Living and Working in St Bathans, Central Otago.

St. Bathans is a quaint little place that sort of omits definition. Bordering hamlet and village, it boasts a total population of only seven people. Depending on who you ask. Some say six, ten, eleven. Probably google-able. But population aside, it is a destination that conceals itself to those who refuse to go beyond the beaten track, containing within it a proud community who knows that it’s worth its weight in gold. Pun intended.

Living in St Bathans

〰️

Living in St Bathans 〰️

Despite its seemingly low population, St. Bathans—like my hometown, St. Brides—is surrounded by neighbouring villages. The likes of Cambrian, Becks, Ranfurly, Naseby, and further Omakau. They convene at The Vulcan Hotel the same way that I, too, would have travelled ten minutes down the road to go to the local pub. So, while it seems as though St Bathans would be nothing shy of a decrepit ghost town that sees three people per day, the place sees people come from far and wide. Whether to experience a walk or swim at the Blue Lake on a hot summer’s day, to spend the afternoon whiling away the time in the pub’s beautiful beer garden under the shade of an umbrella while the children play in the kids area, or to read about the local gold-mining history of St. Bathans in the old Gold Office, St Bathans has a whole host of amenities to keep you endlessly and contentedly occupied for an entire day.

The heart of the place goes deeper than this, though. It isn’t just about the gold mining and the Blue Lake. The place feels to me to be at the heart of what New Zealanders are all about: kindness, caring for one another, and strength from community. I’ve never felt so lucky to have stumbled upon a place. I feel like I’ve searched and searched for years now, for a community like this, for a collection of altruistic like-minded people. It feels to me that once you’re in, you’re in. Nothing is too tall a task. These people want to help you because—seemingly unendingly—they care. The people of St. Bathans and Cambrian lead with an open mind and heart. It’s an exceptional blessing to be privy to it.

It certainly makes it hard to ever want to leave. 

In my four months in this small part of New Zealand, I’ve been taken for a free helicopter ride, hosted for Christmas(!!!), offered the use of a kayak, offered the use of multiple vehicles, gifted a bike, offered the use of tents, sleeping bags, a portable stove, given free rides when my car was at the garage, bought coffee, bought wine, offered free accommodation for my father. The list goes on.

It is a kindness that feels foreign to me. Moreover, it is a kindness without expectation and a debt I can never repay.

If I think about my life say twenty years from now, I will look back on this experience, perhaps above all, with the most sentimentality and fondness of all. St Bathans feels like less a small village in the middle of Central Otago and more like an insight into a way leading your way through life and a way of living that I admire. For that reason, in conjunction with its rich history, St Bathans is a must-see place when touring through New Zealand.

The Blue Lake at St Bathans. God diggity dayum.

Working in St Bathans

〰️

Working in St Bathans 〰️

The New Zealand Backpacker Board (NBB), which I talk about here remains one of the most useful tools for finding and securing a job that matches your criteria. As is the case here: 

I was skint. I mean, completely and utterly SKINT. On my last legs financially. I’d just been on an epic roadie around the South Island with my friends, Tori, Luca, and Marlene. I’d successfully managed to budget fuck all. Of my dwindled resources all that was left was about enough to fill up a tank of gas. Consequently, I was desperate to flee the South Island, as if it were the reason I had no money and under the superstitious impression that it simply wasn’t meant to be. I thought I wasn’t cut out for the South, I was obviously destined to return to the North Island and pursue my dreams of living and working by the beach like a full frontal beach BABE (which, by the way, still sounds great). After a long and somewhat teary-eyed Facetime call with my mum where I lamented the fate that I had unwittingly bestowed upon myself, we agreed that I would be smarter to tap into my UK savings account and get out of dodge. Mentally, I had to either cut my losses and try again elsewhere or leave the country entirely and run home tail firmly tucked between my legs. 

In this period, I was essentially a squatter in the rental home I no longer paid for, having ‘moved out’ a week prior. I spent every day looking at the latest job listings all over the country, hoping to find something that would suit me and fix all of my financial woes, of which there were several. Unfortunately, the river that is the Backpacker Board was running particularly dry at the time.

