Alex and I went for our 5 day road trip and it was nothing short of fabulous. We woke early on Monday to get an early start. This necessary when traveling with a French person. They are slow as molasses. You have to tell them you’re leaving at 8 just so you can leave by 10. “It’s not pressed.” But also having Robert the Impatient Czech joining in on the first days activities didn’t mesh well. Robert near shitting his pants while Alex wanders around aimlessly looking for things to take with him. Finally we’re packed and ready and we begin the drive to Hot Water Beach. Hot Water Beach is a section of beach along the East coast of Coramandel in which the water is heated by the geothermal activity happening under the earth. We found an abandoned hole and jumped in. Holy frig was she hot! Like burning your skin hot. It was so neat though to sit in a puddle of beach water that was hotter than your average Jacuzzi. We basked in the sun in our hot tub and finished off our visit by playing in the massive waves and rolling down the sand dunes. We visited a gallery across the from the car park on the way back which housed some really amazing glassworks, jewelry, and vintage Vespas. Not too far away was our next destination, Cathedral Cove. This is a walkway that leads you to some spectacular scenery. Robert had to make his way back to Pauanui so started to hitchhike from here. Alex and I continued on the trek. The walkways brought us to Gemstone Bay, Stingray Bay and finally Cathedral Cove. All were amazing. Like scenes from the movie The Beach. We made a friend along the way, an American guy from Philidelphia, born and raised. On the playground is where he spent most of his days. His name was Ryan Smith. You can’t get much more American than that. We chilled on the beach until dusk and headed back to the carpark with one torch to guide the way. Alex and I were beat after a long day in the sun and drove to Whitianga where we were to meet Ben and Leigh and to bunk a night at Ben’s parents’ summerhouse. We stuffed our faces at a restaurant called Smitty’s and the four of us called it a night. The next morning we head off for the northern tip of the peninsula. I planned to spend a night at the Colville Farm Backpackers in the tres petite town of Colville. Home to one General Store but probably the greatest general store of all time. All the local organic farmers sold everything from tea to flour, to veges, to spices here. It really had everything. We picked up some food for the evening and made way for the cozy backpacker. It was very homey with a fireplace to use and plenty of activities for us to partake in if we wanted. We met Desiree and Elizabeth, two American girls doing a four week bike trip in NZ. Then there was Gareth, and Irish bloke and his travel mate Alex from France. So we had two Alex’s from France, one male, one female. The only reasonable way to differentiate the two was to call them Alex With Balls, Alex Without Balls. And so it goes.
We wanted to visit the glowworm caves before too late so Alex with Balls and I started the long ascend to the glow worm caves. It took us a good two hours to get there treading through cow paddocks, dodging sheep manure, and walking through beaten up paths down the mountain. But the destination was worth all the sweat. We dipped into a narrow cave that felt like a tomb entrance into one of the Great Pyramids. It was pitch black all around us until our eyes adjusted to the darkness. Like a sea of constellations on a clear night, bright blue lights began to emerge from the roof of the cave. More and more appeared to further in we went. They were the glowworms. To get a better look at them we shone the torch on one and saw it was a small worm hammocked in bed of silk spinning long beaded threads that hung from the ceiling like icicles. Feeling very National Geographic, we headed back, yet again in the dark avoiding piles of dung.
After making falafels and chopping wood outside with the axe (which I must say I got quite good at after a few practice swings) we joined the others for some poker and we stoked the fire and laughed the night away. In the morning we got up to hand milk the cows and get some eggs from the chickens. As on the activities at the backpacker we could help milk the cow. So we fed the pigs and milked ourselves some fresh milk for breakfast. With our own handmilked milk and freshly laid eggs we had French toast for breakfast. We agreed to join up with Gareth and Alex the that day as we both intended on doing the hiking trail along the tip’s coastline. We drove up in Gareth’s awesome van complete with a bed. It was so nice to be a passenger as I could gawk at the scenery the whole time and not have to concentrate on the road. The drive was beautiful. Along a dirt road, literally right on the edge of the cliff. Nothing but small islands and the wide Pacific Ocean in our view. It was breezy and slightly chilly when we got to the walkway. We met up with a solo traveling German girl, Susan, and she joined us for the walk. Claiming our tiredness for the same conversations when you meet fellow travelers (ie: Where you from? How long have been in NZ? What have you done so far? Blah blah?) we opted for more exciting questions like, “what was your most embarrassing moment?” Or “if you had to lose a hand or a foot which would it be and why?” We completed half the walkway and turned around in fear of rain and to eat some PB and J sandwiches. We said our adieus and parted ways.
