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Kiwis and Kangaroos
a travel blog by
exumenius
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Sydney Walkabout - Night 41
Sydney
,
Australia
I awoke from my air mattress in the dining room rather late and it was nearly 10:30 by the time Paolo and I had made our way into the city to meet the girls. The others were dead set on seeing the zoo; I was not, so we went our separate ways for the day. For me traveling in groups is difficult at best, so a day alone was much welcome.
The City from the Gardens
My walkabout began by heading north through the massive botanical gardens, which are larger than the town I grew up in. A great place for a walk, the gardens actually encourage tramping on the grass, not the concrete. At the very north end of the green is located the iconic Sydney Opera House. The usual frenzied atmosphere of the place was heightened as work crews were on hand to set up an outdoor stage for an upcoming performance of Australian Idol (just another example of the Aussies borrowing some of America’s worst culture phenomena). The opera house is every bit as beautiful as imagined, but it is strange to finally be standing at a place you have seen in pictures for years. I continued around Little Cove, up to Lady Macquerie’s Chair and back down the east side of the botanical gardens back to Hyde Park.
All my hiking had worked up quite an appetite so I headed to Pitt Street Mall for lunch. Pitt Street is a single block pedestrian mall in the heart of the city, that on a week day lunch hour was absolutely jammed with people. It reminded me slightly of walking through Times Square in New York, though not quite to that level of density, of course. In the food court there was nary a single open seat. Surprisingly, I find the din created by thousands of anonymous conversations (many in another language) very peaceful…almost like a waterfall or the tide crashing on the beach.
After lunch my circuitous path through the city took me down George Street and back up through Chinatown. Sydney wears its multi-cultural hat with pride and the Asian influences in the city are hard to miss, both in the demographics of the population and the face of its commercial districts. I continued up Sussex and then west to Darling Harbor and the Wharf. After a short break on the waterfront I walked back to George Street and turned left toward the area known as the Rocks, the oldest part of Sydney. From here are great views of the underside of the Harbour Bridge and, again, the Opera House. From the Rocks I climbed the Argyle Steps and began the long walk over the bridge. Though cold (as a stiff wind blew in on the harbor) the walk along the bridge is a must for a visitor to Sydney. The views are simply amazing.
Returning to Charlie’s around 6, I met his roommates, Matt, Alex, and Lucy for the first time. We went for a swim in their newly cleaned pool (the sofa and chairs had been removed from the last wild party they threw a few weeks back). After the girls showed up, we went out for Thai food in Crow’s Nest, a small neighborhood nearby. The food was decent, though not nearly as good as Bell Thai in Seattle.
What I Learned Today: I rarely feel overwhelmed when visiting man-made sights (such as the Opera House)…on the other hand, natural places, such as the Grand Canyon, Fraser Island, Mt. Rainier, etc., tend to deliver much more than expected.
written by
exumenius
on November 20, 2007
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Sydney
,
Australia
from the travel blog:
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Bondi Beach - Night 42
Sydney
,
Australia
Paolo and I on the rocks near Bondi
Paolo and I met the girls at the Town Hall station to catch our train out to the world famous Bondi Beach. About an hour away, Bondi is located on the far eastern reaches of Sydney in a small cove along the Pacific Ocean. The sky was cloudy all morning, but the sun broke through just as we arrived. By 2pm the beach was packed with beautiful people, many of the girls topless. Bondi being the site of the 2000 Olympic Volleyball matches we were expecting nets and pros playing on the beach. We were mightily disappointed as not a net or ball was in sight. The only beach sports going on were some schoolkids playing cricket. Prior to leaving Paolo and I jumped in the ice cold water for a quick swim. Surprising how much colder it was than the water just a few hundred miles north in Noosa.
