On Monday, we moved to the Beach House, a fabulous understated house steps away from a kilometers long beach. It is in a tiny surfing village called Waimarama (could be a boy band) with only a small cafe and a shop selling cool drinks and tinned goods. While we are only 25 kilometers from the house in the wine estate, it feels like an entirely different place. The beach and the incredibly good weather have improved our moods dramatically and we are slowly understanding why people fall in love with New Zealand. It has been a gradual affair for us, but we are coming to appreciate the quiet beauty of this far away country and the modest courage of its people.

Two days ago the kids and I ventured out for what we thought would be a short horseback ride. As we are in the middle of farmland, we were told to look for someone on horseback about 20 kilometers north of here to guide us to the track. I was not expecting the handsome man who greeted us, holding a gorgeous baby atop his horse. He smiled warmly and we followed him up a hillside to where an equally beautiful, petite woman was waiting with four saddled horses. We all hopped out and were soon headed up the mountain. It was an exquisite fall day - brilliant blue skies, some of the trees turning golden already - perfect for a ride.

As always, I was a bit nervous with both Lu and Zola on new horses going up an extremely steep incline. My fears were soon alleviated when I discovered that Peter, the handsome Maori man who greeted us, is the Horse Whisperer. None of the horses were using bits in their mouths, and all would stop with a gentle tug and move forward with a slight kick. Not your usual trail horses. Peter told me that he and Colleen, his pretty wife, have 60 horses and six kids (all under age 11). I was genuinely surprised - they look like they are in their 20s and are actually both under 35. They doted on the adorable two-year old, Salem, who went on the ride with us like she was their first-born. As the ride progressed, we all feel a little bit in love with this family.

To Zola’s delight, Peter asked him to take the lead on the way to the top of the mountain. When Zola turned around to ask if he could canter, Peter shouted, “Of course!” Before I could stop him, Zola was running up the narrow ascent, whooping with glee. I quickly followed him and together we raced around the turns. Lu hung back with Colleen, but Peter, holding his tiny daughter with one arm, galloped up behind. We took turns leading the way up and as we rounded a final corner, came upon the perfect picnic setting.

There was a lone picnic table, decked with a white tablecloth, perched on the rocky ledge with 360 degree views looking back over the Tuki Tuki river valley, the wine estates, Te Mata Peak, and the turquoise Pacific ocean. Unexpected and fabulous.

Peter quickly laid out a feast of salmon, New Zealand mussels, cheeses, bread and fruit. The adults and Zola sat talking in the warm sunshine while Lu and Salem built castles out of rocks and took turns peering off the ledge. I could have stayed forever. Peter and his wife Colleen were lovely, entertaining company, the kids were blissfully unaware of time, and the views were spectacular. Finally, however, Zola got to urge to ride fast on his horse again. Bfore we could stop him, he was back on his horse and raring to go.

Since neither Peter, Coleen, or baby Salem wore helmets, Zola begged to take his off. I relented, partly because I also wanted to feel the sun in my face as we headed back down the mountain but mostly because I felt so safe on these amazing horses. We started our descent and alternated between cantering on the uphills and gawking at the views on the downhills. Lu asked to ride with Peter and before I knew it, she was cantering along beside me and urging him to go faster, faster, faster! It was a joy to be riding on such well-trained horses, out in the mountains, with my kids.

When we got to the bottom, I realized that I needed to go into the nearby village for some cash. Peter quickly jumped in and asked if Zola wanted to stay to ride the horses back up to the paddock. He was in his saddle in an instant. Of course, Lu also wanted to stay and Colleen insisted that it was be just fine for her to continue playing with Salem. I did a quick dash into town for cash and groceries. When I returned, I found two very happy children, covered in mud and horse hair. Zola was washing the horses, his city Vans covered in muck and his face plastered with a grin. Lu was digging in the dirt with Salem, sitting at the top of a small hillock with an amazing view out over the river valley. Peter and Colleen were busy putting saddles away and laughing together. Although they needed to be back in town by 4:30 to pick up their other kids, they seemed to be in no rush. I finally dragged the kids to the car, Lu wailing to stay until she feel asleep exhausted on the drive home. Throughout the day, Peter and Colleen professed their love for Hawkes Bay (the area where we rode), New Zealand, and their family. Their happiness was contagious and I found myself envious of their contentment with their homeland and their lifestyle. I am sure that it is not all bliss, but on this day, it seemed idyllic.

Yesterday I decided to go for a run along the beach. I had read that at low tide you can get from Waimarama beach to Ocean Beach, 8 kilometers north, along the coast. About 15 minutes into the run, I came to a wide river about two feet deep. I decided to take off my shoes and run barefoot for a while. I ended up running for almost two hours, through the shallow warm water. On one side, there were steep cliffs, on the other, tidal pools and crashing waves. I realized at one point that if a rouge wave took me, or a landslide came crashing down, no one would know where I was or what happened to me. Perhaps not entirely responsible on my part, but it was a fabulous feeling to be so completely free. I could have run for hours (although my shins are paying the price today for running barefoot). This, I believe, is what people love about New Zealand. Not as dangerous as the Haute Route, but for a brief moment I was living on the edge here.

Peter arrives back today and we have only a week or so before our own search for a home and a place to call our own hits us.