Roll ‘n’ roam

My husband, Nolan, and I had pulled in next to a train station to make coffee in our rented Volkswagen Vanagon camper when a wiry, red-haired man ambled over and knocked on our sliding door. It was our first morning in New Zealand, and we assumed he was going to tell us we couldn’t park there.

Hands in the pockets of his fleece jacket, he smiled apologetically at interrupting our breakfast, and leaned in.

“What year is it?” he asked, meaning our bright orange van (a 1982). We’d hired it the day before in Christchurch from Classic Campers, which we’d found on the Web as renting “stylish retro campervans.”

It was then that we noticed an almost identical orange Vanagon across the parking lot.

Kiwis, as New Zealanders call themselves, are notoriously friendly, but our new friend Dave was more than a Kiwi. He was a member of the club.

Classic Campers owner Bevan Beattie was right:

“It’s more than just transport,” he said of his collection of eclectic VW vans. “It becomes part of the trip.”

Because we’re members of the club ourselves, we never considered anything but a VW camper van for exploring New Zealand. Back home, our 1987 Vanagon, Hanz, has taken us from Los Angeles to Maine and back again. And in trips to France, Spain and the Netherlands, we’ve found that renting VW campers makes even vacations abroad affordable. This was especially true for New Zealand, where, thanks to a favorable exchange rate of 55 cents U.S. to $1 New Zealand, our rental cost just $66 a day.

No taller or longer than an ordinary van, a VW camper -- or Kombi, in Kiwi-speak -- is more fuel-efficient than an RV and far easier to park. And for the price of wheels, you get a bed and meals.

A pop-up top allows room to stand, revealing a loft-like sleeping area. The campers come with a propane-powered stove, a sink with a water tank and a refrigerator with Barbie-sized ice trays.

Friends who favor nice hotels (or at least accommodations with bathrooms) think we are eccentric. But finding a campground with toilets and showers is rarely a problem. And a cabin on wheels allows us to roam at will without worrying about hotel bookings, restaurant hours or timetables.

On the Classic Campers website, we’d coveted a 1966 cherry-red Splitty, the iconic split-windshield model with jalousies and tiny round headlights. But it was taken.

Our orange van wasn’t quite old enough to be retro. And, with patches on the canvas sides of the pop-top, it wasn’t quite spiffed up enough to be stylish. But Kiwis are known for their make-do ways. Consider the humble bach (pronounced “batch”): an everyman’s vacation home, often made of recycled construction materials or old buses. Our van, we decided, would be our mobile bach.

Plus, Beattie had swapped in an Audi engine, which meant we could climb winding mountain roads without a trail of honking cars.

Imagine the most beautiful places you’ve ever seen -- Grand Teton, Big Sur, Alaska’s Inside Passage -- cram them all into a skinny strip of land, and that’s New Zealand. We’d wanted to visit the Pacific island nation even before director Peter Jackson made the landscape a star as the setting of the “Lord of the Rings” movies. One friend told us that of all the dream destinations of his childhood, it was the one that proved every bit as glorious as he’d imagined.

Classic Campers is based in the North Island city of Auckland, at 1.3 million people the nation’s largest city by far. Because we wanted to spend about two-thirds of our trip on the more rugged, sparsely populated South Island, we arranged to start our adventure at its satellite office in Christchurch.

After a 12-hour flight from Los Angeles to Auckland and an hour and a half hop to Christchurch, we picked up our van near the airport and headed for Arthur’s Pass National Park, about two hours west. Kiwis, like their British forebears, drive on the left side of the road, and we decided it would be better to start off on a lonely country lane than in a city, even a small one.

The flat plains gave way to tussock-covered hills, then steep, forested slopes as we made our way to the highest pass in the spine of mountains known as the Southern Alps. The zillion fluffy sheep we passed along the way gave us wide berth.

After breakfasting with Dave, we hiked through a mossy beech forest, a kea -- a rare alpine parrot -- screeching overhead. Then we spread out our map to decide where to go next.

It’s easy to overestimate how much you can see and do in New Zealand. The two main islands are deceptively narrow; you are rarely more than a few hours from either the Tasman Sea or the Pacific Ocean or both. But top to bottom, the North and South islands stretch almost 1,100 miles. (California, by contrast, is 770 miles long.) And the South Island is 65% mountainous, meaning twisting two-lane roads that narrow to one-lane bridges, even on the main highways.