All I could find that looked like it might suit me were, to my deepest regret (re: beach babe), jobs in the South Island:

• a Chef job in Kaikoura;

• a Front of House role in Queenstown;

• or a Front of House / Bartender vacancy in St Bathans.

I applied to two of the three (I refused to be a chef again after my time at Cardrona) with nothing pulling me either way, I was just looking for a job with accommodation that I could have for a couple of months to get myself back on my feet and out of this hole that I’d entrenched myself in. I ended up interviewing for both jobs, which restored within me the faith that I wasn’t just outrageously unemployable as it had felt when job-hunting in Wanaka during shoulder season. Ultimately, I rejected the Queenstown job in favour of St Bathans, purely because of my financial dire straits. The Queenstown job felt like it had the career progression that I was looking for, but the cost of living was outrageous. Subsidised accommodation, which I might point out was merely a shared hostel dorm, was more expensive than privately renting in Wanaka. I couldn’t justify it. 

Somewhat superstitious after an outrageously extended period of desperately scouring the NBB, I took it as a sign that it was meant to be that I found myself repeatedly stumbling upon the listing for Front of House Staff at the Vulcan Hotel in Saint Bathans. I knew that I could do the job, but was the location what I wanted it to be? With a dwindling populace, my primary concern was a dire absence of social life and friends. But more than that, given its remoteness, was there going to be anything to do?

I went anyway.

I’m not joking when I say I was having some serious heart palpitations when I set off from Wanaka to St Bathans. I spent the majority of the drive screaming intermittently. It was the first time I would be going it alone:

What the fuck.

I had to stop for a panic piss and refuel in Omakau to calm the nerves and spent the whole time rambling on like a madman in the street about how ‘It’s fine, you’re fine. Look, there’s a cafe, so people must exist here, somewhere.’ There was also an attractive man at the petrol station at the same time I was there, I couldn’t tell you if that made it better or worse, honestly. 

My original fears were pretty swiftly quelled after driving 1h45m from Wanaka, as I was instantly greeted by Ben and Jess. At that time, they were managing the hotel and were the first point of contact I had when deliberating my life’s choices (whether to come to St Bathans or not). I had an interview with Ben, in which he was particularly comforting. It felt pretty relaxed, unlike the ski season job I’d had prior. I felt immediately like I wanted to take the wild stab in the dark and see what awaited me on the other end. 

Within a week or two of working there, I had gotten to the stage where I wasn’t horrifically awkward and somewhat overwhelmed with desperation to impress. Things went smoothly, I was almost immediately welcomed with open arms into the St Bathans fold. Everyone I met—a benefit of working Front of House, meeting all of the locals—was incredibly kind from the get-go. Almost too kind that I didn’t know what to do with it. One of my now closest friends, Sarah, within the first five minutes of my being in St Bathans, declared that they had all been ‘waiting for me’ with the cutest look of half-excitement, half-anticipation. Ben, later, also said that they had been waiting for ‘someone like [me]’ and almost insisted that we skip the trial shift and immediately get a contract signed. It was a bit intense. I didn’t quite know what I was getting myself in for. Was this epic kindness a guise for some insidious secret that would only be disclosed to me once I’d contractually pinned myself to the place for an indefinite period? Was there a dark underbelly to this picturesque yet remote village? Was I the protagonist in a horror movie where the unassuming new girl gets murdered? As it would transpire, no, I was being a bit dramatic there. Shock. They really are just that nice. 

That kindness hasn’t dwindled in my four months of being here. The generosity continues to astound me. I can see why so many people, like Jess and Ben, come to St Bathans as a means to an end and wind up staying for longer than anticipated. If I wasn’t confined to a three-year stay in New Zealand, you’d best believe I’d cement my tent into the ground here and wouldn’t be moved for love nor money.  

I think that I inherently know that of the three places I have lived and worked in New Zealand thus far, this will be the hardest to leave. I loved the Bay of Islands, but I never truly felt integrated into the community there. Here, however, there are people that I will miss dearly (re: Sarah) and who will hopefully will miss me.

It has been the happiest last-minute desperation act I’ve ever made.

And my financial dire straits, you’ll be glad to know, are long forgotten. 

Here’s me, living something that looks alarmingly similar to that of a dream, mere moments away from hopping in a kayak and paddling around the Blue Lake before work.