New Zealand - Week 1

New Zealand - Week 2

We slept well again, although the summer is obviously retreating from the southern lands. The sun rising over Lake Rotorua was almost enough to have us stay another day.

But we did not. And incidentally, we have abandoned our carefully planned route which had us all over the island with little to do but drive. Instead we are planning things, one day at a time.

So we headed off to Waiotapu Thermal Park (unfortunately called "Thermal Wonderland") to first take a quick walk through some of the thermal pools and see more magnificent colours in the pools. There was even a crater called the Birds Nest, where sparrows and the like build nests inside the crater, lay their eggs and let the warmth of the thermal activity assist in the hatching of their eggs. The Artists Palette with its myriad of soft pastel-like colours, Champagne Lake, obviously sparkling with tiny bubbles, and the Opal Pool, which, when viewed at eye level, looked remarkably like the surface of a rough opal. The Devil's Bath was the most unlikely colour of green we have seen.

It was time then to move on to Lady Knox geyser, which erupts daily at 10:15 am. This is possible because of human intervention, yet this is not really meddling. It seems that the geyser was discovered by convicts who, after days of work with timber cutting would come to the hot pools to bathe and wash their clothes. Someone decided to use the pool where the geyser now is. He put his soap into the water and proceeded to clean his clothes. Now the soap had an effect on the water: above the very hot water deep within the ground was a layer of cold water which suppressed the geyser. The soap changed the surface tension of the cold water, allowing the water beneath to force its way through. Imagine the surprise of the convict who was lazily washing his clothes. Imagine his frustration when trying to find his clothes after they were blown sky high!

And so a guide dumped a measured quantity of environmentally-friendly detergent into the hole that did nothing more than have a few wisps of steam drift out. Within the next three minutes that changed dramatically: water began to slowly boil out of the crater, faster and then start to effervesce higher and higher until - boom! - the geyser blew over 20 metes into the air, showering most of us with water, cooled - fortunately - by its contact with the air. Unfortunately that water had a high silicon content, so everyone was busily wiping off their glasses and camera lenses before it dried. And before too long most of the crowd began to dissipate, even though the eruption went on for some 30+ minutes. That left those few of us remaining a chance to take photographs and contemplate the working of nature.

To a boiling mud pool then where mud was gurgling, spitting and sometimes blowing quite high. Indeed, Heather narrowly missed being given a natural souvenir as a particularly large spray of mud landed on the path where she had been standing before taking evasive action.

We drove then to Taupo where we were able to withstand the anal attitudes of the store-keepers and ate a lunch in the park, and "held off" out of principal as the public toilets charged 40 cents for use. So, it's only 40c, but the word "public" is being used here.

Eastward, down off the plateau and through some rugged country to Napier, the Art Deco city of New Zealand. An earthquake leveled most of the town (and nearby Hastings) in the early part of the century, so reconstruction took on the fashion of the day. The resulting Art Deco buildings were a joy to behold. We were accosted by a snappily dressed fellow, "Bertie", who chatted with us while he awaited his tour group. Cane, boater, pin-stripe blazer and white pants. He could have walked out of a Fred Astaire movie.

Again, we decided to spend two days here, even though the rain had caught up with us. Nevertheless we were able to see most of the wonderful buildings which included the Rothmans Building, Heather successfully keeping me out of a costume shop. If Bertie can look like that . . .)

Now we headed north along the coast to Gisborne. The road followed the coast until it headed inland for the inevitable mountain range and twisting, turning roads. A brief stop at Wairo ("the way New Zealand used to be") with its old-fashioned, laid back way. Heads turned as we walked into a Bakery: "they're not from around here" was the message in people's expressions. We ate - what else - a pie (for me) and a scone for Heather.

Further up the road we saw an interesting variation: Pearls and Honey sweet corn.

There were more deep gorges for us to manipulate as we approached Gisborne, where fruit picking was at its height. After securing our cabin we set off to see the statues of "Young Nick", the cabin boy aboard the Endeavor who first sighted the coast of NZ. Of course, Captain Cook was there in bronze. Maori culture is strong in this corner of the country, so there were plenty of examples of art, structures and heritage to be seen. The Canadian totem in front of the visitors' center (a gift at some time or other) was not the most impressive we have seen.

We had been told that Gisborne wine is particularly easy on the palette, so a bottle Millton chard. found its way into our shopping basket, along with freshly caught fish from a nearby fishmongery.

It was still raining that night and we were startled to find that there were severe weather warnings for the area. As we had to travel a 58-km gorge the next day, we were rather nervous. An early start was made and the road was - almost deserted. The rains had not arrived, so our fear were for naught. The steep sides of the gorge, the huge fern trees growing on both sides gave the drive a Jurassic Park flavour.

On to Opotiki and then to Whakheano (I shall NOT tell you what the pronunciation sounded like) where we lunched on The Strand, a very busy street in a very bustling city. It surprises this person that there are large cities in the antipodes that he has never heard of!

Through Thames and on to our cabin on the Coromandel peninsular close by Auckland. The views along here were wonderful, and we wished we had the time to continue right around and to dig a hole at low tide on the eastern shore, allow it to fill with hot water and soak in it until the tide came in again. Next time!

