Ohakune

Our journey today took us from the windy capital of Wellington to the alpine charm of Ohakune, a drive that transition from coastal cityscapes to the rugged heart of the North Island.

En route, we succumbed to the siren call of Honest Wolf, a boutique famous for its artisanal wool and woodcraft. My resolve—already paper-thin—completely disintegrated under the expert "guidance" of Uncle Von. He is, without question, a far more dangerous enabler than my mother could ever dream of being. Before I knew it, my rubber arm was twisted into a pretzel, and I was the proud (if slightly poorer) owner of a $70 hat. Was it a practical purchase? Perhaps not. But did it come with free chocolate-covered, fish-shaped marshmallows? Yes. Logic dictates that the marshmallows alone justified the investment.

The infamous $70 wolf hat—marshmallows sold separately.

We paused at the Mangaweka Bridge, where the landscape opened up into a spectacular, sweeping vista that felt like a prelude to the mountains ahead.

Upon finally reaching Ohakune, the collective desire to navigate a restaurant menu had vanished. Instead, we democratically "volunteered" our heroically overworked solo driver, Uncle Von, to cook for us instead. We settled into the Rocky Mountain Chalets—the same stunning retreat Laura and I enjoyed during our Tongariro trek,during our last visit to NZ. These chalets are the epitome of remote luxury: spacious, impeccably decorated, and featuring a fully stocked kitchen, not to mention the beckoning hot tub. Uncle Von didn't disappoint, whipping up a smoked salmon egg fried rice that rivaled any restaurant we could have gone to in both presentation and flavor.

Presentation 10/10.

In the quiet moments before heading to the farm where Laura and I would actually be staying, we decided to do some research on the Timber Trail, only to be met with a terrifyingly rude awakening. It turns out that "scenic bike ride" might be code for "test of human endurance," and I began to suspect we were grossly, perhaps even comedically, underprepared for the physical trial ahead.

As we wound our way toward the Kim Young and Sons Farm, I leaned out the window, mesmerized. The setting sun was busy painting Mt Ruapehu in a palette of warm, rosy glows, its volcanic peaks standing in sharp, majestic contrast against the deepening cool blue of the twilight sky.

The shadows on the gravel capture the day’s last light as it lingers over the summit.

The day ended at the farm, where I let out a genuine squeal of delight upon entering our room. They had gifted us the mountain view suite, framing the very same volcano I had been admiring all evening. To imagine waking up to the silent, snow-dusted grandeur of Ruapehu every day is almost too much to fathom. It was the perfect, serene end to an eventful day.