We had a luxurious 19 days for travel, but because we wanted to savor our time, we had agreed on three goals: to hike, to sample New Zealand wines and to soak up the country’s culture, be it Maori history or Kiwi kitsch.

Of the dozens of places we wanted to see, we put three at the top: Central Otago, an alpine lake region about midway down South Island, for tramping; the well-known Marlborough-area wineries at the top of the South Island for tasting; and, for our cultural fix, the highly regarded national museum in the capital city, Wellington, a ferry ride across Cook Strait to North Island.

With gray clouds looming above the pass, we jettisoned plans to drive along the wet west coast and aimed our trusty van south on what was designated a scenic interior highway. We never found an unscenic one.

The two-lane road took us through the high, lonely Mackenzie Country, named for a sheep thief known for escaping jail three times. Despite all the jokes about sheep outnumbering humans in New Zealand -- 40 million to 4 million -- the numbers are down from a high of 70 million in the 1980s as the market for wool shrank. Today, paddocks, or pastures, of beef and dairy cattle are common, as are red deer, farmed to feed Germany’s taste for venison.

Still, it’s the sheepdog that’s honored with a statue near the fieldstone Church of the Good Sheperd at Lake Tekapo. The opalescent lake is cloudy with silt from active glaciers high in the alps. The same is true for the next lake, Pukaki, which is such a startling shade of aquamarine that it has spawned the name Pukaki green.

A day later, near the next heart-stoppingly beautiful lake, Wanaka, the rain caught up with us halfway through a hike. But we had a warm van and dry clothes to return to and, it turned out, a nearby winery to help us while away the day.

Central Otago is home to about 40 family-owned wineries. All are too small to do much exporting and so are less well-known outside of New Zealand than those we would later visit in Marlborough.

When the first vineyards were planted 30 years ago, some sheep farmers dismissed them as a waste of good merino country. But they produce a Pinot Noir that is as intense as the surrounding snowy peaks and deep gorges.

Rippon Winery’s vineyards march right down to the shore of Lake Wanaka. In an open-sided tasting room, under the patter of afternoon rain, Christina poured samples of the vineyard’s Pinot Noir, Pinot Gris, Gewurztraminer and a fine, dry Riesling, and told us about meeting her Kiwi husband in her home country of Ecuador.

One way Kiwis deal with living on an island nation more than 1,000 miles from their nearest neighbor is the big O.E., or Overseas Experience: a year or more spent traveling or working abroad. Replenishing the gene pool appears to be a fairly common outcome; Christina was the first of four women we’d meet who had followed their Kiwi husbands home.

In the town of Wanaka, population 4,500, we caught the daily feature at Cinema Paradiso, which sold local wines and microbrews along with popcorn and cookies, served warm from the oven, at intermission.

We spent the next few rainy days visiting a trio of wineries between Wanaka and the far busier Queenstown, the bungee-jumping, jet-boating adventure capital of New Zealand. Then it was on to a two-day hike on the Routeburn Track, one of nine designated Great Walks in a nation laced with hundreds of spectacular trails. After a night in an alpine hut, we returned to our bach bedazzled by vistas and limping from the steep hike.

By then, Easter was upon us -- a four-day holiday and the last big weekend for travel in the Southern Hemisphere’s autumn season. A fear of Los Angeles-sized crowds gripped us, which was obviously misplaced in a nation with just 4 million people, most of whom live on North Island. Still, we fled east on lonely roads, across hills the color of limes dotted with whipped-cream sheep. Just inland from the coast between Oamaru and Timaru, we discovered limestone outcroppings with ancient pictographs of moas, the giant, flightless birds that early Maoris hunted to extinction.

We’d checked off our list of goals -- hiking, wine-tasting and learning about Maori history -- and we weren’t even out of Central Otago.

Our preferred campgrounds were those run by the Department of Conservation. They were basic, inexpensive (usually about $4 a night) and in pristine settings as varied as a wave-lapped shore and a homestead park.

When we needed a shower or to do laundry, we would stay at a privately run holiday park, which have communal kitchens and even TV lounges and cost from $12 to $20 a night.

We favored shopping at farmers markets for fresh produce. We pan-broiled lamb chops on our two-burner stove and steamed green-lipped mussels with lemon and Sauvignon Blanc.

