Glow Worms

With our last day of skiing behind us, we said a final farewell to the New Zealand snow and the stunning Mt. Ruapehu. Now, the journey was northwards towards Auckland, our final destination. There we would say goodbye to our trusty Maisie Penny and board our flight to Santiago for our South American and ultimate leg of the journey.

First however, we had one little stop to make, in a very little town (home to about 40 people) to see something very little, but very amazing – The Waitomo cave glow worms.

The caves we visited, were strictly speaking outside the Waitomo area. We chose them as the company operating the tours brings fewer people, thus fewer lights, and therefore a much more impressive glow worm experience. So impressive in fact, that Sir David Attenborough and his team used it for their Planet Earth and Life un the underground series for BBC. Now there is a man whose opinion I trust on the quality of experience in the natural world!!!

After a chilled out evening, watching a top quality NZ movie, The Whale Rider (if you haven’t seen it – watch it- I still loved it 4th or 5th time round) and a good night’s sleep, we rose and headed to the Spellbound Tower – out meeting point.

The tour, lead by a local guide, a proud kiwi, by the name of O’Halloran, with buckets of Irish and Scottish ancestors (we really do get everywhere!), began with the first of two caves. This was a dry cave. Many years ago, there was water flowing through, which carved out the cave itself, but today, the river flows elsewhere, having found itself a more suitable path, leaving behind a stunning array of chambers with stalactites and stalagmites and even numerous animal bones, from goats, cows, possums and even the bones of an ancient (and now extinct) Moa – an indigenous bird to these parts, which was hunted to extinction by Polynesian settlers many thousands of years ago.

The cave, conveniently lit up for punters like us, was stunning. And when our guide dimmed the lights for a moment, we got some impression of just how dark the next cave would be. After a leisurely stroll and a welcome hot cuppa with an oat biscuit (the cave is pretty chilly varying between 4 and 12 degrees), we headed for the highlight of the tour, the glowworm cave.

Just prior to the cave, we stopped for an Australia Zoo style show. Our guide introduced us to one of the river’s local residents, a long finned eel –native to New Zealand. Coaxing her slowly to the surface with some tasty goat meat, we were lucky enough to see her pop her head right out of the water, and ultimately she kindly obliged by turning a full circle and showing us her full length, over 2 feet of it!

There was no swaying us from the object of our visit though. The glow worms were waiting. We were kitted out in had hats and looking like a troop of miners, we marched in. Before we walked into the real depth of the cave, our guide pointed out the various stages in the life of the glow worm around the cave walls. The eggs, laid by the female, which incubate for 10 days, before hatching into larvae. It is the larvae who produce this phosphorescence, caused by an enzyme reaction with an oxidised fat, as we were told. The larvae (the glow worm), spin some 70-80 silky threads each, which drop from the cave wall, and catch the unsuspecting little insects who are attracted to its glow. And the larvae feed! Ultimately, they spin themselves a little pupa, where they reside for about 30 days, before emerging as a mouthless gnat. This poor little fellow/lady, cannot feed. It’s sole purpose now is to mate and/or lay eggs. Once this task is complete, it will eventually die of starvation, or get caught in the sticky threads of some hungry relation. Its a tough life.

After the entomology lesson, we walked deeper into the cave, periodically switching the lights off to see the few twinkling lights above us. Our guide assured us, that after a little time in the cave, we would see many more. We boarded a little boat and slowly drifted down the river. It was pitch black, we could see nothing save for the odd little glow above. Gradually however, as our eyes became accustomed to the dark, the white mining hats became visible, then slowly the silhouettes of the other passengers. By this stage, the sight above and around us was nothing short of awesome. I know I promised never to use that word again, but no other superlative will suffice. It was like staring up into the night sky, but not like any night sky I have ever seen, being the city slicker I am. It was how I imagine the night sky must look, in the middle of the dessert, hundreds of miles from anywhere, with no faint orange glow polluting the light, and not a cloud in sight.

It is difficult to describe just how many glowworms were busy over head, living their short, but hectic little lives. As we were unable to photograph in this cave both because we lack the necessary fancy equipment, but also because unwanted flashes will actually cause the larvae to dim their glow, which take many hours to recover, they’re a little photo-sensitive! However, we have been promised some pictures on e-mail, so hopefully once we are home, we can show you just how amazing it really was.

