Our day in the centre of Adelaide turned into one of those unexpectedly brilliant travel days where nothing goes to plan, the weather sulks, and yet somehow the kids, the coffee and the Christmas decorations save the whole thing.

It was Black Friday, and everyone kept warning us:

“The city will be packed, the traffic will be chaos, good luck today.”

Honestly?

It wasn’t that bad at all.

Traffic was fine, the crowds were busy but calm, and the whole place had that humming pre-Christmas energy without the meltdown.

The rain didn’t let up all day, but it kind of made the whole thing feel even more festive.

We wandered through Rundle Mall, found the giant Christmas sleigh and trees, grabbed a family photo and got completely soaked but didn’t care. Georgia spotted a Lego flower stall and nearly exploded with excitement, pointing at everything like she’d discovered hidden treasure.

The Central Market was warm, colourful and packed with fresh local food. We strolled around, admired the fruit stands, the bakeries and the cheese counters. It felt like a proper heart-of-the-city place, full of locals grabbing ingredients and families getting out of the rain.

Outside, Adelaide’s jacaranda trees were glowing purple through the drizzle.

We wrapped up the day with a coffee and hot chocolate because that’s how parents survive travel.

Wet. Busy. Christmassy. Easy. A proper good Adelaide city day out!

The post 🌧️ Black Friday in Adelaide: Rain, Christmas Magic and Market Wanders appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

We set out with a simple plan: hit Hot Water Beach, dig a pool, and call ourselves geniuses. But New Zealand loves to rewrite the script.

When we arrived, the tide was roaring, the wind was blasting, and the only hot water was the kind falling from the sky. After a quick look, we admitted defeat and kept moving.

That “miss” turned into a win.

Driving deeper into the Rotorua region, the landscape shifted quickly pretty plains melting into thick forest, steam drifting through gaps in the trees, and that familiar sulphur smell rolling through the car vents.

The thermal mud pools were alive literally. Thick grey mud boiled like a witch’s brew, bubbling up and bursting in slow rhythm.

We stopped at the only free public pools and took a walk around before we checked in.

Steam curled around tree trunks, making every corner look mysterious, almost otherworldly.

We wandered along the paths, jackets zipped to our chins, stepping through warm patches of air drifting up from fissures underground. Signs explained how Māori used these places for generations: cooking food, treating injuries, even making coffee from roasted seeds. The mix of culture, geology, and raw nature made the whole walk feel like stepping into an old story.

We walked through drifting steam, the whole world around them humming and gurgling quietly. Even with the drizzle, even with the wind, it felt like the most New Zealand thing we could be doing.

A strange, wild, unforgettable day the kind that starts messy, changes completely, and becomes one of the memories you talk about later.

Tomorrow we will dive in to this more, let’s hope the weather is better!

The post 🌋 Day 28 – Mud Pools, Missed Beaches, and Rotorua Rising appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

Day 26 looked simple on paper: drive round the coast from Auckland to our next stop by the sea. In reality, it turned into one of those “are we lost or just on an adventure?” kind of days.

Not long after we set off, the main road was closed. No neat little detour, just a sign and a “good luck” vibe. The sat-nav rerouted us onto a gravel track that went on for what felt like forever. For nearly two hours we rattled through misty green hills, past farms and forest, watching the tarmac disappear behind us and wondering if we were still on an actual road or had accidentally driven onto someone’s driveway.

Eventually, the gravel spat us back out at the coast and we rolled down to Wharekaho / Simpson’s Beach, just north of Whitianga. The day was grey but calm, the sea almost glassy. The beach here sits on Mercury Bay, a long, gentle curve of sand looking out towards the islands and headlands of the Coromandel.

The sand was the first surprise. At the high-tide line it’s a mix of pale sand and streaks of inky black, like someone had taken a giant charcoal stick and dragged it along the shore. Those dark layers come from volcanic minerals that have washed down from the surrounding hills over time and settled into the beach, so every wave rearranges a little bit of the Coromandel’s geology at your feet.

Dotty immediately claimed a driftwood log throne, sitting in her wellies and quietly lining up stones in front of her. Behind her, the dunes and banks show exposed roots and layers of dark soil where storms have bitten into the land, so you get this lovely contrast: wild, messy nature behind, calm silver water in front.

