4. Mount Victoria, Middle-Earth, and a Mango Lassi
Apr 30, 2025
[Wellington in the Rain]
The day began with rain. Not the gentle kind that makes you reach for a book, but the kind that moves sideways and clings to your sleeves no matter how tightly you pull your hood.
I lingered inside with one cappuccino after another and a window seat, watching the waterfront disappear and reappear in waves of fog and drizzle. The forecast didn’t promise much, but I waited anyway, hoping the weather might blink first.
By early afternoon, the rain hadn’t eased—but I brought water-resistant hiking gear. Just enough to make the idea of hiking Mount Victoria feel less like a mistake and more like a commitment.
And so I set off on my journey to Middle Earth.
Because when Sauron calls, you answer.
Mount Victoria — or Matairangi, its original Māori name — is one of Wellington’s most iconic natural landmarks, and when you’re standing deep in the middle of it during a storm, soaked through and staring up at twisted black branches, it’s impossible not to feel like you’re somewhere mythic.
The trees here are mostly monterey pines, originally planted in the early 20th century to stabilize the hills and provide timber. Now, they’re towering, dark, and somewhat haunting — especially in the rain. Many are weathered by age and Wellington’s fierce winds, which break and bend their branches like brittle twigs. That’s why the forest feels so gnarly and gothic — it’s a combination of old-growth wildness and coastal climate brutality. They’re not pretty in a manicured way — they’re beautiful because they’re survivors.
Look down and you’ll find the ground thick with dropped pine needles and cones, creating a blanket of rust-orange that muffles your steps and adds to the cinematic hush of the forest. But perhaps most curious are the bubbles oozing from the trunks — yes, actual sap bubbles. These form when the tree is wounded or stressed (say, by a storm or broken limb) and starts to leak resin to protect itself. It’s a tree’s way of bandaging itself, and it glistens like armor.
This forest doesn’t just look like Middle-earth — it feels like it. Between the dripping branches and the gnarled roots, you start to understand why Peter Jackson brought Frodo and the Nazgûl here. It’s a place where fantasy seems completely plausible.
I am the first to admit that I am a spazz, meaning I get spooked easily in the dark. Walking into this forest, I felt gloom and haunting energy, like the Black Riders were just around the corner.
The version of Mount Victoria I encountered on my hike looked dramatically different from the lush, iconic movie scenes or even the curated photos you’ll find on travel blogs. One of the most noticeable examples was the so-called Hobbit’s Hideaway — the famous spot where Frodo and the others duck under gnarled tree roots to hide from the Black Rider. In Peter Jackson’s version, it was eerie and cinematic: twisted roots forming a natural cave, darkness pressing in, the Nazgûl’s breath curling in the air.
In real life? That entire section of the hillside has shifted. The roots are gone. The hideaway is gone.It’s been largely washed out and buried beneath soil and pine needles, leaving behind nothing more than a slope of compacted dirt and a scattering of broken branches. A small bench remains nearby, slightly askew, like a ghost of the film’s presence — a reminder that you’re standing where it happened, even if it no longer looks like it.
Compared to photos taken even five years ago, the difference is stark. Trail guides and fan sites still reference visible roots and tree arches that just aren’t there anymore. Between natural erosion, trail maintenance, and forest regrowth, this location has quietly evolved — not in a dramatic Hollywood way, but slowly, steadily, as nature does. It’s a little surreal, realizing you’re at the exact GPS-marked spot, but the magic has faded back into the earth. You’re left with imagination, memory, and a bit of mist — which, honestly, might be the most Tolkien thing of all.
A lot of people have been surprised that I have not dedicated this trip to film locations from Lord of the Rings, being such a big fan. But this is the reason why—these scenes were filmed nearly 30 years ago. The locations are barely recognizable. I would not prioritize these film locations over seeing everything else New Zealand has to offer.
Nonetheless, today, I tried to see what I could find on Mount Victoria: Hobbiton hideaway, Frodo’s reading tree, the Way of the Nazgûl (“Get off the road!”), and where the Black Riders first appeared. As well as the clearing where Aragorn and Théoden surveyed Hargtal/Harrowdale (not used in the films).
I followed the Lookout Walkway, weaving through towering pine forests, slippery stone steps, and mist-wrapped views of Wellington Harbour. It was cinematic in the best kind of way — the kind where your hair’s dripping, your rain jacket’s clinging to your skin, and you feel fully alive.
And, it shall be noted, I hiked all of this, every mud-slicked root and wind-battered incline, while simultaneously arguing about politics over text with my brother (who has explicitly asked not to be named in any of my posts — so, nameless he shall remain). Because if you’re not exchanging passive-aggressive jabs with your sibling while standing in Middle Earth on the literal other side of the planet, are you even related?
Dear reader (and by that I mean one of the five of you, none of whom are my brother): I sent him the subscribe link to this blog before I left. Naturally, he didn’t sign up. So — like any emotionally well-adjusted sister — I signed him up myself. Because of course I did. A week later, he became the first to unsubscribe. Not only that — he made it a whole production. He unsubscribed me, too. Then, he screenshotted it. Sent it to me. Smug. Triumphant. If you’re wondering whether he is trying to find a way to unsubscribe everyone else as well: he did. Proud of himself, naturally.
Somewhere near the Mount Victoria Anne Frank memorial, soaked to the bone and surrounded by broken branches, I stared at his texts and thought, this is family. You can be half a world away, trekking through a Tolkien film set in sideways rain, and still not be far enough to avoid a sibling roast.
Absolutely drenched, I emerged from the trail cold, aching, victorious… and starving. Which made my next stop feel even more divine: Saffron Haveli, a South Asian restaurant that absolutely slaps. I’m not exaggerating when I say this was some of the best Indian food I’ve ever eaten.
Poppadoms. Paneer. Vegetable samosas. Garlic naan. Mango lassi.
The evening wrapped up exactly as it should: back at the hotel, tucked into the sauna, soaking in the hot tub, and finally — finally — warm and dry.
For those of you wondering, yes, I am doing what any young mother would be doing on a vacation away. I am going to bed at 8 PM, snuggling up to my husband with my sleep mask and earplugs while he watches shows. And we’re loving it.
📡 ANALYTICAL COMMENT
TL;DR: Hiked Mount Victoria in the rain. Lived out my LOTR dreams. Ate like royalty. Ended the day pruny from the hot tub and happy, snuggled up with my cute hubby who deserves all the credit for getting me out in the world to do things.
10/10. Would get drenched in Middle Earth again.