World Famous Bondi Beach
We managed to return to the city ahead
Jagermeister in Sydney
of the approaching storm, which we watched from the rooftop pool and hot tub of the Marriot. Tonight was Charlie’s big night, his first attempt at standup comedy at the Surf Rock Hotel and Bar. The bus ride out to Collaroy was nearly 45 minutes long and when we arrived found the place to be much bigger and classier than first imagined. Charlie had a late time and everyone before him was a musician, two facts which eventually worked against him. By the time his set came up, most of the decent patrons had gone and all that was left was a younger crowd who by this time was fairly drunk and simply content with nodding their heads to poorly covered 90s American Rock songs. His first few jokes, funny to an American, where simply lost in translation and then the heckling began. He never really had a chance and stepped off stage a few minutes later. A rough first experience.
Charlie on Stage
The bus ride back to town felt much longer than the ride in. To kill the pain we stopped at Jackson’s on George for drinks and a few games of pool. A late night search for food in Crow’s Nest proved unfruitful and we returned to the house with some frozen fish and chips from 7-11.
What I Learned Today: Australians have chicken flavored chips and chicken salt.
written by
exumenius
on November 21, 2007
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Sydney
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Australia
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Manly Museum - Night 43
Sydney
,
Australia
The weather was as poor as predicted and it rained intermittently throughout the day, so inside activities it was. After lunch at Wrapido, we met the girls at the Marriot and walked a few blocks to the Museum on College Street. Basically a natural history museum, it also had a current exhibit on African impressions which was primarily a collection of aerial photographs from National Geographic; an excellent example of the diversity, both physical and economic, on the continent of Africa. The skeletons room had very interesting exhibits showing just how similar some very common animals are to each other. Once stripped of their skin, Koalas look surprisingly like large possums, likewise, the difference between a wild boar and a dog on a skeletal level is quite minute. Albert Chapman, one of the world’s greatest mineral collectors is a local, so an entire room on the second floor was dedicated to some of his amazing finds, many of which are so colorful and strange that you couldn’t dream a design like that up. It is simply astounding that they came from the same earth that most of us imagine as just brown dirt and grey rock.
Sydney from the Ferry
Post-museum we took a ferry out to
Charlie and I at Manly Beach
Manly Island to watch the surfers and the volleyballers. Manly, though the beach is supposedly polluted, is much larger and more active than Bondi. After nearly blowing the bank at a nice steak house, we settled on fish and chips for dinner. I was not overly impressed with either. Didn’t even compare to a good ole fashioned Wisconsin Friday Night Fish Fry.
The ferry ride back took us past the Opera House and the city skyline at dusk, which was quite beautiful. Upon the return to the mainland we hopped a bus to Charlie’s for an early night of relaxation.
What I Learned Today: “Terra Nullius” is the doctrine that the English used to steal land from the Aborigines. It referred to the fact that the land was not being used in a manner consistent with their religious and political beliefs (farming and private property ownership) thus the British owed it to the Aborigines to fix their ‘poor’ land use practices. While we now realize this was a foolish practice, “Terra Nullius” (or a refined concept thereof) might still have some use as a way to reappropriate land from absentee land owners and destructive corporations back to the public for the public good.
written by
exumenius
on November 22, 2007
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Sydney
,
Australia
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Entering New Zealand - Night 45
Auckland
,
New Zealand
Hyde Park
For the last time (at least in the foreseeable future) I crawled off my partially deflated air mattress to face another day. I quickly showered, packed my belonging, said goodbye to Paolo and Charlie (the last familiar faces I’ll see until sometime next year) and headed for the airport, destination: Auckland, New Zealand.
After a quick three hour flight I was officially in the land of the Kiwis. Touching down around 4:30 it was nearly six before I arrived at the Auckland International YHA. Located on the outskirts of downtown in the Asian section of the city, the YHA was only a three block walk, down a 20 degree sloping road, from the stop where the airport bus let me off. The weather was autumnal; a brisk wind and low, fast moving clouds, together with the hills and abundant Asian population had me feeling right at home…if this isn’t Seattle reincarnate, I don’t know what is. They even have their very own Space Needle.
