. As in Australia, as soon as we left town there was always someone right up our backside. Whatever our speed — at the limit or twenty kilometres over — there was always someone tailgating us. When we mentioned it to our Airbnb hosts, they told us it was a disaster and there were huge numbers of accidents. The roads, not in great condition, didn't help either, riddled as they were with potholes.
We took our time and reached Levin right on schedule, a small coastal town that proudly announced its twenty-one thousand inhabitants on the sign at the entrance. A little lady was waiting for us at the door, holding her dog by the collar. It overflowed with affection and jumped on us the second we paid it any attention. The house was single-storey, very long and very wide, neatly decorated as elderly people know how. The husband, whose name I've forgotten, was completely paralysed; only his neck and head could still move. The old lady looked after him every minute God sent, which didn't look like an easy task.
Despite his disability, the man was very jovial and alert, cracking jokes and telling stories about the town. He loved wildlife documentaries, so he insisted we watch with him as a giraffe was attacked by several hungry lionesses. On our travels we'd come to appreciate how well older people know how to host, and it proved true every time: they were adorable, their homes were spacious and the rooms always comfortable. You could feel that beyond the little financial boost, they were happy to have company and to socialise with young people from all over the world. We spent a pleasant, restful evening and night before trying our luck in Tongariro National Park.