For anyone who has dreamed of living
in the country . . . here's the hilarious, heartwarming and brutal reality.
Rebecca Hayter was a high profile yachting journalist based in Auckland when she followed a whim to buy a lifestyle block on the beach at Golden Bay at the top of the South Island – but she didn't know what she didn't know.
Unexpectedly in charge of chickens, sheep and an orchard, Rebecca shamelessly exploited local knowledge as she tackled drought, isolation and the mysteries of her Massey Ferguson 135. As a journalist, she explored local politics and the differences between urban and rural New Zealand. As a daughter, she explored the most complex relationship of her life.




As a yachting journalist I had written about boats
for 25 years . . .
. . .but suddenly I owned a lifestyle block
and was writing a magazine column about chooks,
sheep and Massey Ferguson 135.
In farming know-how, I was all at sea.

Magazine Media Awards 2020

In April/May 2025, High Heels and Gumboots ranked in the top 10 best-selling non-fiction books in New Zealand.
What
the
critics
say . . .

Rebecca Hayter’s High Heels and Gumboots [is] an account of the seven years Rebecca spent proving to herself that lifestyle farming on her own was something she could learn from scratch starting in her mid 50’s, and learn to love, [and] I challenge any reader not to be taken with Rebecca’s frank vulnerability, plucky can-do but slightly haphazard enthusiasm and good-natured humility. The book is full of humorous and deeply moving stories about animals and vehicles; weather and tools; the quality of land and trees and wetlands. All marvellously well-written and engaging. And Rebecca is both entertaining and generous sharing what she discovers in herself and in the eclectic but inclusive Golden Bay community along the way. I believe she documents all the rich rewards, frustrations and routine drudgery of the lifestyle-farming “dream” down to a tee. This is a book that will satisfy the romantics and the prosaic alike in its portrait. The book is dedicated to her mother who served as rural GP for the Takaka community for 50 years, often at the expense of her availability as a mother. It’s a tribute based on a new peace and respect she finds towards her mum; a gift from her time embedded at Paton’s Rock gaining an appreciation of the realities of rural community life and the demands on rural general practitioners. It is cool insight, which Hayter offers to help foster much needed mutual, rural/urban understanding across our motu. Kia ora! Books that make you look closer and love places you know even more deeply are a treasure. When they also challenge you to stay ready for and open to be changed by life’s adventures, well, they start to feel like friends.
...full of humorous and deeply moving stories about animals and vehicles; weather and tools; the quality of land and trees and wetlands.

