New Zealand's scenic grandeur is well documented — but scattered among the mountains and vineyards lies a parallel itinerary of gloriously unserious roadside curiosities that reveal an equally irresistible side of the country's character.
New Zealand: Tasman – The Boot
🥾 The Boot, New Zealand — Because Normal Beds Are Overrated
There comes a point in a man’s life when he finds himself standing in a field, staring at a giant boot, and thinking: yes. Yes, this is where I shall sleep tonight.
The Boot is, as the name suggests, a holiday accommodation shaped like an enormous boot. Not metaphorically. Not loosely inspired by. Literally shaped like a boot — a great big thing, rendered in timber and paint and what I can only assume was a very entertaining planning application. The design draws directly from the old nursery rhyme — the one about the old woman who lived in a shoe and had so many children she didn’t know what to do. Whether the original old woman would have approved of this particular interpretation is hard to say, but the rhyme itself dates back to at least the mid-eighteenth century in England, first appearing in print around 1794 in Gammer Gurton’s Garland, a collection of traditional English nursery rhymes. It has been speculated ever since that the old woman was a satirical stand-in for various British monarchs, most popularly King George II, whose many colonies and subjects were — depending on your politics — the children he couldn’t quite manage. None of that historical baggage is apparent when you’re standing in a paddock in New Zealand looking at a giant boot, but it’s nice to know the heritage goes back a bit.
From the outside, the building looks faintly ridiculous. This is, I want to be clear, a compliment. It is the best possible kind of ridiculous — the kind that makes you smile involuntarily and reach for your phone to take a photograph before you’ve even opened the car door. It sits there in the landscape with complete confidence, as though it has always been there and it is you who is the odd one out for finding it unusual. Which, frankly, you are.
🏠 Inside the Boot — Surprisingly Not Terrible
Now, here is where things get interesting. You expect, on the basis of the exterior, to step inside and find something halfway between a carnival attraction and a garden shed. A novelty, in other words. Nice to look at, not especially liveable. That is not what you find at all.
The ground floor is genuinely, properly cosy. There is a living room with comfortable seating — real furniture, the sort you can actually sit in without perching apologetically — along with a small but well-equipped kitchenette and a bathroom that has clearly been thought about by someone who uses bathrooms regularly. Timber beams run across the ceiling, the lighting is warm rather than the ghastly overhead strip-light brightness that plagues budget accommodation the world over, and the whole thing has an atmosphere that can only be described as inviting. You want to put the kettle on. You want to take your shoes off. You feel, almost immediately, at home — which is an extraordinary achievement for a building shaped like a shoe.
Upstairs — and this is where the design gets properly committed to itself — there is a bedroom. You reach it via a spiral staircase. Now, I say staircase. It is more of a compact helical challenge. It requires what I would diplomatically call reasonable knees and what I would less diplomatically call the willingness to accept that you are not, in fact, as nimble as you were in 1987. It is fine. We managed. Nobody fell. Once up there, the bedroom is tucked into the toe of the boot — which sounds as though it ought to be claustrophobic and strange, but is instead charming, snug and, genuinely surprisingly, spacious enough to move around in without a carefully choreographed routine.
The whole interior feels like the work of someone who took the brief — build accommodation inside a boot — and then decided to take it completely seriously and do it properly. Not as a joke. Not as a quick novelty to cash in on the Instagram crowd. As an actual, thoughtful, comfortable place to spend the night. One gets the sense that considerable care went into it, which is more than can be said for quite a lot of four-star hotels I could name.
🌿 Jester’s House and the Gardens
Attached to the Boot — or rather, the Boot is attached to it — is the main property, Jester’s House. This is an occasional café set within grounds that can only be described as wonderfully whimsical, and I don’t use the word lightly because I find it a bit precious, but there is genuinely no better one here.
The garden is dotted with quirky sculptures. There are playful touches at every turn. The planting is lush and generous. It is the sort of garden that makes you think someone had tremendous fun creating it and didn’t particularly care whether you approved or not, which is the best attitude anyone can take to a garden. Too many gardens feel anxious. This one feels pleased with itself, in a good way.
The whimsy, incidentally, extends to the property’s name — Jester’s House — which sets the tone nicely. This is not a place that takes itself too seriously. It has clearly been put together by people who enjoy a bit of the unexpected, who think that a boot-shaped holiday let is a perfectly reasonable thing to build, and who see no contradiction between genuine quality and genuine silliness. They are, in this respect, correct.
