Rainbow Reach to the Southern Alps

Foot Bridge at Rainbow Reach

Before we left the Manapouri area, we drove north towards Milford Sound, one of the most famous sights in all of New Zealand.  Since we had already spent a day on Doubtful Sound, we weren't all that excited about Milford and we got sidetracked to secondary roads and ended up hiking up to Key Summit.  The weather was threatening the entire way but even though it was cold, the rain held off until we made it back down to the car.

View of Marian Lake (center) from Key Summit

 It was about mid-afternoon by the time we got back in the car and we still had about 300 kilometers to get to Queenstown, our next destination.  I was always tempted to think, "If the speed limit is 100 kilometers per hour, we should be able to cover 300 kilometers in 3 hours . . . "  But it doesn't work that way in New Zealand.  Virtually all of the roads are just a single lane in each direction (Auckland does have 'motorways' - we call them 'freeways') and all the roads go right through the center of every small town, forcing you to slow down to 50 kilometers per hour.  Add to that the tourists driving big motorhomes, pulling trailers (called 'caravans' in New Zealand), farmers driving tractors with implements in tow and the routine truck traffic and a 300-click drive can take four or five hours.  It was raining when we pulled into Queenstown so we grabbed the first holiday park we came to and splurged by renting a cabin instead of pitching our tent.

Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu

Bungy Jumping from Bob's Peak

The next morning we spent an hour trying to find a parking spot in Queenstown and once parked, we took the gondola up to the top of Bob's Peak.  For some reason, Queenstown has become the haven for adrenalin junkies and there is no shortage of different ways to fill a thrill craving if you've got lots of money.  We were unimpressed and left after just a few hours.

We drove up through the Central Otago Valley, which is home to more than 75 wineries although we only stopped at one.  Driving along side the Kawarau River, we couldn't help but stop when we saw a sign for 'Roaring Meg Lookout' (Ruthie has a sister that goes by 'Meg').

Roaring Meg Lookout

 Our guide book mentioned a DOC (Department of Conservation) campground just north of the microscopic town of Omarama and since we had stayed in a cabin the night before, we were hoping to find a lower-cost (or hopefully free) place to spend the night.  It was late in the day as we turned off the highway onto a rough dirt road that went through a wide, dry riverbed.  The wind was howling and picking up thick clouds of dust from the riverbed we were driving across.  There were about a half-dozen campers and vans huddled against the trees but it was a very depressing campground.  We drove as slow as we could along a treeline and the road got worse.  Soon, we were well clear of the campground itself but we continued on driving down the two ruts that were rarely used.  We came to a steep berm that didn't look passable in our minivan but with the transmission in Low and a good head start, we charged it and made it over the top, through a grove of trees and though we shook everything up in the van pretty good, we didn't break a single egg.  But there, before us, was a beautiful flat grassy area surrounded by tall trees on three sides and the beautiful river on the fourth.  We had no idea where we were or even if it was OK to camp there but it was just too pretty, too calm and we were just too tired not to.

Mount Cook

The next day we had planned to rendezvous with our friends, Beth and Norm Cooper, who sailed from Mexico roughly the same time we did aboard Sarah Jean II.  They were traveling in their camper which had been named Gertie.  The DOC campground at the base of Mount Sherman was crowded but we lucked-out and found a great spot with a small grassy patch on which we could pitch our tent (of course, it was impossible to get the tent stakes into the ground as it was almost solid rock but we managed, bending more than a few tent stakes in the process).  It was very great to see Beth and Norm again - we swapped lots of stories of our travels, ate good food, drank good wine and laughed a lot.

The next day the four of us hiked up to Hooper Lake which is at the foot of a glacier.  There were literally hundreds of other hikers on the same trail but it was such a spectacular hike that we didn't mind.  Each turn opened another jaw-dropping vista and we'd all get our cameras out and say, "I gotta get a picture of this!"

