My Mistake (Coromandel, Hobbiton, New Zealand)

Did you miss me dear reader? We have ventured into Zombieland. Well, not really, but we did drive past it leaving Rotorua this morning. It exists. Here is the link. Coromandel may not be zombie land but it almost the end of the earth and internet access is very patchy, to the extent that this post was written in Word before being dropped into Blogspot. I am not even sure when it will be uploaded – possibly not until we are ensconced in Auckland.

I have resisted the urge to make jokes about rotten egg gas and the sulphur smell that has contributed to the legend that is Rotorua. The reason? It hasn’t been that noticeable. It was quite pervasive on the way into town, but we were driving past a geothermal pool and geyser. It was also very strong at the park where we found the boiling lake and bubbling mud. Beyond that, it’s like trying to remember something, and it just keeps to back of your mind, just out of reach. It’s a shadow that is always with you.

That was until this morning. My scratchy, raspy throat that I have attributed to the bushfires and terrible atmosphere in Sydney before we left, was worse today than it’s been. I woke early and the first thing I noticed was the sulphur smell. It was extremely pungent. The shadow had morphed into a ring wraith and it had its hands around my throat. Whether the sulphurous air made my throat worse, who knows? It is not something you can avoid but today I had no tolerance for it and couldn’t get out of Rotorua quickly enough. Yes quickly dear reader, an adverb, I know, an Australian who knows how to use an adverb!

To avoid the demonic GPS leading me astray, I actually researched the route to Hobbiton. Obviously, she was aware of this and so there was no attempt to steer us from the most direct route.

On the drive to Coromandel (Coro to the locals) I saw a sign for a “working gold mine”. I quipped that we had just left a working gold mine at Hobbiton. I am getting ahead of myself.

 The intention was to just rock up at 501 Buckland Road, Hinuera, aka Hobbiton, but one brochure suggested bookings were essential. Online I checked out what was available. Tours were leaving roughly every 10 minutes. There were 20 adults in our group, plus the kids, one of whom had the most ridiculous haircut ever seen. A sort of landing strip, long at the sides and crew cut down the centre. On a 10 year old girl. Her sister had the entire left side of her head shaved. Fashion would have been a great title today except I’m staying with Kiwi musicians to provide inspiration.

No-one home. The Bagginses are out on adventure

 I digress. So, yeah, 20 adults x $84 for a 2 hour tour = $1680 plus the kids' entry fee (at least Gilligan’s crowd got a three hour tour). And there were larger groups than ours. Each group moved with clockwork precision around Hobbiton finishing at the Green Dragon for, in my case, a breakfast beer.  I don't think I've done that since I was 18. I was glad I wasn’t on the 8am tour. We were scheduled to commence at 10:10am but arrived early so we were bumped up to the 9:40am tour – so clearly, they do keep places for walk-ins.

Bilbo's pipe and book

 While I’ve read the books and seen the movies, except for the Hobbit movie, I’m not a die hard fan. It was interesting seeing Hobbiton and it will be even more so when I sit down to watch The Lord of the Rings again. The money they spend to keep Hobbiton looking like the movie set must be astronomical. The flower beds, vegie gardens, hedges and grasses that need to be tended to be forever in summer take a lot of intensive work.

I neglected to state that all tours are guided tours. There is a car park and then you join a tour and are transported by bus to the start of the tour. You are also returned to the same spot, where, if you have unlimited spending power, you can waste your money in the gift shop. No really. These guys have price gouging down to an art form. Despite having a Tolkien addicted child, we could not justify paying what they were asking for things we could probably buy cheaper elsewhere. Not that we looked, sorry Dave.

The video that was played on the bus ride into Hobbiton features Sir Peter Jackson, movie director, talking about finding the perfect set location while reconnoitring the area in a helicopter. He espied the farm owned by the Alexander family and, after some negotiation, the earth movers rolled in to create Hobbiton in the middle of the property. The place remains a working farm and Hobbiton was deconstructed following Lord of the Rings. After the Hobbit Trilogy was made, the permanent sets that had been constructed were preserved rather than being abandoned again and Farmer Alexander and Sir Peter formed a business partnership that is now the “working goldmine”. Farmer Alexander could quite comfortably live off this small portion of his agricultural land holding and treat the real farm like a hobby.