I was sharing a room with two Swiss guys who had bought a car today for $2,300 and were planning on driving the South Island in search of work, an Italian who was headed to the clubs and a British/American couple who were attached at the hip, literally. People who incessantly cuddle and whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ears (while spooning) amongst complete strangers are really fucking annoying. Get a double room…ah yes, the joys of hostel living.
At dusk a quick reconnaissance mission of
Auckland Town Hall at Dusk
the city aligned my inter compass and landed me a delicious kebab. Auckland has its share of glass towers and modern buildings, but a certain feeling of adolescence remains here, like a teenager just months from his eighteenth birthday. Diversity and natural scenery are evident, as is a will to grow. Nearly 1 in 3 New Zealanders call this area home, so the pressure is on to become a booming, world class city, and preparations to do such are under way.
What I Learned Today: Do not pack your boots in the bottom of your bag when entering New Zealand…the customs officials will make you dig them out to check them for illegal mud. Serious.
written by
exumenius
on November 24, 2007
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Auckland
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New Zealand
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The Auckland Sun - Night 46
Auckland
,
New Zealand
For my first full day in New Zealand I was
The City from the museum hill
greeted with a cloudless sky and a light westerly wind. To honor such an occasion I took a brief jog through Albert Park in the morning. After repacking my bag (post customs boot-removal incident) and doing some laundry I climbed the hill up the Auckland Museum. The museum, which is advertised on the outside as a War Memorial Museum, has three floors of exhibits, all seemingly unrelated. The first floor was composed of Maori history and artifacts, the second of the natural history of New Zealand and the third being the War Memorial. They also had a special Charles Darwin exhibit on the first floor that I truly desired to see, though I couldn’t justify spending coughing up the $15 entrance fee to this one small room (the rest of the Museum was free, though I had to pay $1 to check my backpack.)
After a short stop back the YHA, I walked toward the harbor taking a minor detour to the Magic Bus headquarters in order to confirm tomorrow’s booking. Much to my utter dismay I was delayed enroute by the Santa Parade. Downtown Auckland had become 18 linear blocks of bands, crying children, police cars, clowns, grown men dressed as elves and parents with reindeer horns on their heads. At every corner volunteers where handing out brochures and these strange pizza flavored vegetable treats. I had no desire to try them (having just eaten and trying to cull as many processed foods from my diet as possible) until I heard a small girl of about seven protest violently at her mother when she was trying to give her a bag. “but mom, these taste terrible.” I was sold. Fuck it, I thought, can they really be that bad that a seven year old wouldn’t take a free bag of them? The answer is:…..Yes, they are. The taste is something between a stale potato chip and piss warm Earl Grey tea. I threw the rest of the bag away. I walked along the port for a bit and stopped at a grocery store to stock up for breakfast on the way home.
The World's Greatest Burgers
On yesterday’s bus ride into the city I saw what I thought to be a sign for a restaurant called Burger Wisconsin. This evening I set out on mission to find it. Luckily I recall it being near Mt. Eden so not only would I have a high point to aim for but I could also climb the mountain (actually just a large hill, a volcanic remnant of some millions of years ago) while in this part of town. About an hour and three miles later I found the place. Why not take the bus you ask? Because that would not have been a proper pilgrimage. I wanted to suffer a little bit for my piece of Midwest culture. The large red sign says “Burger Wisconsin: Home of the world’s best burgers.” Inside was a sign explaining the origin of the hamburger in good old Seymour, Wisconsin. To read the complete story see their website at www.burgerwisconsin.co.nz. It turns out the place is a chain over here, so being that I didn’t eat at this one, I will most certainly be stopping at their Wellington location sometime next month.
The short hike up Mt. Eden, or Maungawhau
White Mountain from Mt. Eden
as the native know it as, was much easier than it looks from the bottom. The views are spectacular, offering a 360 degree panorama of the Auckland region. Surprisingly the entire mountain is fenced and cattle roam freely on it. I was a bit shocked at first, but then again, why not. This way they never have to mow it and the grass is continually fertilized.
