Marc 3 WordPress Challenge

Things you promised yourself you’d accomplish by the end of the year. Travel in 2014 that is all about Islands, chasing waterfalls, crossing bridges and eating fish and chips. Having dealt with the Islands challenge, perhaps it’s time to give some thought to the remaining three categories. If I don’t get space here we’ll just blow it out to marc 4 etc.

At the beginning of this blog and year I quoted the TLC lyrics

Don’t go chasing waterfalls. Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to.

And 2014 has certainly been a shift away from the familiar as implied by the references to ‘rivers and lakes’. But what, from the 25 entries I kept notes about, have been the waterfall highlights. For sheer violence and volume it would have to be Huka Falls.

Take the slow boat, its better value for money

For discovery and secret nature would have to be the ones we stumbled upon hidden around the edges of Lake Rotorua. Knowing that you were near the waterfall as soon as you parked the car, and opened the doors, so scared was the air with the mists and rumbles of falling water. Those crazies descending the multiple rapids and falls on flimsy rafts, makes your heart rate go up. Or the experience of watching the family that ascended the falls in Whakatane, using pools and flows over rocks as nature’s waterslide.

Have to admit that the land of the long white cloud had many more waterfalls to chase, but once in FNQ there was competition. Stand out was Josephine Falls south of Cairns. While the spooky nature of the nearby The Boulders with its aboriginal myth of the spirit which still traps the unwary travelers. But Josephine falls was a more spectacular water play. The Tully River Gorge with multiple falls and rapids was exciting as we were able to follow kayaks making for a bird of paradise color spot in the grey, drizzled day.

Never saw it – but the falls look like this.

South of the border was not devoid of impressive waterfalls, high in the memory was Eriskine falls, with steep fern lined steps to decline, trails marked warning of potential danger, declaring ‘experienced bush walkers past this point.” To reach these tumbling waters we retraced steps back into the teeming Otway National Park. We did not have to get the car dirty by deviating onto unsealed roadways as we chased our waterfalls.

This ‘no gravel roads’ law was the reason for not chasing after some of the most exciting, noteworthy waterfalls. To damage our home, our baggage, our whole transport method on gravel would have been really “inconvenient”. The tallest or most isolated would never make the list because we had to traverse something other than pristine roadways. We did not ‘chase’ beyond tar/sealed/macadam surfaces. Even if we’d been told – ‘it wasn’t far’, or ‘it’s a good gravel road’ even ‘over the bridge and only a few 100 meters’. I would have, but Rod would not negotiate on that point.

Yes, it’s been a great year of chasing waterfalls. But meeting this writing challenge has meant I am ahead of individual entries regarding catching those individual waterfalls we have chased.

A big conclusion from this challenge is the benefits of viewing a waterfall from below the drop far outweigh the work ascending back to the car-park.

Waterfalls – view from the top or bottom??

The Heavy Stuff

‘I suppose being here for a month is akin to having an affair. You really have to move in move in and live with a person to know what they are like.’ Now we are going back to Sydney, she won’t mind us showing up and saying, ‘we’ve been away for a month, but we are back now’. Not even to stay.

We have been blissfully ignorant of any foibles or scabs on our beloved mistress (New Zealand) as we rush head long into one passionate embrace after another. We do not see the secret evil bits in our holidaying euphoria.

That fantastic coastal scenery in NZ. No wonder our heart stayed there.

From Tie Ning’s The Bathing Women, a definition of happiness…is to be in your hometown, holding your sweetheart’s hand, and eating your favourite food… Is this happiness possible if I regard my husband as my sweet heart? Maybe not unless I regard Sydney and not Perth as my home town! Why can’t that favorite food be eaten elsewhere than your home town? Hadn’t I been hand in hand with sweetheart, munching on my preferred nosh, but from within the embrace of my kiwi mistress, and looking skyward into the long white cloud?

My home town!

Some of our discussion was about the breakdown of NZ population into wealth and absolute poverty, but aside from one bike ride (once on an earlier trip) stumbled upon on our first Auckland overnight we did not frequent low socio-economic areas. Even those taking advantage of free camps in either tents or campervans were on holidays. Holiday homes or hotels we used were in areas of affluence. But we were aware of the problems, not least because of the migration cross the Tasman in search for a better life. With an election in the air, with promises of a scheme to feed school children breakfast, and get them shoes, raincoats and lunches. Apparently families often don’t have funds for these.

