This was written in May 2020, whilst in ‘lockdown’ in Wanaka

The town of Wanaka in New Zealand has stolen our hearts, the beauty of its landscape, the warmth of its people, and the anomoly of its climate have given us so much affection for this small lakeside enclave.

We have been sucked into its beauty three times since we arrived in New Zealand, and so we’ve spent more time here than anywhere else in the world over the last year.

We had been here twice when travelling around New Zealand, and when lockdown descended our hearts pulled us straight back to Wanaka as the place to wait out the worst of the pandemic

Wanaka sits at the Southern shore of the enormous glacier carved Lake Wanaka, which disappears tens of kilometres into the distant alpine mountains. The town sits at 300m above sea level and mountains rise thousands of metres above it on its flanks.

Our campsite sits on the lower slopes of Roy’s Peak, on the Western side of the lake. Sat outside our van, we look across the Rippon Vineyard and down to Lake Wanaka, with the jagged ridge of Mount Gold looking back across the lake at us. Gazing across this expense, it is hard to imagine that when in the UK our eyes rarely see something further than a few hundred metres away from us, and normally only as far as the width of a road.

We first arrived in the height of summer, with clear blue skies and baking hot days which could be whiled away swimming in the cool lake or walking and climbing amongst the giant peaks either side. We arrived for our third time at the end of March, with the air turning autumnal, yet still the sun could warm and burn us. As the days and weeks wore on, the air cooled and the mountains around were first dusted with white powder, and then coated thickly in snow, as the glaciers on the highest peaks began to merge in with the slopes around them.

Nevertheless, the microclimate of this perfect spot kept us warm and dry. Wanaka is situated so that the prevailing Westerly winds first have to cross the mighty Southern Alps, and so the clouds empty themselves onto those high peaks, and disappear into crystal blue skies above the town. Even as winter beckons, the sun can scorch, and trousers give way to shorts for the afternoon.

We have been here amidst ‘lockdown’, looking from the top pitches across a quiet campsite. When we go for a walk, the paths are peaceful, the town near empty, just a few people sparsely scattered on the beach, eating a snack midway through their daily walk. It was in sharp contrast to the vibrance filling the town when we arrived in January.

Before COVID was a word we really knew, before the idea of a lockdown was even conceivable, the town bustled with the energy of wealthy holiday makers, poor backpackers, and gnarled alpinists, all enjoying the relexed energy and sheer beauty of this spot. Where once it was a challenge to park, you now fear to stop your car on the empty streets in case of being considered a rule-breaker. The only movement now are the locals walking and cycling around the shoreline.

The lakeside path follows the squiggling shoreline beside the pebble beach, and though everyone politely keeps their distance, there are no shortage of faces. In particular it seems that Wanaka is home to the electric bicycle – people of all ages ride with remarkable ease along the road and path, gliding on their electric bikes.

In the early and late hours of the day, as we sit in our chairs, we are joined by a rich orchestra, as if in a scene from Bambi. I have never really had an appreciation for birds other than grand birds of prey soaring above, but spending this quiet time in their company has given me a great affection for smaller birds. The emptiness of the campground draws them all out. A band of California Quail, round little game birds, sit in the tree above us, chirping and clicking in the most entertaining of ways, before making their way down to wander around us, foraging for whatever they want. New Zealand Fantails dance around on the fence in front of us, while tiny grey warblers sneak between us, hiding behind the bench. They take turns dropping down to the single puddle in the area, warblers bathing in the mornings, Fantails in the evenings. All the while, families of bunnies hop in and out of the bushes, enjoying the friendly atmosphere.

As COVID restrictions eased, we ventured further afield. We head North, past the caravan park at Glendhu, the rocky outcrops near diamond lake where we go to climb, and past the ski resort of Treble Cone where people are beginning to warm up the lifts ready for winter. We head into Aspiring National Park.

Named for the dominant peak of Mount Aspiring (3033m), the Aspiring Road pushes us deep into this Alpine world, where glaciers stretch their fingers towards us, and nature asserts itself over humanity as streams wash across the road…. Our hire van isn’t designed for fiording! We are so close to a vibrant town, yet so far from the intensity of civilisation, awe inspiring nature surrounds us and clears our minds of the mundanities of modernity.

Time rolls forwards in a peaceful blur, the distinction of dates are meaningless as we exist in open space with nothing to do but breath in the air and watch the world flow through the rising and setting if the sun. Such simplicity gives perspective to the niggles and burdens of the life to which we will return. We learn of the satisfaction to be gained from doing so little amongst such beauty.

The world changes and calls us away, but as our bodies leave we feel that our souls have remained, forever changed and now completely intertwined with Wanaka.