The weather in Taupo on the morning of the 13th is not heartening. Rainclouds gather, and mist breaks against the bus windows like raindrops. Miss P downplays the prospect of the crossing, discouraging anyone who wants to do it for the views, or just for 'something to do'. I try to convince Team Sweden, but to no avail.
Nine hardy souls march off the bus. Myself, Heather and Christa, Jay and Linda, German Philipp, English Sam, Dutch Linda, and French Camille. With my cheap raincoat, I check the lost & found on the bus, and to my delight, there's a very decent North Face jacket, bright red, probably worth about €200. Stu is our point man. He tells me I need a fleece, and I grab my thermal vest from the bus instead. He's not happy, but I am, and he leaves it pass. He drops us to the starting point, where it's spitting rain, but mostly misty. The first hour or so remains the same, while we walk across flat, scrubby land. Far more rocky than the boglands at home.
We stop to arrange a group shot, when an older gent arrives. He asks if we're locals, and we tell him no. I'm used to people being lost and unable to read maps, so I ask if we can help. He says that there's a man having a heart attack up ahead on the trail. I know First Aid, but Linda's a doctor, so I get her to go see the man. It takes a few moments for it to become clear that this man, as well as the one having the attack, are both doctors, and the victim is breathing and stable. But their mobile doesn't work, and they can't call an ambulance.
I've left my phone behind, but a few of the others have not. Linda calls 111, while Jay tries to get our GPS co-ordinates on his iPhone. Reception is patchy, but Linda manages to pass along the essential details over two calls before losing signal completely.
We walk on to see how the man is faring. There are two Danish couples, late sixties. The man is sitting down, but doesn't look too bad - almost as if he was just tired. Reception is actually better here, so Linda is able to make a prolonged call to the emergency services. She is a model caller, listing physical details of 67 year old male, his symptoms and medical history, though the operator is confused by our address of 'Soda Springs, Tongariro Alpine Crossing'. Finally though, all details are confirmed. I'm anxious not to stand around like rubberneckers, and having done all we can, we leave Linda's phone behind, and continue with our hike.
The next section cuts steeply uphill, but there are plenty of stairs to make life easier. My calves are complaining slightly, but no knee issues. The landscape is bleak - grey rocks against the pale mist, black stones and dark brown plants. It's a Dr Who landscape. We stop to snack and regroup. At the top, the land flattens out, a desolate plateau. Unsheltered, a sudden heavy shower leaves my shorts saturated. However, over the ridge at the far side of the plateau, we are rewarded with our first view. It's brown and rocky, without any colour, but the valley stretches into the distance until it becomes blue hills on the horizon.
Uphill to the highest point of our trek, 1886m, the peak by the Red Crater. It's an amazing sight, deep ochre hues, and a gaping gash of a wound cutting into one wall. Descending the other side, the weather is definitely clearing, and myself, Sam and Christa catch a glimpse of the Emerald Lakes before cloud rolls in again. Walking downhill, the surface is unmistakeably volcanic - red porous chunks of rock - basalt? - and black scree with hints of yellow sulphur. None compare with the pale turquoise of the lakes though. The shorelines have faint traces of yellow, and although steam rises nearby (smelling of Rotorua), the lakes themselves are cold.
We push on, ascending to the ridge bordering the Blue Lake - presumably a caldera. Looking back on our path, the solidified lava flow is plainly visible, like a creeping tide, frozen in place. We have a winding descent among greenery to Ketetahi Hut, where we stop for lunch.
Out pace has been brisk, with Dutch Linda usually leading the charge. I try to keep it steady, but she is used to her own speed, and eventually I let her out of sight to stay at the rear of the group. I had been chatting to her at the beginning of the walk. She comes from a family well used to travel. At present, they are all scattered across the globe, and she's spent time in so many different places, her favourite of which is Papua New Guinea.