Wages are not high, but expenses are huge. More often than not petrol was more than $2 a litre. How would the guy complaining about 70c a gallon at the Las Vegas gas station get on? Food at the supermarkets was not cheap. While we did take advantage of road-side stalls and markets frequently this of course depends on being on the road, and having the cash to put in those boxes.

Technology has probably taken away employment opportunities. Arrival at the airport no longer means a warm human face to greet but instead an automated self-check-in that includes attaching your own luggage label. No mean task when we are still emotionally distraught from bidding farewell to our little hire car which has seen us through thick and thin for a whole month. There are also the queues for food outlets that are a reflection not of quality merchandise but rather the lack of reasonable food that is going to be available on the plane.

Auckland Airport is now familiar to us, especially that light show inside of sea-air-fire and the Gods inside the boarding lounges.

The Gods display – Auckland Airport

NZ Highlights

Everyone asks, ‘what’s been the best things?’ So we make a list up but limit it to three favorites. A difficult exercise because even though this is such a tiny country, so many experiences and such gob-smacking scenery.

Wellington – Who knows what is under the waves?

Mine:

1. Wellington because this has so much potential we didn’t get to explore. Leaving aside the National Capital concept and I know the weather can be lousy. But even in the vicinity of Burdah Gate House there were walks we wished to do. To me this was perfect accommodation, even if Rod felt vulnerable. Isolated at the end of a road, I thought was part of the charm. I guess the community attitudes were appealing.
2. Whakatane for the same reasons. Potential to do and see so much more; wonderful, creative accommodation. The pace, the people, the scenery.
3. Raglan and this isn’t included out of a –the most recent is the most intense- idea. There was no need to fling ourselves at different exploration tasks. Everything was right there. Raglan had a restful nature. We didn’t have a chance to go paddling, or any walks. And while the area was less geared for MTB (as well as seeming less set up for cycling generally) this was not something we tested. It might be possible to at least ride out to the falls. Definitely could have done more swimming.

His:

The rocks, the ocean – so many things near Whitianga

1. Whitianga being by the river, the pool, the garden; Being able to access home grown fruit and veges. Staying in a small complex where owners lived on-site. Only a leisurely wander from shops and town. So he could have spent the bulk of our NZ time in our very first location.
2. Raglan of course it’s attractive because of the surfing mecca status. A means to recapture the thing of his youth. That left hander, famous, a whole other time revived. They have an App to look at surf spots, tides, wind conditions and swell now. Sure takes the guesswork away. I wonder if the world is losing its impulsive urges. Let’s go for a surf, and see what’s there when we get to the beach…
3. Whakatane agreeing with me?

Wellington is his least favorite.

Gisborne was a close call. But this was making the best of our location with the long beaches, the coastal cliffs, the play of lights from sunset and the port. The Cape Kidnappers walk and Arboretum demand more effort.

Napier, while this was a city, there were more things that could be done.

If you asked us now more than a year later, we’d probably both produce complete different lists.

On to Raglan

Apparently this town came to fame in The Endless Summer, with a claim to be the best left hander in the world: Big call. Even though the sea breeze means a little choppy but we can see a perfectly formed 10 footer. OK, an approximation from using a twice the size of an average surfer scale. My pre-knowledge was more about a name on the map, a location and hearsay about black sand beaches.

The water has a dusky quality. We conclude this is runoff from rains. Back in Waitomo we had sheltered in Morepork Café while a thunder storm streamed all around. By the time we were closing off the lights, but not in darkness because of the never-ending twilight of NZ summer dusks. In Raglan our hosts acknowledge “had some rain…”

Typical coastal ‘baches’

Aside for the surf Raglan looks like holiday-house-ville as it is only a short distance from Hamilton and less than two hours from Auckland. Thus Raglan is a perfect weekender. We are told of a range of activities; kayaking, sunset cruises on the estuary, pancake rock formations, and all those beach activities. A group of Irish tourists engage in the ubiquitous jumping off the bridge, despite multiple warnings. The ambience is one of universal beach town, complete with tiny laneways, ice cream parlor and Mexican food caravan. Great coastal souvenirs shops sit proudly alongside big brand surf wear outlets.

The Silo’s holiday accommodation: What a great idea, conversion of this land-mark to exclusive holiday homes. Prices seem reasonable for the 360 degree view.

You can stay here. Great fish and chips nearby on the Pier.

Raglan Sleeves – Or the bits around the edges.

We set out towards Bridal Veil Falls through the rolling green hills. What a common name for a waterfall, there must be at least one of those in most countries; the larger the country the more Bridal Veil Falls. What about the places where brides don’t wear white? Might be called Horsetail Falls…hmm not quite the same.

