All Blacks, Goldilocks and the foul stench of hell

Coromandel Peninsula, North Island, NZ

Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.
-Mark Twain


Auckland, Part II
After our trip around the Northlands, we made our way back to Auckland for a night before heading south. After arriving back in the city we drove straight to Eden Park where we managed to bag a couple of tickets to that evening's rugby test between the All Blacks and Ireland. The seats were uncovered and down near the pitch, but it wouldn't be a problem would it? After all, this was New Zealand in the middle of winter. I'm sure we'll be fine.

We checked ourselves into the same hotel we had stayed at during our previous visit and set off to watch the rugby. At the train station the platform was packed with black and green shirts and it was obvious that a few people had been on the sauce for quite a few hours already. There was a good party atmosphere despite the crappy weather but by the time we reached Eden Park the rain was torrential. I was wearing my new coat, which had officially been named Least Funky Jacket Ever Made, as it looked like a hippo's bladder with pockets. On the plus side, it was completely waterproof so the rain didn't prove to be much of a problem. Cara was in the same boat with her hippo's bladder and we both sat in the stands, nice and dry. Although the rain didn't let up for the entire match, we still had a great time watching a top quality game. Now we all know the kiwis are supposed to be fanatical about rugby, but I'm sorry to say New Zealand, the Irish fans were making most of the noise. Mind you, that might have been because half of the NZ fans around us left the stand to get out of the rain. Hmmmmmm, fanatical you say? After the match we walked back into the city. Two minutes after we left the stadium the rain stopped.

Coromandel Peninsula
From Auckland we drove down to the Coromandel Peninsula for a few days. We initially planned to spend a night in Thames at the base of the peninsula, but after driving around the town we realised the only entertainment to be found was watching teenagers overrev their cars on the local garage forecourt, so we decided to move on. After driving around the northern tip of the peninsula along the very scenic coastal road, we finally arrived in Whitianga. After a bit of research, we managed to bag ourselves a great little cottage with two bedrooms and a well stocked kitchen, and all for less than the local backpacker hostel wanted for a double room with a shared bathroom. It certainly pays to shop around in the quiet season, as most motels are fairly empty and happy to get any business, whereas a lot of the hostels get a steady stream of crusties all year round and rarely offer decent discounts. More importantly, we had Sky TV so we could watch the World Cup matches from the comfort of our own bed.

The next day we planned to visit Cathedral Cove and Hot Water Beach, which had both been recommended by friends and our guidebook, but when we woke up, it was hammering down with rain and we decided instead to take a drive up to a couple of waterfalls in the hills. The next morning it was still raining, so we decided to go anyway.

Cathedral Cove is a series of vast arches and tunnels worn into the limestone cliffs by the sea, and connected by a narrow strip of beach. Hot Water Beach is exactly that, a beach with hot water. Although the name Hot Water Beach refers to a fairly long stretch of sand, the hot water part is restricted to a small area, accessed only at low tide, where water heated underground seeps out of the sand. Small shovels can be hired from a café near the beach, and you can dig a hole in the sand, which fills up with the hot water and you have your very own hot tub on the beach. Sounds like fun, but I wasn't convinced this would be the best time of year to try it. The tide would not be far enough out until after dark and it was not the warmest day to start with.
We drove down to Hot Water Beach on the way to Cathedral Cove, as we would need to hire a shovel for later and the café would be closed long before the tide went out. We secured our shovel for a few dollars and promised to leave it outside their backdoor before we left. They were clearly not expecting many people to show up in this weather. From there we drove on to Cathedral Cove car park, which was a half hour walk down to the cove itself. The rain was still coming down but we took the walk anyway. After all, I had The Least Funky Coat Ever Made, and that would keep me warm and dry in any weather. The Cove was fairly impressive, but quite frankly the weather was not helping anybody except the fish and by the time we made it back to the car we were cold, wet and hungry.

Late in the afternoon we drove back toward hot water beach. The weather was taking a turn for the worse and the wind was gale force, but we had already spent $4 on a shovel so there was no way we were giving up. The tide wouldn't be out far enough until after sunset, so we would just have to sit and wait. With every minute that passed, the wind blew harder, the rain fell heavier and the temperature dropped faster than a squirrel tied to a house brick.