What makes Wharekaho extra special is its history. This bay is part of the rohe (tribal area) of Ngāti Hei, descendants of the ancestor Hei who arrived here on the Te Arawa waka.

In 1769, this was the site of one of the first formal meetings between local Māori and Captain James Cook’s crew. Cook had sailed into Mercury Bay to observe the transit of Mercury for navigation and mapping, and at Wharekaho, at the former Wharetaewa Pā, his crew were welcomed with a pōwhiri – a ceremonial greeting that involved speeches, haka, and the exchange of gifts. It was a rare moment of careful diplomacy in an era that often went the other way, and it’s still remembered as a significant early contact between Ngāti Hei and Europeans.

While the girls dug in the sand, I stood looking out across Mercury Bay, trying to imagine waka and tall ships sitting where the moored boats now lie. The only sounds were the small waves and some distant birds.

Not a postcard day. No sunshine, no dramatic cliffs, no thermal spa.

Just black sand, old stories, and a quiet bay at the end of a mad gravel road.

The post 🌫️ Day 26 – Gravel Roads and Historic Black Sand appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

Our last South Island morning was slow and practical the kind filled with those final bits and bobs you somehow keep finding even after everything’s packed twice. We squeezed the last zips shut, cleaned out snack wrappers, and said goodbye to the Oak Motel before heading out to fill a few spare hours.

A play area caught our eye, but barely 200 yards further we spotted something even better a play café. Perfect. We set up camp with colouring books, coffee, and enough time for the girls to burn through a box of crayons while we caught our breath after three weeks on the road.

When it was finally time to go, we ordered an Uber to the airport. Just as we were pulling away, I realised we’d left the pushchair straps in the car. A quick call to the depot and our driver swung a heroic detour to grab them the kind of small chaos that’s become normal for us by now.

The flight was delayed, of course, and somewhere in the waiting Dotty managed to wet through her trousers, so Georgia gallantly offered her spares. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was real family travel messy, funny, and completely ours.

The flight itself was smooth enough, and before long we touched down in Auckland our first steps on the North Island. Our taxi driver was cheerful and chatty, which made what came next even funnier, the quietest BnB we’ve ever stayed in.

From the moment we walked in it felt like a monastery shoes off, whispers only, even the kettle sounded too loud. The host was kind, but the silence made you scared to breathe. Still, it had one saving grace: a bath. After the last few hectic travel days, that was all we needed

And just like that, the South Island chapter officially closed.

Tomorrow we wake to new views, new roads, and the start of our North Island adventure hopefully somewhere we can laugh out loud again without waking the neighbours.

The post ✈️ Day 24 – Flying North and the Strangest BnB in Auckland appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

Our final morning on the South Island arrived bright, calm and warm the kind that makes you want to freeze time.

We started the day at the council run He Puna Taimoana Thermal Pools in South Brighton. Set just behind the dunes, these steaming saltwater pools overlook the Pacific, and under the late spring sun it felt like pure magic. Georgia and Dotty bounced between the family pool and the hotter corner pools, giggling.

There was no schedule, no rush just warm water, sea air and the sound of gulls above. After weeks of motion, this was the pause we didn’t know we needed Ali struck hooks finding this.

When we finally climbed out, wrinkled and relaxed, we wandered down to New Brighton Pier. The sky a perfect blue, and locals strolled past like it was any other Tuesday. For us, it was goodbye.

The Last Pack Up

From Brighton we drove to the Oak Motel, our final stop in Christchurch. The car was full of crumbs, maps and the last of Dotty’s beach treasures. We parked up, unloaded everything one final shuffle of bags, coats and toys and felt that familiar mix of satisfaction and sadness that comes with the end of a journey.

Once the van was empty, I dropped the car back to the rental depot and grabbed an uber the short way back.

Inside, Ali was already halfway through the packing puzzle folding clothes, sorting souvenirs, and setting aside the “plane snacks.”

It hit me then, the South Island chapter was officially done.

Looking Back

From Milford Sound’s waterfalls to Dunedin’s penguins, from Reefton’s gold-rush stories to Wanaka’s puzzle maze, it’s hard to believe how much we crammed into these few weeks.

We’d crossed mountain passes, seen snow in October, helped strangers fix tyres, and watched sea lions shuffle across beaches at sunset. We’d played in playgrounds, walked volcano trails, found glow worms, and learned that in New Zealand, every bend in the road hides another postcard waiting to be lived.