And then it was back on the road to Coromandel. It is a very long and very winding road that leads to our door. It was etched out of the rock that is the peninsula and wound around the coast like a string. In a typically NZ way there were sections of unrestricted speed limit, with no speed sign corner posts – some of which needed to be taken at around 30 km p/h or less.

That was not the challenge. No. Other drivers, who should never have been issued with a driver’s license, were the challenge. It was 54km of snaking road that needed to be negotiated before we reached our destination. In all seriousness I could write a separate post about the guy in the blue Corolla that we followed for the first 20kms. OMG.

We arrived in Coro a tad early and went to spec out the town. That took all of five minutes. It is a testament to urban geography and ribbon development. The shops stretch the length of two blocks on the main road. It has everything required, 3 pubs, numerous cafés, a supermarket, a local craft market, 2 bottle shops and a number of ‘gift’ shops where the tourists can support the local economy and buy stuff they don't need and will later wonder why they bought it.

The only sustenance I'd had so far was my glass of stout at the conclusion of the Hobbiton tour, so we set about finding something to eat. Coro pies (sorry, no website). Slightly off the main street, selling from a semi-industrial unit, Coro Pies is worth discovering. There are a few picnic tables out front where you can sit to enjoy their wares. The range of pies is a bigger number than the local population. And very tasty they were. It was the best pie I’ve had in a very long time.

Our accommodation in Coro is a miner’s cottage in the garden of Quail Cottage, not far from town. It is walkable if the weather is agreeable. It’s a quaint, rustic little place with a comfortable verandah from which to watch the local bird population come and go. A very pleasant place to while away the afternoon. The bathroom is separate from the cottage, only about 5 metres, but not for the feint-hearted in winter I should imagine.

There is no reason for this photo to be here, but here it is anyway.

 Shane, our host, showed us around and explained the idiosyncrasies of the place. The yard is quite large with a number of different fruit trees. Whisky, the indolent black cat, is the only other permanent resident. Care should be taken when driving in or out of the residence. Whisky likes to lie in the middle of the drive and is not easily encouraged to move.

Rather than fussing about dinner, we opted for cheese, salami, peanuts, crisps and a bottle of chardonnay on the verandah and watched the sun move slowly across the sky. Very pleasant and very relaxing.

We were woken around 4am by a most unfamiliar sound. In fact, I wasn’t sure what was happening. Is that rain? No, the wind is picking up. No. It was rain. Reasonably heavy too and it continued through till around 7am. It was still misty when we headed into town for breakfast, the planned walk postponed in favour of the car. The Weta Café is recommended (again, no web site). Great coffee and a really interesting menu that goes beyond the usual fixation with eggs.

See previous caption. Afraid of heights? Me?

 The weather has kept us close to home and although we had intended Coro to be downtime, the rain has ensured that will definitely happen. The cloud never left the mountain top and occasionally, without warning, came down the mountain just to surprise. We ventured as far as Coro for fish and chips for lunch – the bottom shop is the better option. And just managed to stay dry. While in town we saw the dreaded blue Corolla that haunted and taunted me on the drive on yesterday.

Yes, my inquisitive reader, of course we staked it out to see who was driving. All I remember from yesterday is grey hair (not that there is anything wrong with that). We were enjoying our lunch and fending off the sparrows. Don’t laugh, they were seriously aggressive and arrived in number. I made several air swipes to send them away to no avail. They did finally decide there were easier targets when I connected with one. All the while we were watching the Corolla.

Then it happened. They arrived. I had been speculating about which grey haired man would get behind the wheel. I was wrong. She had grey hair and he a bad dye job. They got into the car and wasted 5 minutes playing with the GPS. Glasses on, glasses off, Karate Kid style, check notes. Adjust. Discuss. Repeat. I am amazed they made it to Coro. Then, blinker on she carefully moved the car onto the road and then stopped to do a U-turn. OMFG. I will have nightmares forever.

The weather continued to be capricious, so we made the most of the afternoon and alternated our time from inside the bach to the verandah and enjoyed some of New Zealand’s finest grape products.

You've made it to the end of a marathon post my persistent reader. Well done. The title? Well, a classic number form Split Enz to reflect the fact that Coromandel may well be for locals, but the time and effort required when you are touring was not, in my opinion, commensurate with the reward. My choice, my mistake.

Tomorrow is Auckland. City life. A strong internet connection and a change of scenery.

