Day 6: Some new mates, and the Waitomo caves
We
bade farewell to some now faithful drinking buddies this morning. Tim
and Johnny and the others who were on the trip headed in the Northern
direction had completed their journey and waved goodbye from the sidewalk
as our bus departed. In addition, our bus driver and resident comedian
Russ was headed back to Australia. In their places we picked up a bunch
of new young travelers and our new driver, Johnny. Just having gotten
to know Tim, it was too bad he had to head back to the farm in Tasi, but
most of the folks I'd gotten to know were headed south with me. While
Johnny wasn't the constant comedian that Russ was, he would prove to have
the gift of Irish understatement which I find characteristic of all proper
English speakers (when sober, that is!) and which would provide its own
share of laughs.
Our first destination? The famous Waitomo Glowworm Caves, a set of limestone caves which are named for an insect that in its pupa stage emits a glowing light used to attract other insects which fly into sticky threads the pupa hang from the ceiling of the cave. The pupa then pull the threads up and dine on their prey. In the darkness of the caves the light of the glowworms look like flecks of luminescent teal blue sprinkled all about.
Angie offered us a choice of four activities, three offered by Waitomo Adventures. Tumu Tumu Toobing involved riding in an inner tube through the caves, and some walking and swimming. Haggas Honking Holes included three abseils into waterfalls and rock climbing and belly-crawling through the caves. Lost World involved one giant 100 meter abseil. The highlight of the fourth option was a flying fox through some beautiful natural formations. I was torn between the Lost World, Haggas Honking Holes, and that fourth option.
When the brochures came around, I noticed that Waitomo Adventures assigned each of its adventures a Rambo Rating. Haggas Honking Holes scored an 8/10, while Lost World rated only a 6/10. That made up my mind. Haggas Honking Holes it was. Others choosing the adventure included Gemma, Penny, Corinna, Jens, Olav, Kjetil, and Rob.
Unfortunately, because we'd be getting drenched and would need both hands to abseil into the waterfalls, we couldn't bring our cameras. The Waitomo Adventures folks recommended purchasing a disposable camera and carrying it in a sandwich bag in our wetsuits, and I did. We rode a bus out to a shed where we donned wetsuits, helmets, boots, and harnesses and received a crash course in abseiling from our two unbelievably enthusiastic Kiwi guides.
Then we rode the bus out to a field in the mountains and hiked down to a hole in the ground. The guides went in first, and then we crawled down a ladder into the darkness. Immediately we encountered our first abseil, a 20 meter drop off a cliff into blackness. That first step off of the edge took a minor leap of faith, even hooked up to a rope, but once suspended, abseiling down along the rocky cave wall was a blast.
After we all successfully abseiled down to the cave floor, we headed off on a long, circular journey through the cave system. Sometimes we abseiled into waterfalls, other times we climbed rock walls, and yet other times we crawled on our bellies through tight passages, through shallow streams and small pools of cool water. It was a rush, though not as claustraphobic and intimidating as spelunking in Southern Illinois where I had passages where I'd get stuck while wriggling along on my belly between two walls of rock and struggle not to wig out.
My pictures turned out like crap. If I could do one thing over on this trip, it would be to bring a digital camera in a waterproof housing, not just for days like this but for scuba diving. But the adventure itself was a complete blast. Highly recommended.
Adrenalized, we drove on to the thermal wonderland that was Rotorua. As in most cities built on geothermal and volcanically active ground, the smell of sulfur is everywhere, and everywhere steam escapes out of gutters and cracks in the ground. We checked into the Kiwi Paka YHA, one of the nicer youth hostels I've ever stayed in. In addition to its ski-lodge like accomodations, it contained a great set of central social gathering places, including a kitchen, thermal pool, pool table, TV room with coin-operated Internet terminals, laundry room, and a bar called the Kiwi Tasting Bar where we gathered that night after dinner to knock back a few beers.
Unfortunately, the bar closed down at 11pm and I was forced, reluctantly, to turn in early.