What I Learned Today: Much like the symbiotic cattle/park relationship mentioned above, the people of New Zealand just seem to “get it” when it comes to environmental stewardship. Lights turn off automatically, small little reminders are everywhere reminding you to recycle, turn off the faucet, etc. While the “Green” craze is reaching a sort of fad, or pop culture, level in the U.S., it just seems to be a way of life over here. Perhaps when you live on an island you better understand the fact that supply of natural resource, though vast, are not unlimited.
The City from Mt. Eden
written by
exumenius
on November 25, 2007
from
Auckland
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
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Waitamo and Rotorua - Night 47
Rotorua
,
New Zealand
I awoke and went for a jog at what I thought was 6am. Upon returning I found that it was already 7:20 and my bus was due out front of the hostel at 7:55. Apparently sometime during the night my watch lost 50 minutes. Piece of shit. That or I can’t tell time.
I made my bus, shower and all. Our first stop was a quick drive up Mt. Eden, which having seen this last night, was not much of an attraction for me. The large Magic tour bus was about 1/3 full, a few older couples, a number of pairs of friends and probably a dozen solo travelers like me. I heard some German, Italian, and an unknown Slavic sort of tongue, definitely a multi-cultural group. Greg was our driver for the day. A friendly guy, he did not quite have his tour guide routine down yet as he stumbled over a few explanations and forgot the names of the some of the sights along the way. His actual maneuvering of the vehicle, however, was superb.
Deep in the Cave
The first stop was the small town of Waitomo. Located above some amazing limestone karst geology, the name Waitomo is Maori for “the place the water disappears,” referring to the numerous creeks that appear and disappear into caves in the area. Greg pitched the black water rafting adventure hard, but most of the group, myself included, was scared off by the $89 price tag. Another pay option was to do a guided walkthrough of a cave that housed some glow worms clinging to the walls. Not being much for guided tours, especially since a bus of Japanese tourists arrived at the same time as we did, I opted for door number three, a six mile roundtrip hike through the countryside to a large natural bridge/cave on the upper Waitomo Creek. The weather was warm but windy and the hike proved harder than expected. Much of it was exposed, the terrain undulating, and as a result I was sweating like a pig by the end of the second mile. It proved to be better training
The Waitomo Creek
for Tongariro (on Thursday) that I had expected. The payoff at the end was worth it; a massive cave where the water came tumbling out of. I could feel the cold air rushing from the cave long before I could see it. A natural air conditioner if I’ve ever seen one.
We left Waitomo around 3 and were in Rotorua, our final destination for the day around 5. Rotorua is an adventurer’s paradise with rafting, skydiving, zorbing, hiking, and many other activities all located in the immediate vicinity. Upon arriving, the sulphurous stench from the nearby volcanic vents was evident, but not as overwhelming as I had read online. Perhaps the wind was blowing in the proper direction. After checking into the Crash Palace, I made a grocery run and then a pork pasta dinner. I also booked a whitewater rafting trip for tomorrow morning. Exhausted, I was, once again, early to bed. My self-imposed drying out period is working well here in New Zealand; more on account of my fatigue than my self-control.
What I Learned Today: I thought the Aussies were geniuses for cutting out the penny and rounding everything to the nickel. Well, in typical South Pacific rivalry fashion, the Kiwis have one-upper their larger neighbors by eliminating both the penny and the nickel. That’s right, everything is rounded (by the “Swedish” system – 0-4 = 0, 5-9 = 10) to the nearest 10 cents. As the British would say….”Fucking Brilliant.”
written by
exumenius
on November 26, 2007
from
Rotorua
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
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Rafting the Kaituna - Night 48
Rotorua
,
New Zealand
I was wrong about the severity of the sulphurous smell. Upon opening the door to the hallway this morning I was instantly hit with a whiff of that unmistakably aroma of rotten eggs. I guess the wind had changed and the odor was blowing straight into town. Being a glutton for the obscene and weird, my morning jog took me straight to the lake, though the Government Gardens and eventually near a few of the geothermal pools. The nearer the lake, the stronger the stench. After a while you just get used to it and carry on with life. I imagine it is sort of like living in Kaukauna or Tacoma…except that I haven’t yet seen any two headed children around here.
