Finding a spot to pitch the tent

BY SARAH BENNETT

Discounting childhood holidays spent in a 1970s Anglo caravan (or rather, under a damp awning on a devilishly uncomfortable camp stretcher), my initiation into camping was in England's Lake District.

It rained. The equipment was borrowed, and included a saggy ridge tent that leaked like mad and lacked midge-mesh.

My new beau and I found ourselves trapped under canvas for days on end. Perhaps it was the serenade of raindrops, or simply strength shared in adversity, but romance blossomed: we fell in love with camping.

By the time we embarked on a four- month camping trip across the US in 1999, we were getting pretty handy with the mallet and the zip-together sleeping bags.

Our trusty two-person tent - which survives to this day - sheltered us nearly 100 nights in a row. It was pawed by bears, sprayed by a skunk, and held up to Death Valley winds that flattened its arc to within an inch of our noses. We emerged hardy and utterly hooked, but little did we know the best of our camping was yet to come.

Home in New Zealand, we discovered camping heaven. There are more than 800 vehicle-accessible campsites throughout the country, many of which lie on wild shores, in grand mountain valleys, and down gravel roads leading to the middle of nowhere.

Our family-focused holiday parks are also outstanding, offering facilities above and beyond the kitchen sink while still maintaining an air of back-to-nature simplicity. It's still the great outdoors, but with a toaster and a fridge to keep the beer cold.

Last summer, we embarked on a 20,000-kilometre road trip to research Let's Go Camping, a guide to the best campsites in New Zealand.

Most of our travels were during the Christmas holidays - a period we usually avoid in the interests of sanity. It was, though, a rewarding and uplifting time to explore, not least because we encountered a bonanza of happy humanity. There's more than a little magic within the commune of the Kiwi campground.

So, who goes camping? Far be it for us to generalise, so we'll stereotype instead. They're Nana and Granddad in their fastidiously maintained caravan.

He does all the driving (although they probably came from the town up the road), and she keeps the formica bright. In the early evening they sit in their camp chairs having a sherry before retiring inside for the evening. Lights out by nine.

Then there's Mum, Dad and the kids. They've got a multiroom tent and have brought their bikes. Dinner's a barbecue, although the kids just want a sausage in bread with icecream for pudding.

Long days are spent at the beach, or maybe taking a short hop into town for treats. The parents barely recognise themselves: even with all the loading up, packing down, and losing socks in the communal laundry, this is the most relaxed they've been all year.

Next up is the neighbourhood, a posse of friends and family who commandeer numerous pitches next to each other and erect a huge gazebo where everyone meets and eats.

They rig up fairy lights and run a fridge off the mains. When dinner is done and the light fades, the beer cans crack and the wine cask gets a hiding. The children run around until dark and then giggle in bed, despite the odd mozzie and sunburn.

And then there are people like us: a twosome in a little tent, living out of the boot of the car. We're not here for our holidays, we're just passing through, perhaps on the way to a tramping trip or joining the dots on tour.

Although content with our own company, we can't help but get caught up in the spirit of things, striking up conversations wherever we turn and occasionally getting drawn in to bat down.

Plunged into this high-summer mayhem is the unsuspecting foreign campervan tourist, who looks on with curiosity, even bewilderment.

But they quickly get the hang of things, and can soon be found yapping their heads off to strangers at the recycling bins. You can be sure they'll return home with stories to tell of just how friendly those New Zealanders are.

It's not all fun and games, however. There are sandfly bites and an unsightly T-shirt tan. Abuse of the Griffin's Sampler box can expand the waistline.

Someone may twist an ankle or graze their elbows or knees. There will be the occasional bout of dehydration (perhaps after a night on the Speight's). Yes indeed, the great outdoors has its risks. Just ask Bear Grylls.

There may also be the occasional raindrop. But, as my mother used to say as we readied ourselves for the mad dash from the caravan to the toilet block (Nelson Lakes, 1983, torrential), "it's only water".

Let's Go Camping: 66 great places to pitch your tent or park your van and what to do when you get there, by Sarah Bennett and Lee Slater (published by AA/Random House), is available from all good bookstores for $40.

Five Top Camping Spots

Maitai Bay, Karikari Peninsula, 42km northeast of Kaitaia, doc.govt.nz. A perfect crescent of golden sand and sparkling waters. This large campground offers hedgerowed alcoves on undulating grounds behind the dunes. Toilets, cold showers and water supply,

Ohiwa Family Holiday Park, off SH2, 14km west of Opotiki, ohiwaholidays.co.nz. A double-whammy for the waterbabies, with bird-filled tidal harbour one side, and child-friendly beach the other. This super-slick operation has all conceivable facilities and is ideal for families.

Golden Bay Holiday Park, Tukurua Beach, 18km north of Takaka, goldenbayholidaypark.co.nz. An idyllic spot, with its own beach, mature grounds and friendly folk. Handy to all of Golden Bay's attractions, and a stone's throw from the legendary Mussel Inn.

Okarito Community Campground, off SH 6, 32km from Franz Josef Glacier: Community-run campground close to a wild West Coast beach and New Zealand's largest unspoiled wetland, Okarito Lagoon. Facilities are basic (although there are hot showers), but the walks, wildlife and whitebait more than make up for it.

Mavora Lakes, 66km from Te Anau/52km from Mossburn, doc.govt.nz. Is this New Zealand's Holy Grail of vehicle-accessible wilderness camping? A DOC campground in stunning mountain surrounds, with pitching along the lake edge and throughout an expanse of golden grassland. Toilets and water only; no shelter.

- © Fairfax NZ News