Until then.

Anything can Happen (Rotorua, New Zealand)

Well, hello my dedicated reader. I wasn't certain there would be time for this post. It is our last day in Rotorua and we had a very busy schedule planned, including a morning zip-lining in the canopy of the rainforest. I'm getting ahead of myself, first to the title.

In maintaining the Kiwi theme I have opted for a track from the Finn Brothers 2004 album Everyone is Here. And a classic it was. The title? Well, Jayne and I went zip-lining. Yes, you read that correctly. As you would know my knowledgeable reader, Jayne does not share my love of outdoor activity and is generally happy to bid me farewell and then welcome me home to hear the legendary tales. Not today. In Rotorua she joined me on the zip-line experience. And I have video proof. Which perhaps you'll never get to see because I like living. So, here's me instead:

We can't go without you seeing Jayne come in on the long line. 220metre and 70 metres above the ground. Here she is:

The zip-line centre is about 10 minutes drive from our hotel. We met the other intrepid travellers there at 9:15am. They are an Australian family via Ohio in America: mum, dad, two girls and grandma. Briefing over, we were dressed in harnesses and helmets and boarded the mini bus for the forest. Admittedly this is the first and only zip-line tour we've done, but these guys were ace (as they say over here, they are also sweet as, but don't, neither is cool). So, check out Rotorua Canopy Tours. Choice, eh bro? Don't say that either.

Our guides, Dana and Bessie - not sure of the latter, but that's what it sounded like - made a good team. It was all very light hearted despite the seriousness and safety was paramount. There were plenty of laughter and opportunities to learn about native forest and introduced species and what they have done to the flora and fauna. Australians hate rabbits and cane toads, but I believe the brush tailed possum is still doing more damage in NZ than either of those animals that were introduced. to Australia.

Looks cool from above

The tour operators have commenced an eradication program to rid their area and the surrounding bushland of possums, stoats, rats and other introduced species. Well done to them. We should all care more for the environment.

It was a great morning and well worth it. We all had fun and tested ourselves. Except perhaps for Lexi, the younger of the girls; she was fearless.

After the excitement of the morning it was time for breakfast, well, a light lunch. A glass of rosé to accompany my croque monsieur instead of a coffee from Pic Nic Café. Then a stroll to a nearby park where we saw steam rising from the ground. I understand that is not such an exciting phenomenon in this part of the world.

We found a pond in a nearby park that was seriously boiling. There is, of course a Maori legend to go with it that now sees the lake boiling in anger. The sulphur smell was reasonably strong and the heat and humidity were both high in proximity to the lake. It was far more impressive than Craters of the Moon. And it was free! And there was bubbling mud. I'm not sure I can explain my fixation here, but I was disappointed not see it yesterday. So, today, I filmed it:

The view from our window

It was about now that we were supposed to be driving back to Skyline to ride the gondola to the top ... well, half way up the mountain. We discussed it, but seriously, $34 an adult to ride halfway up a mountain to take a couple of photos and then come back down again. I could think of a better way to spend $68. In fact I did. A bottle of rosé in the bar, over looking the lake, enjoying the afternoon breeze and writing the latest blog post. Cheers, dear reader. And to prove a point, here is the view from our room. Tidy.

And now, given the disappointing attempts to post video ... I'm out ... until ... whenever, tomorrow, the next day, whatever.

Written in the water (Napier - Rotorua, New Zealand)

Yes dear reader I have made the supreme sacrifice and burned the midnight oil to ensure you have amusement at breakfast. Although one can't be too sure about what amuses these days. Apparently a couple of British royals are doing what all children (hopefully) do and are leaving the nest and this has caused media meltdown. Well from a Murdoch world perspective, which is both narrow and shallow, a bit like a bird bath. It has been tagged Megxit. Here I am, on holiday in NZ, laughing at the sub-editor's headline, thinking how funny it is to make fun of Harry's red hair. You know, like Ginger Meggs, Megxit ... oh, I see. Moving on.

And the title. Well, it's a 2015 song by Gin Wigmore. She's a Kiwi. Do it. Go for Google.

We were coffeed, packed, checked out and on the road before 9:30am. It's always good to allow extra time when malevolent spirits inhabit your GPS. And she did it again today, but more on that later.