New Zealand has a surprisingly rich tradition of unusual and eccentric architecture, perhaps because the country is young enough — European settlement only really got going in the early nineteenth century, with the signing of the Treaty of Waitangi in 1840 formalising British sovereignty — that it has never been quite as weighed down by architectural convention as older countries. There’s a freedom to build something mad if you fancy it, and a culture that tends to celebrate rather than disapprove. The Boot fits neatly into this tradition.
🔥 The Patio, the Fire, the Red Wine, and the Sandflies
Outside the Boot, there is a generous patio. And on that patio, there is an outdoor fireplace.
I lit it.
This requires a brief pause to appreciate the significance of this moment. There is something deeply satisfying about lighting an outdoor fire as the evening draws in, particularly when you have a glass of red wine in hand, a comfortable chair to sit in, and nowhere at all that you need to be. The light was fading over the New Zealand countryside — and New Zealand countryside, it should be said, is extravagantly beautiful in a way that feels slightly showing off — and we sat there in the gathering dusk, watching the flames, listening to the gentle crackle, and feeling, without any great effort, completely at peace with things.
It was, and I do not deploy this word carelessly, idyllic.
And then the sandflies arrived.
For those unfamiliar with the New Zealand sandfly — and if you are, count yourself fortunate — it is a tiny biting insect that exists for no discernible ecological purpose beyond the ruination of outdoor contentment. It is the size of a comma. It bites with a commitment that is, in its own horrible way, impressive. The Māori have a legend about sandflies: according to tradition, the goddess Hine-nui-te-pō created them to prevent humans from lingering too long in one place admiring the scenery, so that they would keep moving and see more of the country. This is, if true, a remarkably cunning piece of divine urban planning. It is also deeply annoying.
There is nothing — nothing — quite like being driven indoors by insects the size of commas. One moment you are a civilised adult enjoying a peaceful evening by an open fire; the next you are flapping your arms around like a man trying to land a small aircraft, spilling red wine, and retreating in something that is definitely not panic but is adjacent to it.
We retreated inside. We shut the door firmly. We settled in for the night in our oversized footwear, which, given everything, remained an excellent place to be.
💭 Reflections
The Boot is the kind of place that sounds better as a concept than it probably should be in reality, and yet somehow it exceeds expectations on both fronts. It is genuinely quirky without being uncomfortable. It is genuinely comfortable without being dull.
The outdoor fire was a nice touch that the sandflies spoiled, which feels like a decent metaphor for something, though I’m not entirely sure what.
The garden at Jester’s House is worth wandering around, particularly if you enjoy the sense that someone has put thought and personality into a space rather than just buying things from a garden centre catalogue.
The spiral staircase is manageable if you take it sensibly and don’t try to be clever about it.
Overall: thoroughly recommended, especially if you have even a passing fondness for nursery rhymes, open fires, red wine, or the mildly absurd. Bring insect repellent.
Planning Your Visit to Tasman
📍 Location
Tasman is a small rural settlement on the upper South Island of New Zealand, sitting on a peninsula on the southern and eastern side of the Moutere Inlet, along the Ruby Coast. It lies between Māpua and Motueka on State Highway 60, roughly 40 kilometres from Nelson city and approximately 45 kilometres from Abel Tasman National Park. The settlement includes Kina Beach, a sheltered Tasman Bay beach with rock pools that are only fully accessible at low tide.
Originally called Aporo — the Māori word for apple — the village was renamed Tasman in 1906 in honour of the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman, the first European to discover New Zealand. Its economy was built on orchards, and the surrounding area still produces fruit, hops, and wine. Today, the village is an increasingly popular destination for arts, crafts, vineyards, kayaking, fishing, cycling, and hiking.
The population is small — around 700 people — giving Tasman a genuinely quiet, rural character. Services are limited; the village has a well-regarded general store, a café, a vineyard, and a nine-hole golf course with views across to Mt Arthur and Abel Tasman National Park. For more extensive shopping, banking, medical facilities, or a wider choice of dining, Nelson city or Motueka are the practical bases.
🚗 Getting There
A hire car is the most practical and versatile way to reach Tasman. Nelson Airport, which receives regular domestic flights from Auckland, Wellington, and Christchurch, is the nearest commercial airport and is roughly 50 kilometres from the settlement. Car hire is available at the airport. From Nelson city, take State Highway 6 south before joining State Highway 60, which follows the coast through Māpua and Ruby Bay towards Tasman village — a scenic drive of around 40 to 45 minutes.