The Bungy Birthday (Taupo 2.1)

We arrived in Wellington off the Picton ferry about 4.30pm, with a long, long drive ahead of us to Taupo, for our second visit of the trip. This time the visit had one clear focus – adrenalin.

Hereafter, the story will diverge, my version (in italics) and Schmo’s version!

Fiona

After much humming and hawing in Queenstown, I had reluctantly agreed to do a bungy jump with Schmo for his birthday. In return for my generosity, he agreed to do a sky dive with me. First thing on the morning of his birthday, we paid a visit to the local reasonably friendly tourist office to hand over the cash, so there could be no turning back.

After confirming the sky dive for the next day and the bungy to be completed at our leisure, I had plans for a relaxed morning in town. A nice cuppa in one of the many little cafes dotted around, maybe a spot of shopping, and somewhere, in the distant future a long drop and some elastic may have featured.

Schmo had other plans – he wanted his bungy, and he wanted it now. I agreed, on one condition – I was going first. If I saw him fly off the edge of a platform almost 50 metres up, there was no way I would follow.

So, we arrived, signed the usual forms – no, i won’t sue you if I cause myself serious injuries during this bungy, I might sue myself for the sheer stupidity of it though. I was getting more confident. All I had to do was stand up there and jump, don’t look down and it will be easy …. easier.

I went first, I walked into the preparation area, where my ankles were harnessed in. The guys engaged in the usual banter … “it’s his first day … ha ha” said one, nodding to the other. (I later found out it was actually genuinely only his second day). Still I was ok though – step up, look ahead and go.

Eventually, bungy cord attached, it was time to stand up. This was where it all went sour. For anyone who has not seen or done a bungy, the cord is necessarily quite long, and quite elasticy and so, quite heavy when its hanging over the edge of a 46m drop. My plan of a purposeful stride to the edge was hampered by this (mainly the fear the weight would pull me over before I was ready), and the fact that my feet were shackled together, reducing the purposeful stride to an undignified penguin shuffle. This also scuppered the “don’t look down” plan. It is hard to penguin shuffle to the edge of a platform with a heavy cord between your legs, without once or twice checking you are on track and not about to trip yourself. Huston, we have a problem. All my plans … ruined … I saw the river below, the cliffs to the side, and the 46metre drop I was supposed to be taking. No way – its just not going to happen.

The poor guy on the platform, he must have to deal with this umpteen times a day. To my benefit though, it meant he was pretty good at coaxing nervous jumpers. A few words of reassurance and he got me to the edge, persuaded me I could do it, that I would wonder why I was so afraid in 2 minutes time, then lifted my arms up and before I had a chance to change my mind, nudged me off the edge …. in the first few nano seconds the thoughts in my mind ranged from “he did not just do that, oh my god he did, I can’t believe he pushed me, this is so brilliant, why was I afraid” this was roughly about the point where in my bungy afflicted brain thought the appropriate thing to do was shout back up to my kind assistant “THAAAAAANNKK YOUUUUUU” swiftly followed by “YOUUU WEEERRREEE RRIIIIIIGGGHHHTT!” all cringingly picked up by the microphones and proudly displayed on my courtesy DVD.

Schmo

Here I am Patiently standing outside the Bungy Corral. My ridiculous idea of a birthday treat. Fiona has reluctantly agreed to jump off a ledge in exchange for me jumping from a moving aircraft, a fair trade one might think. As she is a little nervous she has decided that she is going to venture out first. I witness her being readied for her jump. Legs strapped in, ropes double checked. She walks or more accurately waddles to the edge. With the Bungy instructor standing behind her explaining the intricacies of a prize jump she freezes. She has no intention of going through with it. She backs off and point blank refuses to go. The instructor being well versed in these matters reassures her. After some negotiating and a gentle but firm push she is away. A blood curdling scream comes first quickly followed by a clear thanks to the man who has just pushed her over a 46 metre ledge. I peer over the edge to see a dangling Fiona being retrieved by the river boat.

Now it’s my turn. With some pleasantries out of the way and wanting my jump to dip me into the river its down to business. After keeping my cool for so long and thinking this was going to be an easy task, I’ve been rattled by Fiona’s reluctance. I’m strapped in and all the previous checks are repeated. I waddle to the edge and confess that I too am unable to do this. But before the sentence is fully out of my mouth my legs have taken over and jumped for me. I too scream but mine sounds more like a teenage boy whose voice is breaking.

Who would have thought that jumping off a platform would be the perfect substitute for blowing out 29 candles.