Rafting the Kairuna
My bus to the rafting base arrived promptly sometime after nine-ish. There were nine of us for rafting, another four brave souls would be ‘sledging’ -- sort of like tobogganing down the river on small, hand held sleds. Stevie was our driver, a late twenties/early thirties guy with long hair and an infectious personality…the perfect combination for an adventure guide. Arriving at the base the other guides were all the same, tanned, long hair, carefree guys having the time of their life and getting paid to do it. I am Jack’s sense of envy. The rafters split into two groups, I was put with a mid-30s couple from California on their honeymoon, and two guys from France. Our raft would have two guides, Jimbo and Jeffy, and thus we would be the first to go over the larger falls along the way. The other boat, with only one guide, would follow behind.
The trip started with a prayer to the Maori gods of the river -- delivered in eloquent fashion by Jimbo (if an unkempt man with dreadlocks and a strange stamp on his head can be described as eloquent) The beginning 100 meters of the river was very calm and we simply went over the basics of rafting and what to do when we hit the large falls. Easy stuff. The first challenge was a two meter drop followed immediately by a one meter drop – the remnants of an old power plant. We made it through, wet but unscathed. After some smaller rapids, a bit of drifting and a history lesson by the guides we began preparation for the large 7 meter drop. Purportedly the largest in commercial rafting, we would be dropping over 20 feet down a falls into the churning water. Often the rafts tip, so we went over rescue plans and other eventualities. A brief Maori chant got our blood coursing through our veins and we approached, with Jeffy steering in the back and Jimbo screaming up front. We caught some good air, ducked down into the water and came up a bit cock-eyed but managed to stay upright. Another successful fall. According to the guides, yesterday 4 of the 5 boats capsized. It was then our turn to spin around and play rescue boat for the trailing raft. Luckily, they also made it without tipping. The trip ended soon afterwards, all told just over an hour on the river.
Returning to base, a group of photographers had raced along with us taking photos as we descended the falls. I knew they would be selling them at the end, but was shocked by the price -- $40 for 30 photos. The rafting trip itself only cost $70. The photos looked nice, but I couldn’t justify blowing $40 on it. Hopefully I can catch up with the French guys down the road and give then $10 to download pictures off their CD.
Back at the hostel I ate lunch and took a well
Rotorua Museum
deserved nap. In the afternoon I went for a hike along the Lake Rotorua trail. Following the lake shore, the trail takes you right through the middle of numerous geothermal holes continuously spouting steam and mud. It is an eerie feeling watching mother nature hiccup such stench from her bowels just meters away. A testament to the awesome power and seemingly unending wonders of the earth.
What I Learned Today: The Maori, in an effort to protect their women and children during times of tribal warfare, would lower them down via ropes into caves built into the sides of the cliffs formed by the Kaituna River. From this vantage point the women….fuck it, this is boring. You don’t want to hear about Maori defensive tactics. You are thinking, “he has got all this time on his hand, couldn’t he at least come up with something a bit more reflective, entertain us with deep thoughts on the fabric of the cosmos, or at least something learned about himself or life in general.” Ok, here goes. Like most everyone else, I often meet someone and think, “Damn they look like so and so.” This has been happening to me with nearly everyone I’ve met over here. Right now I am sharing a hostel room with a young Rachel Wussow, Ed Bove, a girl with Annie Laux’s nose, Eric Krull and a cross between Lindsey Delecki and Morgan Kimbrough. My rafting guides today were Jason Delleman and a hippy version of James Kessenich. I can go on….Perhaps it is because my mind is so unattuned to not seeing familiar faces that it is trying to create them or maybe I’ve finally slowed the pace of my life to the point where I can spend the time and psychic energy to look deeply at people, to stare into their soul, to contemplate their very existence and then, poof, simply judge them based on who they look like from my previous lives. On the other hand, it is entirely likely that I’ve just lost my mind.