Our cabin was again perfect for our needs and we had two choices: to eat in town or cook our own. We were told by a character at the campsite that the Working Man's Club in Thames was "bloody brilliant", so we set off to check it out. Dare I say that I would hate to see something that he considered to be poor. To the supermarket for some boar fish and a salad - some wine - and back to the cabin, stopping en route to watch the sun set over Hauraki Gulf. Now that meal was bloody brilliant.

We had the time to sit out and look at the stars, some of them for the last time on this trip, and the next day headed to Auckland and to our hotel where our large bags had been stored. The remainder of the day was spent in re-arranging our belongings, and for good reasons as the Air New Zealand staff were very strict with weights: we had to juggle stuff to get one bag down under 8 kg and checked the other through. The bag was weighed again just before security with the message that passengers WILL be returned to check-in with anything over weight. Two sets of security - we were heading to the US - before even getting to the departure lounge.

That lounge filled up eventually and then came a shock: about 30 high school kids, mainly girls, arrived for their flight to a choral festival on Oahu. A retired teacher's worst nightmare: a flying bloody school-bus.They were okay for a while - some looked downright scared as they embarked for their first-ever flight - but they soon became a little bored with the 8 1/2 flight and began to get a little silly: crawling up and down the aisles, running to catch someone. The attendants had a nightmare, as the teacher/monitors with them (and there were many) did nothing to quiet en them down. Boy, put that lot with me on a bus to Quebec City - we would soon learn common sense.

So, New Zealand is now history. We have arrived in Hawaii on the very last leg of this trip.

But more of that next time.

New Zealand - Week 1

Our flight from Sydney was not without drama. Bear in mind we have bulging suitcases - very heavy bulging suitcases, which overflowed into our carry-ons. Air New Zealand is rather anal about its luggage and this showed through at the departure lounge. A staffer was wandering, offering passengers luggage tags, while all the time eyeing the carry-ons and picking them up to test the weight. Afraid we may not pass the test, Heather and I took off "for a coffee" until the port hawk finished circling. Then as we were about to board the ground crew decided to check the weight again, and again by estimating. I took the lighter of the two carry-ons and it did indeed pass the guess test. Heather, diminutive and frail as she must have appeared, could not possibly have anything heavier and they cast her not a second glance. Heh, heh.

However all circling hawks come home to roost, and ours did in the form of a Customs Officer at Auckland airport. We were honestly not sure about what to declare, so we declared everything that might have been questionable, given NZ's stringent laws re. plant and animal matter. Chocolate bilbies (they are starting to replace the Easter Bunny in Oz), jams, preserves, tea, herbs.

All of this was fine and even passed the sniff test (dog, not Custom Official) but when our bags were X-rayed, one officious bathplug insisted that we had honey in our case. Open came the painstakingly stuffed suitcase, out came every item until he found what he knew was the offensive item, a jar - a tiny jar - of mustard and horseradish relish. Did he apologize? Nay, nay, but instead told us we were "this close to a $200.00 instant fine". For what? A tendency to spicy cuisine? We did thwart him somewhat by remaining at his station and carefully repacking the luggage. Time consuming for us, fuming for him.

We picked up our 1997 Toyota Sprinter (aka Corolla) and proceeded into the city, it now being rush bloody hour. However, we did find our hotel which looked a little dodgy at first, but the room proved okay, if rather warm.

Our first day was spent using an all-day bus and ferry ticket: not a bad deal at $8.00 each. First, the ferry across to Devenport where we climbed Mount Victoria for a view back across the harbour of the City of Sails, and a close look at a fort built to ward off the expected Russian take-over in the early 20th Century and then the Japanese in WW2. It was here that I chatted with an elderly ex-teacher who knew the geology and geomorphology of the country like he knew the back of his hand. He told me that earth tremors are common in Auckland and the rest of NZ.

Back then for a quick look around the city by bus then another bus to the Auckland Domain, first having bought a take-away lunch on Parnell Street (but not at one of the very trendy shops). We wandered through bushland before finding a park to eat our lunch, then hoofed off again to see the war Museum atop the hill. We were surprise to see the number of police cars outside the entrance, and then it dawned on us: the recently-engaged member of royalty was in NZ and must be visiting the museum. He certainly was there, along with no more than 40 locals who had bothered to come out to see him. We decided to stay the few minutes to see the royal blood: I spent that time making Camilla jokes with the Museum Shop staff.

The security was very lax. Heather actually rubbed shoulders with him. She maintains he was actually charming, going down on his haunches to talk to the kiddies. Ah, the training for photo ops and the need to massage fetlocks.

We headed north next day to Lake of Bays. A friend of Heather's insisted that it is a beautiful place and we found it so. The clear water of the Pacific in a bay dotted with . . . islands. After finding a cabin we took a ferry ride across to Russell, a quaint town, similar to Niagara-On-The-Lake, but far more laid back, less expensive and down to earth. The people and the stores were all very interesting, the tea and scones delightful. The most interesting island looked like a turret, it was so round and symmetrical. We found that it once housed the flour mill - built off-shore to ensure that rats could not invade.