Mount Cook is the highest mountain in New Zealand at 12,283 feet.  Sir Edmund Hillary, a Kiwi and the first man to climb Mount Everest, trained on Mount Cook.  It's a very technical and difficult climb - near the campground where we stayed there's a monument to the over 200 people who have died climbing it.  The mountain range is referred to as the Southern Alps where there are 22 peaks over 10,000 feet and there are more than 60 glaciers.



After our hike we drove to the village nearest the campground.  In the beginning of the last century, a hotel was built to house the tourists who flocked there even though it took days of arduous travel to get there.  It has been revamped many times and now is a luxurious 5-star hotel that has drop-dead-gorgeous views of the mountains.  We had a couple of drinks in their elegant bar.  Oddly, I bought a 2-liter container of ice cream from their gift store, which we decimated after our dinner that night.  The only good thing about saying good-bye to Beth and Norm the next day was knowing that we would see them again soon on the North Island.

Hanging Out in the Van at Cammeron Campground

We had to back-track a little from the Mount Cook area to get a road that would take us west across the Southern Alps.  It was a beautiful drive if a bit long and by evening we were eagerly looking for a campground.  Fortunately, in this area there were many DOC campgrounds to choose from and we would sometimes drive through one just to check it out.  This was the case of Cammeron Campground, which was empty except for a couple eating at a picnic table.  I could see them swatting a flies as they ate.  We continued on but ultimately turned around and went back to Cammeron.  It was completely empty, which struck us as odd, especially for that time of day (just about every campground that we'd been to fills up in the evening) but we pitched our tent anyway, thinking we might have the entire campground to ourselves that night.  Then we discovered why we were alone.  We weren't.

There had been fair warning.  We had been told about the notorious sand flies in New Zealand but we hadn't yet encountered them - until now.  Millions of them.  Biting, blood-sucking evil little creatures.  A little research told us that it's the female that bites as she needs the blood to be able to lay eggs; the male is able to survive off of sap from plants.  Whereas a good, strong insect repellent did keep them from biting they were so thick  that you could inhale a mouthful just by breathing normally.  We spent the evening sitting in the van.  Gradually, more campers arrived for the night and one young couple parked near us.  Not that we had a problem with that but they kept opening and closing the sliding side door of their van.  Now, Ruthie and I are patient people and we try to understand that other people may have issues of which we're not aware.  However, when this side door opening and closing continued on frequently up to 3:00am, I got mad.  Finally, I grabbed our very bright flashlight and shone it on their van, which suddenly gave them instant daylight.  The side door opened once more, the young man climbed out and came over to us.  In a heavy German accent, he said, "Our van has mice in it!  They're climbing all over us!  I don't know what to do!"  Being both angry and sleep deprived, I wasn't very helpful or polite.  The side door of their van open and closed once more.  The engine started and they drove away.

Fiordland

One of the hundreds of single-lane bridges in New Zealand

 It wasn’t too far of a drive from our campsite at Lake Monowai to the small village of Manapouri that sits at the eastern edge of Lake Manapouri.  We inquired about cruises to Doubtful Sound but they were well outside our budget so we drove on to Te Anau, about 20 kilometers to the north.  There we pulled into a Department of Conservation (DOC) information center and talked with one of their staff.  The woman we spoke with said that there really isn’t much of a choice but to go on the cruise we had just recently dismissed.  She also pointed out some campsites and hikes nearby but was pretty adamant that we had to take the Doubtful Sound cruise.  We picnicked right there and talked about our options, then drove back to Manapouri.  A holiday park was at the north end of the village so we pulled in and very slowly drove through.  It was different from most holiday parks as there weren’t specific areas for tents, motorhomes, etc – you could pretty much just pitch your tent wherever you wanted.

There were several people checking in at the same time so I patiently waited my turn in the lobby.  Most holiday parks have some method of restricting how long your hot showers can be – some use an automatic timer, some even use a keypad where you enter a code you’re given when you check in.  At this holiday park, there’s a row of numbered switches above the sinks in the bathrooms that correspond to the numbered shower stalls.  You push the button of the shower you’re going to use and you get hot water for seven minutes.  Joelle, the 78 year-old ex-pat from San Francisco who has lived in New Zealand for the last forty years, was explaining this to a Dutch man but, for some reason, she was speaking in German.  “Did you understand what I just said,” Joelle asked in English.  “Yes,” replied the Dutch man in pretty good English,  “I go into the bathroom, face the sinks and shout ‘Hot water for seven minutes!’”

