Across Cook Strait to Taupō: Wellington, Martinborough, and the Volcanic Plateau
The Cook Strait ferry is where everything shifts. Three days easing into the rhythm of campervan life across the South Island, and now the landscape is about to rearrange itself entirely. Parked at the Picton terminal, the van — which has felt spacious and airy on the open road — suddenly seems like a very large thing to load onto a ship. The crew guide vehicles aboard with practiced efficiency, the van swallowed into the hold among trucks and caravans and rental cars, then passengers climb the stairs to the passenger decks and feel the first real lurch as the vessel pulls away from the pier.
The three-and-a-half-hour crossing is a lesson in New Zealand geography. The Queen Charlotte Sound’s forested fingers of land slide past, the water a deep, slip-covered green that shifts to blue as the strait opens. On a clear day, the South Island’s Kaikōura ranges fade behind while the North Island’s rugged coastline sharpens ahead. If the weather turns — and it often does across Cook Strait — the deck pitches beneath, and the onboard café’s flat whites and mince pies become a welcome anchor. There’s no need to stress about the drive today: nothing to do but sit and watch the world slide past. That is the point.
Wellington greets with wind and attitude. The van rolls off the ferry onto the waterfront, the city’s compact centre unfurling around like a secret you weren’t quite in on. Wellington Top 10 Holiday Park, just north of the city centre in the suburb of Ngauranga, offers a solid base. The powered sites are flat and well-drained, the amenities block clean and heated, and the kitchen — if the van’s tiny galley feels too cramped — is decent enough for a proper meal. But don’t settle in just yet. Wellington’s heart is its waterfront, a long walking-and-cycling ribbon connecting the ferry terminal to Te Papa Tongarewa, the national museum. Walk it in the late afternoon, when the light softens and the wind drops just enough.
Te Papa is one of the few museums that genuinely works for everyone. A colossal squid suspended in formaldehyde hangs in the natural environment exhibits; a simulated earthquake house rattles convincingly. But it’s the Māori and Pacific collections that give the place its soul. The carved meeting house in the Te Marae gallery sits in calm and presence, feeling almost sacred. The café on Level 2 does a surprisingly good flat white and a slice of Lamington that tastes like someone’s grandmother made it.
Dinner in a campervan in central Wellington is entirely feasible. New World on Willis Street is a short walk from central parking, and the lamb chops, kūmara, and a bag of salad fit easily into a shopping bag. The two-burner stove handles the chops; the kūmara — scrubbed, pierced, wrapped in foil, and baked on a low flame — goes soft and sweet by the time the meat rests. Eat with the van’s door open, the city’s lights flickering in the distance.
Morning comes fast. Day 5 starts with an early departure from Wellington via State Highway 2, climbing out of the city through the Hutt Valley and up over the Remutaka Range. The Remutaka Hill Road winds through single-lane sections that demand attention — the campervan’s weight will push through corners without early braking, and the drop-offs on the outside lane are not the kind of thing to admire at speed. Take it slow. Pull over at the summit lookout if there’s a spot. The view back toward Wellington’s harbour, with Cook Strait gleaming beyond the city, makes the climb worth it.
The road drops into the Wairarapa, and the landscape opens instantly: rolling farmland, stands of macrocarpa, a sky that feels larger than it should. Martinborough arrives as a tidy grid of streets lined with old trees and cottages converted into cellar doors. The vineyards here are smaller, family-owned affairs, and the tasting rooms feel like living rooms — wooden floors, open fireplaces, a winemaker who chats about the season’s rain while you swirl a Pinot Noir you hadn’t planned to love. The region’s Pinot Noir has a savoury depth and structure that Marlborough’s fruit-forward style sometimes lacks, and you’ll find yourself buying a bottle you hadn’t budgeted for.
Martinborough Holiday Park sits a ten-minute walk from the town’s main square. The powered sites are grassy and generous; the amenities block is clean if a bit dated. The real draw is the town itself. Walk everywhere — to cellar doors, to the bakery for a morning pie, to the village square where the farmers’ market sets up on weekends. Martinborough’s scale feels almost European, a smallness that invites slowing down. Cook dinner on the stove — pasta with garlic and tomatoes from the market — and sit outside as the light drains from the sky, the Pinot Noir in an enamel cup tasting even better than it did at the tasting room.
Day 6 is a long driving day. Head north on State Highway 1, the road that runs the spine of the North Island. Long stretches of straight, flat road through farmland and pine plantations can feel monotonous. But then comes the Desert Road.
