The Road to Napier

The broad bright road unfurls arrow-straight before us, scything through the folds of crumpled green velvet flung carelessly over sleepy hills. Thick sheep tumble amongst glistening black rocks and august cows stare aloofly from their castle-like hummocks.

Presently we reach plains ironed flat and thick with odorous pines. The road tunnels through the dark forest, green-blue lines of trees whipping past with an occasional flash of lemony gorse burning fresh and bright in the scrub land.

A predatory bird floats above us, drawing us out from the dense woods and into the clear fresh land of lonely farms. Their colonial barns nestle forlornly against wooden houses, comforted by friendly cherry trees flushed pink by Spring sunshine as the road curves through undulating hills.

The grass burns bronze in the eve of the setting sun as we near Lake Taupo. A sudden crest in the road and the shimmering expanse of water clear as air, cold as ice, brilliant as molten jewels glitters before us in the mellow light. Snow-topped mountains bloom across the lake like storm clouds on the hazy powder blue horizon as waves dance with iridescent flavours of aquamarine and beryl in the rays of a ripe sun, the view breath giving in beauty.

Reluctantly we turn south and trundle onwards towards mountain peaks sharp cut against the dusky sky. Soon we are carving our way past white cliffs, the occasional lonely hotel or bar perched hopefully by the empty road as we dive round corners and up the steep slopes of the mountain flanks.

As the sun sinks behind us, darkness falls. The evening shimmers with the dewy lustre of pearly rain falling softly through the twilight night and the molten hoot of an owl warbles mournfully to the rising moon.