Dune Buggying in Ahipara, New Zealand

When my buddy, Greg, told me he wanted to go dune buggying in New Zealand, I honestly wasn't overly stoked. My vision of the trip included surfing, epic road trips through mountains, and lots of Sauvignon Blanc. Hopping into a glorified ATV and driving around a beach didn't seem like the most epic thing of all time, but, with any trip that you do with someone else, I knew I had to compromise and participate in some of the things that Greg wanted to do. So, a week or so before our flights took off towards Auckland, we signed up for the damn dune buggying trip.

Greg found a New Zealand dune buggying tour company based in a town called Ahipara, which was about an hour and a half drive from where we were going to be staying at the time (Paihia in the Bay of Islands). It is also where Ninety Mile Beach starts. This fact got me semi stoked, as Ninety Mile Beach is actually a highway where cars drive along the sand while the surf crashes onto the shore beside the passing cars. I just hoped that our dune buggy tour would take us for a quick jaunt down that sandy, unpaved road.

When the day came, Greg and I rolled into Ahipara, drove up a small hill, and pulled into the parking lot of an old motel. A shed sat on the edge of the property. Behind the shed, a field filled with waist high, green grass traversed down the hill, waved in the light breeze, and opened up to a large, white sand beach, cliff walls and perfect turquoise waves. I gaped.

"Fuck," I said, "look at those waves. We should've just spent the day surfing here."

Greg laughed.

"Nah man, dune buggying will be sick."

I sighed, gazed across the green field again and studied the turquoise barrels.

"All right, but we definitely need to at least surf a little bit after this. Those waves look perfect."

We stepped out of the car, packed our GoPros, water bottles and sunscreen into our day packs, and walked into the hotel bar. A lady approached us. After we told her we were there for the Dune Buggying New Zealand tour, she guided us back toward the shed and told us to climb down the hill, walk around the back and find the garage door where the dune buggys and guide were located.  We stepped back outside, clambered towards the shed and trekked down the hill.

Motors rumbled. Dirt and sand-covered dune buggy's lined the back side of the shed. A group of tourists stood beside the dune buggys, adjusted their helmet straps, and listened to a man with a clipboard. The man with the clipboard turned towards us. His short, grey and messy hair, wrinkled cheeks and sand-covered black t-shirt shimmered in the sunlight. He approached Greg and I.

"You boys coming on the tour?" he asked. Greg and I nodded.

"All right, we'll just need you to fill out this waiver, grab one of the helmets off of the rack over there in the garage, and then we'll set you guys up on the red buggy over there."

He nodded towards a red dune buggy at the back of the dune buggy line. The buggy had a pick-up truck-styled bed at the back, a roll cage and treaded, off-roading wheels. The buggy, too, was covered in dirt and sand.

Greg and I stepped into the garage, grabbed a pen off of the helmet rack, filled out our waivers, tried on our helmets, and then walked over to our dune buggy. The buggy shook on the pebbled driveway, as its engine rumbled. I placed my water bottle inside. Once everyone filled out their waivers and had helmets, our guide stood beside the first dune buggy, showed us where the four-wheel drive button was, told us not to activate it until he told us to, and showed us how to put the throttle into low speed, high speed and reverse. He also told us that, if we drove the dune buggys erratically, they would flip and roll down the beach. I turned towards our red dune buggy. Its engine rumbled.

When our guide finished speaking, we all hopped into our dune buggys, placed them into low speed, and drove out onto the road. The buggies exhausts roared, as we rolled down the hill towards the beach. Cars drove past us. Long, green grass whipped our buggies. We were dune buggying through New Zealand!

Dune Buggying in New Zealand

After a few minutes, we reached the start of Ninety Mile beach. Our line of dune buggies roared onto the beach. Sand whirled and whipped and flew across the air. Cars and vans and jeeps plodded onto the beach behind us. We drove across the sand towards the rock cliffs. As we approached the cliffs, the surf crashed beside us, splashed onto the cliff walls and rocks, and sprayed our buggies. After a few minutes, rocks jutted out of the sand highway.

"Do you think this thing is going to make it over these rocks?" I asked Greg.

"Oh yeah, no problem."

The engine revved. The buggy's front wheels hit the rocks. Our bodies whiplashed, as the buggy climbed over the rock, landed on the other side and then clambered over the next one. The rocks continued down the beach for another little while, and then golden sand, long grass and some of the craziest / strongest surf I've ever seen appeared. All of the dune buggies throttled forward. Sand kicked up across the beach. Waves slammed into the shoreline, as dark grey clouds formed above the whitewash.

