The population of Otehei Bay on Urupukapuka Island in the Bay of Islands is two. With her partner (the island’s caretaker), Natalie McCondach shares a snapshot into her way of life.

 

My morning alarm is endangered birdsong. Urupukapuka is pest-free so it’s the real deal. Shouting at the saddlebacks to keep the noise down is not unheard of. An open door to a banded rail means an invitation to wander in; and I am not sure who gets the biggest fright when I find one lurking behind the lounge curtains. Sofa cushions as barriers have helped with neighbourly relations. A walk down the wharf soothes the soul; snapper, octopus, eagle rays and other fish have made their wharf home a mesmerising natural aquarium, and it is a no-fishing zone, respected by most but sadly not all.

The change of seasons could not be more different. Summer equals many footsteps from Hole in the Rock tourists, campers, boaties and staff who all come for sun, sea and sand. Things get hectic, including day-trippers who forget an outgoing tide means they will be here for some time as their boat is dry on the beach and a good bar tab maybe needed. A sense of humour helps with work-life balance which becomes even more important when your home is at work.

It’s like the island has been holding its breath and then exhales when Mother Nature decides it’s winter. Red bands replace jandals, nights are dark, it rains (yes, it’s the winterless North but people forget to mention the rain), a cold southwester becomes a regular and the population shrinks to two. We wrap up warm and sit on the front lawn and call it ‘rush hour’ if we see a boat go past.

Tangaroa’s hard boundaries are not for everyone and there is a paradise tax. Cooking is about using what you have, not what you feel like eating. Grocery runs need a considered shopping list and a good attitude. They involve many touchpoints – beach, boat, mooring, dinghy, car. There are no roads on the island, so a quick change of pace is required. Who would have thought my large wheelie chilly bin with an extendable handle has become like a favourite piece of luxury luggage!

Island living means you are always at home to visitors. My go-to may seem underwhelming but improvising with home-roasted chilli peanuts and a freezer grab of smoked marlin or wild venison sausages, served island time on our beachfront table, washed down with a cold beverage seems to make simple food just taste better.

The logistics manager in charge of remote living (aka my partner) has a strategy that mostly works: don’t go to town unless absolutely necessary! The definition of necessary does sometimes come up for discussion, but it never gets old when we are asked where we live … to reply ‘on an island’, always feels special.

 

 

The best job in the world

The role of an island caretaker is much and varied. It includes being the barge skipper, tending to the infrastructure needed for a busy summer café and bar – generator power, water, sewage, rubbish.

They are the first responder to fix everything from the coffee machine to the lawnmower. It requires hands-on barge logistics to get the café and bar supplies to the back door; grounds and lawns maintenance.

And of course the very important ‘just being there’, especially in the winter for security.

 

In 2020 Natalie McCondach packed up her mainland semi-corporate life, joining her partner full-time on Urupukapuka Island. Life is now centred around weather conditions, tides and remembering to fuel the generator.