On arrival at the track to Raglan’s Bridal Veil Falls, some bedraggled kids seem to tumble out of a disgorged camper van. Dogs bark, and we can hear sounds of early morning adult activity. Several signs have warned of the likelihood of thieves in the area. This is a good hunting area for breaking into cars being an isolated location and knowing people will be away from their vehicles. Finally we are tipped over a panic edge by the lack of maps to show how far to the falls and broken glass littering the parking area. Those campervan people could have been fellow travelers, totally harmless but when your gut says its unsafe better to trust instinct.

Never saw it – but the falls look like this.

Instead we spend the morning on the black sand near the walk-bridge. Funny how kids and larger kids-at-heart have got to jump off a bridge! The water is startlingly cold; walking to the edge is fraught with molten hot sand sticking to your feet. I find shells with snail like creatures inside.

Wi-fi, reliable and constant is available from the library, even if it is closed. Understandably a group representing many nations gathers on the steps outside.

Raglan epitomizes the sort of surf-beach holiday town that might be very similar anywhere. Fish and Chip, burgers, ice cream, even a sushi house and taco van; Tiny alleyways with souvenir shops, arty home-wares and surf clothing. This proves to be a wonderful relaxing few days before the trip home.

Restful Raglan including the bridge.

The Black Labrynith

We are decked out with 10mm wet suits, but even these would prove to keep us warm because still it’s impossible to keep your hands out of the water. At the reception business we clothe in two pieces pants and jackets, (high rise bib and brace style) socks and abattoir worker’s boots. This is Rod’s first challenge – to be flexible enough for this dress-up. A bewildering lack of agility considering our familiarity with this attire. We help a German girl who is not used to neoprene. But we are given instructions on how to operate toggles to tighten everything. Helmets with lights, mine keeps turning on. Final touches light – bands adjusted.

Jumping backwards into freezing water – that’s not fun

Then we are loaded into a bus. I wonder why this preparation area isn’t closer to the cave. But then I suppose this is a marketing opportunity, you can buy books, T-shirts and all sorts of souvenirs. Café, showers and probably staff accommodation too. The guide seems to be tucking into a substantial meal and then take another group into the abyss.

We go in there???

Before we descend down a tiny crevasse that is worse than some of the Bushies running tracks, (only some!) time to practice. We fall into a creek from a rickety tower as preparation for jumping off cave waterfalls. Is that a separate heading for waterfalls? This activity is a total shock, cold water into everywhere, up the wetsuit sleeves, boots, up my nose. But being able to see where you are jumping, a sedate creek is NO prep for inside the cave. Another exercise is the forming of an eel, linked arms and legs so no one floats away in the darkness.

Off into the darkness.

Then off to the cave, down those steps that sinking feeling that has more to do nerves than physically going down. Fighting to put out of my mind what we are doing, and where we are going. Into total darkness.

No way this land based practise prepares you.

“I just couldn’t relax,’ says Rod. And he is being assisted over many obstacles, taking the tracks that would be called the B route in mountain bike circles.

Icy water keeps dribbling into the wet suit, even though the tube is supposed to make us feel secure it is totally out of control. I find backwards is manageable. Jumping off the falls, I panic and freeze, this is the MOST difficult thing I have ever done. But worst still is the feeling that you cannot see where your feet or hands are going, you clamber, stumble, shuffle and sink into icy water more than float in the tube. “The boys said there was lots of rushing down on the water, not much walking,” says Rod’s sister when we return. Perhaps the recent droughts have meant less cave water? The glow-worm section was delightful, like a tiny illuminated city of pin lights above. Then the guide tells us that what we are looking at is worm mucus! Black water rafting is ticked off the bucket list, but I never, ever want to repeat that experience. There is nothing more desired than that faint light creeping in that marks the cave exit. Back at the welcome center for a warm shower, hot soup and bonding feelings with our fellow blackness trauma sufferers adds to the fuzzy ‘survivor’ feelings.

Above our lunch table is a huge map of the caves. How the hell does one map a cave?

We survived! Tick off the list, never do again!

