There are places that seem faits pour le road trip. New Zealand is one of them. The roads are narrow and winding, yes, but at every bend the landscape changes costume: emerald hills give way to glaciers, misty fjords slide into mirror-like lakes, and somewhere underground, tiny glowworms are patiently preparing their nightly show.
On my last journey through Aotearoa, I traded hotel keys for campervan doors. It changed everything. Waking up with the first light over a silent bay, making coffee barefoot on dewy grass, falling asleep to the sound of waves drumming on the shore – this is the kind of freedom that lingers long after you return home.
If you’re dreaming of your own campervan holiday in New Zealand, let me take you along my favourite routes – between fjords and glowworms, where the road unrolls like a promise.
Why a campervan is the best way to see New Zealand
New Zealand feels purpose-built for vans. Distances are reasonable, wild camping is (partly) allowed, and many of the most beautiful spots are far from big towns. With a campervan, you carry your little cocoon with you – kitchen, bed, view.
Here’s why I’d choose a van again without hesitation:
- You sleep where the stars are brightest, not where the hotels are.
- You can change plans on a whim – stay an extra night by a lake, flee the rain to another valley.
- You save on restaurants by cooking with a million-dollar view.
- You join a whole micro-society of other travellers in vans, exchanging tips in campsite kitchens and parking lots.
Of course, there are some essentials to know:
- Season: Summer (December–February) brings long evenings and busy roads. Shoulder seasons (October–November and March–April) are perfect for quieter campsites and gentler temperatures.
- “Self-contained” vans: A self-contained sticker means you have your own toilet and waste water tank. It’s often required for freedom camping in many areas.
- Driving: Left-hand side, winding roads, and one-lane bridges are standard. Allow more time than Google Maps suggests – you will want to stop constantly for photos anyway.
With that in mind, let’s hit the road. I’ve broken this into two main itineraries – one North Island route where glowworms steal the spotlight, and one South Island loop that dives deep into fjord country.
North Island route: Between volcanic lakes and glowworms
The North Island is all about textures: sulphur-scented steam rising from Rotorua, waves folding onto golden beaches, and dense forest ceilings over hidden caves. This route works wonderfully over 7–10 days, starting and ending in Auckland.
Auckland to Coromandel: Where city stress dissolves in salt water
Leaving Auckland, the city’s glass towers soon shrink in the rearview mirror. The road to the Coromandel Peninsula winds past farms and orchards before hugging a coastline so close you can almost taste the spray.
Spend at least a night near the east coast of Coromandel:
- Hahei Beach: Park your van at a nearby campsite, then walk early to Cathedral Cove. The archway carved into the rock feels like the entrance to another world, especially when you have it almost to yourself at dawn.
- Hot Water Beach: At low tide, dig your own natural hot tub in the sand. You’ll be half-buried to your knees, laughing as you discover the difference between “ah, perfect” and “ow, that’s boiling”.
In the evening, I remember watching the sky turn violet, sand still clinging to my calves, while cooking a simple dinner in the van. Tomato pasta, a glass of local sauvignon blanc, and the sound of waves replacing any playlist – I didn’t miss restaurants at all.
Coromandel to Rotorua & Lake Taupō: Steam and stars
From Coromandel, steer your campervan inland towards Rotorua, where the Earth seems to be constantly muttering under its breath. Pools hiss and boil, and the air smells faintly of eggs – a scent you either quickly get used to, or simply decide to ignore because everything else is so beautiful.
Key stops along this stretch:
- Waimangu or Wai-O-Tapu geothermal areas: Wander past bubbling mud pools and neon-coloured terraces, steam drifting across the path like low clouds.
- Redwoods Forest (Whakarewarewa): Walk or cycle under the tall Californian redwoods, their trunks glowing orange in the late afternoon light. The silence here feels like a soft blanket.
Then continue to Lake Taupō, a vast crater lake that looks like an ocean caught between mountains. I loved parking the van near the water and watching trout boats make small white scars on the otherwise perfect surface.
For night 1 under truly dark skies, head a little south or to one of the lakeside campsites. The Milky Way there is so clear it seems almost arrogant.
The glowworm magic of Waitomo
From Taupō, it’s time to meet New Zealand’s tiny, luminescent inhabitants. Waitomo, a quiet rural area of green hills and grazing sheep, hides a secret universe beneath its fields: limestone caves strung with glowworms like galaxies in miniature.
