If Auckland is the crunch of a crisp Granny Smith apple, Kuratau is the juice of a sweet ripe peach dribbling down sticky hands. We eased into a tranquil routine of swimming in the tonic lake, baking under the Sun, reapplying sunscreen, stealing glances at boys, reading, playing card games, board games, and tennis.
Kuratau this, Kuratau that. It’s all we’ve been talking about for the last few months. Our summer adventure began with seven girls, two adults, and a mountain of Country Road bags squeezing into a Honda SUV and a silver Volkswagen beetle.
After a six hour drive, we arrived at a small village sitting on the western side of Lake Taupo, the largest lake in New Zealand. Kuratau has only 354 residents, one dairy far far away, and no cellphone reception.
The bach wasn’t some fancy schmancy mansion but it was much better in my opinion. The 70’s furniture radiated a warm cosy vibe and it felt just like home.
The beach was literally a minute’s walk away and we went everyday. We were all red hot lobsters by the end of each day even after five layers of SPF 40 sunscreen. We walked, sometimes biked, to the tennis courts everyday. Our attempts at a “proper” game of tennis failed miserably thanks to our inexistent tennis skills..
On one fine day we rented kayaks and paddled up and down a river. Our stick arms were aching but our energy was replenished with sugary Chupa Chups. The view was absolutely stunning and we even spotted a bee hive hanging precariously off a tree.
Although we didn’t catch any fish, one of the highlights of the trip was going fishing. Rob took us out on the boat and we skimmed across the edge of the cliffs. We even took turns driving the small boat.
Leaving Kuratau was like waking up from a sweet and mellow nap. I can’t wait to see what’s in store for next year.