A tale of two skydives (Taupo 2.2)

Schmo

Deciding that one adrenaline filled activity was enough for a single day we had set the skydive as our treat for the next day. With the Bungy completed on a gloriously sunny day followed by a clear night the clouds had decided to moved in. I thought that all my prayers had been answered. The campsite was thick with fog and there was no sign of it breaking. We prepared breakfast, packed up and headed off to the information centre where they would shed light on whether the jump was possible on such a cloudy day.

Fiona saw through my feigned look of disappointment as the woman behind the desk told us that the skydive was postponed until the cloud lifted. She advised us to return at 11:15 to check again.

One cup of coffee later and still the cloud was low over all of Taupo. We returned to the information centre, me with my hopes set on a nice grey cloudy day. To my horror a helpful lady behind the counter informed us that though it was cloudy in Taupo, the Airport was clearing up and we should make our way there.

We arrived at the Taupo Tandem Skydive centre, greeted by beautiful clear skies. I began to get even more nervous. So nervous in fact that I had to excuse myself before even filling out the general paper work associated with any such hazardous activity.

All things taken care of, we were greeted by some staff and given the hard sell. We were told about all the silver, gold and platinum packages we were missing out on due to the fact that we were only doing the basic jump. I know this only from signs and fliers that were shown to me as my brain had decided to switch off and preoccupy itself with nerves and thoughts of the jump.

All prepped and ready to go we boarded a small yellow aircraft with a shutter at one end. At this stage I don’t think I was communicative or pleasant to anyone around me.

Seated just in front of my instructor and still unable to make anything more than hand gestures, we taxied to the runway. Normally this would be a very unpleasant feeling for me but for some bizarre reason a wave of calm swept over me. We took off and the beautiful lake Taupo began to grow smaller and smaller as we climbed. Feeling human again and somewhat serene I began to talk to my instructor. We had the usual banter and then he strapped me onto his harness. Never before have I felt so comfortable feeling the warmth of another man.

A short time later we had reached the high point of our flight, the shutter at the back of the aircraft opened. Fiona and her instructor left the aircraft with a scream (not unlike the one yesterday, I thought).

My jump was imminent. All calmness gone again. Serenity nowhere to be found. The instructor shepherded me to the door and with one quick movement we were outside the aircraft.

You wouldn’t hear a docker use the language I used in those first few seconds of freefall but after that I was silent in sheer amazement at how beautiful the world looked (or at least lake Taupo) from such an angle.

Fi

I should start off by warning Dad not to read this. Or if you intend to read it Dad, skip the remainder of the paragraph and then continue. Dad hates heights and so the idea of me doing a bungy was probably bad enough, well, damage done, that’s already been posted. However, I can be a sensitive soul when I choose, so from here on in, my skydive (shhhh!) shall be referred to as “the Flower Show”.

Waking to dismally foggy weather, we traipsed to the information centre to be told we couldn’t “go to the flower show” at the scheduled time, we rebooked for about an hour later. Strolling around Taupo, there was no sign at all of the fog lifting, despite the assurances of the info centre staff that it usually burned off by 11. At the arranged time, still unable to see the water of the lake a mere 70-80 metres away, we returned, sure the flower show would be cancelled completely due to inclement weather. I was gutted. I’d been planning on seeing these flowers since we arrived in NZ. It was to be the highlight of the trip for me. I’ve always wanted to go to a flower show and to finally go, with Lake Taupo and the three big boys (Tongariro, Ruapehu and Ngauruhoe) providing the backdrop, what better place?

It was my lucky day, we were good to go. Schmo was a little less keen on the idea than I was. Despite my paralysing fear of the bungy jump, I was remarkably calm about the idea of throwing myself out of a plane (albeit strapped to some adrenaline junkie) at 12,000 feet. Doh! Sorry Dad – gone and ruined it all.

It might seem unusual. The bungy was 100 odd feet, this was well over 100 times that, and yet all I felt was sheer excitement. Once we arrived, signed the obligatory paperwork and the hardworking staff tried to get us to buy photos, dvds, mugs, key-rings and the whole sha-bang, we were kitted up, in rather fetching red jump suits. Harnessed up and all but ready to go, we watched the safety video. Well, I watched it and Schmo. I saw his face pale, his hands get clammy and his pupils dilate with sheer terror. I’ll admit at this point, I thought he might be better not going. The idea of him being that frightened was not a pleasant one. I offered a final get out of jail free card, which he quietly declined – we were going up.

