The low rumble of tires on the driveway told me Nevis and Sam had arrived to collect me.
They hopped out of the car, already tugging loose the thick black straps on the soft-top roof rack. I practically leapt outside, my banana-yellow Salt Gypsy longboard tucked under my arm, and was met with wide grins and a bubbly “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”
We wrapped each other in hugs before breaking apart in our excitement, eager to get this show on the road.
One, two, three – the surfboards piling up like colourful layers in a cake – and off we went to the day’s most essential stop: coffee.
Bright-eyed and caffeinated, we merged onto the motorway and began the drive west, bound for the wild black-sand shores of Piha.
Ah, Piha. Back in the early 2000s, a reality show called Piha Rescue chronicled the daily work of the Surf Life Saving Club. The beach is well known for its powerful rips, which can drag swimmers out to sea. For surfers, however, a rip current can be a gift, turning what would have been a noodle-arm paddle into an effortless ride out to the back, and giving them more time on the waves.
An hour later, we arrived. Calling the ocean a washing machine on its heaviest setting didn’t even come close. It was as if the sea declared war on itself.
Naturally, we decided to try anyway.
I was a lone boat adrift at sea, tossed and spun in a troublesome thrill ride. Waves peeled at me from three different directions, and in a moment of absolute, ridiculous panic – ridiculous because my braid had unraveled, my hair slapped across my eyes, and I couldn’t see the breaker roaring toward me – I burst into giggles. Up ahead, Sam was muscling her way through a water wall and nose-diving straight into a wave, her feet kicking behind her like a mermaid’s tail. Farther out, the only sign of Nevis was his head bobbing above the surface, as if he’d drifted into an entirely different ocean.
It was hilarious… right up until the great aquatic washer seized me, spun me like a sock, and slammed me into the ocean floor.
Nevertheless, we gave it our best. Afterward, we shuffled across the beach like waterlogged mops, rinsed off in the shower, and floated – spiritually if not physically – up to the bar.
The next stop on the birthday itinerary was Matakana Village, a quaint, charming town tucked on the east side. The scenic route carried us past sheep farms and rolling hills, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how the greens and golds streaked by, almost too vivid to be real.
The moment we parked, our surfskates were underfoot, whisking us over smooth streets lined with pretty houses. For a while, we were nothing but carefree kids basking in the warmth of a perfect summer day.
Next up: picking up our picnic supplies at none other than PAK’nSAVE, the sprawling yellow supermarket warehouse. Shoes? Unnecessary. Risky, even. Nevis emerged as the hero, fearlessly navigating the tile battlefield, while Sam and I rode shotgun in the cart, groceries teetering on our laps.
Shoes still off and hoodies snug, we rolled up to our final stop: a beloved beach along the east coast. The twisting roads delivered us into a panorama of gold and blush and violet. We wandered over warm, luminous sand and claimed our place for the evening.
We collected scattered driftwood, dug a hole into the sand, and arranged our feast on a blanket. The moment the sun slipped beneath the horizon, the fire came alive, its orange flames reaching hungrily toward the stars.
Time seemed to dissolve as we lingered there, lost in the moment. Darkness gathered and wrapped itself around us. At some point, a bottle of Shiraz urged us to cast off our clothes and run laughing into the cool, lapping waves.
Then something unbelievable happened.
A hand skimmed the water’s surface, a twirl followed, then a goofy dance – and suddenly the sea lit up. Around us bloomed a constellation of white, blue, and green sparkles: bioluminescence awakening beneath our touch.
We became children in that moment, wading through a sea of glitter; Na’vi on Pandora, sprinting through a forest lit from within. Pure, unfiltered magic.
Leaving it felt like waking from a dream.
Finally, shivering, we returned to the fire for warmth. The time had come to return home.
Sleep came heavy and sweet that night, carrying dreams of freedom, friendship and wild adventure. It was a Kiwi birthday made of pure perfection.
And I’ll remember it for the rest of my life.