To The Caves

We are on our way to Waitomo Caves and I am still reeling in surprise that Rod has agreed to go down the caves. We are both severely influenced by his sister, brother-in-law and nephews saying it was “the best thing they ever did!” We only discover later this was from the nephews only, the non-teenagers didn’t take the risk. Once in the reception area staff refer to being “agile”, and the leader all assure him that they can assist to lift his legs over rocks, and for most of the tour he will sit down. ‘You’ll be fine, plenty people less agile than you…’ He feels that if I were to go on the cave rafting excursion alone and return saying, ‘that was the best thing I ever did!’ he could cope. So we book for two and set off to secure a place to stay.

This choice was full.

There ensues one of our biggest hassles in New Zealand; it is the last weekend of school holidays, and a long weekend. Northern North Island celebrates their national day on a different weekend after the other end of the Island. I wonder what happens in the central areas. We had this last weekend in Wellington, which was the reason for many shops being closed in Wanganui. Waitomo is also a tourist mecca relatively close to Auckland. So all this means we have limited choice.

Under the sign, we could have stayed there.

The I-site recommends a few including “the sign” which technically is a one bedroom flat in the Welcome to Waitomo sign. This is a sort of triangular shape building with high windows. There was also B & B on the list, but they do not have fridge facilities, and we have perishables on board. We feel a little guilty as the manager was so friendly and helpful, but conclude ‘they have to be’. The caravan park tells us they only have tent sites left. We’d also heard of a place just out of town which had novel themed accommodation. $195 a night you can stay in the cockpit of a fighter jet.

The room in the nose was available.

The character who runs this place with Hobbiton, planes, boat motel personifies a Foot-rot Flats character, right down to the singlet and gum boot. A vision which reminded me of the local I saw in Stafford who slipped off his farm-gunged boots to go into the Post Office in his socks!

Eventually we opt for our first encounter with a Backpacker’s lodge. Kiwi-packer has a village of wooden huts right near the entrance to the Glow-worm caves. Our choice is the group room for slightly more than our budget, but it has a full kitchen. Interestingly many others checking in are issued with crockery and must pay a deposit for the privilege. We are told there is free internet – but this proves hit and miss. There seems to be a creature behind the fridge and I wonder what this is until I figure it is probably the noise of the thermostat engaging. While there is a bar and great café on site there is a ‘No Drinking’ in accommodation rule. Free food left behind in the communal section of the fridge. No room servicing sign, which means no room cleaning. But judging from the noise of Kontiki and other Bus tour groups this policy is not really enforced. Once drunkard noises died down I was woken at least once by complete silence. And an obsession with thoughts of why Seddon would chose to take a trek in the mountains in high winter?

Our Multi-bed room was on the end.

Another bus is in the car park when we return from the caving experience, this time many sit in the sun, perhaps they were quieter, and maybe our tiredness overrides their frivolity.

We are so close to the end now, technically I should be returning to work this Wednesday, a pupil free day and then classes all on before the end of the week. But not in 2014!

Things you learn in the Spa…

I know sometimes my husband is approachable, in spite of this Rod Turner trait, many people seem open and ready to “chat” when you are traveling. But for a chunk of an afternoon spent in the pools at DeBrett’s Mineral Pool in Taupo interesting exchanges occurred between him and a local.

This is the place!

Businesses change hands. Our anecdotal source told Rod he used to run a fish and chip shop. There was a discussion into the way we were making this part of our 2014 challenges. This was his last day as he had just sold the business. ‘Went into it with me partner, now the kids are teenagers, and I’ve just had enough of it. Just want out.’ Further evidence that Kiwis move about. Right through our travels we have seen business for sale signs, commercial properties for lease, and closed shops especially in small towns and saw this as how retail has declined.

NZ Political anomalies: Our friend tells us that voting is not compulsory in NZ. There is a lack of political awareness. ‘With so many refugees, there is a “silent majority” that just lets things happen’. Not feeling as if their vote will make a difference, or so afraid of activism (due to whatever persecution they left behind) they abstain. Nothing much changes.

You hear all sorts of whispers.

Kiwis migrate: His views were also espoused about the generations of unemployment in NZ, and how Australia is seen as a land of opportunity. He even wanted to try and get a position with a mining company. Rod recounts the way the West Australian mining boom has impacted on the prices in Perth, ‘I wasn’t going to pay that for a beer..’ Which leads into an admission that this guy is an alcoholic, and being only half kiwi, never felt he belonged. Just the sort of light-hearted banter one encounters every day!

Fish & Chips: He brings up perceivable Asian influences in Fish and Chip shops. Something which we had already noted. He says, ‘can’t compete because they cut the fish thin, but big pieces’. Which apparently impresses the low socio-economic groups as, ‘they think they are getting more, when really it is just lots of batter’. One of the master-strokes for quality fish and chips, so we are told, is use of soda water in the batter as this makes it lighter.