I walk mostly with Camille at the end. Parisian, and studying law, she reminds me of Hollie. A cute smile belies the intelligence needed for international law, as well as an aptitude for languages.
The path in the meantime has made its way into a dense forest, and transformed from dry rockiness to a layer of mud. Fatigue is starting to set in, and conversation has largely ended. We tramp on, through the mud, and before we know it, we arrive at the car park, where Stu awaits with a most welcome beer. He also has a video of the chopper evacuating the Dane from the Park.
We are all giddy in the car home, a single beer rushing straight to our heads, given our tired state. I banter with Christa, friendly in the front row. We drop off an English lady who's at the wrong end of the trail from her car for some reason. Then back to the hostel for a well deserved soak in the hot tub. A Kiwi joins us, an ex-chef for the hostel, who's now in the process of organising a wild food festival.
There's a welcome surprise in the shape of Michelle! She's more or less on her last stop, and we have a brief catch-up over a cup of tea, and she introduces me to Karen from Cork and Fiona from Glasgow.
The bar in the hostel closes unexpectedly early, and I'm denied a beer. The dorms are also cramped, and I while away the evening writing and chatting to the Swedes. Watch a bit of Jurassic Park, then retire.
I'm up early enough on the 14th, eight hours' sleep. Breakfast of porridge. It's St Valentine's Day, so I craft a card from a page of my notebook, meant for Christa. Between myself and Jay, it becomes a truly nerdy card - 'adorkable'. Then I spy Áine walking by, and greet her. She's heading north to Rotorua today, and informs me that Rachel will be on her bus. A happy coincidence! Miss P reckons I might get to see her if they're early enough. They're due at 11.30, when we're leaving.
I give the card to Áine to pass along, and make a Skype call home. Daddy spends about 30mins talking about his PC problems, and I chat with Niamh a bit. I managed to finally reach Katie, who is still eager to visit Kerry at Easter, and I have a five minute talk with Elaine.
The other bus is late, won't be in 'til noon. I leave reluctantly, bidding farewell to Áine and Michelle one more time, then we're off to Whakahoro. We briefly pick up some hitchhikers on the way, in an act of kindness.
Arriving at Blue Duck Lodge, Dan gives us a talk to put the farm in perspective. It's an eco-friendly world traveller destination. He aims to preserve the Blue Duck species by conserving its habitat and destroying the non-native predators. Also the introduced pests like goats and deer. The place is beautiful - nice rooms, large kitchen, a fireplace outside - all surrounded by dense rainforest covering steep hills.
One of the girls working at the farm offers a guided walk with some kayaking for $20, which seems a bargain. Myself, Jay and Linda, Heather and Christa, and Team Sweden take her up on the offer. She's also a Canadian Jay., who left the Stray bus 3 months prior. She takes us along a slippy, muddy trail, pointing out Remu, Manuka, Kanuka and at last I get to see a silver fern.
At Blue Duck Falls, we get a chance for a quick kayak session. It's been lashing rain, so I'm already saturated. I kayak right up to the falls, and then downstream into a chasm. The walls rise up above us, green with lichen and moss. Rain-filled waterfalls gush down, splashing into the river. No Blue Ducks though.
Jay shows us an original farm out-building, a single-room shack, built with handcut planks. We trek up steep slopes, trying not to slip in the mud. At the top, Jay offers us a 365 degree panorama. It's like home, as I so often thought in NZ, a green vista of hills lining a valley, though more tropical than Ireland.
We play frisbee as we go, occasionally resulting in me scrambling down banks to fetch it back. I'm too wet to mind crawling through the undergrowth. We loop around, heading back toward the lodge. Jay leaves us, her home is up the road in the opposite direction. I'm due to try clay pigeon shooting, and a car comes to pick me up - sweet! Driven b the lodge's chef, a Donegal man.
