This weekend we encountered all four states of matter
identified by the ancient Greeks. Unfortunately we failed to come across an
element overlooked by sun-scorched Athenians – snow.
Water
 |
| Me looking out over the atmospheric lake atmospherically |
On Friday night we drove up to the town/village/collection
of hostels known as National Park,
which was to be our gateway to the ski fields of Mount Ruapehu. Dinner that
evening was some speedy butter chicken from an improbably remote Indian, since the
local pizza place had “run out of pizzas”.
Unfortunately, the morning brought rain, high winds and a
message from the slopes to say that skiing was a no-go. Undeterred, we set
out for a stroll round Lake Rotopounamu, rewarded for our bravery with a brief
flash of sunlight. We then headed into Turangi, hiring bikes for an off-road exploration
of the River Tongariro. A giant burger at the Turangi Tavern helped us regain some calories, before we went to
rest our legs in the ‘magical waters’ of Tokaanu thermal pools. |
| Smug, before I read the sign |
Geothermal activity heats patches of surface water in the
Turangi area, which made a nice change from the cold drizzle that had
threatened us intermittently all day. We hired a private pool to avoid our
burger-bloated bellies scaring small children, and I plunged in first to test
the waters. Dora cautiously warned me not to submerge my head, but I saw this
as a challenge and ducked briefly beneath the steaming pool.
Emerging, I was greeted by a sign warning that submerging
one’s head carried a small risk of amoebic meningitis, also known as the "brain-eating
amoeba" (thanks Wikipedia). This
affliction is fatal is about 99% of cases, but thankfully very rare. Dora, on the other hand, has definitely
contracted a severe strain of the ‘I told you so’ virus, from which she may
never recover.
Earth
We finished off the day with some indoor rock (a.k.a. earth) climbing in National Park, before drinks and food at the town bar with the
newly arrived Rich and Lucy, and their friends Lauren and Shon who'd driven down from Auckland. Several beer jugs, wine carafes and story-swaps later we stumbled home. I fell in a puddle.
 |
| A gap in the weather on our drive home |
Fire
After a hangover-banishing brunch at the Station Café
(imaginatively located in the old railway station) with the crew, we meandered our way back to
Wellington. Wind had again closed the slopes, so we’d have to wait until
later in the winter before impressing Mount Ruapehu with our parallel turns.
On the way south we stopped off at the National Army Museum,
which covered the explosion-ridden (a.k.a. fiery)
history of the New Zealand Army, from the Boer War to recent U.N. peacekeeping
missions. Dora kept an eye out for signs of her Granddad, who was personal
assistant to General Freyberg, head of New Zealand’s forces in WWII.
Wind
The rest of our journey was long and uneventful, although
high winds pushed our little car around a bit as it shot down Highway 1.
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