The flight up to 12,000 feet, our jump height, was incredible. We watched the cloud disappear and saw the lake, the mountains and the surrounding country side spread out below us. It was just stunning. Chatting away to my instructor, he showed me his altimeter at 5,000 feet, the point at which he would pull the cord and open the canopy – wow! – 7,000 feet of freefall, with nothing but the air below me to slow me down!

It seemed like no time had passed when the shutter opened and the first two jumpers were gone. Next was one of the employees – she was training to be the video jumper – to capture the magic moments for people like me. In two seconds, she was gone and I was sitting on the edge of the plane, my head resting back on my instructor’s shoulder, legs tucked under the plane, 12,000 feet of air between me and the ground. Then we were gone. I started to scream as we turned in the air, and then I realised – what am I screaming for? This is amazing.

We plummeted. I could feel the air rushing past my face, and up into my poorly fitting goggles making my right eye water. Did it bother me? No, nothing could possibly have bothered me. I could see the mountains, the lake, everything. I felt a tap on my shoulder and my instructor pointed ahead, the trainee was right in front of us, free falling in sync. What an amazing feeling, to see another person in front of you falling through the air at terminal velocity, to see their face, their expressions, they are in that moment with you – its indescribable.

All too soon, the freefall was over and with a jolt, we were simply sailing. A few adjustments and I was sitting comfortably watching the world go by. I had a nanosecond of worry, when I fell for the “is it just me or is your harness loosening?” gag, but otherwise, it was pure bliss. I think I uttered such articulate phrases as “Wow” and “Oh Wow” and “Wowee”. My instructor pointed out the rainbows we could see above the clouds, which from that height you see as circular – incredible.

I thought it couldn’t possibly get any better, when he asked if I would like to steer the parachute. I turned as much as I could (not much) and asked was he serious? In a few seconds, my hands were secured in the straps and I was turning us (with a little help at first), then righting us again, and then the other way. It might not sound like much - pulling a few straps, but the whole freefall and then gliding down is so overwhelming, to actually have the chance, albeit briefly, to be in control of where I was going, was just awesome!

With a smooth, if speedy descent, we landed. Back on terra firma. To be honest, probably the last place I wanted to be right at that moment. It would not have taken much (or anything in fact) to persuade me to go back up again. However, I did have the chance to see a beaming Schmo come in for the landing. I expected a pale face, what I saw was exactly what I felt. Total elation!

We left shortly afterwards, dvd and t-shirts in arms, smiling from ear to ear. When can I go again????

Abel Tasman National Park

On arrival in Motueka we speedily arranged our accommodation in the Abel Tasman National Park (DOC huts, basic – they have cooking benches, hard mattresses and a heater) huts, booked ourselves on the Aqua Taxi and rented sleeping bags, liners a cooking pot and a camping stove (for aforementioned cooking bench) and we were ready to rock.

Early enough, we left Motueka for the short drive to Murahau which is a small seaside village at one end of the Abel Tasman National Park. This was to be both our starting point and our final destination. We parked Maisie up in the car park of the Aqua taxi company and set off for the start of the Abel Tasman Coastal Track. This is one of New Zealand’s “Great walks” – a series of multi day hikes, or tramps as the kiwis call them, which are considered exceptionally beautiful, but which are also well maintained and quite accessible. Ideal for part time hikers like us.

Day one was going to be a long walk. We would begin with the 1km walk to the start of the track, which we would then follow for about 11km along the coast to Anchorage and then progress further to Bark Bay (about 10km further). All in all, it was going to be just about a 22km walk along the coastal track.

We were fortunate with the weather. With our longest day ahead of us, we needed some sunshine, and for once, the weather gods obeyed. Although beautiful, we saw limited coastline on the first day, for a coastal walk. We did manage to entertain ourselves along the way though.

We spent much of the time walking through winding hillside paths, hidden from the gloriously blue sky by a dense roof of rainforest foliage. It was stunning, but I have to confess, I was fairly exhausted with looking at ferns by the time we reached Bark Bay …. and fairly exhausted. We had estimated the walk would take us about 7-71/2 hours, however, being a little over eager, we arrived at our destination after just over 5 hours – and promptly fell asleep for two hours, much to the amusement of the Dutch and two German hikers who were already at the hut.