The Desert Road — State Highway 1 between Waiouru and Tūrangi — crosses the Rangipo Desert, a high-altitude tussock plain at the foot of the Tongariro massif. On a clear day, the three volcanoes — Ruapehu, Ngauruhoe, and Tongariro — line up like gods on a ridge, their snow-capped peaks stark against the sky. On a cloudy day, the road becomes a white-out, tussock disappearing into mist, wind rocking the van, headlights on and hands at ten and two. Conditions can change fast; check the NZ Transport Agency’s website before setting out. In winter, chains may be required. In summer, the biggest hazard is the midges that swarm at the Tūrangi end.
Descend into Tūrangi, a small town on the southern shore of Lake Taupō, and stop for fuel — the petrol station here is the last reliable one before the township. Tūrangi itself is not much to look at, but the lake is. Pull into a layby just past the town and stand at the water’s edge. The scale of Taupō — New Zealand’s largest lake — hits all at once. The water is a deep, clear blue that looks cold even in summer, and across its expanse the peaks of the Kaimanawa Range and the low, hazy shape of the central plateau are visible. Stand there for longer than intended, and take a photo that won’t do it justice.
Taupō DeBretts Hot Springs Holiday Park, just south of the town centre, is the camp for the next two nights. A proper holiday park with a dedicated campervan area, full amenities, and private hot springs pools fed by natural geothermal water. Check in, find the powered site, and go straight for a soak. The pools are warm enough to melt the stiffness from the shoulders after a long day behind the wheel; the mineral water leaves skin feeling soft and clean. The park’s kitchen and communal areas are excellent — a proper industrial cooktop, plenty of bench space, a dining room with big windows looking out onto the lawn. Cook a simple dinner — sausages with onion and a packet of salad — and eat it with the sun setting over the hills, steam from the pools rising in the cool evening air.
Day 7 is the physical highlight of this leg: the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. The crossing is a 19.4-kilometre hike over volcanic terrain with around 800 metres of elevation gain, taking most people seven or eight hours. Parking at the start and end points is limited, so book a shuttle from Whakapapa Village or Taupō township to drop at the Mangatepopo Road end and pick up at the Ketetahi Road end. Several operators run these shuttles — book the day before, and be ready to leave early. A 5:30 AM pickup is not unusual and is worth every minute of lost sleep.
The trail begins in a wide valley between Tongariro and Ngauruhoe, climbing gently through tussock and alpine scrub. Early morning light turns the volcanic rock a soft, reddish gold. The first real challenge is the Devil’s Staircase — a steep, unrelenting climb up switchbacks that will test calves and patience. Stop, breathe, drink water, keep going. At the top, the world opens. You’re standing on the rim of South Crater, a vast, flat expanse of volcanic rock and tussock ringed by peaks.
The Emerald Lakes — three small, vividly coloured crater lakes at the base of Red Crater’s ridge — are the crossing’s most famous feature. The colours are unnatural: a luminous turquoise shot through with yellow, from dissolved minerals in the water. Stop here for lunch, sitting on a volcanic boulder eating peanut butter sandwiches while other hikers take photos and steam from the Ketetahi Springs drifts across the valley. Do not, no matter how clear the water looks, swim in the lakes. The water is highly acidic — or so they say — and not as warm as it appears.
The final descent down the Ketetahi Valley is long and dusty, the trail winding through geothermal vents that hiss and steam. The heat from the ground is palpable — even on a cool day, you’ll find yourself sweating. The last section drops through native bush, the air cooling and softening, and emerge at the Ketetahi carpark tired, hungry, deeply satisfied. The shuttle will be waiting. Climb in, legs aching, and drink the water bottle that actually needs refilling at the visitor centre.
Back at Taupō DeBretts, walk straight to the hot pools. The mineral water works its way into tired muscles. Cook a proper dinner — stir-fry or curry, something with vegetables and spice — and sleep better than all week.
Huka Falls, just a five-minute drive north of town, waits before leaving. The Waikato River funnels through a narrow canyon of volcanic rock, the water surging with a force that is almost violent, a deep, roaring blue-green plunging over an 11-metre drop. Walk the short track from the carpark to the viewing platform and stand there watching the water churn and froth. Not a hike. Not a challenge. Just a simple, powerful thing.
The van is packed, the tank is full. Tomorrow, State Highway 5 heads east toward Napier, winding through pine forests and farmland before dropping into the Hawke’s Bay wine region. But tonight, still here in the steam and the quiet and the dark lake water.
