We’d been in the village for less than half an hour before we were propositioned. Usually, I’m a little wary of strangers inviting me to their house but the tall man in the grey hoodie insisted. “It’s only three minutes away,” he said with a straight face and slight accent. “You should come.” So we slowly followed him down the road.
Not that there was anything to worry about. The inviting local was one of the Māpua’s many talented craftspeople, industrial designer Sebastian Roccatagliata. In the workshop below his house, he pointed to thin boards of rimu, matai, and rewarewa, ready to be crafted into lamps for his Studio Deco Design showroom.
Sebastian, like many of Māpua’s residents, had moved here for the lifestyle and natural beauty. The name says it all: Māpua means ‘a place of abundance’ in Māori. Only 30 minutes from Nelson, the township is best known for the historic and revitalised Māpua Wharf – an eclectic mix of boutiques, restaurants, bars, galleries, and a bike hire shop.
“You want a step thru? A hardtail?” Establishing that I was a novice, the staff at Kiwi Journeys carefully wheeled out my first e-bike. “Go round to the left, between the buildings, down the ramp, onto the sand, we’ll meet you there. We drive the ferry too.” The flat-bottomed Māpua Ferry is the cycle-friendly link to nearby Rabbit Island and the only ferry crossing on New Zealand’s cycle trail. It took a whole five minutes to get to the other side.
“See you in a few hours” came the cheery wave and off we went, doing a majestic 20kph with the help of eco and sport modes, peddling the coast track before heading towards the beach. Beyond the protected bird nests lay total solitude, undisturbed sand as far as the eye could see. Further inland we doubled back though the pine forest, navigating pinecones and debris before taking on the Conifer Park Track. Along the way we came across other cyclists who were doing the Great Taste Trail, one of the Ngā Haerenga Great Rides of New Zealand.
Once back in Māpua it was time to eat, and The Jellyfish’s sun deck was calling. Located in a prime position on the wharf this well-regarded restaurant was bustling despite the chilly spring day. I rued not choosing the BBQ brisket dripping in caramelised onion that she-who-doesn’t-like-to-share ordered. Oh well, there was always Hamish the heron to watch on the pier (spoiler alert: it took me a while to figure out Hamish is not a real bird).
Not far from the restaurant are the old apple coolstores, now converted into an art lover’s paradise. Where once 100,000 cases of Granny Smiths and Galas sat ready to be exported, today it is pīwakawaka sculptures of recycled spoons (Forest Fusion), hand-painted scarfs (The Mapua Collective), and mini terracotta vases (Coolstore Gallery) that take pride of place. But it was a pop of fuchsia nearby that caught my eye.
The brightly painted beacon that is Kandē was a magnet to my oh-so-sweet tooth. Seated behind the smallest counter in the world was college student Aidan Porch, purveying jars of Grow Some Balls and Stop the Whining Gums. “How would I describe this shop? Small!” he laughed, going on to explain that the candy store was a family affair - built by him and his dad, with mum doing the ordering – giving him the flexibility to work when he can.
Like many seaside towns, opening hours in Māpua vary by season: the Golden Bear Brewing Company was still ‘hibernating’ in early September; the ferry timetable was operating on winter hours (weekends / school holidays); and many of the pop-up shops hadn’t popped-up yet. Thankfully this wasn’t the case everywhere.
“Open every day but Christmas,” shouted Tim over the Wega coffee machine at Java Hut, a little further up Aranui Road. Complete with self-identifying grumpy old men sitting out front and an overflowing tippo-potamus, it was obvious that Java Hut is a local’s local. “I love it when we get visitors, but there’s more to Māpua than just the wharf.” He wasn’t wrong.
Staying in a converted warehouse apartment at Pohutukawa Farm, with its expansive views of tidal Waimea Inlet framed by the distant snowy ranges, it was easy to forget how much the wider area had to offer. In a region renowned for its wines we headed to Moutere Hills Restaurant & Cellar Door in search of lunch.
Mistake #1: not making a booking during a potentially busy period (I’m looking at you, Fathers’ Day). Mistake #2: not giving ourselves enough time to take in the surrounds. We laser focused in on deserts. Dark Chocolate Ganache Tart? Yes please. Orange Cake, Safron Gel and Aquafaba Meringue? We’ll have that too. A trio of Feijoa Cake Limoncello, Tiramisu, and Ginger Loaf Icecream? Go on then. It’s fair to say that we didn’t have dinner.
We had one last stop though: Brook Waimārama Sanctuary, a shortish drive away. The South Island’s biggest predator-free sanctuary is home to 65 tuatara and 41 kiwi pukupuku (Little Spotted Kiwi), as well as the critically endangered kākāriki-karaka (orange-fronted parakeet). We were warmly welcomed to the visitor centre by Chris McCormack, CEO, enthusiastic conservationist, and our tour guide for the night. Red-light head torches on, puffers zipped up, we headed through the double doors into the forest valley.
A few hundred metres in Chris froze. “Hear that?” he urgently whispered, “It’s a male.” A high-pitched whistle. A pause, and then another one. “No, he’s a different male.” Then a lower call, slower, a short of trill. “Wow, she’s responding! That’s two kiwi males and a female you’ve just heard”. This was going to be hard to beat. We followed the path through the sanctuary, Chris shining an infrared light to bring the hidden glowworms alive, stopping occasionally to open a wooden ‘weta hotel’ (it’s OK, they’re in cases).
This time there was a sharp “Shhh”. Leaves rustled to our right. Then suddenly, out popped a kiwi pukupuku metres from us and shot up the side of the path, it’s powerful legs too quick for us to get a photo, its soft shaggy feathers shining in the full moonlight. We were stunned. To see this taonga in its natural habitat really did feel like an honour. “That has never happened on a tour,” Chris said, when we all got our breath back. The wide smiles continued all the way back to Māpua.
The next morning, still excited about our kiwi encounter, we coffee’d in Māpua one last time. As we left the wharf we passed Sebastian’s lighting showroom, his whale-shaped lights still on, grateful that this stranger had taken the time to proposition us.
Original publication: The Press