You have several options to see them:
- Gentle boat tour: Perfect if you prefer to stay dry. You float silently under a sky of blue lights, the guide whispering so as not to disturb the fragile ecosystem.
- Black water rafting: Dressed in a wetsuit, you jump into an underground river with an inner tube. At one point, the guide asks everyone to switch off their lights. The darkness is complete – and then the ceiling slowly appears, scattered with soft, turquoise glows.
- Guided walking caves: Combine stalactites, stalagmites and glowworms on an easy walk.
There is a moment I won’t forget: lying back in the tube, water lapping against the rubber, feeling the slow current carry me while hundreds of glowworms shone above like distant lanterns. It felt strangely intimate, as if the Earth had dimmed the lights to whisper a story just for us.
There are campsites in and around Waitomo; park up early, as they can fill in high season. On a clear night, step out after dinner – it’s glowworms below, stars above, and your van a tiny shelter between two infinities of light.
Back to Auckland via Hobbit hills and west coast waves
If you’re a Tolkien fan, the detour via Matamata and the Hobbiton Movie Set is an obvious delight: round doors, neatly trimmed gardens, and the delicious sensation of being both in a film and in a particularly whimsical village.
From there, you can loop back to Auckland directly or veer to the wild west coast beaches near Piha or Muriwai. Think black sand, lungfuls of sea air, and waves that roar rather than whisper. Your van might gather a little sand; your memory will gather much more.
For many travellers, this is where the North Island chapter ends – but for fjords and even more glowworms, you’ll want to cross the Cook Strait to the South Island.
South Island loop: Fjords, glaciers and southern glowworms
If the North Island is about geothermal energy and gentle hills, the South Island is drama incarnate: serrated peaks, ice-blue lakes, and valleys that feel untouched. This loop works well over 10–14 days, starting in Christchurch or Queenstown.
Christchurch to Lake Tekapo: Under one of the world’s clearest skies
Leaving Christchurch, the plains gradually ripple into hills until, suddenly, the first icy rivers appear – milky turquoise from glacial flour, as if someone had poured diluted paint into the valley.
Lake Tekapo is your first starry highlight:
- Lakefront camping: Several campgrounds and holiday parks sit close to the shore. Wake up, slide open the campervan door, and the lake’s improbable blue is the first thing you see.
- Mount John Observatory: Tekapo lies in an International Dark Sky Reserve. Join a stargazing tour or simply lie on a picnic blanket, neck craned, tracing constellations you might never see from home.
The night I spent there was bitingly cold, even in summer. I wrapped my hands around a mug of tea in the van, then stepped outside and instantly forgot the chill – the sky was glittering with so many stars that darkness seemed an afterthought.
Lake Tekapo to Aoraki/Mount Cook: Where mountains meet mirrors
The drive along Lake Pukaki to Aoraki/Mt Cook is one of those rare roads where silence falls in the van. Everyone just stares. On your left, the lake gleams aquamarine; ahead, Mount Cook rises, snow-draped and serene.
Practical tips and must-dos:
- White Horse Hill campground: Simple facilities but outstanding views, right at the base of the mountains. It fills up early – aim to arrive before late afternoon.
- Hooker Valley Track: A relatively easy hike that feels like cheating – you cross swing bridges above roaring rivers and end at a glacial lake scattered with icebergs.
- Weather: It changes quickly. Pack layers in the van and always check forecasts before venturing out on longer tracks.
At night, the silhouettes of the peaks stand like silent guardians around your campervan. You’ll zip your sleeping bag a little higher and sleep deeply, the kind of rest that only comes after mountain air and long walks.
Queenstown & Wanaka: Lakeside thrills and lazy mornings
From Mount Cook, the road south curls through valleys, over passes, and eventually descends toward Queenstown – a town that buzzes with an almost alpine energy. Paragliders spiral overhead, jet boats carve the lake, and every second storefront seems to offer a new adventure.
With a campervan, you can choose how deeply to dive into this adrenaline soup:
- Spend a morning sipping coffee by Lake Wakatipu, watching clouds play with the Remarkables range.
- Try one thrill – maybe a short jet boat spin or a gondola ride for the view – and then retreat to the quieter outskirts for the night.
- Or base yourself nearby in Wanaka, Queenstown’s more laid-back sibling, where the days are all about lakeside picnics and gentle hikes.