Maybe this is typical of a national openness, or just part of the notion that barriers are down when you are a tourist, or just the way Rod gets people to open up. But there were all sorts of people we saw, talked to and took up warm water with in the Hot Springs. An enormous lady who can barely walk. Then I see more guy with grey skin, assuming he is maintenance but he seems to be spending a great deal of time wallowing in the warm pools. All part of the 2014 hot spring’s challenge.

Addendum: additional entry to a list of big things – The Giant Shearer at Te Kuiti.

Another Big Thing

The slow Boat

Statistics break – Lake Taupo

How big is that lake?

•  Shore length 193 km
• Maximum length 46 km
• Maximum width 33 km
• Maximum depth 186km
• Volume 59 km cubed
• Surface elevation 356 meters
• Catchment area 348,700 hectares
• Hot water does bubble out into the lake, either from hot-springs run-off or from fissures in the lake base. Warning of the dangers of hot water can be seen.

On my early morning jog along the foreshore I encounter a tiny pioneer cemetery squeezed between resorts and prestige lake-side mansions. If I was into that sort thing I am sure timing for the jog would be blown-out.  To look at all those headstones would mean I’d take twice as long.

Huka falls is a must do on the tourist circuit. Instead of the over-priced mere moments in a jet boat we opt for the slow boat option. By the time we are up-close to the tumbling mega-liters the boat has a hood ornament, my husband, Rod Turner. Wow-betide anyone who gets in his way.

Along our 2014 travels we encountered useful commentary, this is one of those occasions. We are told of all the introduced pests. Black Swans look nice, but have no predators, so there had to be a shooting season introduced to cull numbers. Seems there is a precedence for shooting, as duck hides and therefore the notion that they too are killed is discussed.  By the time we finish the bad-guys list includes:

• Willows, similarly problematic in Australian waterways
• Grouse Bush, introduced as a hedge
• Magpie, seen as a means to control insects but proving to be too aggressive during nesting season
• Blackberry

While it does not get mentioned the Possum is always a contentious introduction.

Animal pests identified

But it’s not all victim talk. Two Kiwi innovation are mentioned.

1. The Jet  Boat
2. Geo-thermal power-plants. Effective recycling of super-hot water and steam.

Our tour guide and captain provides more evidence of the transient nature of New Zealanders. He lived in the UK on a river barge. Worked in Australia returning house boats down the Murray River. Tourists take them one way, then someone must bring them back to a departure point. Apparently not complying with speed limits means he could get more money. No wonder he has been able to work in such various locations and jobs – once you have that sort of specialist employment ticket. Our captain does wax lyrical about how much he prefers Taupo. The First Mate is from Oregon and there is talk of another employee studying marketing and tourism in Auckland. There is an impressive glossy book on the boat and falls, sales help to fund this staff member, ‘it’s expensive to live in Auckland’.

He also points out the excessive bureaucracy attached to boating craft. Even though we are navigating a section of a contained river (from a dam to a falls) the boat must have a compass. Plus an expensive global positioning system to locate the vessel if a rescue in the ocean is required. But it isn’t possible go get this craft to the ocean without putting it on truck.

The captain has an impressive collection of bank notes displayed, which includes an Australian $1 and $2. Both no longer in circulation. There are badges around the steering wheel (what are they called on a river boat?)

We are not sure if its fact or just a local myth, but the tale of a Holden Commodore hitched to a caravan and falling into the river just below the falls is recounted.

Take the slow boat, its better value for money

The Huka Falls crashing through the chasm.

By the lakeside

Finally the clouds do part and we can view the majesty of the lake’s skirts all the way to the ranges. Or should I say, the Gods.

Even so many weeks out, they are already there.

There are wet-suited individuals swimming along the lake edge. We wonder if these are triathletes already in situ for the NZ Ironman, now only 5 weeks away. We can identify the park where transition will be constructed and the run course, but are still unable to work out which highway will carry the bikes.

There is a free camper-van region, lake edge, adjacent to the Tourist Information Center. You can spend 2 nights there, no cost! This a serious tourist mecca, complete with wide range of water sports, bike trails, walking tracks and more than its fair share of adventure options. 20,000 population which swells to 70-80,000 come Ironman time. In a rush of blood Rod even suggests, ‘I could hire a mountain bike, and go for a ride.’ I try to remind him that perhaps his first ride should be something of less potential hazard.

