Middle Earth

The news you have all been waiting for. The new campervan is vastly superior to the old one, and even Michèle has been able to sleep soundly. Conclusion: if you hire a campervan, don’t try and do it on the cheap as we did, pay whatever is necessary to have a decent size vehicle. However, since Michèle can no longer complain about the van, she has started to claim that Peter’s feet smell, ever since she decided we should sleep head-to-toe to give us more space. It is now firmly established that his feet smell and his nose runs.

After leaving Auckland, we headed south into the volcanic region which was the setting for Middle Earth in the Lord of the Rings films. First stop was Matamata, the site of Hobbiton, although nothing now remains of the filmsets used. We visited Lillian and Henry Howard, friends of my sister Carol, and had a fine lunch with them. It makes a nice change to visit genuine New Zealanders, and to hear what they have to say about their own country. A welcome change also from the inevitable isolation that builds up when travelling from campsite to campsite.

Then on to Rotorua, centre of Maori culture and malodorous volcanic activity. We were permanently checking that we had not left the gas cooker on, but in fact it’s just the hydrogen sulphide that permeates the entire region. The Rotorua museum is housed in a magnificent mock-Tudor health spa built in 1908 for the rich and famous. Once advertised as the only spa in  the southern hemisphere, it was finally killed off by two world wars and the barbarity of the treatments it dispensed. Would you pay vast sums of money to be electrocuted? We had an excellent guided tour, including a 20 minute film depicting the Tarawera volcanic eruption in 1886; to add verisimilitude, the cinema seats rocked and jerked alarmingly at appropriate moments. One is made very aware that New Zealand lies along the Pacific Ring of Fire, and that earthquakes and volcanic eruptions can occur anywhere at any time. Vulcanology appears to be the least exact of all the life-critical sciences.

We then sampled volcanic activity ourselves, with a Deluxe Private Thermal Pool at the Polynesian Spa. Michèle thought that this would cure Peter’s cold, and indeed it did. But best of all, we were able to cavort stark naked for half an hour in hot mineral water. (See the revealing picture.)

That evening we went on an organised Maori cultural experience at a local village. A traditional welcome followed by Poi dancing (waving little fluffy pom-poms around), and the Haka war dance. Some of the men were invited to learn the Haka, and since Peter performed with such zeal, he was required to dance a solo Haka. The assembled multitude was duly frightened half to death by this spectacle, except for Michèle who accused Peter of showing off, as usual. Then we had a traditional Hangi meal, where everything is cooked in a hole in the ground. Finally a trip down to a sacred volcanic site to witness a geyser at night. The evening was very enjoyable and good-natured. However, the whole thing is a tourist trap, and the aspects of traditional culture are entirely artificial. The village exists solely for the tourists and the revenue they provide; the Hangi is no longer a hole in the ground since the Health and Safety Department don’t want the tourists killed off; the lamb, pork and chicken cooked therein are hardly traditional foodstuffs, since they did not exist in these islands before the arrival of the Europeans (not to mention the lemon Pavlova). We learned nothing new of Maori culture, which is a pity, since the Maori have a wealth of songs, poetry and legends to draw on. But a good time was had by all.

After a night scented with rotten eggs, we set off for Wai-o-Tapu (Sacred Waters in Maori), a “thermal wonderland” full of plopping mud-pools, spouting geysers, hissing fumaroles, boiling springs and polychrome steaming lakes. Michèle complained about the smell. Peter loved it. She also complained that Peter refused to keep to the designated track, preferring to go closer to the action to get better photos. She thinks that Peter has Congenital Disobedience Syndrome.

We then drove to the Huka Falls and Lake Taupo for scenic photo opportunities and walks. We fetched up for the night at Okahune, in the shadow of Mount Ruapehu, aka Mordor. A very cold night, but bright sun the following day, and the scenery is majestic. We had a quick forest walk, and then hit the road for Wellington.

We wandered about the city for a bit, and then went for a Pizza at The Red Dog restaurant, the only place we have ever come across that serves beef steak and Bearnaise sauce pizzas. Yum Yum.

This is the end of our stay in the North Island. The weather has been very kind to us, with bright sunshine and cloudless skies, except for the first day when it rained harder than we had thought possible. Tomorrow (16th March) we will take the Interislander ferry from Wellington to Picton on the South Island. See you there…