Everyone has five practice shots, then five real shots. Maggie asks if I've fired a gun before. I say yes. She asks what type, and I reply, "an AK47". A slightly bewildered pause follows. Then she gives me safety instructions and warnings. Don't shoot too quickly, but don't wait for the disc to start falling. I get five of five. Very pleased. Miss one of my 'real' shots though, which means I am tied with James. We each take a left-handed shot, him first. He hits it. Pressure's on, but I hit it also. Apparently he's done it before though, so one of the girls (Carina) awards me the moral victory.
I make some sneaky smores with Ann and Anita at the campfire, then grab a cheeky shower before my goat curry dinner. Delicious, and nicely filling. Keeley, Miss P and Glaswegian Fiona are also eating, and Swedish Jen. Some newer people on the bus, who we picked up in Rotorua - Carina, Marieke, Becky (but not Lucy).
When we head back to the rooms, a campfire is underway. Philipp has the guitar out. I spot that Joachim has had a haircut (as has Philipp), and I learn that Svenia is a Friseur. A chance to rid myself of my dastardly fringe! It takes far longer than expected, as we lack a clippers. She does great work with the scissors, and I want to reward her, but only have a single beer. I share it with her, but all my cash totals $10, which I want to use to eat tomorrow. Hopefully she's okay with doing a favour for a friend.
Meanwhile, Dutch Linda has started a game of Werewolves and Farmers in the kitchen. Part of me wants to recapture the atmosphere of Mongolia, but the greater part of me doesn't want to sully the memory, and also to join in singing at the campfire.
Philipp's great for banging out some tunes, but we fail miserably to harmonise guitar and voice for Summer of '69. No matter, it's a good night! I head to bed after a cup of tea.
Another early start on the 15th - the bus has a long way to go - Wellington's about six hours' drive. I get off at National Park, along with Mariella and Luca, Swedish Jen, and English Lucy. We're all staying a night before heading back to Auckland (via Rotorua). It's a toilet stop, so everyone is off the bus. Joachim claps a hand on my shoulder to bid me farewell, but adds that he must also speak to me as a father. He's not pleased that I didn't repay Svenia's kindness, and says that respect and friendship is abut give and take. He's absolutely right of course, though I'm slightly conflicted - when I fix computers, I usually expect only a cup of tea in return. But anything more is most welcome. I take my $10 from my wallet and pass it to Svenia, wishing I had more to give, but telling her that it's all my money. I leave my passport as my key deposit, after we say goodbye to pretty much the entire bus. Cork Karen hops on too. Valeria is in tears leaving Mariella.
The day stretches long before us, to be filled with reading and writing. The weather is too wet for a stroll. Chat idly with the others for a while. We are joined by Danny and Nicky, the Scottish couples. They've been staying here, with intentions to do the crossing the day after.
Then I get a surprise phone call from Nicci! Yay! Bad news though - herself and Seb are heading to Christchurch pronto, due to a lack of campers in Auckland. They enjoyed Fiji though, got some sun in the end. It's a little disheartening, not being able to finish my journey with them, like a giant circle of life.
Before heading to bed, the Italians teach Jen and me a game called 'Ramino'. I have beginners' luck, getting three jokers in the first round, helping me to win easily. It's an entertaining game, but we all hit the hay earlyish, for 10 hours' sleep.
Rules for Ramino [think it's played with two decks]:
Each player is dealt 13 cards, facedown deck is left in the middle, one card face up beside it.
Each turn, a player takes from the top of the deck, and puts one card face up at the end of the turn.
Aim is to be rid of all cards, by laying down groups of three - either three of one number, of three different suits; or a running straight (same suit) of at least three. Jokers are wild.
Numbers are worth as stated, courts are ten, aces are 1 or 11. When a player has laid down a total of forty or above, they may take from the face-up pile instead of face-down, if they choose. They may also add cards to another players' pile.
Note that even on a winning turn, the player must have one card left to throw down.
