It is probably going to sound like a scene straight out of a movie or a story from a religious evangelist. When I recall this debacle in my New Zealand adventure to friends, I love how I amuse them when I start with, “well, I did got lost on an island and I met God.” Those looks on their faces are priceless.

On the fifth day, I caught a ferry to Waiheke Island which one of the crew in Auckland Bungy Jump recommended. Although I have read so much about it, I decided the best policy is to buy an hour-long tour of the island before exploring it without a hint. The island was beautiful and it was a dream destination they always showed on TV. The bus driver left the ferry terminal and began its tour from Oneroa Bay to Mawhitipana Bay and told us how sometimes there are Orcas and dolphins which would come and play with islanders at Palm Beach.

Although I know the chances of spotting an Orcas or dolphin is slim and not probable, I told myself I should visit the beach and feel the beauty and peace of living on an island like this.

The buses on the island comes at an hour interval to coincide with the ferries departure and arrival timing. As I waited for a delayed service at a bus stop on Oneroa with a few locals, I studied the map and I was pretty sure it said Palm Beach is two stops away from Oneroa Bay if I took Route 2. My patience paid off. I flashed my travel pass at the driver and occupied a seat in a nearly-filled bus from its backlog of commuters.

When the bus pulled at one of the stop to alight several passengers, I saw a “Palm Beach” with an arrow to the right engraved on the bus stop. I was here. I alighted with a couple of passengers. It wasn’t until the surrounding looks deserted that I realized I might have got to the wrong bus stop.

I checked the map.

And indeed, I was right and wrong. I was right about alighting at a wrong stop. I began my travel on Route 2 (in orange) from Ocean View Road, and had alighted at Goodwin Avenue instead of Miro Road. Upon realization, I looked up and around at a deserted area and sigh, “fuck my life.” Immediately, my next thought was about how the next bus is an hour away. I heaved a last sigh and took my first step of a long journey on foot.

To my surprise, I was less frustrated than thought I would be. It may be because the weather is at it’s best or the fact that my survivor instinct kicked in and I was extremely focused of my surrounding. When I reached Hauraki Avenue, I met a junction which stopped me in my track. I turn and oriented the map to my area once. Twice. Thrice.

I have had two choices:
1) I could use Cory Road which seem like a shorter way to Miro Road, or
2) I could just follow the longer route of the bus.

I weighed my options and decided on the latter. I justified to myself; after all, it is a bus route that begin hourly and it must be safer and easier than Cory Road. A shorter path may be treacherous and unreliable, right? Yes. I am going to walk to Karaka Road, Junction Road, Hill Road, Palm Road and finally at Palm Beach. Looks far but I knew for sure I have walked farther than this in Army. This should be easier. I decided.

I continued my journey on foot and it wasn’t far that I noticed an elderly man was walking towards my direction from the left. He tracked slowly and looked like he could use a rest for every distance he walked. For some unexplained reason, something went off in my head: Go approach this old man. Go approach this old man. He is going to help you.

Just. approach. him.

When I finally got to him, he was already sitting aimlessly on a bench along the road. “Hello, do you think I could ask for directions around here?” I look him in his wrinkled face and faded eyes and asked gently.

Over the next few minutes he struggled to identify our location on my map. In fact, he said we were on Karaka Road instead of Hauraki Road. He eventually told me that I should be using the Cory Road instead. “Cory Road. Walk along this road and you will see a very nice lookout of the beach,” He stuttered to form a sentence.

I thanked him as he walked in the direction I came from, seemingly already satisfied with his one minute rest on the bench before I interrupted him.

Despite that he incorrectly positioned us, sounded unsure and was not definite in the way he mentioned Cory Road, I realized I somehow could trust this man. It was easy to convince myself to change my decision I made. I changed my mind and I am going to walk along Cory Road (a road that is partially blinded by labels on the map).

On Cory Road, I met another local, a gentle young lady on a walk with her child in a pram. She confirmed I could reach Palm Beach and there would be a lookout – a platform kind – that overlooks the beach. Her words were an assurance and I was relieved. I took her direction and I didn’t think again about what the elderly man had said.

It was definitely not less than three kilometers when I finally reached Palm Beach. I saw beautiful houses, felt the sand in my hand, walked towards the small waves splashing and foaming on the coast and watched a family play catch with their dog while it simultaneously tried to chase after seagulls. Now, this really is a scene straight out of a movie.

I took more than a few shots with camera because it simply such a beautiful and peaceful place. It was like no other beach I have been before. It felt different. I began to envision a life here. Satisfied with the amount of pictures I have taken, I went to a convenience store maintained by a Chinese family moved here two years ago. As I waited for the next bus back to the Matiatia Ferry Terminal, I chatted in English with a Chinese guy of my age.

He spoke about how friendly the people here and the culture never like a city. “It is very peaceful. Nothing ever happens here,” he said. Although he said life is peaceful, it is slow and may be boring for people of his age. Apart from going to work in the city, residents in this island tends to gardens, pets, do some swimming and spent time most of their time with their family.

He closed his shop and left before my bus arrived. It was my journey back to Matiatia Ferry Terminal that a realization caught my breath. The route which I had initially decided to walk was difficult. The bus turned in and out of an overgrown area, up and down a hill, left and right. It was bleak. I knew I might have been lost if I had taken this path. I might have taken forever to orientate again.

Then it dawned on me and I recalled that elderly man who gave me directions earlier. He was a total stranger but something in my head asked me to approach and heed from. It felt surreal suddenly.

Thank God for him that I took Cory Road.