This book will provide inspiration
and warning for those contemplating a sea change. . .
For anyone – myself included – who has ever browsed the real estate sites and imagined a blissful existence on a rural lifestyle block, Rebecca Hayter’s openhearted memoir High Heels and Gumboots is likely a must read, as she recounts her years of doing just that. Hayter is a respected yachting journalist, and the first woman editor of Boating New Zealand, a position she held from 1999 until 2015 when she resigned to move to Oceanspirit, a beachfront lifestyle block in Golden Bay. During her years in The Bay, alongside continuing to write about boating, Hayter penned a regular column for North and South magazine named High Heels and Gumboots, chronicling her efforts as a rookie living on the land. These columns form the basis for this book. Moving to a small community can be tough, but Hayter’s path is smoothed by her Golden Bay heritage. She grew up in Takaka, born at the local hospital to GP Dr Tamsin Hayter, to whom she dedicates the book. The author’s turbulent relationship with Tamsin, and efforts to bridge this divide before her mother’s death, form a thru-line amongst the anecdotes, as the author questions why she was drawn away from her career in Auckland to return to her roots (and gumboots). As in her popular column in North and South, the chapters of this book read as self-contained stories, often funny, always heartfelt and generous to the local characters who reoccur throughout. She arrives charmed by the land, the house and the resident animals, but the reality of drought, flooding and the brutal truths of the adage, ‘where there is livestock, there is deadstock’, test both physical strength and emotional courage. As they also say, you should never work with animals, and the sheep, ducks, and ridiculously political chicken community throw many curveballs at their caretaker, with hilarious results. It pays to ask yourself before that 4-hectare block on your watchlist, could I tackle a duck the size of a swan and pull an eel from its nostril with pliers? The author found out, and her Muscovy duck Dyson made it onto the News: '... I noticed something hanging, snake-like, from Dyson’s nostril at the top of his bill. It was a small eel, about a centimetre in diameter and 15 centimetres long. Its gills were acting like a barb inside Dyson’s nostril, and every time he tried to shake it off, it wrapped around his bill like linguine.' Many of the stories told in the book involve remarkable resourcefulness. The author, having adventured around the world on yachts, is very capable, but the challenges at Oceanspirit are all new, including wrangling an ancient Massey Ferguson 135 tractor with dodgy brakes, and a crash course in drainage and plumbing. What’s evident from her exploits is the importance of drawing on the knowledge and help of her community. Neighbours show up as readily with practical help and advice as they do armed with food and a bottle for the many parties and games of 500. Ever a journalist, Hayter writes for the local GB News, and sheds light on governance issues for small communities, and touches on the raw nerve of the rural urban divide. Where there is conflict, she’s balanced and informed, telling her stories with a humble acceptance of her own shortcomings and a keen sense of humour. When mechanic and local character Nobby comes to help with tractor maintenance, the author unlocked a new life goal: '"Key?' Nobby said. “We don’t need a key.” He sounded like Doc in Back to the Future: "Roads? Where we’re going we don’t need roads." Nobby pulled out a screwdriver. Sparks zizzed and spat. Zizz-spat. Chug-a-chug-a-chug-chug-chug-CHUG-CHUG. I hoped that, when I grew up, I could start a tractor with a screwdriver.' This book will provide inspiration and warning for those contemplating a sea change, making it an excellent bedside table addition for the lifestyler, and the lifestyle curious. While Hayter doesn’t dwell for long on the emotional journey, she does bring the reader along on her personal quest of growing confidence and reconciliation. High Heels and Gumboots is easy to pick up and join in the adventure for a short stint, or settle in and relish the escapism of someone else’s ruddy hard yakka.

What sets this book apart is the way Rebecca balances humour with vulnerability.
If you’ve ever fantasised about swapping city lights for country life, complete with chickens and gumboots, Rebecca Hayter’s High Heels and Gumboots offers a hilarious, heartwarming reality check. Best known as a yachting journalist based in Auckland, Rebecca takes us on a memorable journey to beautiful Golden Bay at the top of the South Island. A spontaneous real estate decision leaves her the somewhat bewildered owner of a lifestyle block.“I thought I might buy a basic cottage on half an acre and keep a few chooks. Somehow I ended up with a massive house on 10 acres, plus a cottage, a large vege garden, an orchard and a flock of sheep that apparently belonged to me. Oh shite.” Rebecca brings her journalistic curiosity to every challenge, from learning how to drive a tractor to figuring out if her sheep are pregnant. She shamelessly exploits local knowledge while adjusting to the droughts, isolation and the unspoken rules of rural politics. Alongside the physical demands of rural life, this is also a personal journey. As Rebecca learns to wrangle livestock and fix irrigation pipes, she quietly discovers confidence, not just in new skills, but in herself. It’s a coming-of-age story, at a certain age. More than just a fish-out-of-water tale, High Heels and Gumboots is a celebration of growth, grit and the value of community. It also offers a thoughtful, often funny reflection on the divide between urban and rural Aotearoa. What sets this book apart is the way Rebecca balances humour with vulnerability. Whether she’s confronting loss or reflecting on her relationship with her mother, she is refreshingly open. You’ll laugh, wince and maybe even tear up. Based on her award-winning North & South magazine column, High Heels and Gumboots is perfect for fans of Country Calendar or anyone who has dreamed of escaping to the regions. If you enjoy a good yarn well told, you’ll love Rebecca’s adventures.

the realities of lifestyle block farming
laid bare
This heartfelt memoir about the realities of lifestyle block farming laid bare should be quintessential reading for any city slicker who dreams of living somewhat off the grid. Former North & South columnist Rebecca Hayter expertly tracks the realistic highs and lows of Kiwi country living in the picturesque Golden Bay. Clarkson’s Farm lovers, this is a must for you. .