Alex and I then drove south for Coramandel Town about one hour away. We picked a funky backpacker called the Lion’s Den and was definitely the coolest backpacker I’ve been to yet. Great character and colors. To our surprise when we arrived, our American friends Desiree and Elizabeth were there as well as Susan, the girl who joined us on the walk. It was so fun to see them again and to prove once again how small this world is. I really liked Desiree. Very free-spirited and with heaps of tattoos. 20-some tattoos I believe. But hers, as weird as some of them were, suited her to a Tee. We shared senses of humor and had great discussions about everything from relationships to the Canadian seal hunt. We said our goodbyes the next morning again and started the 3 hour drive to Rotorua. We made a pit stop to the Kauri grove where there stood a Siamese Kauri tree. Two of these huge trees had grown together at the base and sprouted upwards together high into the sky. Our second pit stop came when we noticed the sign with an arrow pointing towards “Hobbiton Movie set.” We couldn’t pass it up so we turned right instead of left. It was supposed to be only 5 kilometers away but driving much more than five we gave up on finding the actual hobbit houses. However we left satisfied as we had definitely recognized this area as the Shire. The trees and green rolling hills were those trodden by Frodo and the crew I’m sure of it.
Finally we drove into the stinky city of Rotorua. Not stinky from pollution, but stinky from the geothermal activity that takes place underneath the whole town. Steam rises from the ponds and even the ground in the park all day long. A strong smell of nature’s sulphur lingers in the air all the time here. Alex and I stopped at a place called Skyline, where we took a gondola up to the top of the summit and took luges down. These aren’t your standard Olympic luges, no. They are like sleds with wheels and handlebars for steering and you fly down a concrete path that winds down the huge hill. It was too much fun so we did it twice. You’ll see pictures soon. We had plans to attend a Moari Hangi in the evening so we had to find our backpacker. We arrived at the Funky Green Backpackers which was most definitely funky. The Hangi was starting soon so we had to be fast. The Hangi is the traditional cooking method and meal of the Moari culture. They begin by heating up rocks for over 3 hours with fire. When the rocks are hot enough they place the food in flax woven baskets and set them on the hot rocks. Then they spray the fire with water and the smoke from it cooks the food. Arriving with a large group of tourists we found our seat and awaited the show to begin. So along with the Moari meal we were getting a tour around the ancient tribal grounds and a show about the traditions and their ancestors. When the MC of the night found out that were people from 14 countries around the world we were formed as the Tribe of 14 Nations. We walked down the fire lit paths with old Moari carvings staring at us as we walked to the stream. Then drums started out of the black night. And then chants. 10 men came rowing down the stream in authentic costume and proper tattooage on their faces and a genuine Moari canoe. They chanted and stared straight ahead, bugging their eyes out as they often do. After they passed we were led to an amphitheater of sorts. The audience was under a roof but the set was outside with real trees and fires. We were shown many of the traditional dances and song and the standard greeting ceremony when welcoming someone to the tribe. The women played an instrument called Poi, which is basically a rope with two balls at each end and they swing them around hypnotically while creating the sound of 12 timpani beating in unison. It was cool. After an hour and our stomachs screaming for food we were led back to the tent for food. And holy. Crap. It was amazing. Lamb and chicken and vegetable concoctions out of this world. All smoked in the ground. It was all you can you eat, and by golly, we ate all we could eat. With our bellies full and brains entertained, we were further led to the tribes’ sacred water hole. It was surrounded by glowworms in the bush and when the tour guide turned her torch on, we saw the water. But just barley. The water was so undisturbed and crystal clear that it was difficult to notice it at all. If it wasn’t for the large fish swimming in it and the bubbling sand you would never know the difference. Super bien.
The evening was perfect. Great food, company, and atmosphere. But as Murphy would have it, there had to be some bad luck lurking around the corner. Inside my car’s ignition to be more specific. That’s right, I left my keys in the car with it turned on to the first switch. Battery dead. No one around had booster cables so I had to call AA (The NZ version of CAA). They re-hydrated my battery and boosted it for a pretty penny of 60 dollars. A minor setback but I was just happy to know that my car wasn’t Dead dead. After another long day and a long drive in the morning we hit the bunk beds in the dorm room with 6 others weary travelers already snoring away into slumber.
To round it up, it was a great trip and great to have someone to do it with. You do different activities when you travel with someone than when go solo. So it was good for a switch. But I’m off alone again to take a swing at surfing. I am headed to a town called Raglan, famous for its superb surfing waves and will take a few lessons and spend a week there learning. Oh, and also, the electronic sun roof on my car now functions, so not to brag, but that pretty much makes my car the best car in the world.