The late afternoon was warm and sunny but it made the communal kitchen hot.  Couples and families from all over the world visit New Zealand and the gathering that evening was a typical mix of travelers trying to get through their evening meal.  If I was smarter, I would have bought spaghetti sauce but, no, I had to make mine from scratch, which took too long.  Finally, our meal consumed and cleaned up, we headed back to our tent as we had chosen an early morning departure for a cruise down Doubtful Sound.

Note the Fuel Rate

The sound of our alarm clock the next morning at 0530 wove it’s way into my dreams but it didn’t take me long to get up to the communal kitchen and get my coffee and Ruthie’s tea brewed.  Daylight was just breaking as the bus from the cruise line picked us up at the holiday park and dropped us off at the terminal.  Within a few minutes we were pulling away from the dock on a brand new ship (less than 260 hours on the twin MAN V12 turbocharged diesels), steaming at 22 knots for the west end of Lake Manapouri.  Forty-five minutes later, we reached the other end and we boarded modern tour buses that took us to the headwaters of Doubtful Sound.  Here we boarded yet another very modern, comfortable ship and again pulled away from the dock as the clouds were just pouring over the tops of the tall peaks that surrounded us.

It was light enough now to see that the day was going to be partly cloudy and there were large shafts of sunlight illuminating the sheer cliffs while other areas remained dark.  The running commentary told us that Doubtful Sound was not really a ‘sound’ at all but rather a fiord as it was caused by glacier activity.  When Captain James Cook sailed by in 1770, he wasn’t convinced that it would be a harbor at all so he wrote a note on the chart he was drawing that said ‘Doubtful’ and never did enter it. 

We slowly cruised to the opening of the fiord and the Tasman Sea, the cliffs towering 4,000 feet above us.  The enormity was not lost on us.  On our return, the captain drove us up Crooked Arm to a beautiful, remote spot.  At this point he shut down the engines and generators and the commentator asked everyone to be silent for a few moments – no photographs, no walking around – just silence.  At first I thought it was kind of corny but I was instantly grateful and appreciated the marvel and magnitude.  I could see why Doubtful Sound’s nickname is the ‘Sound of Silence’.

Crooked Arm

With over seven meters of annual rainfall, fresh water abounds in the form of waterfalls, streams and creeks.  It also keeps Lake Manapouri very full so in the early 1960s, it was decided to dam up the lake, allow it to rise 30 meters and put in a hydroelectric power station.  The people of New Zealand strongly opposed the proposition so the dam idea was abandoned but a power station was still built.  A team of 5,000 men worked for years, essentially drilling through rock by hand.  A two kilometer-long tunnel was built as part of the hydroelectric station and our tour bus took us all the way to the viewing platform where we could see the seven massive turbines working.  The station generates over 500 megawatts of electricity.

Manapouri Power Station

The next day I was in a store in Te Anau, chatting with a clerk.  “I don’t know why you came to New Zealand,” she said when she found out I was from California, “you’ve got everything in North America that we have here except that it’s bigger and better there.”  To a point, she was right but our trip up Doubtful Sound was unlike anything I had ever seen and clearly one of the most spectacular places I have ever visited.

New Zealand's South Island, Continued

The View From Our Room On Stewart Island

Our ferry was met by Robin, the manager of the Bay Motel, where we would spend the next two nights. He drove us and the four other guests that had sailed over with us around the microscopic town of Oban, home to 340 full-time residents and up to 40,000 visitors in any given year. Robin pointed out the restaurants to avoid and gave us advice on which tours were worthwhile. Our room turned out to be a sumptuous affair, especially when compared to the cramped quarters of our tent and the view of the bay from our room was nothing short of the ultimate picture postcard of a small, calm fishing village. New Zealand, as an island nation, lays claim to quite a few other islands, Stewart Island being one of them and the nation's third largest. It's roughly the same land mass as the country of Singapore but unlike Singapore, 85% is a wildlife reserve. The small town of Oban is one of the most southerly towns in the world and Antarctica isn't that far away.