Day 7: Whatchamacallit Maori Village, and the Polynesian Spas
Our first destination that morning was a short bus ride away: Whakarewarewa Thermal Village. It's a fully functioning Maori village built around and on top of geothermal hot springs, which are integral to the village's living routines. The full name of the village is Te Whakarewarewatanga O Te Ope Taua A Wahiao. For about five seconds after our guide taught us how to pronounce it, I could.
We
went on a guided tour
through the village. Our guide described how the geothermal pools and
springs were put to use throughout the village. Our lunch for that day,
for example, was cooking in the ground in a steam box. Villagers were
using the hot springs to bathe and wash their clothes. Of course, it wasn't
all without some element of peril. Everyone on the tour snapped a photo
of a hole in the ground where a car tire had recently sunk through the
pavement, revealing a fissure in the earth below.
We had some free time before after the tour, and I 
wandered
off by myself to explore the surrounding trails. The geothermal terrain
took on many forms, from an active geyser to bubbling mudpools to steaming
pools of water. In addition, Maori carvings, especially statues, could
be found throughout the village.
Just
before lunch we were treated to a Maori cultural performance. Having seen
one already at Auckland Museum, not much was new to me, though here at
the village the young children of the village were all gathered to sit
in front during the performance so they could learn the dances and carry
them forth to the next generation. And yes, there was the inevitable audience
participation section, and yours truly was indeed pushed on stage to unfurl
his tongue and slap his thighs as a mighty Maori warrior. My interpretation,
which I'd describe as fairly literal though infused with comic overtones,
was an awesome spectacle, to be sure, and an unexpected bonus for all
the fortunate tourists present that day.
Lunch was tasty, though for some reason the boys were seated on one end of the room, and all the girls on the other, as in the early moments of a junior high dance.
On the bus ride back, Johnny gave us the option of dropping off in town. I hopped off and immediately headed off in one direction. After trudging some distance, I turned around and realized that everyone else who disembarked had headed the opposite way. So much for my magnetic personality. Oh well.
I headed on and wended my way to the Polynesian Spa, a hot mineral water spa which capitalized on the area's geothermal activity in a luxurious way. Johnny had driven by it earlier in the day, and my heart had immediately seized on the idea of some pampering because, hell, I was on vacation. I inquired about massages. Unfortunately, all their masseuses were booked for the evening. I'd have to settle for a soak in their mineral pools. The rates were very reasonable.
On
the way back I strolled through the Government Gardens and watched some
elderly men playing some type of lawn bowling on some impeccably manicured
fields. Then I walked all over town sweating in the blazing heat, trying
to find my way back to the YHA. How many times have I been abroad, without
having calibrated my internal compass, with just instinct to guide me
towards my destination? I used to have to fight the urge to panic and
to cheat by hopping in the next available cab, but now I sometimes think
it would be a blessing to lose myself in some strange town in some faraway
land. As it was, I barely made it back in time to catch the bus which
picked us up for an afternoon of white water rafting.
Our white water rafting outfit was called Kaituna Cascades. The river water was quite low, so it wasn't as rocky or quick a ride as other rafting trips I've been on. For one thing, we never once flipped over or were in danger of capsizing, and often that's half the fun. Still, we did drop over one 7 meter or 23 foot waterfall, reputedly the Southern Hemisphere's highest commercially rafted waterfall. Coming up to it and not being able to see anything except the lip that the river disappeared over was a minor thrill. Seeing the fear in the virgin rafters faces? Priceless. I wasn't sure Albert, who wasn't as fluent in English as others, knew exactly what to do, but sometimes watching and copying is as good a survival technique as any other.
The fun never stopped. As soon as we made it back to the hostel we hopped the bus and whisked off to the Skyline Gondola.
New Zealand has numerous gondolas, seemingly one in every city. This was the first of many we'd encounter in our travels. Sure, the panoramic view from up top was a concise visual summary of Rotorua, but the real bonus here were the cement track luge rides. Angie passed out two tickets each, and I headed straight for the intermediate and advanced luge tracks. The luge was a small plastic cart on wheels, with a handle bar that could be used to steer (by turning its handles) and brake (by pulling back). My first time down was fairly uneventful. The second time down I chased Johnny and he executed a beautiful inside pass of a few girls, nearly flipping over when he half ran off the track onto a dirt bank.