The South isn’t just beautiful it’s relentless in its generosity. Every day gives you something new, something breathtaking, and you find yourself afraid to slow down in case you miss the next miracle.

Tomorrow we fly north but the South Island has left its mark, the laughter, the surprises, the wild beauty, and that endless sense of what’s next?

The post 🌤️ Day 23 – Thermal Bliss and Farewell to the South appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

We hit the road early, leaving Dunedin behind with the car packed, snacks ready, and a sense that another chapter was turning. The city had been full of surprises castles, gardens, penguins but it was time to roll north toward Christchurch.

Before we left, though, there was one last thing we had to conquer: Baldwin Street, officially the steepest residential street in the world. It looks harmless from the bottom — until you start walking. Halfway up, your legs are screaming, your lungs are on fire, and your brain’s still in denial. We gave it enough of a go to say we did it and we headed back to the car.

With the hill ticked off the bucket list, we cruised north under perfect blue skies. Somewhere around Oamaru, we stopped for what might be the coolest playground in New Zealand a steampunk themed park straight out of a kid’s imagination. Giant wheels, old machinery, metal sculptures, and swings built from industrial parts.

By the afternoon, the temperature had climbed to 24°C, and we could feel the coast calling. When we finally rolled into our Christchurch pad, it was exactly what we needed bright, breezy, and just a few steps from the beach.

Shoes came off, jackets got tossed aside, and within minutes Georgia was climbing driftwood while Dotty ran wild in the sand. The sea was calm, the sun warm, and for the first time in days, no one mentioned driving, schedules, or maps.

The post 🚗 Day 22 – From the Steepest Street to the Sand: Dunedin to Christchurch appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

If Day 20 was all mist and mystery, Day 21 was pure magic sunshine, feathers, flowers, and a late-night show we’ll never forget.

We kicked off the morning at Dunedin Botanic Gardens, and it instantly became one of our favourite green spaces of the whole trip. The girls were in their element feeding ducks while I ended up with a couple of very confident pigeons hitching a ride on my backpack. Classic Dunedin hospitality.

From there, we wandered through the gardens and followed the Volcano Trail all the way to the top. It’s not a hard climb, but it feels like you’ve earned the view. The city spread out below us, framed by harbour blues and rolling green hills. We found a sunny patch for lunch, surrounded by rhododendrons the size of small trees crimson, pink, yellow, and every shade in between.

Ali pointed out the different blooms while Georgia tried to figure out where we were on the map, and Dotty picked the biggest daisies. It was one of those slow family mornings that make you forget the rush of travel.

After lunch we popped into Otago Museum, which turned out to be an absolute marvel part natural history, part science wonderland, part nostalgic time machine. The girls loved the old trams and fire engines, especially the Pride of Dunedin, and Georgia couldn’t resist climbing aboard the Roslyn Tram, pretending to be the driver ringing an invisible bell.

By evening, we could’ve called it a day. But Dunedin had one last surprise for us.

We joined the Blue Penguin Tour a two-hour adventure that starts at dusk, when these tiny ocean wanderers return home after a full day at sea. Georgia and I bundled up and followed the group down a boardwalk as the last light faded. The air was cold, the waves soft against the rocks, and then there they were.

In the end 248 of little blue penguins appeared from the surf, wobbling up the beach like miniature soldiers, feathers slick with salt water. We watched in complete silence, barely breathing, as they shuffled past under the red glow of the boardwalk. It was mesmerising.

By the time we got back, it was 11pm, and we were absolutely wiped out. The kind of tired that only comes from a day lived properly .

The post 🌋 Day 21 – Gardens, Volcano Trails & The Midnight March of the Penguins appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

We left Surat Bay with the morning sun already bouncing off the bonnet, the air warm and still, and that sense that something special was coming. The Catlins were calling.

The road curled and climbed until the coastline opened out and bam there it was. Nugget Point Lighthouse.

A tiny white tower clinging to the edge of a cliff, surrounded by the bluest ocean you can imagine. It’s one of those spots that steals your breath before you even realise you’ve stopped talking.

Sea lions barked and grunted far below, tiny black specks dotting the rocks. The path wound along the ridge, every step revealing another impossible view jagged islands, turquoise water, and that little lighthouse standing proud like it was guarding the end of the world. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything quite like it.