Once settled, we began to walk around. Our first stop was at the Department of Conservation's information center, which was just a few steps from our room. A very helpful woman told us about what we could expect to see - the only problem being was that everything on her list of 'must see' places and things involved hiring a guide or boat, which was all outrageously expensive. In the end, we just went on hikes around the village and didn't see anything that we couldn't have seen on the North or South Island. We were glad we went but it holds no magical memories of the rare bird or unique geographical formations and, on top of that, it did consume a significant percentage of our travel budget.

Invercargill Was Burt Munroe's Home - The World's Fastest Indian

Once back across to the South Island, we pitched our tent at a holiday park right in the middle of the town of Invercargill. We walked from there to a pizza restaurant where we met our friend Bob on the MacGregor 65, Braveheart, which is currently tied up at Marsden Point. It was fun to connect with him as he 'jumped' from Mexico around the same time we did. He had driven down the west side of the South Island and we listened closely to his experiences, especially those where he encountered New Zealand's most vicious bird of prey, the dreaded Sand Fly.

Monowai Lake

It was raining the next morning was we broke camp and that was depressing. There's no way to dry out the things that are wet and no way to keep the things that are dry from getting wet. On our way out of town we stopped at a Starbucks but their coffee wasn't as good as we remembered it from the States. As we arced around the southwestern corner of the Island, we gradually picked up a northerly course towards the famous Fiordland and Southern Alps. Our guide book told us of a campsite 17 kilometers down a dirt road so we decided to check it out. With a tall cloud of dust coming up from the back of our minivan, we found our way to the south end of Monowai Lake and a charming little campsite. Even though it was as primitive as any campsite could be, we kind of felt like we had hit the jackpot as it had almost everything we wanted: No one around, right beside a beautiful lake, a flat spot for our tent and it was quiet. That afternoon gave us a good hike, later an excellent dinner and it was followed by a peaceful night's sleep. We had another nice, short hike in the morning with steaming cups of coffee in our hands as we watched the mist rise off the lake's surface. Breaking camp once more and heading out, this time towards our entrance to Fiordland.

New Zealand's South Island

We have been driving and camping around the South Island for almost two weeks now and since we've checked into a 'civilized' room, I can find no excuses for avoiding a posting. Right now we're in a 'Holiday Park' in Hokitika on the west coast and just about exactly opposite of Christchurch. I could write for a long time about Holiday Parks but I think I'll save that for another post when there's nothing else going on.

Cloudy Bay Winery

We caught an early morning ferry from Wellington and even though the wind was blowing at about thirty knots, our crossing to Picton was relatively calm and our excitement was almost palpable. From there we drove to Nelson along the most twisting road I've ever been on and rendezvoused with our friends, Michael and Gloria, on their beautiful Beneteau 50 Paikia Mist. We spent two nights as their guests on board and got a great tour of the town. Departing from there at the crack of 10:30 or so had us following the road back towards the east side of the island and the area called Marlborough - more specifically the famous wine-producing town of Blenheim. Years ago during one of our bashes up the west coast of Baja, we 'buddy boated' with a 56' Nordhavn trawler called Cloudy Bay which also turns out to be the name of a well-known New Zealand winery. I had suspected that the owners of the boat had once owned the winery and sold it, using the profits to buy a luxury yacht. That became our first stop of our wine-tasting tour but there was no connection between the winery and our buddy's boat. Regardless, we languished in the lavish wine tasting room, sampling every kind of wine they make and enjoying every drop. By this time we were feeling quite happy and with a devil-may-care attitude we purchased several bottles that were well outside of our meager budget. We asked the very kind woman who was helping us to recommend some other vineyards and we sampled more delicious wine and bought still more bottles, including a wonderful dry rose.