Waipunga Falls

Our first scheduled stop was the Waipunga Falls. Jayne discovered this through Dr Google. The falls are, literally, in the middle of nowhere. Well, on the road between Napier and Taupo. They are not signposted. Go figure. We found nothing in the local tourist guide information and yet, they are quite spectacular as the picture shows. That said, we have found sign posting in the land of the great white cloud, well, dodgy. The signs are small and generally visible at the last minute.

Quite pleased with the sight of the Falls, we resumed the trip to Lake Taupo. Aside from changing radio stations every time the current signal waned, the main discussion was how to pronounce Taupo. Not that it was going to present as an issue. Jayne's pronunciation wasn't going to offend me.

The drive continued through landscape that could be mistaken for Canadian. Mountains. Green pines. The occasional snow-capped peak. Wide, shallow, fast moving rivers, meandering across stone beds. In fact New Zealand is very similar to Canada. It is just a smaller version of an outdoor recreation park. It's closer to home and the people here are genuinely nice. You can read that any way you like. But, no bears. Well, none that we saw. Plenty of dead possums though. Cheers to our Australian ancestors for importing another unwanted creature into an environment that couldn't cope with it.

Lake Taupo is a collapsed caldera. Just like Santorini, but without the climate, the charm, the food, the Greek people, the view ... maybe not so much like Santorini. It is pretty spectacular and a drawcard for tourists and Kiwis alike at this time of year. There were people swimming, not us, but they were out there, despite a snow-capped mountain in the background. Not to mention the para gliders, sailors, whatever. The lake is a playground and there are plenty of places to eat and drink and while away the day. 

Where there is smoke ...

While we were debating whether to alter the address in the devious GPS we passed a sign that directed us to the Craters of the Moon Geothermal Park. Fortuitously, that is where we wanted to go, so no GPS intervention required. It was closer to Taupo than I expected and was less whelming than I expected. Come on, work with me here, think 10 Things I hate About You, the movie. Although, in reviewing the photos, I may have been a tad harsh.

Not sure of the history of the area, I assumed a quarry at some point. Hence the crater link. The information on the net suggested a 90 minute walk. The signage on the way in stated a 60 minute walk, at the admission centre they said a 45 minute walk. It was like the incredible world of Benjamin Button. Anyway, we did it in 40 minutes, but didn't walk to the lookout. I mean, if you've seen one hole in ground spewing steam ... how did you think the next one would be different?

Plenty of steam but no mud.

There were differences. Some of the holes just puffed away quietly, some blew steam with significant force, think the Zazu and the Lion King. There was also a mud bubbling area, well there would have been except NZ is also in the  middle of a water shortage. Plenty of steam but the ground was dry.

Our next stop was almost literally across the road. Well, down the road and across the street, the Huka Falls. It's one of those awesome places where you can ride in a jet boat. Why? I have no idea. It is quite a popular tourist area and not from Taupo. Aside from the jet boats there were river cruises, helicopter flights, a golf driving range, a seriously high ropes course and lots fo other fun stuff on which to try to kill yourself.

As we say in Australia: yeah, nah. I was here strictly for the photos. And I'm still struggling to believe that these falls were created naturally. That looks a littler too much like a hydro channel. Coincidently, they do have a hydro electricity station on this river.

Jet boat bravado. Yay.

Following so much excitement, we set the GPS for Rotorua. She didn't disappoint. At the first major intersection I was reading the map on the screen. Turn left. The signage doesn't say Rotorua, but OK. As I swing into the roundabout I spot the Rotorua sign. I should have kept going straight ahead.

Safely in Rotorua, I check some maps. Our GPS, set for the quickest, most direct route, detoured us some 30 minutes and 25 km out of the regular driving route form Taupo to Rotorua. WTF? Anyway, it was an interesting and, at time beautiful, drive and we made it safely into Rotorua. Then unsurprisingly, we had to begin again to find our hotel after she dumped us in the middle of the street. "Your journey has ended". Well, no. And ultimately, that is for me to decide, not some piece of allegedly high-tech gear with an English accent and no road sense.

We checked in. Eventually. Jayne had already checked out restaurants and activities online. While enjoying our welcome drink, we organised dinner and tomorrow's fun. If I said that Jayne was about to do something she has never done before that would not be exaggeration. In fact one of our children didn't believe me. What are we doing?

Well,

until tomorrow