Part of the system where water leaves Lake Taupo

We have a major disagreement about the lake outlet. I am sure this is merely a lake water level control devise. But correctly he knows this is the source of the Waikato River. The longest river in NZ. Distinct from the Wanganui River which was the longest navigable river. An early morning jog beyond the outlet gates clearly shows now difficult bringing a craft up this water flow would be. Operators offer kayak trips, but it is always downstream!

Why would you trust a big elastic band?

I stumble upon that NZ tradition, the Bungy Jump tower, we return later in the day to watch those crazy, fearless, desperate enough to leap towards a river tied to an oversized elastic band. This marks the beginning of a Taupo touristy location tour.

* The Prawn Park: 43cm was the largest caught this year. The foyer contains pictorial history from the purchase from the army at $550. But we turn away from the entry cost of $30 to tour and interact with the prawns. At least there is the big prawn to be seen. But very different from the Ballina specimen.

Tours available – at a cost

* The Honey Shop – partake in samples of liqueurs, peanut butter honey (crunchy) and butterscotch.

Sweets central

*Dixie Browns – fantastic pizza, better than the last one we had at Big John’s San Souci, Sydney

The price range in Taupo seems to be with an additional $3-5, tourist tariff. Even the honey is either more costly or in a smaller jar than we are used to. Adding to this is what the supermarket chain Coles markets in Australia as “feed a family of four on $10 meals” is $15 in NZ. We are told that the region has a reputation of being able to “separate your wallet from half your budget.”

I watch a historical train disaster movie about how the nearby Crater Lake can and has broken its banks to cause flash floods. A Maori mother character blaming the way the Pakea’s have cut scars into the land. Therefore Mother Mountain takes revenge. Having seen the way geothermal pipes cross the countryside, and the industrial area which included shipping pallet production and enormous piles of saw dust I do not find those reactions from the Gods at all surprising. I also wonder why that waste couldn’t be used to make solid fuel (like Brickettes) or fertilizers.

Locals give thanks to the major highway bypass opened in 2010, ‘we have our foreshore back now.’ It does make sitting alfresco at a lake view café a much more pleasant experience than having inter-city semi-trailers rumbling past (like Lakes Entrance Victoria).

No highway = peace

 

To the Interior

After spending a day car-bound to explore river road, we depart to move away from the coast. We are now ready to add a new road trip rule – plan to spend time out of the car.

This is added to the three day in a town minimum, rule. This allows for the arrival day where a search for accommodation is required, then a couple of nights to get the feel of a place. Even so 3 days is still a sampling, leaving things to do, and places to see for another time.

There is also the necessity of the drab, like shopping and/or washing clothes, and the sort of things that are the needs of reality, so those can detract from sightseeing.

lovely place, but very cold

A great deal can be seen from the car, but it not until we reach the town called National Park that the balmy 13-14-15 degrees is experienced. Leaving early has meant nothing is open, but eventually we locate the Lodge still serving breakfast, beside the required open fire place and messy bookshelves filled with tattered novels, many written in German. There are black and white photos of the men who laid the original north-south train line we have passed, cutting tunnels through this harsh landscape. Constant reference to ‘the spiral’ and we are unsure if this is a ski-run or some of the tunnels.

The road into the interior

We had been warned about the way roads wind along ridge tops or follow rivers, but not this open low scrub wastelands. But then this is the central high country. Dotted about is pampas grass like plants. Mist descends adding to the eerie nature. Meaning we do not get clear views of the mountains that local lore refers to as Gods.

.

We didnt catch any, but at least saw secret fishing spots.

Coming into Taupo we encounter signs that declare a range of ‘holes’; Blue hole, Green hole, Peacock Hole. Eventually curiosity gets the better of us and we find these are fishing locations along the river. This is a point we are able to add some wonderful swing bridges to the list of such constructions. Later we discover one of the reasons for trout fishing being so popular is the lack of commercial fishery, breeding or hatcheries. If you wish to eat trout in NZ you must catch it, the legal take being 3 fish. Apparently the waterways are eel free so introduced trout populations have gone mad.

Coming into National Park is a giant of a Kiwi. I wonder if this qualifies for inclusion into the Big Thing list.

A big thing!

We break with tradition and take the first accommodation place encountered-Chateau Suisse. A steep roofed, ski as decoration, balcony views over the lake establishment. Learning that it has just been sold to a Malaysian consortium and the current owner is decamping in 10 days, for warmer climate of the Northland.

Our home away from home