Great Barrier Island

Hidden deep within the lush backcountry of Kaitoke, a leisurely trek away from civilization's reach, you'll find the steamy waters of Kaitoke Hot Springs-a place where Mother Nature herself seems to be winking mischievously, whispering, "You're welcome." Historically cherished by Maori tribes as a place of healing and renewal, these springs now beckon weary city-dwellers and adventurous ramblers alike, seeking respite from modern life's chaos. Aim for early morning or dusk, that magical hour when golden sunlight filters through dense ferns and steam rises seductively from crystalline pools, sparing you from the midday influx of selfie-stick wielders. You'll want to plan at least a week ahead in peak summer, as this discreet gem isn't quite the secret it used to be. Pack sensible shoes (flip-flops just won't survive the rocky path), insect repellent to fend off feisty sandflies, and a towel you don't mind sacrificing to the faint aroma of sulfurous redemption. With zero admission fees, budget instead for a picnic of local cheese, crusty bread, and perhaps a bottle of New Zealand sauvignon blanc to toast your savvy dedication to hedonistic pleasures. Kaitoke Hot Springs is worth every damp sock, mosquito bite, and pungent whiff of sulfur, because later, when you casually recount lounging in a steaming forest spa to your friends back at work-trust me, you'll bask in envy hotter than the waters themselves.

Out in Medlands, where the sheep vastly outnumber people and cellphone reception is more a hopeful fantasy than reality, you'll find yourself craning your neck beneath skies so dark they inspire poetic bursts-or at least enthusiastic profanity. Declared an International Dark Sky Sanctuary (a term that sounds impressively official, like a UNESCO site crossed with an intergalactic refuge), Medlands is the sort of place Galileo would have sold his soul for, had it not already been spoken for by the Catholic Church. Book ahead a few weeks, pack a decent flask of your favorite warming beverage (whiskey preferred, hot chocolate acceptable), and layer up, because clear skies mean frigid evenings. Aim for a late-night tour, somewhere between 10 p.m. and midnight, when tourists have surrendered to beds and locals descend into the comfortable stupor of rural slumber. Budget about $75 per person for the pleasure of a knowledgeable guide who's equal parts astronomer, storyteller, and philosopher. You'll emerge from this cosmic encounter squinting in awe, reconsidering your significance in the universe, and armed with enough celestial trivia to derail conversations at dinner parties for months. And sure, you could download some stargazing app instead-but trust me, the app won't refill your flask or properly convey how wonderfully insignificant it feels to stare directly into eternity from the back end of nowhere.

If pitching a tent on an eco-friendly patch of paradise sounds suspiciously like voluntary discomfort, you clearly haven't yet experienced Whangaparapara. Nestled in the rugged heart of Great Barrier Island, this is no-frills camping done right: stars instead of streetlights, waves rather than Wi-Fi, and a mild suspicion that your biodegradable utensils might actually be edible. Historically, this secluded bay has sheltered logging ships and mining crews-folk far hardier and infinitely less sustainable than today's high-minded eco-campers. To stake your spot among the kauri trees and curious native birds, plan at least a month ahead (eco-camping is trendy now, didn't you hear?) and aim for spring or autumn when the island mellows into picture-perfect serenity. Budget around NZ$15 per person, per night-less than your average avocado toast binge-and don't forget your reusable water bottle, insect-repellent (organic, of course), and a cozy sleeping bag, because nature doesn't do creature comforts. Sure, you may wake up damp, slightly itchy, and suspiciously smelling like moss, but trust me: sipping a locally brewed beer on your recycled camp chair, gazing at a starfield brighter than your phone screen, you'll realize eco camping at Whangaparapara isn't just an activity; it's a wild, worthy rebellion-if only just to brag about going off-course in cocktail conversations.