Hours before - we stood beneath the mighty Tane Mahuta and pondered on the giant's effect on the local tourism industry. One tree - so many visitors. Why?
I'm from the Emerald Isle, where trees are as plentiful as the verses of our epic Irish ballads. I didn't get it - what was the big deal?
On the roadside a British couple pulled over and offered to drive us back to Opononi. We accepted.
A smiling hostess at the Opononi Hotel handed us a phonebook, pointing to a nearby scrap dealer.
A chirpy bar patron offered to tow the rusting car corpse to safety.
Then another member of the hotel team drove us to the nearest backpackers - free of charge.
A tow; a metal grave; a lift; a bed - and not a dollar spent.
Down at Omapere, a hotel waiter suggested that rather than emptying our coffers into the mitts of a taxi driver, his friend would drive us for a reasonable price.
Local gal Ruth delivered us safely to Whangarei by lunchtime Sunday - having given us the tour guide treatment all the way home.
I'm not a naive tourist, and sure, there are places we all dread breaking down in, but this was not the Northland that the naysayers moan about.
We were strangers in a village. But it was more than a village - it was a community.
I found Tane Mahuta - a giant made of people, standing strong with deep roots - albeit, hidden in Hokianga. Oh - and the big tree was kind of cool too!