[Read Canadian Linda's blog on this at http://downhomerdownunder.blogspot.ie/2012/02/stray-cat-shuffle-part-trois.html]
Nine hardy souls march off the bus. Myself, Heather and Christa, Jay and Linda, German Philipp, English Sam, Dutch Linda, and French Camille. With my cheap raincoat, I check the lost & found on the bus, and to my delight, there's a very decent North Face jacket, bright red, probably worth about €200. Stu is our point man. He tells me I need a fleece, and I grab my thermal vest from the bus instead. He's not happy, but I am, and he leaves it pass. He drops us to the starting point, where it's spitting rain, but mostly misty. The first hour or so remains the same, while we walk across flat, scrubby land. Far more rocky than the boglands at home.
We stop to arrange a group shot, when an older gent arrives. He asks if we're locals, and we tell him no. I'm used to people being lost and unable to read maps, so I ask if we can help. He says that there's a man having a heart attack up ahead on the trail. I know First Aid, but Linda's a doctor, so I get her to go see the man. It takes a few moments for it to become clear that this man, as well as the one having the attack, are both doctors, and the victim is breathing and stable. But their mobile doesn't work, and they can't call an ambulance.
I've left my phone behind, but a few of the others have not. Linda calls 111, while Jay tries to get our GPS co-ordinates on his iPhone. Reception is patchy, but Linda manages to pass along the essential details over two calls before losing signal completely.
We walk on to see how the man is faring. There are two Danish couples, late sixties. The man is sitting down, but doesn't look too bad - almost as if he was just tired. Reception is actually better here, so Linda is able to make a prolonged call to the emergency services. She is a model caller, listing physical details of 67 year old male, his symptoms and medical history, though the operator is confused by our address of 'Soda Springs, Tongariro Alpine Crossing'. Finally though, all details are confirmed. I'm anxious not to stand around like rubberneckers, and having done all we can, we leave Linda's phone behind, and continue with our hike.
***
The next section cuts steeply uphill, but there are plenty of stairs to make life easier. My calves are complaining slightly, but no knee issues. The landscape is bleak - grey rocks against the pale mist, black stones and dark brown plants. It's a Dr Who landscape. We stop to snack and regroup. At the top, the land flattens out, a desolate plateau. Unsheltered, a sudden heavy shower leaves my shorts saturated. However, over the ridge at the far side of the plateau, we are rewarded with our first view. It's brown and rocky, without any colour, but the valley stretches into the distance until it becomes blue hills on the horizon.
 |
| South Crater |
 |
| Mordor ? |
Uphill to the highest point of our trek, 1886m, the peak by the Red Crater. It's an amazing sight, deep ochre hues, and a gaping gash of a wound cutting into one wall. Descending the other side, the weather is definitely clearing, and myself, Sam and Christa catch a glimpse of the Emerald Lakes before cloud rolls in again. Walking downhill, the surface is unmistakeably volcanic - red porous chunks of rock - basalt? - and black scree with hints of yellow sulphur. None compare with the pale turquoise of the lakes though. The shorelines have faint traces of yellow, and although steam rises nearby (smelling of Rotorua), the lakes themselves are cold.
 |
| Red Crater |
We push on, ascending to the ridge bordering the Blue Lake - presumably a caldera. Looking back on our path, the solidified lava flow is plainly visible, like a creeping tide, frozen in place. We have a winding descent among greenery to Ketetahi Hut, where we stop for lunch.
 |
| Central Crater |
 |
| Lunch at Ketetahi Hut |
Out pace has been brisk, with Dutch Linda usually leading the charge. I try to keep it steady, but she is used to her own speed, and eventually I let her out of sight to stay at the rear of the group. I had been chatting to her at the beginning of the walk. She comes from a family well used to travel. At present, they are all scattered across the globe, and she's spent time in so many different places, her favourite of which is Papua New Guinea.
I walk mostly with Camille at the end. Parisian, and studying law, she reminds me of Hollie. A cute smile belies the intelligence needed for international law, as well as an aptitude for languages.
