NZME's Editor-at-Large Shayne Currie continues his road trip across NZ in the all electric VW ID.5, making his way from Rotorua to Tauranga. Video / Shayne Currie
NZ Herald editor-at-large Shayne Currie is on a two-week road trip to gauge the mood of the nation and meet everyday and notable Kiwis making a difference in their communities and the wider world. As he nears the end of his road trip, he reflects on the lessons learned while taking an electric vehicle on some of Aotearoa’s scariest roads. Meanwhile, we have Nine Questions With Paddy Gower and Te Awamutu Courier and Waikato Herald editor Dean Taylor meets Tesh Randall - a Raglan entrepreneur bringing a surfie-speak vibe to her business, a market-leading non-dairy yoghurt company about to tackle the US, and who is making big strides in the world of philanthropy.
The Volkswagen ID.5 parked up at one of the many photo-stop spots on the shores of Lake Wakatipu, between Kingston and Queenstown.
The heavily laden truck-and-trailer unit was taking two-thirds of the wafer-thin road and showing no signs of slowing as it came at me head-on, on a relatively long straight. I hurled the EV to the side, stopping completely, two seconds before the road monster flew by.
A few kilometres ahead and my path - Okau Rd, off State Highway 3 in Taranaki - turned to gravel and narrowed to one lane. Signs warned of logging trucks and falling debris. I was in for a hairy half-hour over steep terrain, taking the car down to 20km/h on totally blind corners.
The previous week, I had nursed the Volkswagen ID.5 over one of the South Island’s famously beautiful but notorious roads, Danseys Pass, in Central Otago. A sheer drop on one side, and bedrock on the other. As I wrote at the time, part of the road felt like a cliff-ledge upon which some gravel had been scattered.
A typical corner on Danseys Pass Rd.
Okau Rd and Danseys Pass came to be the two biggest driving tests for the Volkswagen ID.5 on our two-week Great New Zealand Road Trip - a grand total of more than 2500km travelled, in all manner of weather and roading conditions.
Friends and colleagues openly questioned my motivation for undertaking the trip in an EV. Normally, I’m behind the wheel of a V8 with a bubbling engine. I’ve been somewhat of a petrolhead.
My friends worried about whether I’d reach my overnight stops, such is the perception in some quarters about the range capability of EVs.
Modern EVs, however, like the Volkswagen ID.5, put all that nonsense to bed. Officially, the car has a range of 530km when fully topped up.
I never pushed it that far, normally charging to 80 per cent at the ChargeNet station (there are more than 300 of them dotted throughout the country), and keeping the range anywhere between 100km and 380km.
“Range anxiety” - it is recognised as a “thing” - kicked in for me, mildly, only twice on the road trip.
On day two, well before I fully learned how to get the most out of the EV, I dropped below my self-imposed 100km range as I travelled from Gore to Queenstown. I was irritated with myself because I had just spent a lovely afternoon in Gore and could have been charging the car up at the local ChargeNet station as I charged up on cheese rolls. Lesson 1: Never let an opportunity go by.
Instead, I said to myself, I’ll charge up at Lumsden. Problem was, a Tesla had just arrived and would need an hour there. I checked the ChargeNet app and ventured a further 21km to the tiny settlement of Athol. I had that charge station, and indeed the town, to myself.
I left the ID.5 on charge for an hour and strolled through Athol. It is one of the great memories of the trip. I had been forced to see and learn about a town that I wouldn’t have given a second glance.
A cottage on the side of SH6 at Athol, between Lumsden and Queenstown.
Athol, on the banks of the Mataura River, is a fishing and hunting hotspot with a little art gallery, a shop and a range of old homes. One of its major claims to fame is as the birthplace of 1957 All Black Ack Soper - I know this because a billboard on the main highway says so. A few cars passed by, but no one else was on the street. Utter peace.
The second time I pushed the limit was earlier this week, on State Highway 41 between Taumarunui and Turangi. Those of you familar with the road will know how steeply it winds to get to the Waituhi lookout, with sweeping views of the volcanic plateau. By the time I reached the peak, the charge was at 95km and Taupō was still about 80km away. Pushing it, I thought.
The Volkswagen ID.5 at the Waituhi lookout, with expansive views of the Central North Island volcanic plateau.
As I came to learn, however, the ID.5 has an amazing ability to regenerate charge through its braking system. By nursing the car - coasting down the other side of the mountain range and using the brakes frequently - I had the charge level well over 200km by the time I reached Turangi. Lesson 2: Learn about your EV’s capabilities early on.
The more time I spent behind the wheel, the more I came to learn about when I could take it up to full limit, and when to nurse it to regenerate charge.
The dashboard metrics became my friend. It was easy to plot and plan each day’s journey, and to determine where I’d stop to charge up, or eat, or write, or all three.
The Volkswagen ID.5 dashboard - 52 per cent represents how much charge is left; 277km is the range left.
And it has a seat massager! I found this out inadvertently on the downhill side of Danseys Pass - I accidentally triggered the side button. It kicked in at the perfect time.
In truth, the ID.5 made light work of river valleys, mountain ranges, and all manner of roading and weather conditions. It was comfortable and easy to drive.
It felt good driving past petrol stations, and when I stopped at a makeshift stop-go traffic light in the hills between Nelson and Picton, the only sound as I wound down the window was birdsong. Memorable.