written by
exumenius
on November 27, 2007
from
Rotorua
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
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Meandering to Taupo - Night 49
Taupo
,
New Zealand
The Magic bus departed promptly at 9 am this morning. Our final destination for the day was Taupo, only 100 kilometers to the south. We would, however, not arrive until the middle of the afternoon, as many ancillary activities were on the schedule for the day. The first stop was the Lady Knox Geyser. A natural geyser that erupts once every 24 to 30 hours (depending on barometric pressure, humidity and nine other things known only to geologists), the Lady Knox is force-fed a large chunk of soap every day at 10:15 to coax an eruption out of her for the numerous tour busses that make the stop on their way up or down the spine of New Zealand’s North Island. Why soap you ask? The soap breaks the surface tension of the upper chamber of water, thus allowing the lower, hotter chamber to force its way to the surface. The eruption, lasting about five minutes, was as expected – entirely anti-climatic.
Wai Te Pu Hot Pools
Our next port of call was the Wai Te Pu geothermal visitor’s center. For $25 one can visit a small museum and walk amongst some active hot springs. Lefty, our driver, also suggested that those of us a little more adventurous (and sick of geothermal museums) can hike a few minutes for a free dip in a swimming hole. Six of us quickly changed into our swimmers and marched off. The posse consisted of James (a Brit), Karen from Montreal (who has been traveling for almost two years), an Israeli guy (name unknown) and two Dutch girls (names withheld for diplomatic reasons). The swimming hole was located at the convergence of two streams, one heated by a volcanic vent, one not. Returning the bus we discovered the museum was a rip-off, all the while grinning because our swim was more than worth the price of admission.
An hour later Lefty pulled the bus in the
Rock n Ropes Park
Rock and Ropes adventure grounds. Basically a playground on steroids, the Rock and Ropes allowed visitors to jump off things while tethered up, for a nominal price. Just another tourist trap that I avoided; though I did offer my services as cameraman for a few of the folks who engaged the giant swing ride. Next stop was Huka Falls, an elongated falls that James and I decided would be dangerous, but ‘incredibly wicked’ (his words, not mine) to kayak down. An attempt at such foolish bravado was not made.
Huka Falls
We pulled into Taupo around 2pm and headed
Taupo Bungy
to the Taupo Bungy and Café. A strange combination, but one that works as most people just come to watch courageous friends throw themselves off a 43 meter high platform above the Taupo River. James the aforementioned Brit, and Jaycee, a Canadian lass from Saskatoon, willfully coughed up the $100 to jump off the cliff. I was very tempted to do it, but having promised myself that I would wait until Queenstown (the birthplace of bungy) I remained steadfast. Strangely, I met a guy from Madison at the Café. Small world.
My accommodation for the next two nights was the Taupo Downunder YHA. Most of my bus was staying there as well. We spent the evening going over photos and preparing for our big hike tomorrow: the Tongariro Crossing. I met a guy from Vancouver BC in the kitchen who had done the hike today and said that being from the Pacific Northwest I would have no problem with the crossing. In fact, he thought I would find it a bit easy and that it could probably be done in 5 hours, sans side hikes, if necessary, not the 8 hours they recommend. It was early to bed as the bus left for the mountain at 5:40am the next morning.