The path in the meantime has made its way into a dense forest, and transformed from dry rockiness to a layer of mud. Fatigue is starting to set in, and conversation has largely ended. We tramp on, through the mud, and before we know it, we arrive at the car park, where Stu awaits with a most welcome beer. He also has a video of the chopper evacuating the Dane from the Park.
 |
| Stu! |
We are all giddy in the car home, a single beer rushing straight to our heads, given our tired state. I banter with Christa, friendly in the front row. We drop off an English lady who's at the wrong end of the trail from her car for some reason. Then back to the hostel for a well deserved soak in the hot tub. A Kiwi joins us, an ex-chef for the hostel, who's now in the process of organising a wild food festival.
There's a welcome surprise in the shape of Michelle! She's more or less on her last stop, and we have a brief catch-up over a cup of tea, and she introduces me to Karen from Cork and Fiona from Glasgow.
The bar in the hostel closes unexpectedly early, and I'm denied a beer. The dorms are also cramped, and I while away the evening writing and chatting to the Swedes. Watch a bit of Jurassic Park, then retire.
***
I'm up early enough on the 14th, eight hours' sleep. Breakfast of porridge. It's St Valentine's Day, so I craft a card from a page of my notebook, meant for Christa. Between myself and Jay, it becomes a truly nerdy card - 'adorkable'. Then I spy Áine walking by, and greet her. She's heading north to Rotorua today, and informs me that Rachel will be on her bus. A happy coincidence! Miss P reckons I might get to see her if they're early enough. They're due at 11.30, when we're leaving.
I give the card to Áine to pass along, and make a Skype call home. Daddy spends about 30mins talking about his PC problems, and I chat with Niamh a bit. I managed to finally reach Katie, who is still eager to visit Kerry at Easter, and I have a five minute talk with Elaine.
The other bus is late, won't be in 'til noon. I leave reluctantly, bidding farewell to Áine and Michelle one more time, then we're off to Whakahoro. We briefly pick up some hitchhikers on the way, in an act of kindness.
Arriving at Blue Duck Lodge, Dan gives us a talk to put the farm in perspective. It's an eco-friendly world traveller destination. He aims to preserve the Blue Duck species by conserving its habitat and destroying the non-native predators. Also the introduced pests like goats and deer. The place is beautiful - nice rooms, large kitchen, a fireplace outside - all surrounded by dense rainforest covering steep hills.
One of the girls working at the farm offers a guided walk with some kayaking for $20, which seems a bargain. Myself, Jay and Linda, Heather and Christa, and Team Sweden take her up on the offer. She's also a Canadian Jay., who left the Stray bus 3 months prior. She takes us along a slippy, muddy trail, pointing out Remu, Manuka, Kanuka and at last I get to see a silver fern.
At Blue Duck Falls, we get a chance for a quick kayak session. It's been lashing rain, so I'm already saturated. I kayak right up to the falls, and then downstream into a chasm. The walls rise up above us, green with lichen and moss. Rain-filled waterfalls gush down, splashing into the river. No Blue Ducks though.
Jay shows us an original farm out-building, a single-room shack, built with handcut planks. We trek up steep slopes, trying not to slip in the mud. At the top, Jay offers us a 365 degree panorama. It's like home, as I so often thought in NZ, a green vista of hills lining a valley, though more tropical than Ireland.
We play frisbee as we go, occasionally resulting in me scrambling down banks to fetch it back. I'm too wet to mind crawling through the undergrowth. We loop around, heading back toward the lodge. Jay leaves us, her home is up the road in the opposite direction. I'm due to try clay pigeon shooting, and a car comes to pick me up - sweet! Driven b the lodge's chef, a Donegal man.
