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My Team!
Rope is for abseiling, not quite sure what was the exact purpose of the gladiator style weapon. Matt Writes: Most people spend Sundays nursing hangovers, eating oversized breakfasts while reading equally large Sunday supliments, others may attend church. Our Sunday was to veer (ever so slightly) to the side of unorthadox ways to spend the day of the Sabbath.
Up at 7.00 for a quick breakfast because by 8.30 because we were once again squeezing ourselves into damp wetsuits, this time with boots and hardhats with lamps. Today we were going to explore the Waitomo Caves. After a few giggles at our ridiculous costumes we drove the short distance to the cave entrance where we selected our favoured rubber ring and practiced jumping arse first into the cold water from a platform. This was because once we were in the caves we would encounter sub tennian waterfalls that would have to negotiate in this ungainly manner.
Then, we clambered down into the darkness of the cave's entrance, torches on with the goulish echoing "drip drip" clambering over rocks while minding the low ceiling above us brought us deeper and deeper until we were wading through water. We had to then jump backwards, into the nothingness to float deeper till into this dark void.
Find a bumhole suitable for you....
...They do come in all shapes and sizes you know? We turned our torches off to marvel at the thousands of glow worms above us as if it were the clearest of night's sky. The glow worm is not, in actual fact a worm. Arachnocampa Luminosa (to be latin on the matter) is an insect in its larvae stage nor does it glow. The light that we were looking at was a trap to lure flies toward the light providing food for the feasting maggots and the matter that was glowing wasthe excrement from these "glow worms". Quite an interesting way to spend a Sunday morning. In a dark, wet, cold cave, looking at a worm's (that wasn't acually a worm) poo.
We found drop holes, small shafts of light high above us (well not so small, just 200ft above us). The glow worms were gone again and in total darkness, we were left to find the daylight that actually emerged underwater milky green in texture aw we got closer to the surface and leave our dingey catacombe. Nice hot showers, tosted bagels and soup to warm us.
In start contrast to the caves, our next stop was to see an Angora rabbit shearing demonstration...
....Now I
Splash Down
Tubing in caves did not include the most dignified of entrances. know what you are thinking, but would you pass by a sign that boasts such a demonstration without being curious?
"Oh quickley we are doing one now!" a wide eyed compact elderly woman shrilled as she dragged Emma excitedly into the workshop to find a rabbit fully streched out, arms and legs tied to what looked like a moder day version of a rack. Emma's face was one of absolute horror as another bespectiacaled blue wrinser with equally manical stare assured her
"This little bunny was quiet happy, you see if we didn't cut their fur, they would simply overheat and die."
I made a mental note to raise some questions with Charles Darwin next time I saw him.
And thus the demonstration continued, we managed to stroke said bunny (after it had be unbound) and the lady that had originally accosted Emma pulled me into the store where a small critter lept into my face. Recovering from my shock, she explained after my failed guess that
"Ain't he a lovely little fella?" the woman purred stroking the animal lovingly "can you guess what he is?"
The animal was actually a glove puppet but
Snake Hips
Practicing the snake formation used when floating in total darkness. I had no idea to what species it was supposed to be gaping cluelessly. How could I of been so stupid? I was clearly obvious to the woman that it was a possum made of (yes you have guessed it) real possum fur. After this I felt inclined to believe her that their first job of the day was to go around scraping road kill of nearby roads to make these puppets.
After half an hour's account of shearing lady's time in England, two childeren's weddings, careers, and houses we made our goodbyes and left the most bizzare hour of my entire life.
Back on the road again we headed for Hamilton but with one more bizarre distraction in the form of an ostridge farm. Peculiar birds bobbing scrawning necks up and down as we stopped to say hello. Such a strange way to spend a Sunday we both agreed.
P.S. If anyone ever fancies a Possum jumper, Heather at The Shearing Shed, Waitomo Caves is your girl.
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