The weather couldn’t have been kinder: twenty degrees, no wind, and pure sunshine. We stood there a while, soaking it all in. The girls leaned on the railing wide-eyed, and for a few minutes the whole world felt perfectly still.

Purakaunui Falls

From there we headed inland to Purakaunui Falls, hidden deep in a patch of lush forest that feels straight out of a fairy tale. The sign at the start said track closed a tree had come down in the wind but everyone was walking around it safely, and we weren’t about to miss it.

And wow. Layers of white water spilled over black rock in perfect rhythm, framed by moss and silver ferns. It’s one of those waterfalls that hums with energy, the kind that makes you grin like a kid. Georgia said it looked like “a wedding cake made of water,” and honestly, she wasn’t wrong.

Roadside Kindness

Back at the car park, the day threw us a curveball. Two young travellers had a flat tyrespare wheel, but no jack or iron. We decided to hang back just in case. Lunch came out, Dotty munched her sandwiches, and we watched as cars passed without stopping.

Eventually a local farmer rolled in, gave a friendly wave, and said, “Give me ten minutes.” He came back with a full socket set, and between his tools and our jack, the wheel was swapped in no time. Everyone smiling, everyone grateful. One of those small, good-hearted Kiwi moments that remind you why you love the road.

Jack’s Blowhole & Beach

Recharged, we drove on to Jack’s Blowhole a 55-metre-deep natural sinkhole hidden 200 metres inland from the sea. The walk across the farmland was gentle, but the view at the end hit like a thunderclap. You stand at the fenced edge staring into the earth while the ocean roars somewhere beneath your feet. Each surge sends a hollow boom echoing through the cliffs, like the heartbeat of the coast itself.

On the way, we met an elderly gentleman who shared the story behind Surat Bay’s name. His great-grandmother had been on the immigrant ship Surat, which struck the rocks on New Year’s Day 1874 after, as he put it with a grin, “the crew celebrated a bit too early with the rum.” No lives were lost, and his family had lived in the area ever since. It was one of those magical roadside encounters you never plan but never forget.

We ended the day at Jack’s Beach, soft sand underfoot and the wind curling off the sea. Ali and Georgia did wheelbarrows across the beach while Dotty dug with her hands, laughing every time the sand slipped through her fingers oh and a sea lion was just sleeping on the grass!

Evening in Owaka

We finished in Owaka, a small town with a surprisingly brilliant playground and an even better fish-and-chip shop. Veggie burgers, jacket spuds, and golden chips eaten on a wooden bench back at camp the perfect way to end a big day.

We’d set out planning to take it easy, but the Catlins had other ideas. By sunset, we’d seen world-class scenery, lent a hand, met a local legend, and watched the girls run wild on yet another empty New Zealand beach. Days like this remind you why you travel because even when plans go sideways, the story just gets better

The post 🌅 Day 19 – Lighthouse Legends, Waterfalls & A Good Deed in the Catlins appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

We woke to a world still dusted white the mountains glowing behind the campground, the trees bowing gently under the weight of melting snow. It was calm, bright, and peaceful; the kind of morning that makes you stop and just stare for a bit.

After breakfast, we headed into town. The main street looked like something from a movie set quaint wooden shopfronts, red phone boxes, and white roofs against blue sky. Yesterday’s chaos had melted into a slow, quiet charm.

With the bank holiday over, Arrowtown was open again, and it felt completely different. We wandered into the old shops the ones built during the 1860s gold rush where you can still smell the timber and history.

We stopped at The Gold Nugget gift shop, one of the town’s oldest trading buildings, its sign glinting under a thin frost. The red post box out front looked straight out of London a quirky reminder of Arrowtown’s colonial roots.

Georgia loved spotting the little details: the carved shop signs, the creaky floors, and the ivy-covered pharmacy that looked like something from a storybook.

After exploring the main street, we followed the path to Arrowtown’s Historic Chinese Settlement, a short walk from the centre.

Built in the 1860s, this small cluster of stone huts was home to the Chinese gold miners who came seeking fortune but faced harsh discrimination. The huts are tiny barely large enough to stand inside and the old outdoor toilets still stand, made of stacked stone and timber.

Seeing them dusted in snow made the whole place feel frozen in time. It’s humbling to think people lived through winters here with nothing but a fireplace and grit.