A Minaret Moved to the Ground Until It's Building Can Be Stabilized - Christchurch

 
With great reluctance, we moved on and pointed the bow of our trusty Toyota towards Christchurch. It turned out to be a long drive and we finally picked out a holiday park near the coast but still a few miles from town. As holiday parks go, it was a little more basic than most but it had a nice grass area on which to pitch our tent. Almost all of the camper sites were occupied and in a conversation that took place the next morning at the communal kitchen, we found out that most of the people living in those campers were the displaced residents from Christchurch's massive earthquake just a year before. Whereas we had planned to spend a full day visiting Christchurch we only spent a couple of hours as most of the places the guide books spoke of were in the city's 'Red Zone' and no access was possible. It was sad. Instead we drove out to Akaroa, a small town on the end of the Banks Peninsula that was supposed to be 'charming' but there were two cruise ships in town that day and it struck us as more of a zoo than a quaint seafaring town. We instructed our GPS to find us the closest campground and it directed us to a wind-blown spit of land on the south end of Lake Ellesmere: Hidden behind acres of farmland, this has been the most remote and primitive site at which we've camped - no only was it free but there was no one around for miles.

Remote Campsite at Lake Ellesmere

Train Station in Dunedin

Our next stop, apart from a brief single-malt-scotch tasting in Oamaru, was the university town of Dunedin and we thought we had lucked out by getting the best spot on which to pitch our tent at the holiday park only to find out that we were just a few meters from a busy road that carried traffic all night long. Other than that, we thoroughly enjoyed the town with it's rococo architecture, the Speight's Brewery and the Cadbury Chocolate Factory. We also toured the local museum and strolled through the university's campus, our first time at being on a college campus in a long time. Still, we found more than enough to do to keep us busy for two nights (despite being camped next to the road) but after that we were glad to get underway again and continue our trek south.

The Captain Let Me Dock the Ferry - just kidding!

We found our way through Invercargill and on to the small town of Bluff where we pitched our tent in a very nice community campground. We broke camp early the next morning, packed what we would need for two days, put our van in a secure parking lot and boarded a ferry to Stewart Island. Since there were only a few passengers on the ferry at that early hour, I engaged the skipper in a conversation: 'You must see some pretty rough weather on this route.' It's not uncommon to see sixty knots of wind. 'At what point do you cancel the trip?' We don't sail if the seas are more than six meters (19 feet).. 'Do the windshield wipers ever have trouble keeping up?' Sometimes you can't see a thing . . .. However, on our crossing the sea was as calm as one could ask for, especially considering that the Pacific Ocean, the Tasman Sea and the Southern Ocean all meet at this spot.

Wellington, New Zealand

 Not all i-Sites were this cute

The documentation available to tourists in New Zealand is nothing short of amazing. In addition to that, almost every town, regardless of size, has an i-site - a comprehensive store front that is staffed with knowledgeable people, computers, brochures and guides - all of it for free. Some even sell souvenirs. The staff will make reservations on your behalf, answer questions, offer recommendations or even check the weather for you. One of the guides we picked up has a list of all the campgrounds in New Zealand and we were pleased to find there was a place to camp right in downtown Wellington.

Randy and Jenny of S/V Mystic

We found Rowena's Backpacker's Hostel without any trouble and I realized that it had been many years since I had stayed in a place like Rowena's. In fact, I don't think I had ever stayed in a place like Rowena's. Almost looking like an huge, old, run-down home, it sets behind another house and is accessed by a narrow alley that runs up the steep hill. In the very back is a small patch of grass where they allow tents to be pitched. It's almost like camping in someone's backyard. There must be forty rooms in the building, with either 2, 4 or 6 people to a room. The toilets and showers are unisex and the kitchen is communal. Our first night there we were checking out the kitchen and we ran into some friends that had crossed the Pacific the same time we did. It was great to see them and we spent a lot of time swapping stories.

