New Zealand: Manawatū-Whanganu – Marton, Yellow Submarine

🚗 Arrival Near Marton and an Unexpected Stay

Karen still had no idea where we were staying, which made the final part of the drive far more entertaining for me than it probably should have been. We turned off the main road near Marton and followed a narrow rural lane that felt completely unremarkable. Open farmland stretched out on either side, with low fences, paddocks, and very little traffic. There were no signs, no clues, and nothing to suggest we were heading anywhere out of the ordinary. It felt like the sort of road you might drive down by mistake and quietly turn around at the first chance.

When we finally pulled over, Karen just stopped and stared. Sitting beside the road was a bright yellow submarine. Not a building shaped like one, and not something loosely inspired by the idea, but a full submarine form, painted a solid yellow and looking completely out of place in the middle of the countryside. Against the muted colours of the surrounding farmland, it stood out immediately. It looked bold, strange, and oddly convincing, as if it belonged somewhere else entirely and had ended up here by accident.

From the outside alone it was impressive, but stepping inside made it clear how much thought had gone into the experience. We entered through a round hatch at the front, which instantly made it feel like a real vessel rather than novelty accommodation. The interior followed the curve of the hull, creating a compact but carefully designed living space. A small kitchenette was tucked neatly to one side, with a sofa built directly into the wall opposite.

A sonar-style ping echoed quietly in the background, adding to the atmosphere. After a bit of experimenting, we discovered it could be changed to play a selection of different versions of the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine. That discovery alone justified the stay. Singing along felt unavoidable and slightly ridiculous, which suited the place perfectly.

🧭 Exploring the Interior

A narrow ladder led up into the control tower. At the top was a captain’s seat that had clearly once been a barber’s chair, repurposed in a way that somehow worked very well. Nearby was a mock periscope linked to a camera outside, allowing you to look around the surrounding countryside as if you were submerged. Seeing fields and fences through a periscope was oddly entertaining.

The whole interior leaned heavily into a steampunk style. Pipes, gauges, switches, dials, and warning labels covered nearly every surface. It was busy without feeling cluttered, and there was always something new to notice. The level of detail suggested that this was not just about providing somewhere unusual to sleep, but about creating a fully realised environment.

Old diving helmets and pieces of vintage radio equipment were placed throughout the space, adding to the sense that this was once a working vessel. A full-sized mannequin dressed in nautical clothing stood nearby, clearly meant to represent John Lennon. It was impressively made, though slightly unsettling when you caught sight of it unexpectedly from the corner of your eye.

Beyond the main living area was the sleeping section. Two double bunks were built directly into the body of the submarine, making clever use of the curved space. We decided to take one each. Past that was a small bathroom with a toilet and shower. It was decorated with warning signs about toxic gas and system failures, which added to the atmosphere without tipping into parody.

🔒 Locking Up and Returning Later

We did not settle in straight away. After exploring the submarine and taking in as much detail as we could, we closed it up properly before heading out for a few hours. The large hatch lowered into place with the help of heavy actuators, sealing the entrance in a way that felt surprisingly solid and final. Once everything was secured, we left the submarine sitting quietly by the roadside.

When we returned later, the road was empty and silent. The submarine sat exactly where we had left it, glowing faintly under its exterior lights. Unlocking it and opening the hatch already felt familiar, as if we had been staying there longer than we actually had.

🌙 Settling in for the Night

Once inside, the space felt warm, enclosed, and calm. After being out in the open, the submarine felt like a private retreat. We changed into something comfortable, made hot drinks using the small kitchenette, and took another slow look around. Even then, there were still details we had missed earlier, whether it was a label, a gauge, or a piece of wiring tucked into a corner.

There was a DVD player onboard, and after some trial and error we managed to get it working. The film selection leaned heavily towards Beatles and submarine-themed titles, which felt entirely appropriate. We chose one and let it play quietly while we stretched out on the bunks.

After a long day of driving and exploring, it was the right level of effort. The low lighting, soft background sounds, and enclosed space made it easy to wind down. We did not stay up late. The novelty of sleeping inside a submarine was more than enough on its own.

Eventually, everything was switched off and the quiet took over. Lying there inside a submarine, parked beside a rural road, felt strange in the best possible way. It was slightly surreal, very comfortable, and deeply memorable.

📝 Final Thoughts

Staying in the yellow submarine worked because it did not try too hard. It was unusual without being silly, detailed without being overwhelming, and comfortable enough to properly relax in. The setting was quiet, the design was thoughtful, and the experience felt complete from start to finish. It was the kind of place that stayed with you, not because it was flashy, but because it was done well.