Surfing bed and breakfast in Oakura
After our episodes in Raglan (see here, here, here, here, here and here), we moved forward and south the northern island of New Zealand, crossing sensational and peaceful sceneries of hills, rivers and farn forests.
It took us a few hours to be in New Plymouth, and by mid-day we passed through its victorian style houses and parks. Not far away we stopped at the coast - in Oakura, a silent place on the wild coast.
We managed to ge a room in a house without talking to the owner who was busy in town. A nice veranda, a wooden construction, a huge sleepy dog and few (german) guests welcomed us as we left very quickly for the beach for the rest of the day.
The only surfer shop in town rented surf boards and we met our hostel owner. Easy goin’ guy and passionate surfer. What do you think? We smiled and knew, Oakura is ours for the next two days, mine and hers. We mounted the boards at our cars roof and headed down to the beach, unpacked and sprinted down the sandy meters.
I forgot to say that she was going to surf, not me. I still had open palms, and by the way, the waether was terrible. She’s a tough surfer girl, and even the wind which blew her board around, couldn’t stop her. In her wetsuit she felt unvincible.
Other surfer didn’t show up, except two older guys crashing into each other every time when both tried to catch a wave. That was fun to watch as I froze behind big rocks. I felt I need that shelter, but actually I was tired from driving and could barely keep my eyes on her…
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