Coffee, Cocoa, and the Lord of the Rings Crossing

We stopped at a nearby café for coffee and hot chocolate, warming up before walking to the Arrow River crossing one of the filming spots from The Lord of the Rings.

Standing by the river, with snow still clinging to the trees, it was easy to see why they chose it. The water shimmered under the pale sun, and the hills looked straight out of Middle-earth.

We walked past the sweet shop again (because apparently, it’s impossible to walk by without going in). Georgia picked a few treats for movie night, then found another DVD to add to our growing camper collection.

By afternoon, most of the snow had melted but not before a few snowball fights broke out at the playground. Georgia took aim with what remained of half-melted snowmen from the morning.

Back at the van, we closed the day with hot drinks, warm blankets, and a film while the last of the snow disappeared outside.

The historic centre dates back to 1862, built during Otago’s gold rush boom. The Chinese miners’ huts were restored in the 1980s and are now part of a protected heritage site. The Arrow River was used in The Fellowship of the Ring as the Ford of Bruinen. Average October temperature: 13 °C so snow like this is very unusual!

It’s a town that feels alive with history and charm.

The post ☕ Day 13 – From Blizzard to Blossoms: Arrowtown Thaws Out appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.

This morning started with a bit of déjà vu Ali was all set to skydive, but the weather had other plans. First, it was on, then off, then back on again for 10 a.m. So, we made breakfast, filled up the tanks, and waited. Then it was pushed to 11… and by lunchtime, we decided enough was enough.

The SH6 road south was still closed, and plenty of travellers were already tackling the monster 10-hour, 900 km detour. We decided to roll the dice and wait for the 4 p.m. announcement.

To kill time, and take in another epic, we drove out to Fox Glacier and took in the view from the car park lookout. You can still see the glacial blue peeking through the mountains it looks so close, yet the walk to reach it has long since been cut short by the retreating ice.

With a few hours to spare, we wandered over to Lake Matheson, the famous mirror lake. As we looped the track, and madly we bumped into the same couple we’d met days earlier when the winds were howling at 60 mph. The odds of that hundreds of miles down the road? Has to be one in a million. After chatting they announced they heard from someone who knew someone working on the road crew that the word was it would reopen at 4 p.m!

We took that as a sign. Back to the camper, quick lunch, and then off toward Haast.

Just before hasst, we pulled over at Ship Creek a rugged stretch of coast that looked like something out of a nature documentary. Dotty stretched her legs on the sand, collecting sticks and running wild in the wind, while waves crashed against piles of driftwood that looked like twisted sculptures.

Then came the moment we’d been waiting for. I filled up at the petrol station and asked the attendant if she’d heard anything. She smiled and said, “It’s opening at 4 p.m., 100%.”

It was 3:50…

We jumped back in the van, and sure enough we passed the “ROAD CLOSED” sign having just been taken down. We were among the first through the Haast Pass, winding carefully past freshly cleared landslides.

We counted four in total massive scars across the landscape where the mountain had quite literally shifted.

The scale of it was unreal.

Some stretches still glistened with wet stone, the scent of earth and rain heavy in the air.

The reward: lakes, light, and luck

As the road climbed and curved, the scenery transformed again the rough coast gave way to jaw-dropping alpine lakes, turquoise and calm under the afternoon sun.

Every turn revealed another postcard moment: mirror flat water, deep shadows on the hills, and sunlight breaking through the clouds like a stage spotlight.

We stopped at one of the viewpoints just to breathe it all in.

The light hit the lake at that perfect late-afternoon angle where the blues turn almost neon pure Wānaka magic.

By the time we rolled into town, we were tired but buzzing.

We’d gone from grounded and waiting to free and flying in our own four-wheeled way.

Nature had thrown everything at us: wind, rain, landslides, and delays and yet, here we were.

Still moving. Still together. Still on track.

If there’s one thing this leg of the journey reminded us, it’s that patience pays off and sometimes, the best stories only happen when the road finally opens.

Route Summary

Start: Franz Josef

Stops: Fox Glacier, Lake Matheson, Knight’s Point, Ship Creek

End: Wānaka (via Haast Pass reopening)

Distance: ~280 km (but felt like 800!)

Weather: Wild and wonderful

The post 🚐 Day 10 – Waiting on the Road: From Franz Joseph to Haast and Beyond appeared first on Tantrumming Trailblazers.