The New Zealand Herald

Oh, the freedom Oh, the sandflies

Petrina Darrah discovers the joys of campervann­ing – and the inconvenie­nces

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New Zealand’s roads are enough to entice anyone with a grain of adventure in their heart. Narrow ribbons of road curl alongside epic coastlines, lakes and mountains across the country. Campground­s fill the spaces between small towns strung out around more remote regions. In many beautiful places, a campervan is the best accommodat­ion you’ll find.

Is there anything more luxurious than rolling open a door to a view of waves or mountains? I guess that depends on how long you’re willing to go without a shower — and tolerate some of the other downsides to van life.

Here are some of the best and worst parts of travelling in a campervan.

A campervan gets you closer to nature

A campervan isn’t quite an abandoned bus in the Alaskan wilds, but it gives you the same feeling of leaving civilisati­on behind.

To me, there’s nothing more freeing than putting a city in my rear-view mirror and a good playlist on my stereo. Driving with the window down and sunshine streaming in, heading for the coast, a river or anywhere without street lights.

One of the best parts of travelling in a campervan is opening your van door in the morning to find nature on your doorstep. We’re lucky to have epic campground­s in New Zealand. I’ve stayed in countless spots right on the water’s edge.

Some of the best nights of my campervan life have been camping right next to West Coast beaches; going for sunset walks weaving through fires made from scraped-together driftwood lighting up in the gloom; going to bed to the smell of wood smoke and sea spray.

But you have to be happy to let the outdoors in

Of course, getting closer to nature means you have to enjoy the outdoors — mud, grit, sandflies and all.

You can’t draw much of a line between inside and outside. I don’t mind stray to¯ tara leaves infiltrati­ng my bed, but I’m less excited about sand creeping into every nook of my vehicle.

And if you want a break from always being outside, you don’t have many options.

Campervann­ing feels freeing when the sun is shining and your living area expands to cover picnic blankets or tables. But when it rains, your home shrinks to the cramped confines of your campervan, where there’s a limit to how much time you can spend sprawled on your bed or hunched in the front seat.

My van, in theory, could be converted from a double bed to a couch with a table. In reality, I was never going to upend everything to make a place to sit, only to dismantle that set-up a few hours later when I wanted to sleep.

There’s no need to plan ahead

Campervann­ing is about simple joys; like having a kitchen with you everywhere you go, so you can make a cup of tea anytime you like.

And if you’re not happy in one spot, you can move — you have everything you need with you, so picking up and leaving is easy.

With no need to plan ahead, campervan life saves hours scrolling through accommodat­ion options, reading reviews and trying to make an itinerary that optimises every hour of holiday. I enjoy not having a plan and letting things unfold without the pressure of needing to be at a certain place at a certain time.

But exhaustion will catch up with you

Living a free-wheeling life is fun — until you get tired. Not knowing where you’re going to sleep each night can get exhausting.

If you’re planning on freedom camping, you have to get used to moving most days.

Most free campsites have a limit of two consecutiv­e nights — others ask that you leave by 9am.

Even if you could stay for more than a few nights, the urge to find somewhere to connect to the internet is strong. The cycle of always having to think ahead is draining.

Then there’s the never-ending work of mundane daily activities. Things you take for granted in a house — water, power, internet — become chores you have to think about constantly in a campervan. It feels like a lot of time is taken up doing dishes and brushing your teeth over the same tiny sink, trying to dry laundry on the back of headrests, or filling and emptying water tanks.

Campervann­ing brings the joy back into everyday things

Travelling in a campervan brings whimsy to simple things. I have a theory that food tastes better outside, especially when eaten by the beach, under the stars or with a view of the sunset.

One thing that surprised me about campervan travel was how much I enjoyed not having a mirror. I didn’t even think about packing one until I realised the only way to see my face was via the rear-view mirror. I found it refreshing to just enjoy hiking, swimming and activities without worrying about how I look.

Campervann­ing also forces you to slow down. When mobile data is patchy at best, books are the best entertainm­ent. It takes a little adjustment for me to sink into reading books instead of social media, but once I change tack, it feels great to be disconnect­ed.

But you have to be okay with being unwashed

Unless you have the budget to spring for a large motorhome with a shower, you’ll probably have to get used to washing less.

I rarely brush my hair, have no beauty routine to speak of, and I’m okay with calling a river swim a shower. If your personal grooming standards are even a little higher than mine, you might struggle to enjoy campervan life.

When travelling in a campervan, cherish each clean, flushing toilet you come across. Department of Conservati­on campground­s are a gift to this nation, but the odours emanating from some long-drops are a challenge even for me.

In the end, though, these inconvenie­nces are temporary. Soon enough you’ll be back home wishing you could swap creature comforts for the thrill of the road.

If you don’t mind a few small sacrifices, you might be surprised how much you enjoy the campervan lifestyle.

 ?? ?? Campervann­ing forces a slowing down, replacing constant connectivi­ty with the simplicity of books, enhancing the joy of the journey.
Photo / 123rf
Campervann­ing forces a slowing down, replacing constant connectivi­ty with the simplicity of books, enhancing the joy of the journey. Photo / 123rf
 ?? Photos / 123rf ?? Left, closer to nature means welcoming the outdoors in — including mud, grit, sandflies and the occasional stray tō tara leaf in your bed; below, nature becomes your neighbour when campervann­ing, with epic campground­s often situated right on the water's edge in beautiful New Zealand.
Photos / 123rf Left, closer to nature means welcoming the outdoors in — including mud, grit, sandflies and the occasional stray tō tara leaf in your bed; below, nature becomes your neighbour when campervann­ing, with epic campground­s often situated right on the water's edge in beautiful New Zealand.
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