10 things I learnt after moving to the Marlborough Sounds
Friday, 31 January 2025
Moving from the charming village of Greytown, with its quaint streets and amenities within arm’s reach, to the remote beauty of the Marlborough Sounds was an adventure that redefined my understanding of home.
I’ve worked from home for a decade but, as a lifelong townie, I’ve never lived further than a 10-minute drive from the shops. Now, my nearest town is a two-hour drive away, and I underestimated how much that would change my life.
Here are the top 10 things I learned during my transition from town life to remote living.
Planning ahead is non-negotiable
In Greytown, forgetting to buy something was a minor inconvenience. In the Sounds, when your nearest town is hours away, it can mean going days or weeks without. Thinking ahead, bulk buying, and keeping a well-stocked pantry are essential – as is our incredible rural delivery driver Adam. I soon learned which items I missed the most from town and now view every trip as a strategic mission to stock up.
You become your own tradesperson
Fact - most tradespeople don’t want to come all the way out to the Sounds to fix things, and it costs a lot more to do so. Without the convenience of the trades on your doorstep, we quickly learned you must be able to fix things yourselves. From minor plumbing issues and installing satellite internet to figuring out how to use a generator and get gas, we became more self-reliant. A well-stocked toolbox and a handy husband became my best allies.
Nature is your neighbour
Living remotely means coexisting with wildlife in all its forms, which is a unique privilege. Watching seabirds and stingrays from the garden is magical, and the nightly call of the morepork feels like a lullaby. On clear nights, the Milky Way is a bright ribbon across the sky. It’s incredible.
On the flip side, wekas stealing my shoes, possums eating every plant they can get their claws on, and wasps invading the eaves are regular challenges. It’s a balance of wonder, reality, and learning all about antihistamines and trapping.
Have you made the move from urban life to a remote part of New Zealand? Email us at travel@stuff.co.nz
You rethink convenience
Living mostly off-grid made me deeply aware of our resources. There is no rubbish collection out here, no mains sewerage, broadband internet, or water. We are entirely reliant on rainwater collection, meaning every sunny day and rainy spell counts.
Running out of gas or water, or the power lines being down for days in big storms, isn’t a hypothetical problem here; it’s an immediate one you have to deal with. I’ve learned to value and manage these essentials carefully and do all I can to conserve our precious natural resources.
Isolation is a double-edged sword
The peace and solitude of the Sounds are unmatched – on a normal day, I can’t hear any sounds of humanity. There’s nothing like the stillness of the water at sunrise or the quiet hum of nature. But isolation also magnifies loneliness, and that’s something I have yet to fully resolve.
Maintaining connections with friends and family online helps, as does booking regular trips to enjoy all that Aotearoa’s towns and cities have to offer. All of this requires effort but has reminded me that solitude and connection are both equally important in life. We need nature and we also need each other.
The community is tight knit
While fewer people live here, the sense of community is far stronger than anywhere else I’ve lived. Neighbours know each other and help each other in ways I’d never experienced in town. When the catastrophic storms of 2021 and 2022 left our community cut off from the mainland for months, we all pulled together, and we still do. Whether it’s lending tools, checking on vacant properties, or sharing surplus garden produce, the generosity and camaraderie of locals make life here possible.
Living with the elements
Remote living means the weather dictates your life. Storms cancel plans, and sunny days are for washing, gardening, or recharging the batteries (both literal and metaphorical). It’s a humbling experience that forces you to respect and adapt to nature’s rhythms and the seasons.
You get to know yourself — for better and worse
Without the distractions of town life, remote living holds up a mirror. I’ve discovered a resilience and resourcefulness I didn’t know I had, but I’ve also faced my demons and moments of self-doubt more acutely. Racing thoughts are harder to control when there’s nobody to take your mind off them. The isolation fosters self-reflection though, forcing you to confront and accept who you really are.
Time slows down, and so do you
The fast pace of town life fades in the Sounds. Days are defined by sunrise and sunset, tides, and weather. This slower rhythm is both liberating and challenging. I’ve learned to embrace a more mindful approach each day, but I find the slow pace frustrating at times when I’m working and trying to get things done.
You find joy in simplicity
Remote living strips life down to essentials. Simple pleasures—like watching the light shift on the water, growing my own vegetables, or hearing the tūi sing—bring immense joy. My weeks used to be filled with hobbies and people, and I miss that. But I’ve learned to appreciate life’s small, beautiful moments in ways I never did before.
Transitioning to life in the Marlborough Sounds has been one of the most rewarding and challenging experiences of my life – and I say that as an expat who has travelled the world, been a scuba diving instructor and shark conservationist, and lived in various exotic countries. It’s taught me to be resourceful, patient with myself, and deeply connected to the natural world.
While the convenience of town life has its appeal, there’s something undeniably enriching about a lifestyle that pushes you to grow and adapt every single day. If you’re considering a similar leap, my advice is simple: embrace the highs, the lows, and everything in between. It isn’t easy, and it isn’t for everyone, but it’s a journey worth taking.
Kathryn Curzon is a dive travel writer and award-winning author.