How many times have you heard the phrase, ‘I never thought this would happen to me’? Well, here I am. Although campervans can be a super fun, convenient, and affordable way to explore New Zealand, unfortunately they also have risks. It’s taken me a while to write about this. Not because the event itself was super traumatic, but still… I’d rather not revisit it. However, I hope that sharing my scariest vanlife experience will at least help you learn my mistakes, and stay safer during your travels.

One sweet day in 2019…

Picture this: it’s a scorching Dunedin summer’s day. Heat devils dance on the tarmac and you’re parked up in your van, sitting in the cabin which feels like a sauna. You’ve been doing the vanlife thing for a month now, and its more or less second nature. In the afternoon you chugged a coffee and drove from Timaru to Dunedin, your old stomping ground. It’s been a while since you were back, but it feels good to be home.

This was the situation I found myself in. After the long drive, my eyes struggled to stay open and I made a quick decision to rest up near Ōpoho Park, at the top of the Botanic Gardens. It was the sort of peaceful spot where people walk their dogs, take their kids in prams, or later in the evening, sit with their windows down as they smoked and listened to the radio… Nothing out of the ordinary. I reversed into a corner park that bordered onto a thick hedge. Perfect! I could lift the boot to get a nice breeze flowing through the van. Plus, the hedge added complete privacy from the road and footpath.

After changing into cooler clothes, I sat by the boot on the ledge above the towbar and absently flicked through magazines. Life is good! I smiled contentedly. Car engines rumbled into action as other visitors went home, but I didn’t take much notice. What’s the time? 5pm. Hmm. I glanced outside and was surprised to see the full park had emptied to about 4 cars. I should probably go, the little voice in my head whispered. Nah, it’s early. There was plenty of time before I had to find accommodation for the night. Plus, it was time to make my weekly family call. I dialled the phone.

And that was my first mistake.

There I was, chatting away, distracted by the usual family goss. Looking back, anybody would have been able to hear me and realise that I was a girl on my own.

After about 10 minutes, the weirdness started.

Suddenly, there was a burst of rustling leaves. I glanced at the end of the boot, saw nothing, and promptly shrugged it off. Probably somebody’s dog sniffing around. A minute later, the rustles started again. Just a dog. The noise abruptly halted and an eerie silence descended over the parking lot. I looked around to see two dusty cars parked nearby. Nobody else was to be seen. My skin prickled.

Then I heard it again: snap, snap, pop... Twigs breaking very slowly, almost deliberately. I can’t describe the feeling of how blood coursed through my body, awakening every nerve. Those are not animal sounds! Surely? My stomach knotted. Deep down, I knew there had to be a calculating consciousness behind them. Hardly the frenzied sounds of a dog... Thoughts swirled in my mind. Whatever it is should be right in front of me! Why can’t I see anything? I stared at the tussock and dry leaves in front of the hedge, at the end of the boot. It was only about 2 metres away from where I sat. My ears told me something was moving, but my eyes told me otherwise. Am I going crazy?

“Anyway, it was really lovely to catch up. I’ve gotta go now,” I said over the phone, trying to disguise the alarm in my voice. When the call ended, I returned my attention to the hedge. Oh! An idea hit me. I bet it’s a bird nesting in the hedge! That’s why I’m not seeing anything move on the ground. Haha silly me.

I slowly raised my gaze, and my heart stopped. Shit.

Two grey eyes leered out from the hedge. They were the most awful, soulless eyes I’ve ever seen. Predatory. I blinked in disbelief and my body seized up. What do I do? It was that moment I realised why I couldn’t see more of his face: he was wearing a black balaclava. Just great.

From the wrinkles around his eyes, he looked to be in his 50s or 60s which shocked me for some reason. But the most disturbing thing was not being able to see his body —no feet, no legs, no torso. Nothing. Just a snippet of his face hanging there like an apparition. He’d really squeezed himself into that hedge. Talk about desperate.

The man squinted and adjusted his view through the leaves, as if trying to find the best line of sight. He didn’t seem to know that I’d spotted him.

Anger rose inside me. Effing creep. What the hell is wrong with people these days? Ha. Well, say goodbye to your afternoon viewing mister! I stretched, hummed a tune, and tried to act casually as I stood and pulled the boot closed from the inside. I quickly hitched the curtain up over the window, locked all the doors, and then went back to the window to spy on him. Revenge. Surely he’ll get bored and go away now, I thought. My heart thundered like a racehorse, but I was more angry than fearful.

Nothing came out of the hedge. Nothing even moved, which had me questioning my own sanity again. Another minute passed. I should really get out of here asap. Not wanting to exit the van for obvious reasons, I began to crawl over the beam into the driver’s seat.

BOOM!

A massive bang rang out. It was so loud I assumed somebody whacked the roof with a baseball bat. I cursed and ran down the interior, looking out every window, trying to catch him in the act. I saw a bottle roll on the ground; it was an old, dusty one. Perhaps one that he’d found sitting in the hedge and decided to hurl at me for spoiling his ‘viewing’. I leapt into the driver’s seat and zoomed out of that damned place sooo fast! The van hurtled over the speed bumps, and I kept looking in my mirrors, expecting those horrible eyes to be peering out from a car behind me. At this point, my body shook. I was desperate to be near other people— in the safety of the public eye.

The city felt like a sensory overload of sights and smells. I guess it was the first time I truly experienced the flight/fight response – your senses heighten, and time slows. After parking up and scanning my surroundings, I gingerly tip-toed outside. Luckily, the bottle, or whatever it was, hadn’t caused any noticeable damage to my dear van. I had a chuckle about that.

What happened next?

After the incident, I had to thank my lucky stars – not just for escaping unscathed, but for the lesson. And what about the stalker guy? Thanks to a bit of online sleuthing, I think I know who he is – an older man with a nasty record of similar incidents involving women at the Dunedin Botanic Gardens and Logan Park area. Although I believe he’s now out of jail, hopefully the police are keeping a close eye on him.

To all the girls out there doing vanlife solo, please – wherever you are, and no matter how ‘safe’ the country is you’re in… don’t take your safety for granted! If my scariest vanlife experience taught me anything, it’s that the most dangerous thing is your own complacency.

-> safety tips for Women doing Vanlife solo

• Don’t openly talk on the phone when your conversation makes it obvious that you are alone.
• Be wary of NZ public parks/reserves etc. In my experience, nothing good happens in these areas after sunset.
• What does your van say about you from the outside? Drying your bikini on the dashboard in full view probably isn’t the best advertisement!
• Ideally, ensure you can get to the driver’s seat without having to exit your van, in case you need to make an emergency escape.
• Project competence, not overconfidence.
• Create a safety routine – check doors are locked, keys are handy to you, valuables are safe etc.
• Hedges, walls, and other objects can offer privacy. But they can also offer privacy for people watching you.