An idiosyncratic memoir from an inspiringly brave and pragmatic woman
Rebecca Hayter’s true-life High Heels and Gumboots columns for the pre-Covid version of North & South magazine were among the funniest things I’ve ever read. They described her experiences as a former ‘city-girl’ figuring out how to run a remote 10-acre farmlet in Nelson on her own, one disturbingly testy ram and maniacal sex-crazed rooster at a time. Floods, slips, droughts, broken tractors, fencing, septic tanks, deckbuilding and sheep obstetrics are puzzles to be solved, often quite urgently. Hayter’s book provides depth and context to her award-winning columns, the Sunday roast to her magazine bon mots. Hayter grew up in Tākaka in Golden Bay, and coming back home meant confronting painful memories, including a difficult relationship with her mother, a local GP. Many in the Waiheke yachting community will have heard of her father Adrian Hayter, the first Kiwi to sail single-handed from the UK to New Zealand. Rebecca herself was the first women editor of Boating New Zealand, and is still a boating correspondent. In one chapter, she drags us away from the chooks to go sailing between Greenland and the UK with her friend Ross Field, a winner of the Whitbread Round the World Race. It is a testament to her writing skills that a month at home on the lifestyle block is just as action-packed as a day in a sloop chucked about by a Force 8 tempest. An idiosyncratic memoir from an inspiringly brave and pragmatic woman who can cope with anything life throws at her, from the falcon/kārearea which ate five of her beloved chickens in one week, to the Arctic storm gusty enough to scramble her galley eggs in their shells.

From High Heels and Gumboots,
North & South magazine
We pulled the tarpaulins off the Massey Ferguson 135 as sheetweb spiders skittered off to find new suburbs. Men stood back, thumbs in pockets, to admire my big red tractor and exhaled in blokish wisdom: “She’s a beauty.” Really? I saw rusty panels strung with cobwebs. I saw front wheels which seemed to lean oddly inwards. A friend gave me a new battery for Christmas to crank-her-up but it sat dormant in its terminals for a year because I didn’t know how to drive the tractor, let alone its PTO. That’s the Power Take Off and it spins the mowing blades. Apparently everyone knows that. A real farmer arrived. He sauntered around the tractor like John-Boy Walton, leapt aboard in a single bound, engaged a few levers and roared down the driveway like a man off to mow a meadow. He rattled off a set of instructions that only horrified me with what I didn’t know. Six months later, the tractor seat and my bum were still strangers. The reeds in the paddock cared not for my insecurities. They grew to taunt me as they swayed in the breeze: “Here lives a girl who doesn’t know how to mow...” Another lifestyle blocker nearby was mowing his paddocks with a line trimmer. He asked if he could borrow my tractor. “Do you know how to drive it?” I asked hopefully. “No, I thought you did,” he said. Now I had an ally. I printed off the owner’s manual from the internet. It was a collector’s edition of 1970s publishing: black and white photos with typed captions that really had been cut and pasted. Cartoons depicted dire consequences for farmers in dungarees who did not take heed, their hats in tatters as they leapt among farts of black smoke and erupting radiator caps. And, I loved this: ‘Do not bypass the starter safety switch with “homemade” wiring.’ Massey Ferguson 135 waited patiently as we worked over her anatomy. We identified clutch, brakes, engine stop, gear lever, throttle and finally graduated to spinning the PTO and making it go up and down. Complicated stuff like the dual range shift lever and the differential lock pedal “especially advantageous where traction is poor” we left for the advanced class. Out in the field, we learned that to drive a tractor with a PTO you need to engage – sometimes with a kick – the right combination of levers in the right order to make it all work. It’s a mechanised version of a Rubix cube. The reeds surrendered to such majesty, and after several runs I turned to survey my work. I had imagined lines as straight as a cricket pitch linked by perfect curves of equal radius; it looked like the meanderings of a snail after a night on the hemlock. This taught me that farmers are artists. They chug their tractors around their paddocks as though it happens without them, but they are multi-tasking with precision as they lead their steed through a dance of perfect, pastoral geometry. I doff to them my tattered hat.

The Art of Mowing