Everyone has five practice shots, then five real shots. Maggie asks if I've fired a gun before. I say yes. She asks what type, and I reply, "an AK47". A slightly bewildered pause follows. Then she gives me safety instructions and warnings. Don't shoot too quickly, but don't wait for the disc to start falling. I get five of five. Very pleased. Miss one of my 'real' shots though, which means I am tied with James. We each take a left-handed shot, him first. He hits it. Pressure's on, but I hit it also. Apparently he's done it before though, so one of the girls (Carina) awards me the moral victory.
I make some sneaky smores with Ann and Anita at the campfire, then grab a cheeky shower before my goat curry dinner. Delicious, and nicely filling. Keeley, Miss P and Glaswegian Fiona are also eating, and Swedish Jen. Some newer people on the bus, who we picked up in Rotorua - Carina, Marieke, Becky (but not Lucy).
When we head back to the rooms, a campfire is underway. Philipp has the guitar out. I spot that Joachim has had a haircut (as has Philipp), and I learn that Svenia is a Friseur. A chance to rid myself of my dastardly fringe! It takes far longer than expected, as we lack a clippers. She does great work with the scissors, and I want to reward her, but only have a single beer. I share it with her, but all my cash totals $10, which I want to use to eat tomorrow. Hopefully she's okay with doing a favour for a friend.
Meanwhile, Dutch Linda has started a game of Werewolves and Farmers in the kitchen. Part of me wants to recapture the atmosphere of Mongolia, but the greater part of me doesn't want to sully the memory, and also to join in singing at the campfire.
Philipp's great for banging out some tunes, but we fail miserably to harmonise guitar and voice for Summer of '69. No matter, it's a good night! I head to bed after a cup of tea.
***
Another early start on the 15th - the bus has a long way to go - Wellington's about six hours' drive. I get off at National Park, along with Mariella and Luca, Swedish Jen, and English Lucy. We're all staying a night before heading back to Auckland (via Rotorua). It's a toilet stop, so everyone is off the bus. Joachim claps a hand on my shoulder to bid me farewell, but adds that he must also speak to me as a father. He's not pleased that I didn't repay Svenia's kindness, and says that respect and friendship is abut give and take. He's absolutely right of course, though I'm slightly conflicted - when I fix computers, I usually expect only a cup of tea in return. But anything more is most welcome. I take my $10 from my wallet and pass it to Svenia, wishing I had more to give, but telling her that it's all my money. I leave my passport as my key deposit, after we say goodbye to pretty much the entire bus. Cork Karen hops on too. Valeria is in tears leaving Mariella.
The day stretches long before us, to be filled with reading and writing. The weather is too wet for a stroll. Chat idly with the others for a while. We are joined by Danny and Nicky, the Scottish couples. They've been staying here, with intentions to do the crossing the day after.
Then I get a surprise phone call from Nicci! Yay! Bad news though - herself and Seb are heading to Christchurch pronto, due to a lack of campers in Auckland. They enjoyed Fiji though, got some sun in the end. It's a little disheartening, not being able to finish my journey with them, like a giant circle of life.
Before heading to bed, the Italians teach Jen and me a game called 'Ramino'. I have beginners' luck, getting three jokers in the first round, helping me to win easily. It's an entertaining game, but we all hit the hay earlyish, for 10 hours' sleep.
***
Rules for Ramino [think it's played with two decks]:
Each player is dealt 13 cards, facedown deck is left in the middle, one card face up beside it.
Each turn, a player takes from the top of the deck, and puts one card face up at the end of the turn.
Aim is to be rid of all cards, by laying down groups of three - either three of one number, of three different suits; or a running straight (same suit) of at least three. Jokers are wild.
Numbers are worth as stated, courts are ten, aces are 1 or 11. When a player has laid down a total of forty or above, they may take from the face-up pile instead of face-down, if they choose. They may also add cards to another players' pile.
Note that even on a winning turn, the player must have one card left to throw down.
[Read Canadian Linda's blog on this at http://downhomerdownunder.blogspot.ie/2012/02/stray-cat-shuffle-part-trois.html]
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