Alternatively, if you are arriving from Picton — perhaps via the Interislander or Bluebridge ferry from Wellington — the drive to Tasman via Nelson takes approximately two hours on the Queen Charlotte Drive through the Marlborough Sounds, or two and a half hours via the inland route through Blenheim.
From Christchurch, the drive to Nelson takes around five hours via State Highway 1 north and then the Lewis Pass, or slightly longer via Blenheim and the Marlborough Sounds.
🚌 Getting Around
The Tasman settlement itself is compact, and the general store, café, and beach are all within easy reach on foot or by bicycle once you are there. However, the wider Ruby Coast area — which encompasses Māpua, Ruby Bay, Kina, and the Moutere Hills vineyards — is best explored by car or bicycle.
Tasman’s Great Taste Trail runs directly through the area and is one of the most celebrated cycling routes in New Zealand. It connects Nelson city with Wakefield, Richmond, Māpua, Ruby Bay, Tasman, Motueka, and Kaiteriteri, weaving past vineyards, breweries, orchards, art galleries, and coastal scenery. Sections of the trail are accessible to leisure cyclists without specialist equipment, and several hire companies in Nelson and Motueka offer bike rental along with shuttle services. The Ruby Coast segment between Ruby Bay and Tasman offers panoramic views across Tasman Bay and the Western Ranges.
Riders should note that a small pedestrian and cyclist ferry connects Māpua Wharf to Rabbit Island (Moturoa), forming part of the trail. This ferry runs intermittently, so it is worth checking the timetable in advance before planning your ride around it.
There is a limited public bus service in the wider Nelson Tasman region. The NBus connects Nelson city with Richmond and some surrounding areas, but coverage of the rural Ruby Coast is minimal. Visitors without a car or bicycle will find their options for exploring beyond the immediate village quite restricted.
🎨 Things to See and Do
The Tasman village area is part of the Ruby Coast Arts Trail, a curated route running the length of the Ruby Coast and into the surrounding hills, featuring eight distinct gallery and studio locations. Working artists and ceramicists are well established in the area. Potters such as Steve Fullmer, known for his distinctive hand-thrown domestic ware, and Darryl Frost, whose wood-fired ceramics are displayed in a welcoming clifftop gallery overlooking Tasman Bay, are among the artists who call this stretch of coastline home.
The Aporo Sculpture, a striking nine-metre stainless steel work constructed from recycled materials with silhouette cut-outs of local bird species, stands at the Tasman Village turnoff on Aporo Road and serves as both an artistic landmark and an information point about the estuarine birdlife of the Moutere Inlet. It is a popular stop for cyclists on the Great Taste Trail.
Kina Beach offers rock pooling, kayaking, and safe swimming in sheltered waters. Dolphins are occasionally spotted in Tasman Bay, and New Zealand fur seals are not uncommon along this stretch of coast.
The Tasman Village General Store has developed something of a reputation beyond the local area for its exceptional coffee and baked goods — a welcome stop whether you are arriving by car or cycle.
The Tasman Village golf course sits on clifftops with sweeping views across the ocean and sky, and is considered one of the more scenic nine-hole courses in the region.
Nearby Māpua, just a short drive or cycle away, adds considerably to what the area offers. The restored wharf is home to waterfront restaurants, artisan shops, galleries, a craft brewery, and a wine bar. The annual Easter Fair at Māpua attracts up to 10,000 visitors.
The Moutere Hills, accessible by road or as a detour on the Great Taste Trail, are dotted with acclaimed small wineries and cellar doors, including Neudorf Vineyards, Gravity Cellars, Moutere Hills Vineyard, and Flaxmore, among many others. The Tasman and Nelson districts together form a recognised boutique wine region producing outstanding Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and aromatic varieties. The historic Moutere Inn in Upper Moutere, which has been in continuous operation since around 1850, is New Zealand’s oldest pub and serves craft beers brewed from locally grown hops alongside a wine list drawn entirely from vineyards within a short distance of the inn.
The wider area provides easy access to Abel Tasman National Park — the most visited national park in New Zealand — where visitors can walk the Abel Tasman Coast Track (a multi-day Great Walk), kayak between sheltered golden-sand bays, and take water taxis to remote beaches and island sanctuaries. Kahurangi National Park and Nelson Lakes National Park are also within reasonable driving distance.
The best time to visit Tasman
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