Rotorura, Tongariro & not so windy Wellington

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Convinced that the "cultural" evening was going to be somewhat contrived I voiced my concerns but was persuaded to part with my cash. Just shows, you should always trust your instinct. A chap called Uncle Boy had built a Marae, a Maori meeting house, for backpackers. The main building honoured his late father and the attached kitchen honoured his late mother. He believed that if it were decorated with wood carvings of Maori gods then it would make backpackers feel uncomfortable so instead it was painted with "international colours". I think most travellers would have preferred to experience what a true Marae is. Dinner was to be a hangi, a meal of different meats and mainly root vegetables cooked over a long period in the ground using coals. This one, however, was cooked in the oven and served in a buffet style and you could tell the difference which was disappointing. What saved the evening though were the young performers, basically local kids, who sang traditional Maori songs and danced for us with huge amounts of energy and passion. After their performances they taught the boys the famous "haka" whilst us delicate girls learnt the "poi", the art of swinging a stick with two pom poms attached and wiggling our hips to music. Boys performed for the girls and girls performed for the boys which caused much amusement. Then as in a traditional Marae we all slept on mattressses on the floor. It was just a shame I felt that Uncle Boy was just churning us backpackers through every night making him a tiny fortune as he did.

You can actually smell Rotorura before you can see it and unfortunately it smells like rotten eggs due to the high sulphur content in the area. That combined with the fact that it is not the prettiest of towns, even less so in the drizzle, made me wonder if it was the right decision it stop there. However it seemed wrong to just pass through NZ's most famous geo-thermal area so I stayed and hopped on a bus to Te Puia, the entrance to Te Whakarewarewatanga o te Ope Taua a Wahiao, thankfully known to most as Whaka. The main attraction was the "Pohutu" geyser which means constant splashing. Not 100% correct but it performed every 15 to 20 minutes along with another one called "The Plume of Feathers". The intense heat from the molten rock below the ground boils the rain water which has seeped inside and when the pressure gets too much it shoots the hot water and steam through the vent and up to an impressive 15 metres in the air. The two together produced quite an incredible sound and a significant amount of spray which with the changing wind managed to soak me. I continued past pools of bubbling mud plop plopping away and more steam vents and onto a hot water pool where they cooked corn on the cob, just as the Maori would have done in times gone by. Just seven minutes from frozen and it was delicious.

A short overnight stop in Taupo and it was onto the Tongariro National Park, New Zealand's oldest national park. At 6am the following day I found myself on a 6am bus heading to the starting point of the famous Tongariro Crossing. Setting off with 6 boys all under the age of 22 meant a rather fast pace for so early in the day but it was good to make the most of its coolness. The amazing sunrise that morning had promised a wonderfully hot and clear day ahead. The well maintained track was heading for Mt Nagaruruhoe (2287m), now also widely known as Mt Doom due to its "Lord of the Rings" fame. The steep climb up the Devil's Staircase was hard work as the name suggests but we were soon at the base of Mt Nagauruhoe, an active volcano which now seemed to tower above us. A sign said that it was forbidden to enter the crater due to seismic activities. Getting to the top of this volcano was to be tricky enough, let alone going inside. With no path it was a case of one step up and two back as we sank into the volcanic rock and ash. It was well worth all the effort. Not only for the view from the top across the Tongariro National Park and the other volcanoes, Mt Ruapehu and Mt Tongariro but also to look into this enormous crater. Perching right o the edge it was absolutely huge. Getting down though was harder, trying not to slide down or start a rock fall. Safely down and having emptied our boots of all the bits of rock we collected on the way down, we walked across the huge, flat expanse of the South Crater with the volcanoes on either side. It had an eerie, out of this world feel to it. Up again to the amazingly shaped Red Crater (1886), rather aptly named with its intense deep red colouring. There were yet more delights to see; the Emerald Lakes with their incredible turquoise colour and steam coming from the sides, the strong smell of sulphur and the Blue Lake Behind this was a reminder of where we had come from and what we had seen. Looking ahead to Lake Taupo it was time to leave the volcanic world behind and start the descent down. Soon we were in lush, green forests and even after a rest at a hut we had completed the Crossing with plenty of time to lie in the sun waiting for the bus to pick us up. A New Zealand highlight for sure. The following day we relaxed before heading to an indoor climbing wall to use a few different muscles instead.

Back on the bus and before long we stopped in Taihape which likes to be known as the world gumboot throwing capital. Gumboot to you and me is a good old wellie and in this small town they have a dedicated area for official and non-official gumboot throwing events. Our driver gave us a quick demonstration and soon we were stepping up to the mark and giving it a go ourselves. The only advice was to not get it on the railway line but several people did. As champion discus thrower at school I was quietly confident but unfortunately it all went wrong and did not go far at all. Well, at least it didn't go on the rail tracks.

The bus driver kindly dropped me in Plimmerton, just north of his actual destination Wellington. After something like almost 26 years of meeting my Mum's cousin Sally and her husband Neil in the UK, I knocked on their door looking somewhat like a bag lady with all the bits and bobs I had accumulated along the way. Hugs all round and I was made to feel very at home straight away. The fish Neil caught yesterday was smoked in the garden and eaten with a gorgeous salad on their balcony overlooking the Cook Straight and the South Island as the sun set beautifully into the ocean. During my stay with them not only did I have the joy of my own room, a spotless bathroom, wonderful home cooked food and lovely company but they took me kayaking on a nearby bay, for a walk up to the surrounding hills, a drive up Mount Victoria for even better views of Wellington and a gorgeous lunch in a surf club not far from the city. With such wonderful hospitality they were lucky I stayed 5 days and not a month!

Whilst staying with Sally and Neil I visited Wellington. I bought my ticket from the friendly, chatty conductor and within half an hour I arrived at the capital's rather grand railway station. Walking through the streets practically empty of traffic and passed cafes full of suited and booted folk drinking coffee at 10am I instinctively liked this city. The tall skyscrapers gleaming in the sunshine surprisingly didn't make me feel claustrophobic at all. Along the waterfront joggers, bikers and skateboarders were all being far too energetic. There was no wind today in this "windy city". To escape the heat I headed for the cable car to the Botanical Gardens. Typically I missed the turning and whilst looking at the map a lady asked if she could help and walked me there pleased that a tourist wanted to visit her city which she thought too many skipped favouring Auckland and Christchurch. The red cable car, which is actually a funicular, made its way up slowly to Kelburn where there were fantastic views of the surrounding hills, the city, the harbour and the ocean. I walked through the gardens ablaze with colour down to the city passing pretty Victorian, wooden mansions and villas hugging the hillside. A glass of wine on the waterfront was the perfect people watching spot but meant I had timed my journey home in time for rush hour. However, no shoving to get on the train and no taking up empty seats made for a very civilised journey back to Plimmerton.

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