Rotorua and an unlikely shower companion
Wednesday, 12 February
Venturing down into the middle of the North Island, I quickly realised how easy it was to drive for two hours and not come across any sign of human life. There are endless roads in NZ that cut through huge valleys and mountain passes, and which seem to stretch to the horizon. Admittedly, they do occasionally meander through a tired little town that was the centre of an industry about forty years ago. Said town will have one of the following: an abandoned railway track, a statue of a famous sheep herder or a pie shop that claims its the best in the area despite there only seeming to be one pie shop in the area.
I often wondered what it would be like to live in one of these remote towns dead in the centre of the North Island and whether the people who did live here lived here out of choice. Sure it’s peaceful and there’s a generous amount of land for your bungalow but what would you do if you needed to see a doctor? And, more importantly, what if you didn’t like your neighbours?
Yet, once again, New Zealand caught me by surprise with its natural beauty. I peeled off the main road about 45 minutes north of Rotorua to find Putaruru Blue Spring. I had read about the spring in a slightly tattered Lonely Planet travel guide. The spring is known to have some of the clearest water in the world and it supplies 70% of NZ’s bottled water. My photos do not do it justice. The water was crystal clear down to about twenty feet in areas, and the water seemed to caress the bright seagrass as it moved down this quaint hillside. I followed the river for about 2km on foot, unable to take my eyes of it and unable to stop longing for a quick dip (sadly visitors were banned from swimming in the spring back in 2016). After every bend I was caught off guard by how totally serene this setting was. What I couldn’t fathom was how it was completely free - no man in a hut waiting to charge you twenty quid. I also wondered whether the ducks here realised how lucky they were to be paddling on this spring rather than on the River Thames back home.
After a total of four hours driving down from the Coromandel region I finally arrived in Rotorua, home to the island’s second largest lake which sits right in the middle of the geothermal belt of NZ. The town is surrounded by hot springs and steaming geysers which, whilst fascinating, means you’re followed by a lingering smell of Hydrogen Sulphide everywhere you go. I arrived very late into my Rotorua campsite and I had chosen a cheap one. My thinking being I would treat myself to a nice campsite every few days. Yet, the woman who seemed to be in charge of the site was incredibly welcoming despite the fact I had just sneaked in before the reception closed. She also explained how recent surges in rain had caused a nearby river to burst its banks and flood the campsite; deterring visitors in peak season, meaning business had been tough.
I paid for my 24hr WIFI token and set up for the night. Before I turned in, however, I decided to brave a shower. I’d have to say going to the bathroom after dark is the least enjoyable bit of camping as you fumble through the wet grass, bugs and the chilly air. This experience was truly cemented for me when I opened the shower door, and turned the light on to see a green-speckled frog staring back at me. I’ve never had a shower in the company of a frog before. I told myself this was true outdoor living!
The next morning I drove into the town centre of Rotorua. I walked around and saw a couple of geysers by the huge lake and after some more meandering I felt compelled to chat to someone. It’s quite easy for days to go by as a solo traveler and to not have had any profound conversations by the time your head hits the pillow. In the spirit of making first moves, I reached out to an elderly woman who was practicing croquet on a lawn by Rotorua’s Museum and Art Gallery. I enjoyed how seriously she explained the rules to me as though she questioned my respect for the sport. As you can see from the image, her husband (or so I presumed) had a very specific stance and a held the mallet with a particular grip. Needless to say it I mastered neither in the ten minute demonstration she gave me.
Since the sun was shining, I decided to walk around the town a little more, popping into a market where stalls were selling Pounamu, also known as jade or greenstone, which is a culturally significant stone for Māori’s and which is often fashioned into rings, necklaces and trinkets. I also passed a sign that detailed how a local Māori iwi (tribe) had gifted 50 acres of land to the British Crown in the late 1800s “for the benefit of the people of the world.” This land contained a geothermal area which created several therapeutic hot pools. I pondered on this a little bit and when I was walking back to the van I started to take notice of the area a little more. It’s odd how a few incidents can formulate a feeling in your mind. Within a minute, I saw a couple of ‘boy racer’ types in wide cars that burst down the road, then a group of Māori school kids wearing all black throwing sideways glances. It was over in a second but it was the first time I felt this tension between the local, predominantly Māori community, and ‘white’ tourists (in this case me), who seem to come here to visit the hotel spas that make use of the geothermal activity in the area.
Then came one of those ‘oh shit’ moments. I decided to drive to a nearby mud pool and was attempting to reverse my van into a space it definitely didn’t fit into…The van came within inches of this red and rusty hatchback. Before I knew it a man had darted out of the McDonald’s across the street. He was shouting and aggressively gesticulating. I’m sure being in a big white campervan didn’t help here (I might as well had tourist written alongside the van) but after he peered through the passenger side window and quickly realised I was a complete fool with no idea what I was doing, he dropped his guard and kindly helped guide me back into the space.
Slightly frazzled following that interaction, I decided to drive to a smaller and less busy lake nearby - Lake Okareka - in search of some quiet solitude. I arrived after about 30 minutes and it was much more my pace.
You may have to navigate a frog in the shower but now and then you get to see a dazzling-blue lake in your the rear view mirror.