On the evening of our 10th day, just as we’d circled back to Christchurch, shifting the gears produced an ever louder screech. Our eyes met: It was time. As most members of the club know, it’s a rare VW van excursion that doesn’t involve making the acquaintance of a mechanic along the route.

Heads turned as we clattered into a park on the edge of town. But we were lucky to be back in the city where we’d picked up our van. It took just a phone call to Beattie the next morning to arrange a swap. By noon we were in a new ride, which also was orange.

The year? 1975.

Smaller and rounder, van No. 2 had a horizontal truck-driver steering wheel but no power steering. Its tiny glove box had no door, reflecting its deliberately Spartan style and storage. It was a real bach.

We were thrilled.

This van took us along the Marlborough Sounds, across the strait to Wellington (with the help of a ferry, of course) and eventually all the way north to Auckland without a hitch. If the first camper van was a conversation starter, the second was cute enough to pet. And Kiwis did.

A woman stopped Nolan at a gas station to ask how it handled, saying her son wanted to get one when he was old enough to drive.

“Like a kayak,” Nolan told her, which was probably not reassuring. (It took Volkswagen a few more years to get sway control down.)

“Your Kombi -- what year is it?” called out a man as we chugged through another small town.

“A ‘75,” we replied.

“I’ve got one just like it!”

Even the Kiwi who stopped, with his Scottish-born wife, to help pull us out of a ditch in the Marlborough region was happy to do so. We’d been exploring a narrow gravel road that had grown a little steeper -- and narrower -- than we’d expected. Chastened but unharmed, we bumped back down, then stopped to chat with a group of cyclers we’d passed on our way up.

“Ticking along nicely, isn’t it?” said one.

Indeed.

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travel@latimes.com

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(BEGIN TEXT OF INFOBOX)

If you go

THE BEST WAY TO NEW ZEALAND

From LAX, nonstop service to Auckland is available on Air New Zealand and Qantas, direct service (stop, no change of plane) on Air Tahiti Nui and connecting service (change of plane) on Air Pacific and Air Tahiti Nui. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $898.

To Christchurch, connecting service is offered on Air New Zealand and Qantas. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $938.

TELEPHONES

To call the numbers listed below from the U.S., dial 011 (the international dialing code), 64 (the country code for New Zealand) and the number.

WHERE TO RENT A CAMPER VAN

Classic Campers, North Shore, Auckland; 9-426-9869, 29-256-6247, www.classic-campers.com.

Bevan and Andrea Beattie rent eight VW camper vans ranging in age from 1966 to 1982, as well as a high-top 2004 VW camper, a 1966 VW Beetle and three non-VW vans. Rates vary; an older VW van is about $60 a day.

Kiwi Kombis Classic Campervan Hire, 96 Uxbridge Road, Howick, Auckland; 9-533-9335, 21-674-159, www.kiwikombis.com. Another husband-and-wife team with nine vans -- including five Splitties! -- ranging in age from 1958 to 1974. Rates for a 15- to 27-day hire are $99 a day, with discounts for the May-September winter season.

WHERE TO EAT

Cinema Paradiso cafe and bar, 1 Ardmore St., Wanaka, 3-443-1505. Besides freshly baked cookies at intermission, you can get curries, pizza, vegetarian lasagna, homemade ice cream, local wines and microbrews at this charming movie theater/cafe. Place an order before the movie starts, and your meal will be ready for intermission. About $16 a person.

Joe’s Garage, Searle Lane, Queenstown, 3-442-5282. This hard-to-find diner (in an alley across from the post office) is where the locals gather. Order a “flat white,” or espresso with a shot of warm milk, and a breakfast of eggs with spinach, mushrooms and a side of hollandaise. About $14.

Cork & Keg, 33 Inkerman St., Renwick, 3-572-9328. It’s an odd choice for an eating spot in the heart of the Marlborough wine region, but this English country pub just outside Blenheim is a neighborhood gem, with friendly service and generous portions of fish and chips, meat pies and other comfort food. About $20 a person.

TO LEARN MORE

New Zealand government tourism site, www.newzealand.com /travel/USA/

Department of Conservation, www.doc.govt.nz

Automobile Assn., New Zealand, www.aatravel.co.nz.