Botanic Garden, Wellington

Te Papa Museum, Wellington

Yesterday we took in the Museum of New Zealand and then got fish and chips at a popular pub. Today we walked from Rowena's through downtown and it had been a long time since we walked through a major urban city on a Monday morning. There were thick crowds everywhere, the espresso bars were all packed and the traffic jamming. We took Wellington's only cable car up to the botanical gardens. It was a beautiful day and the flowers were spectacular. The path wound it's way through forests, gardens and herbs. The trail ended at the Norfolk Rose Garden, which has who-knows-how-many varieties of roses but virtually all of them in full bloom. Right next to the rose garden is Anderson Park.

Normally, a cricket park wouldn't attract too much attention from us except there were dozens of American flags attached to the chain link fence and loud rock 'n roll coming from a loudspeaker. We wandered in and were greeted by a woman who works for the American embassy who said that this was an event to welcome the American rugby team. She invited us to stay for sausages and soft drinks as the team was due to arrive in just a few minutes. There were only about thirty or so people milling about but the place was decorated festively with bunting and flags. There were a bunch of brand new rugby balls lying around and I picked one up and began to toss it around as if it were a football.

American Olympic Rugby Team

Just before the rugby team arrived, a group of attractive young women dressed in red, white and blue sparkling skimpy costumes showed up. Just as the team's vans drove on to the field, the girls in costume broke into a cheer. Frankly, it was a little pathetic but it wasn't their fault - they had obviously missed out on the training they needed. Regardless, the American World Rugby Cup Team climbed out of their vans and assembled in some sort of order. A man wearing a sports coat and an American Rugby baseball cap began to speak into a microphone. His name is David Huebner.

David Huebner is the American ambassador to New Zealand. After he introduced the team's coach (who said very little), he asked the attractive cheer leaders to do another cheer and they did the same one they had done earlier. I guess there was supposed to be more fanfare, more people, more excitement but there was very little. It appeared that it was over as soon as it had started. Ambassador Huebner was walking by me and I said, "Uh, Mr. Ambassador? I'd like to introduce myself . . .". Ruthie and I engaged him for somewhere between five and ten minutes, talking mostly about the South Island and New Zealand wines (he said that most New Zealand wineries are owned by Americans). He was very gracious and didn't appear to be hurried. We exchanged cards. As it turns out, he was the first openly gay ambassador appointed by President Obama and only the third openly gay ambassador in US history. As we were leaving the field (my brand new rugby ball signed by all of the American rugby team under my arm) we noticed the stretch BMW with the two Americam flags mounted on the front fenders and the two very large bodyguards waiting patiently behind the building.

From there we walked to the New Zealand House of Representatives but we had missed the tour. We walked back to Rowena's via the waterfront, stopping for a beer on the way. I have fallen in love with yet another New Zealand city.

Tongariro Alpine Crossing, Continued

(Editor's Note: I can't figure out how to add to my previous post using my iPad. Please forgive my technical ignorance.)

 Mount Tongariro

It was cold and dark when the alarm on our cell phone went off at 0500. I trundled up to the toilets and came back, shivering and huddling over the little space heater in the cabin. I made coffee for me and tea for Ruthie using our single-burner camp stove in the cabin. It was just getting light outside as we made our way up to the bus stop, all our gear and food stuffed into our cheap and funky knapsacks. The other hikers and we stood around, stomping at the ground as we waited for the bus. No one spoke as the modern bus drove down the highway towards our drop off point. The clouds around the base of Mount Tongariro were glowing pink with the first rays of the morning sun but the top of the peak was cloud-free, allowing us a good view of the snow-covered top.

Trail Head

 

Usually the Holiday Park only has one shuttle per day, however, the Crossing had been closed the previous day due to bad weather and so were two days worth of hikers on this Saturday. Add to that a three-day weekend (Auckland Day on Monday) plus a summer weekend and the number of people making this famous New Zealand Great Walk was in the hundreds. At the drop off point the driver gave us some final instructions: Expect winds of 60 kph at the top with below freezing temperatures. Don't turn around and try to come back from where you've come - you'll be walking into the wind. The last bus is at 1630 - that gives you ten hours to cover twenty kilometers and a 1,000 meters of elevation gain.