As the last of the sunlight drained out of the sky, we prepared to go down onto the beach. I changed into my shorts and peeled off my shoes and socks. Cara was wearing her bikini under her clothes and wisely decided to keep everything on until after we had dug the pool. We both made our way down onto the beach and ran as fast as we could to where the hot water seeped out of the sand, four hundred metres away. Down on the sand the wind was howling in off the sea, and we had both almost lost all sensation in our feet by the time we reached our goal. We could see steam rising off the sand and we started to dig with our small shovel. I stood in the hole and shovelled out the hot sand as fast as I could as the wind whipped around us. The plan was to dig out a small pool for us to sit in and keep warm before we froze solid, but our first attempt was off the mark. As the pool filled with the hot water seeping out of the ground, my feet became warmer and warmer, until eventually the pool was too hot to stand in. Strike one. I moved a bit further down the beach and started digging again. This time the water was too cold. Strike two. Apart from being bloody freezing, I was starting to feel like Goldilocks working her way through the porridge. On the third attempt we struck baby bear's porridge. Well, actually we struck geothermally heated sea water, but you gather my inference. It was just right.

We both took it turns digging until we had a pool big enough to sit in. By this time the weather was atrocious and I was getting cold feet about stripping off and jumping in. Actually, what I was more concerned about was getting out of the water and turning into a snow man. Cara had no such concerns and whipped off her clothes and dived in. It was just like laying in a hot bath, she said. I just stood in the pool to keep my feet warm and left it at that, until my woolly hat blew off the top of my head and was almost gone into the night forever, before I finally caught up with it way down the beach. The steam rising off the pool was looking very inviting but I was even more concerned about making it back to the car after we got out of the water. The dilemma was finally resolved by my male ego. I am a full-blooded Lancastrian male and could I really let myself be outdone by an Essex girl? Actually, I probably could if I thought for a second that Cara would ever let me live it down.

Oh well, I thought. If I was going to do it, it should be done properly. Off came the raincoat and the fleece. I took a look around to make sure we were alone then off came the shorts. It was bloody freezing, and the cold was only slightly less pleasant than having my nether regions sandblasted by a howling wind on a dark, remote, beach in the back-end of nowhere. I jumped into the pool (it was actually more like a large puddle) and the difference was incredible. It really is like sitting in a very hot bath. Imagine sitting in your tub at home, while somebody sprays you with a cold shower and throws sand in your face and you'll have some idea of what I'm talking about. It was fantastic and I could have stayed there forever, but sooner or later we had to get out. And what an experience that was. Unpleasant, would be the kindest way to describe it. After drying off as best we could with a towel and pulling on our clothes, we ran for the car park. On the way back we passed a couple who must have been very surprised to see a large, hairy, naked man briefly lit up against the cold night sky by our camera flashes, as we recorded the event for posterity. The things you see on the beach. Back at the car the engine went on and the heater was ratcheted up to hot and crispy. We had a hilarious time on the beach but neither of us are eager to repeat that mad dash back to the car again. Not flattering weather at all, and we have the pictures to prove it.

Although by now it was getting quite late, we decided to treat ourselves and cook a large roast for dinner. For the first time in our entire trip, we had an oven, and it would be a crime not to use it. We bought everything we needed once back in Whitianga and that night Cara and I enjoyed a roast chicken with stuffing, roasted and mashed potatoes, half a gallon of gravy, and some vegetables for Cara. What luxury, our first roast dinner in fourteen months.

The next morning we set off for Rotorua and there was not a single cloud in the sky. Bloody weather.

Rotorua
In central North Island, and about four hours drive from Whitianga, Rotorua is famous for smelling like freeze-dried vomit. Oh, and there are also some thermal springs, geysers and other assorted geothermal activities, but the sickly, egg sandwich, have you farted smell is it's main claim to fame. I quite liked the town, as it is possibly the only place in the world where I can take off my socks in public and nobody will notice. And you can also buy a large pizza for two quid, which is ideal for crashing out on the bed and watching the football highlights. We stayed here for a few days, walking around the lake and visiting the thermal springs and mud pools etc. Daytime activity wasn't too strenuous as we were getting up at three or seven O'clock in the morning to watch some of the World Cup matches and we didn't want to strain ourselves. The weather wasn't too great either so we rarely strayed far from home. From Rotorua we moved south to Taupo where hopefully things would get a little more exciting.

Mik