Back in Pahlia we watched as a very large marlin was loaded off a boat and onto a trailer, heading to a smoke-house. Because this community depends on game fishing, one cannot buy fresh fish in the supermarkets. Rather poor, we thought, having to settle for something "Freshly thawed for your convenience".

March 11 had us on the road quite early, heading to the west coast before 8 am. There was still a lot of mist around and the scenes as we drove were nothing short of magic. One particular spot caught our attention: a very small church with old gravestones, cattle grazing nearby. This peaceful bliss kept up there for quite some time.

NZ Touring Rule #1: "To get from point A to Point B, you must cross at least one mountain." This we did, the steep grades taxing our old Corolla, the hairpin bends OD-ing the driver, tensing the passenger. We made it to the Tasman coast and we proceeded then south to Dargaville, stopping to take a long, long sidetrip up a steep gravel road to a look-out atop an old fire lookout. The view was worth the drive, the loneliness of the lookout did not make either of us sign up to be forest rangers.

Lunch in Dargaville was accompanied by some heavy rain which seemed to clear as we polished off our fish and prepared to travel on.

The bliss continued as we eventually made our way south east, back to the Pacific coast, with Heather driving. It was Friday afternoon and Aucklanders, similar to city workers the world over, were bent on getting out of town. From the Harbour Bridge it was stop & stop & go & bloody stop again traffic. Instead of taking minutes to cross the city it was hours! But eventually the traffic thinned and we made our way to Hamilton, a fairly large city one hour (hah!!) south of Auckland. The city is divided by its river and this made directions difficult, especially to the Information Center. From there we made it to our cabin where we were informed by the owners that there were neither blankets nor fans available, but the would gladly show us how to get to a store to buy same! They did, to their credit, point us in the direction of the Cosi - the Cosmopolitan Workers Club - where we visited after a walk downtown, delighted at the fact that the CBD Mcdonalds had closed down, and fortunate to watch a paddle boat make its way upstream.

At the Cosi we were able to eat quite reasonably. The servings were very ample, the cost minimal. As we completed our meal the evening's entertainment started and we lingered quite some time listening to the singers and watching some rather athletic old-time/quasi-ballroom dancers.

Back at our cabin, despite our sheets and covering ourselves with our towels, we were bloody cold. But we did survive to tour another day.

And that day was magical. Matamata was a short distance away, but in another universe. It was nearby this quiet town that Hobbiton was created. This covert operation, involving NZ Army road building, strict secrecy, a no-fly zone over the area and the strictest of security resulted in several hundred people descending onto the Anderson farm to create a town for the hobbits. It was found by a site team that was flying around the area - there was the oak tree beside a pond. That oak tree was supposed to have been cut down earlier in the year as it was causing drainage problems. When the site team knocked on the Anderson's door, the family was in the midst of watching a football game and, even though he was told that a film company from America wanted to make a movie on his property, Mr Anderson asked them to "come back later, we're watching a footie game." When they did return, Mr Anderson confessed that he had never heard of Lord of the Rings, and he further frustrated the NewLine lawyers by telling them "do what you want, we'll talk about it later".

The people of Matamata had no idea of what was happening, although there was wild speculation. When the "Fellowship" opened the townsfolk recognized the scene, shot from within the hole of Bilbo and Gandalf, as their mountain range. Within days a large sign, "Welcome to Hobbiton" was erected in the town.

Only 17 of the original 57 hobbit holes remain. They were supposed to have been destroyed but the contractor left because of the weather and, by the time he was ready to return, the Andersons had an agreement with the movie company to conduct tours.

And so it was that Heather and I could stand under the Party Tree, ask each other to dance on the Dancing Field and peer out of Bilbo's house over the entire scene. As we said: magic!

It was only a short drive then to Rotorua where, after booking into a cabin on the shores of Lake Rotorua we left for a feast in a Maori village. We were immersed in the culture of the people (there are no full-blooded Maoris remaining, but their traditions are strong) as we wandered through their village midst tall trees. The meal, cooked in the ground using hot rocks, was delicious. The singing and dancing enchanting. The bus driver, who did three times around a round-about, crazy.

Back at the cabin we gazed up to see the Milky Way and the Southern Cross.

The following morning we headed for the Waimangu Valley. The walk that we took here would have to be the most memorable hike we have ever taken. The trail, dotted with views of thermal pools, steam escaping from the bowels of the earth and the myriad of colours in the lakes (the colouration caused by the sulphur, iron, manganese and other minerals) was worthy of a return trip. Across the lake we could see the crater that caused all this only a little more than 100 years ago (the crater was caused by a build-up of steam - there was no lava involved in this eruption) and the newly-formed lake that covered the then world famous pink and white terraces.

Perhaps it was because the walk was so wonderful that we found the boat trip around this new lake rather anti-climactic, even though we saw many wondrous sights from the water. Had we taken the boat tour first . . .

And then we headed to a thermal pool to relax in hot water baths for a couple of hours, soaking out the tensions that build up within oneself after a day of sight-seeing.

Life is tough!