Escaping to the wilderness and back in time for tea

The serenity of it all transports you to somewhere that feels far, far away from Auckland city

It had been over three years since I last went to Muriwai, on Auckland’s west coast. A fact that, as I stood on top of the cliff watching the gannets, felt outrageous – how could I have possibly left it that long before coming back here?

The North Shore has very much become “my area” – I feel remarkably at home roaming along the East Coast Bays, with Long Bay and Tāwharanui Regional Park, north of Auckland, two personal favourites.

But west Auckland is a bit like uncharted territory for me. So, this trip was one of those spur-of-the moment trips on a Sunday afternoon, both of us desperate to feel a chilly sea breeze, the smell of salt in the air.

Our plan saw us running along the cliffs, then down along the beach, making it back to the car park in time to watch the sunset.

I’ve run on all sorts of terrains but running on sand has got to be one of the most challenging. Closer to the water the sand is firmer, but still not firm enough, shifting constantly beneath our feet. We laughed, knowing that we would be feeling our calf muscles the next day.

Other than the challenge of the sand, there’s something a little scary about running on a beach like Muriwai. When you look to the horizon all you see is the vastness of a coastline that looks like it goes on for an eternity. And that pull, to see where it ends, if it ever does, makes you feel like you could just keep on running forever.

When we finally turn around to head back, the cliffs where we stood to watch the gannets are still visible.

“Don’t be deceived,” says my running buddy. “They look close, but we actually still have ages to go.”

She’s right – there’s still a very decent stretch of beach we need to traverse. But maybe it’s the fact we’re talking the whole way or are distracted by each other constantly pointing out the little blue jellyfish sitting on the sand, because it feels like only moments later when we’re clambering back up the stairs to the top of the cliff.

I’m now acutely aware of just how strong that sea breeze was while we were running – my face is feeling a little windburnt.

There’s just one more hill to climb, before we jog back down to the car. It was a trip timed to perfection – we don our hoodies and trackpants, grab our cameras and walk back up the path to the viewing platform, just as the sun starts to set.

I have a huge fondness for sunsets and sunrises. No matter what else is going on in my life there is something so healing about watching the day shift into night, or vice versa.

We leave our vantage point, clamber down yet another set of stairs to the rocks below. Signs nailed to the side of the cliff urge us to be careful, lest we slip and get swept away by the high tide.

Down here it is much colder, directly subjecting us to that icy sea breeze, and any warmth left over from the day slipping away with the setting sun. But it is quiet, aside from the rush of the waves against the rocks, and the serenity of it all transports you to somewhere that feels far, far away from Auckland city.

And that’s what never fails to surprise me about New Zealand – just how easy it is to escape the confines of the city and get out into the wilderness.

Because sometimes you just need to get away. A drive of about 40 minutes, give or take, last Sunday afternoon took us to Muriwai. We also very nearly missed the best part of that drive – the breathtaking view as you come down the hill towards the gannet colony – due to my inability to tell my lefts from my rights. But that’s it – a return trip of just over an hour can take you on an epic adventure and you will still be back in time for tea.