The wind was calm as we started up the trail which was quite flat at first. Because this is a relatively active volcanic area, there are no trees and only the sparsest of vegetation. Even though I was was walking, I struggled to stay warm as we were still in the shadows of the ridges we had yet to climb. After about four kilometers, we approached the first steep section of the hike. Like many of the hiking trails in New Zealand, someone had gone through tremendous time and expense to install well-made wooden steps to get the hikers through the steep parts. By the time we reached the top of the ridge, I had stripped down to just my t-shirt and jeans but was forced to bundle up immediately once we stopped for a break. From there, we walked across the crater of a dormant volcano, the flat, smooth ground a welcome respite from the steep stairs.

The View from Red Crater of Mt. Ngauruhoe

Mt. Doom in the Lord of the Rings movies

Now we faced the second steep part but this time there were no stairs. The wind had started to fill in and it seemed to be getting colder despite the fact that there was bright sunshine. In places the path narrowed to just a few inches wide and I was forced to take my frozen hands out of my jacket pockets in order to hold on to the rocks as we climbed up the ridge to Red Crater - a bad slip here could have spelled disaster. The going was slow and the howling wind made my nose run continuously. We both had to take frequent stops but we finally made it to the precarious top where we had spectacular views of the mountains that were used in the Lord of the Rings movies. As we started back down, we got an excellent birds-eye view of the bright green Emerald Lakes with the steam from geothermal vents rising from their edges. Although it was only 10 in the morning, we stopped for lunch of salami, cheese, nuts and dried fruit. We each drank a liter of water.

Emerald Lakes with steam from geothermal vents

The balance of the trip was far less exciting or arduous but we didn't get to the pickup location until about 2 in the afternoon even though we walked steadily with few rest stops. One group of young people who made the crossing with us applauded when they saw us finish. I think they were privately worried that they were going to have to go back up and carry us out of there. "You didn't think us old folks were going to make it!" I said to their cheers. Our bus back to the Holiday Park arrived on time and our fellow hikers were far more animated on the way back even though everyone was exhausted. Ruthie fell asleep at 7pm and I was in bed not much later.

I got some great photos but I'll have to wait to post them until I can get to a regular computer as it's not possible to do from the iPad.

Tongariro Alpine Crossing

 Huka Falls

As our trusty minivan takes us southward through the North Island in New Zealand, we continually garner new appreciations for this island country. The main north-south road is often just two lanes as multiple lanes in each direction are unnecessary - although they still call it a 'motorway'. Mostly we're on secondary and tertiary roads while many of the best campgrounds are found after a long drive down a dirt road.  A couple of days ago, State Highway 1 took us to Taupo, a small town at the north end of Lake Taupo, the country's largest lake. The Waikato River drains off the huge lake and one of the first things it does is creating Huka Falls. Here the river runs deep and narrow, forcing huge quantities of water through a natural rock sluice box. The rumbling it makes shakes the ground.

Late that afternoon, we found a Holiday Park (something like a KOA) just outside of town, barbecued hamburgers stuffed with blue cheese and tried to get some sleep in our little tent. Even though our neighbors a few feet away tried to keep quiet, it was a lot noisier than we were used to.

 Our Cabin at Discovery Lodge in Whakapapa

The following day we drove south again and this time found a Holiday Park in the Tongariro National Park. However, the weather was lousy with rain and cold so instead of pitching our tent, we chose to rent a small cabin - I mean very small as there isn't room for much besides the double bed. Toilets, showers and kitchen facilities are about a 100 meters away. The other argument for a room instead of the tent is that we decided to take advantage of the Holiday Park's service of shuttling guests to the start of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing - the bus leaves at 6:15am.

Sorry, folks, I'll have to finish this later. The iPad's battery is almost dead and there's only one outlet in the room. Right now the space heater is connected to that one outlet and Ruthie won't let me unplug it!