There’s something different about walking through a kauri forest. Maybe it’s the sheer size of the trees — ancient, towering, impossibly still — or maybe it’s the way the air feels thicker somehow, like it’s holding onto the memory of centuries. Either way, stepping into the Kauri Grove in New Zealand’s Coromandel region is a little like stepping into another world.
Recently, I created a full 8K 360° VR video of the walk. It’s a Slow TV experience — no narration, no soundtrack, just the real, unfiltered sounds of the forest: birdsong, the hush of wind weaving through the canopy, the quiet tap of footsteps over wooden bridges. You can almost hear the stillness if you listen closely enough.
The trail itself winds gently — crossing small bridges, climbing a few sets of stairs, opening now and then to a lookout where the trees seem to part just enough to give you a view. It’s not a difficult walk, but somehow, it feels important to move slowly anyway. You almost want to walk softer, out of respect for the place, though that sounds a little sentimental written down.
One of the highlights — and you’ll know it when you see it — is the Siamese Kauri Tree. Two giant trunks grown so closely together they almost seem fused, like the forest itself decided long ago that two would be stronger than one. It’s the kind of thing you might miss if you were rushing, but here, there’s no rush at all.
If you watch the video, especially in VR, it’s easy to lose track of time. One minute you’re admiring the intricate pattern of fern fronds just overhead, the next you’re staring up into the endless columns of kauri bark, wondering how many storms these trees have outlasted. Probably more than we can imagine. I caught myself a few times pausing — not because I meant to, but because it just felt right to stop and breathe it all in.
Of course, nothing truly replaces being there: feeling the cool dampness of the forest air on your skin, hearing a distant kererū beat its heavy wings through the branches overhead. But still, this 360° experience gets surprisingly close. You can look in every direction, follow the curve of a vine up into the treetops, or just… drift along the path, letting the forest decide where your attention should go.
There’s a kind of sacred stillness in kauri groves. It’s not loud, and it’s not dramatic. It’s just… present. It makes you want to whisper, even if you’re alone.
If you’re in need of a little peace — or just curious to experience a corner of New Zealand that still feels wild and ancient — I hope you’ll take a few minutes (or an hour, or two) to walk with me through the Kauri Grove.
No pressure. No schedule. Just you, the trees, and the slow rhythm of the forest breathing all around you.