What I Learned Today: Traveling can be a bit like life in a microcosm. You meet wonderful people, you get on well, and then you part ways. In life this takes years, generally about three to four (think high school, college, your average time at one job), but in traveling it is all compressed into a few short days. A more sentimental person might consider this to be tragic, but I’ve come to accept it as fact. Enjoy your time together, try to learn something, gather some contact information, and part ways….each of you on your own adventure.
written by
exumenius
on November 28, 2007
from
Taupo
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
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Crossing the Tongariro - Night 50
Taupo
,
New Zealand
Mt. Ruapeho
To release my inner Sherpa. At least that was the plan. I awoke at prior to 5am, unaided by the alarm Ken (a St. Louis native) had set in our room. Today, we trek the Tongariro Crossing and, if the weather cooperates, climb Mount Ngauruhoe, otherwise known as Mt. Doom from Lord of the Rings. The bus left exactly at 5:40 and after a few more pickups and a long drive along the lake we landed at the trailhead around 7:15. The weather was clear and cool, but a nasty lenticular cloud kept the summit of Ngauruhoe cloaked in mystery. The bus driver prophesized that the sun would burn the cloud off by 9 or so, giving us a chance at summiting the active volcano (the last eruption was in the 1970s, but at least once a year steam comes pouring out of the crater on top). In order to complete the summit and get back to the trail end in time for the
Mt. Ngauruhoe (Mt. Doom)
bus at 4:30 you must make very good time on the mountain. Accordingly, I charged ahead, climbing the Devil’s Staircase with reckless abandon. I reached the turnoff for the summit hike 45 minutes ahead of schedule, took a short water break and proceed upward. The cloud remained in place, hanging just above a small snowfield over 1/3 of the way up. My plan was to ascend to the snowfield with the hope the cloud would blow off in time to attempt the summit. Upon reaching the snowfield, through what was the nastiest hike I had ever done, the cloud
Ngauruhoe's Slope
hadn’t budged. The going so far had been atrocious, the black scree was very unstable and every two steps up was followed by slipping down a step or more. I took a small break at the snowfield and assessed the situation. Weather moving in from the west was beginning to cloud up and I didn’t want to attempt an unfamiliar mountain with limited visibility, not to mention the fact that I still had another 1,500 feet to ascend at a 45 degree pitch. I made the snap decision to turn around, knowing that I still had enough time to bag the much easier
Blue Lake
Tongariro Summit later in the hike. About a half an hour after returning the main track the cloud began the lift and the Ngauruhoe Summit briefly showed some of its face. I was kicking myself at my lack of resilience. Another half an hour later, my regrets where soon forgotten as more clouds moved in and the wind began to pick up. All things considered, my error on the side of caution likely proved fortuitous
Mt. Ngauruhoe
Back on the main track, I headed up the Red Crater
Tongariro Crater
rim. A high exposed saddle between the two mountain peaks, the wind here is amazing. It blew at a nearly constant 30 to 40 miles per hour. The scenery, however, was second to none. Beautiful shades of brown, black and gray, not to mention the clouds whipping by just hundreds of feet above your head. These same fierce winds fill the sails that are my sense of adventure. The scenery and the elements leave you with such an atavistic, feral feeling of being; one that city-dwellers and flatlanders alike can’t possible begin to understand, let alone appreciate. Life above the tree line, while harsh, is immensely alluring. So exposed and susceptible to snow pack and brutal weather is the saddle between Tongariro and Ngauruhoe that not even the black and grey lichens cling to the rocks here. It is, at least visibly, vacant of all life.
I quickly took the side track up to the Tongariro peak where I met Ken and Lars, two guys from the hostel. The hike to the Tongariro peak was a walk in the park and even allowed me some free boot-skiing on a remaining snowpack. Next up was the descent down the red crater into the valley of the emerald lakes. My two side trips had cost me my time advantage that I had so painfully snatched from the Devil’s Staircase. As a result I had to pass all the weak-legged non-hikers on the way down the loose scree. The emerald lakes at the bottom were just that, emerald.