After a while, our guide stopped. The rest of the dune buggies stopped beside him. He pointed up towards a large sand dune ahead.

"We're going to drive up the dune now. Don't take your foot off the accelerator until we get to the top."

I studied the massive dune in front of us. The steep dune rose towards the blue sky, long, green grass protruded in certain areas, and sand trickled down in its steepest sections. My legs tensed. My arms shook on the steering wheel, as the dune buggy rumbled.

Our guide revved his motor, jolted forward and traversed up the dune. Sand sprayed behind him. The rest of the dune buggy group followed. Greg and I trailed behind all of them.

As we traversed up the dune, the dune buggy rocked back and forth, the wheels slipped and slid and swerved along the dune's face, and sand dispersed between our tires' tread. Sand from the dune buggies in front of us flickered into the air. The blue and grey sky loomed ahead. The throttle body heated, smoked and seared my leg. After a few minutes, we reached the top of the dune. Sand floated in the air. A large, dessert-like landscape filled with golden rocks, sand hills and patches of grass stood in front of us. We trekked across the landscape, bumped over rocks, slid up and down sand hills and tore sand into the air. When we reached a group of large rocks that looked out over a large cliff onto the pacific ocean, we stopped, stepped out of our dune buggies and took photos.

Viewpoint While Dune Buggying in New Zealand

At this point, Greg stepped into the driver's seat. Everyone hopped back into their buggies, started their motors and veered back down the side of the dune. Our guide led us towards a river in the sand dune. The river led towards the ocean. We drove off a small sand ledge, splashed into the water and roared across the river bed. Water sprayed against our legs. The ocean roared and crashed and thundered, as we reached the end of the river, veered back onto the sand and headed towards another massive sand dune.

When we reached the top of the next sand dune, two dirt bikers roared up the other side of it, pulled u-turns at the top, and then sped back down. We drove over to where they had driven up. A massive, steep sand hill stood in front of us. Waves crashed a couple hundred feet below onto jagged rocks. People walked up the sand hill, carried what looked to be boogy boards, and slid down them on their stomachs. My stomach clenched. My palms sweat against my thighs. We all stepped out of our buggies, walked towards the edge of the hill and peered down towards the water. My Sperrys sunk into the hot sand.

Dune Buggying in New Zealand

"Now, in case you were all wondering," our guide said, "you will not be sand boarding down this hill. Some, or all of you, would end up in the hospital."

We all laughed, as a sand boarder reached the top of the hill, lay on their sand board and ripped down the slope. Their feet dangled in the air. A wave of sand followed behind them.

"We're going to go slightly over there," our guide said, as he pointed to a small hill (maybe 40 feet high) beside us, "that way you can all try it out and be safe."

Our convoy of dune buggies ripped across the sand. When we reached the hill, we all halted, hopped out of our buggies and peered down the smaller hill. The sand whirled at the bottom. Sweat dripped down my temples. Our guide unlatched the straps on the bed of his buggy, pulled out what appeared to be boogy boards, and handed them to everyone.

"So, what you need to do is, lay on top of your board, grip the top with your hands, and keep your shins and feet in the air. If you want to slow down, dig your feet into the sand."

We all gripped our sand boards, gazed down the hill again, and then turned back towards our guide. He smirked. His sand-covered cheeks dimpled.

"Who's first?"

A man in his early twenties lay his board on the ground, pressed his chest onto it and pushed himself forward. The board slid down the hill. Sand swirled into the air behind him. As he reached the bottom, the board and the man popped over a little hump, skid across the flat sand, and then stopped. He picked up his board, ran back up the hill and grinned.

Sand Boarding while Dune Buggying in New Zealand

For the next twenty minutes, we all rode our boards down, laughed, sweat our asses off running back up the hill, and rode back down again. Sand flew into my sunglasses, scraped across the lenses, hopped over the frames and landed in my eyes. My beard also filled with sand. After a while, we all threw our sand board back into the bed of our guide's buggy, hopped in our buggies, and drove back towards Ninety Mile Beach and the parking lot. Sand fluttered in the blue sky as we drove away. The ocean roared below the sand dunes.

So, was Greg right about the Sand Dune Buggying in New Zealand being a good time? Yes, he was. In fact, it ended up being one of the most epic adventures we had in New Zealand.

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