A staple for many van travellers is an early sunrise walk up Mount Iron or Roy’s Peak (if you’re prepared for a longer hike), returning to the van with sore calves and that particular joy of knowing that your shower, breakfast, and bed are all within a few square metres.
Te Anau and Milford Sound: The slow road into the fjords
From Queenstown or Wanaka, drive to Te Anau, your gateway to Fiordland National Park. The town itself is quiet, spread along a lake that turns silver in the evening light, but it’s the road beyond that will stay with you.
The journey to Milford Sound is not just a transfer; it’s an experience:
- Stop at Mirror Lakes where, in calm weather, the mountains lean down to look at themselves in the water.
- Walk a short section of the Routeburn Track or Key Summit for moss-draped forests and panoramic views.
- Pause before the Homer Tunnel, surrounded by steep cliffs veined with waterfalls – especially dramatic after rain.
Milford Sound itself is a place of verticality: cliffs shooting straight out of the water, waterfalls tracing thin white lines, and your boat feeling comically small in the middle of it all. Rain is common here, but don’t fight it – it multiplies the waterfalls and wraps the fjord in misty theatre.
Most travellers visit Milford Sound on a day trip from Te Anau. Overnighting in the car park at Milford is now heavily restricted or not allowed; check current regulations before planning to sleep there in your van.
Glowworms, southern edition: Te Anau’s hidden lights
If you thought Waitomo had the monopoly on glowworms, Te Anau has a quiet rebuttal. On the western shore of Lake Te Anau, accessible only by boat, lie caves carved by cold, patient water and decorated with thousands of tiny bioluminescent inhabitants.
A guided evening tour takes you across the lake and into this otherworld:
- You step from the night-black lake into the cave’s cool, damp air.
- Water rushes beside you; overhead, the first points of blue light appear.
- At the deepest point, when torches are switched off, the glowworms shine in dense clusters, like constellations that forgot the sky.
Outside, the return boat ride offers a last view of the lake under the stars, your campervan waiting on the far shore, a small rectangle of comfort.
Up the wild West Coast: Glaciers, rainforests and rugged beaches
From Te Anau, you can either return to Queenstown and fly out, or continue your loop northwards via the West Coast – my personal favourite choice if time allows.
The West Coast feels wilder, wetter, and wonderfully remote:
- Haast Pass: A road that creeps between mountains, with countless short walks to waterfalls and clear river pools.
- Fox & Franz Josef Glaciers: These tongues of ice spill almost into temperate rainforest. You can walk to viewpoints on your own or book a guided hike or helicopter for a closer encounter.
- Pancake Rocks at Punakaiki: Limestone formations stacked like a pastry chef’s experiment, with blowholes that roar when the tide is right.
Campsites here often back onto rivers or sit just behind dunes. One evening, I parked near a beach where the sand was strewn with driftwood. A storm had passed earlier; the sky was still heavy, but a streak of orange opened near the horizon as the sun slipped away. I boiled water on the stove, listening to the low, steady breathing of the ocean. It’s moments like that when the simplicity of campervan life feels like luxury.
Practical tips for a smooth New Zealand campervan adventure
Before you start plotting every fjord and glowworm cave on your map, a few practical details will make your trip easier – and kinder to the land you’re exploring.
- Book your van early: Especially in December–February. Compare rental options and check what’s included (bedding, kitchen kit, insurance).
- Freedom camping rules: Regulations change by region. Watch for signs, use official apps or tourism office info, and respect “no overnight camping” zones.
- Dump stations: Use designated areas for grey water and toilets. They’re common and usually well signposted.
- Stock up smart: Supermarkets are cheaper in bigger towns (Auckland, Christchurch, Queenstown) than in remote areas. Keep a small pantry of pasta, rice, canned beans, and snacks for days between shops.
- Layers, always: New Zealand can offer four seasons in one day. Keep a fleece, rain jacket, hat, and sunscreen handy in your van.
- Drive with patience: Sheep might decide to cross the road just when you’re in a hurry. Treat it as part of the show.
Above all, give yourself space in the schedule. Leave room for mornings spent doing nothing but watching light change on a lake, for detours inspired by a line on a local’s map, for unexpected friendships in campsite kitchens.
One day you’ll return the keys, board a plane, and swap mountain silhouettes for office skylines. But the feeling of that little home on wheels – parked under the Southern Cross, somewhere between fjords and glowworms – will stay with you, quietly glowing in its own corner of your memory.