The Emerald Lakes
A quick lunch and up the next rise to the Blue Lake, a massive tarn lake which held the deepest, clearest shade of blue imaginable. Crayola couldn’t possibly contrive a more perfect hue. After the Blue Lake, the hike begins its long descent down the northeast side of the mountain. An hour and a half of mindless switchbacks through subalpine terrain, eventually giving way (though rather suddenly) to another 90 minutes of switchbacks through a dreamy beech forest. So pristine and green, it seemed fitting for a Hobbit. I arrived at the trail end at 2:30, the bus wasn’t set to leave until 4:30. Quite advantageously, all members where accounted for by 3:30 and we departed, heading back to Taupo.
Steam Vents
After a quick shower, Ken and I hit the town in search of food and beer. We stopped at Mulligan’s for some fish and chips and a bit of local Kiwi brew. Lars and two German girls, Annette and Brigitte, joined us later in the evening. Home by ten, I was completely beat and sleep came on fast and hard.
What I Learned Today: Many foreigners (and young ones at that) seem much more aware of America’s coming economic and cultural difficulties than our own citizens. Perhaps it is the benefit of hindsight, allowing them to examine in detail the historic facts of their own country’s failed attempts at empire building and at holding onto dying cultural inertia. I’ve also confirmed my suspicion that there just aren’t many Americans abroad. None of the other travelers can recall meeting very many Americans in their travels. They were shocked to learn that only 25% of Americans had passports. One of the girls went on to suggest that perhaps that is why our foreign relations are often a disaster….hmmmm, what an interesting thought. True understanding, though it can be wrestled from the pages of a book or the scenes of a movie, it much more easily obtained on the ground and in person.
written by
exumenius
on November 29, 2007
from
Taupo
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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Long Ride to Wellington - Night 51
Wellington
,
New Zealand
Mt. Ruapeho
Our bus left the YHA at 8 am. We had a long day of driving, heading all the way down the west side of the Tararua Mountains to Wellington, at the very southern end of the north island. The driver made a few pit stops for photo ops of Mt. Ruapeho and Mt. Ngauruhoe, as well as a stop at a pie shop/gas station somewhere near Palmerston North. The rest of the way was just driving, albeit very scenic driving. The day reminded me of touring the Olympic Peninsula, minus the clear cutting and the obligatory stop in Humptulips.
Wellington from Mt. Victoria
We arrived in Wellington around 4 pm, my scheduled pickup was 4:25 at the central train station. Shortly thereafter, Lauren (the house caretaker) and Adam (a volunteer from Michigan) rolled up in a red van and I hopped in. We were to pick up another volunteer at the ferry landing at 5pm, but she never showed. Turns out that she was on the 6pm ferry and she ended up taking a cab to the house.
The volunteer house, known as the Kowhai House (pronounce Ko-Fi), is situated on the flank of a large hill overlooking the Hutt River valley, about 10 minutes north of Wellington. Endowed with great views, the place is a palace compared to my accommodation at the volunteer house in Brisbane. Currently staying at the house are the aforementioned Lauren, (Adam leaves for the US tomorrow), Kathi (Germany), Shirley (UK), Katharine (US), Nikos (US), Erika (China/Canada), and Melissa (US). A few more volunteers are set to trickle in over the weekend. On the way back to the house we made a stop for gas and beer. Unlike Brisbane, the house here allows alcohol, and in fact appears to encourage it.
After some settling in, we jumped a train bound for the city around 9pm. Our group of “Nature” volunteers met up with the “Leadership” interns from the head office for a night of drinking on Cuba Street, Wellington’s pedestrian mall/bar district. Sadly, the “Leadership” interns, most of who were from the US, finished their program today and will be going their separate ways this weekend. I met more Americans today than in the last 6 weeks of my travels. I suppose this a good thing. Nothing of any real significance happened at the bar, other than general getting to know everyone conversations.
What I Learned Today: Everyone I talked to today from the US absolutely loves New Zealand and is considering moving back here sometime soon. It is not hard to see why.
written by
exumenius
on November 30, 2007
from
Wellington
,
New Zealand
from the travel blog:
Kiwis and Kangaroos
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