We awoke shortly before sunset with dinner on our minds – it was a culinary delight – Wattie’s (NZ’s Heinz!) Chicken Korma in a can, with chicken flavour countdown budget noodles! Rarely has anything tasted so good. Once the sun had really gone down, the temperature dropped and so the tired and chilly hikers huddled around the gas heater in the hut, the slightly effective gas heater. We were all feeling a little sorry for ourselves, when three limping Aussies hobbled through the door, soaked to the waist after a badly timed tidal crossing – all of a sudden our five hours earlier looked like a walk in the park!

Bedtime eventually arrived – I managed to stay awake until the youngest of the hut residents (7,6 and 3; with whom we were sharing a room – a 12 bed dorm) went to bed and then I hit the hay. New Zealand’s Department of Conservation has provided several huts along many of the popular walking routes around the country’s National Parks, which allow trampers (hikers to you and me) to undertake multi day walks, but still have a roof over their heads at night. There is usually a 2 night maximum stay policy in each hut. The mattresses however, ensure that most people stay only one!

After a fitful night’s sleep, I woke up shortly after 6am to hear the 3 year old telling his dad exactly why he needed to go to the bathroom! The poor father tried in vain to persuade he and his siblings that it was the middle of the night and that they needed to go back to sleep! Unfortunately, in a very short time the sight of dawn breaking out the window proved him a liar and my little friend got very excited, begging, :Daddy, please can we go and watch the sunset”. Thus followed a little nature lesson, on how the sun sets at night and rises in the morning. Not that this little encounter was not amusing or indeed educational, but I gladly rolled over for another two hours sleep when Dad caved and brought them out to watch the sun!

Our second day’s walk was to be much shorter, just short of 11km. However, with aching legs and shoulders – no longer quite as fit for carrying the backpack as they were in Nepal – it felt almost as long. The route, despite a long diversion inland, did actually afford some stunning coastal views with walks across Onetahuti Bay and Tonga Quarry Bay. After almost four hours we reached Awaroa Bay, where our hut for the night was located and began the short walk across the beach to it. As we started walking, the rain started pouring. Just as we arrived at the hut, the deluge started – perfect timing. We hauled ourselves inside, thanking our lucky stars we left when we did and prepared some badly needed lunch. The next hour was spent trying every trick in our limited scouting book, to get the wood stove burning. Eventually, it kicked off properly, just in time for the four soaking Americans who arrived in.

We all passed the night, sitting around the stove, stealing every bit of warmth we could, entertaining ourselves with an extremely complicated version of twenty questions which was introduced to us by our hut mates, eventually crawling into our sleeping bags, dreaming of better weather for tomorrow.

We were lucky, the sun was well and truly out the next morning. The first part of our journey was to complete a crossing of the Bay from Awaroa Hut. There is a large tidal difference of 4m from low to high at this location, meaning it is only possible to make the crossing about 2 hours either side of low tide. With low tide at 1.40pm, this meant a lazy morning for us. We had met several hikers along the way and heard horror stories of waist deep, ice cold water. I was dreading it, being such a fan of cold water. Fortunately, the deepest part of the the crossing was just over my knees, and ok, it was ice-cold, but it was certainly tolerable compared to what I had expected.

Once the crossing was made, it was really a hop, skip and a jump to Totaranui and our water taxi back to Murahau. It was the most coastal part of the Coastal track, taking in some gorgeous sandy beaches along the way. If you didn’t know better, you might think you had landed on a tropical island – of course, it is New Zealand in winter, so the temperature might just have given it away!!!

Possibly the highlight of the trip however, was the water taxi journey back. With plenty of time to kill, the driver stopped at Tonga Island so we could see the colony of NZ fur seals, and then at the stunning Tonga Arches – beautiful stone arches carved in the rock over millions of years. I have seen arches like this before, but mostly out of softer rocks, these were granite! As we motored on, we were also lucky enough to see a stingray and a pod of Dusky Dolphins, one of NZ’s only native sea mammals and one of the smallest dolphins in the world.

Our arrival back in Motueka was not prove disappointing either. I thought the journey could not possibly get better. I was wrong. As the boat approached the shore, we could see a long stretch of sand, interspersed with icy cold streams. After one too many chilly tidal crossings, it was a sight that made us shudder with fear! Fear not – the aqua taxi people had a solution! We motored into the shallows, to be met with a tractor and a trailer. Our boat driver simply directed us onto the trailer, while the tractor driver reversed, secured us and motored us the full 500m or so to the shore and on to the Aqua taxi office – passengers on a boat, on a trailer, being towed by a tractor!!!! Genius!