Waiheke Wonders (or: Visions of Valhalla)

When Cook first ventured onto the islands of the South Seas, he marvelled at the 'paradise' he encountered there: white beaches nestled between palms and turquoise lagoons, profusions of fruit and flowers, waterfalls and green forests populated by bright birds. Waiheke Island, which shelters us from the vagaries of the Pacific and upon whose verdant slopes we gaze from Maraetai, must be one such place. The word Waiheke (pronounced Why-hee-kee) means "cascading waters" in Maori, which should give you a clue. Just a stone's throw across the Hauraki Gulf, we've been itching to visit this delightful little island - and its many wine farms and white beaches - since we settled in this part of Auckland. And we finally made it happen a few weeks ago, shortly after New Year's. We had actually planned to visit the extinct volcano(and now protected reserve) Rangitoto Island, whose delightful cone-shaped slopes also make a fabulous sillhouette to complement your sundowner spritzer; but a last-minute confusion with the ferry timetables found us perching on the upper deck of the Waiheke ferry, sipping fabulous takeaway coffee and clutching our sunhats (or motion-sickness pills, in some cases).

Our plans having changed somewhat at the last minute, we found ourselves on the car ferry (sans car) destined for the southern part of the island, about five kms from the small town centre and off the main bus route and away from the rental car agencies, which are all located at the other (northern) wharf. And so, armed with little more than our stalwart three-wheel pram (A New Zealand invention, incidentally), water, raisins, apples, and lots of sunblock, we set off on a cross-island trek. Maya performed remarkably well on the five km hike, buoyed up by the great game we thought out of imagining we were the very first people to discover the island, and were exploring it, charged with the task of thinking up new names for all the new flora and fauna we encountered on our voyage of discovery. We resisted popping in at every wine farm along the way, pausing only for a picnic ('morning tea') in the shade of a spreading tree on the local school field, before we shrieked in glee at discovering a picture-perfect white beach with cool water (and even a few waves!) as we crested the hill and descended to the northern side of the island, which faces the open Pacific.

Maya and I nursed our hot feet in the sea, while Max (who had fallen asleep in his pram) and Willem lazed beneath the trees further up the beach. Willem then did his Virgo Man thing and phoned a rental car company, who sent out a car for us so that we could venture somewhat further around the island for the remainder of the day. Waiheke town centre proved to be everything a little tourist-island town could be, with delightfully quirky lunch spots, art and curio shops to satisfy all tastes, and - of course - decadent ice-cream and sublime coffee at regular 50m intervals along the main street. Maya decided in the course of the day that the Waiheke beaches beat even Maraetai's, being composed of finer sand and more interesting waves, although she conceded that living on such a small island may require more ferry rides than she has motion-sickness pills for. Willem and I resolved to return soon, armed with our car and loads of cash to spend at the vineyards... After lunch we cruised the island east to west, before leaving the rental car at the wharf and embarking reluctantly on the final ferry back to Half Moon Bay, where our trusty car was waiting to take us home to bed and dreams of paradise.

Views from the restaurant where we had lunch.