Angie didn't use her tickets and passed them along to me. The third time down I raced Corinna. This was the first of a series of competitions we held throughout the trip. We're both overtly competitive, and we loved competing against each other in everything. She got a head start on me as I waited for a few people ahead of me to clear out, and I had lots of ground to make up so I didn't hit the brakes at all as I went careening down the mountain. Turns out you can't get away with that, and I slammed into one of the walls on the way down and nearly flew over the barrier off the track.
Damn, she beat me. And thus ended our visit to Mount Ngongotaha.
At dinner, I announced my intentions to hit the Polynesian Spa and offered to lead any interested parties on a walk to the spa. Lo and behold, 12 souls overcame the horrifying possibility of seeing my office-sculpted physique in a swimsuit and followed along. I don't remember the entire group, but it included Kerryn and Rachel, Tony and Jeremy, Stephanie, and Corinna.
I negotiated a group discount for us at the gate. It ended up costing us each $12NZ, a veritable bargain in my mind. We ended up spending all our time in the radium and priest hot springs, a series of acidic springs which bubbled up from the pumice and ranged in temperature from 33 to 43 degrees Celsius, or 90 to 100 degrees Farenheit. As with all such springs, the marketing literature promised a whole host of curative powers.
I can attest to the relaxative powers of soaking in those hot springs under the clear black skies. And that 43 degrees Celsius will cook your brain--it was too hot to even stand in that pool for more than a few minutes. All of us kept jumping back and forth from the 37 to 41 to 35 to 43 to 39 degree pools like newlyweds shopping for a new mattress. Anyhow, if you do make a stop in Rotorua, I highly recommend a visit to the Polynesian Spa. Book your massage ahead of time.
One recommendation, though. Rent some swimmers (the Aussie/Kiwi term for swimsuit) and a towel because the water will leave both smelling like sulfur, permanently. Also, the acidic water caused my legs to itch like crazy, but perhaps that was just me.
That evening Jens and I closed down the Kiwi Tasting Bar and learned some crazy drinking game from some other travelers staying there.
Next: The first brave souls jump; Lake Taupo; a long, long night out
Waitomo Adventures offers several different adventures for those wishing to explore the Glowworm caves:
- Tumu Tumu TOOBING (capitalization not mine): ride an inner tube through the caves, and hike and swim through other portions. Rambo Rating 6/10, NZ$75
- Haggas Honking Holes: abseil into three small waterfalls and rock climb and crawl on your belly through a stretch of the caves. Rambo Rating 8/10, NZ$145. This is the one I chose, and it was a blast.
- Lost World: one giant 100 meter abseil into the Lost World shaft, and hike on out. Rambo Rating 6/10, NZ$195
Kiwi Paka YHA is one of the nicest youth hostels I've ever stayed in anywhere in the world. It's about a 20-25 minute walk from downtown Rotorua.
TIP: don't wash your clothes while in Rotorua. The items I washed there still smell like sulfur, and I've given up on ever fully washing that odor out of the fabric.
Kaituna Cascades offers world-rated championship rafting guides and a chance to go over a 7 meter (23 foot) waterfall, the Southern Hemisphere's highest commercially rafted waterfall. Contact them at kaituna.cascades@clear.net.nz.
Skyline Skyrides: a gondola north of Rotorua that ascends Mount Ngongotaha, providing a panoramic view of Rotorua. As a bonus, you can descend the mountain in a luge or try the Sky Swing, which hurtles its passengers at up to 140 km/h.
Polynesia Spa: a hot mineral water spa on the edge of Lake Rotorua. Incredibly relaxing, especially in the radium and priest hot springs, but be prepared to torch your swimmers after your visit because they'll smell of sulfur, and it won't come out.