The Intercity bus taking me to Turangi (its final destination being Tauranga) left Palmy on Monday 9th at 1.30 pm on a cloudy and chilly 9th September. The driver, Murray, was very amiable as most of the drivers have been, cracking corny jokes and clearly enjoying his job. I asked him at one point what it was he enjoyed about his job and he said “The people, pure and simple”.
I quietly took interest in some of the people on the bus. Behind me was an elderly lady with a young relative aged 20. I couldn’t help but listen to the conversation and gathered that the lady had just met up with the girl after some time, a relative I think, from what I could gather her great niece or maybe even her granddaughter. ‘Grandma’ lived in Levin (a town not far from Palmy) and the girl in Oz. They were going to Turangi where the girl’s parents were picking them up. What amused me was that ‘Grandma’ kept asking the girl questions about her childhood, if she remembered this and that, and giving a running commentary on the scenery and towns we went through. The girl usually answered in a monotone and eventually asked ‘Grandma’ if she’d mind if she listened to her music through headphones. So then poor ‘Grandma’ spent a while in silence until headphones must have been removed and she could chat again. It made me feel a little sorry for her.
After an hour we stopped for a 30 minute lunch break, which I’d already eaten while waiting for the bus. This was taken at a cafe at which the driver more than once recommended the lamb burgers, clearly savouring his portion. I briefly chatted to a young English chap, who’d been sitting at the front of the bus behind Murray who acknowledged him on more than one occasion as “a visitor” travelling alone on his way to work on a farm near Taupo having completed a degree in Agriculture. He was a nice young chap and I decided he would undoubtedly make his way in the world. I had a cup of tea and, all too quickly especially for those who’d ordered the requisite lamb burger and chips, we were back on the bus. Murray welcomed us back as if we’d been away for a few hours and hoped we’d enjoyed our lunch.
Sometimes I get the impression that New Zealanders, especially Intercity bus drivers, make something out of nothing probably because they haven’t much history to speak of. Reading that back again it seems rather mean-spirited of me as they’re clearly very proud of New Zealand, which is certainly a stunningly beautiful country, and wish to entertain the travellers with snippets of lesser known facts and detailing places of interest. These included the Royal NZ Air Force Base and museum and the town of Taihape (pronounced Tie happy) where every year there’s a gumboot-throwing competition with the town exhibiting a huge sculpture of a gumboot just in case you thought you were in the wrong place. I wondered if an incoming Scot had started this.
Also on the bus was an elderly man sitting in front of me who seemed to have all kinds of foodstuff that he gradually worked his way through but didn’t share with anyone, especially as Murray noticed and remarked upon it. Opposite him was a father with his toddler child who I thought was a girl but turned out to be a boy. He mentioned that he’d taken his son from the very south of the North island and was making his way to the far north, Cape Reinga, for no particular reason it seemed. The child was quite delightful, but even more delightful was when his father sang to him in the most beautiful voice. Where was he when his talent was needed at the Country Music Finals, I wondered?
We travelled all the way on state highway 1 and when not going through towns passed through the gloriously green and undulating countryside that I’ve become familiar with and love, as it’s quite different to home. Murray explained that we would be going along, what’s known as, the desert road, so called because it’s pretty desolate not because it’s sandy; then that the road would start winding and finally become even more twisty and known by the drivers as ‘Seven Sisters’. It was patently obvious when we reached the desert road as the green changed to brown, quite moorland-like. Snow-capped mountains could be seen in the distance: Mounts Ngauruhoe, Ruapehu and Tongariro. As the road started to bend ‘Grandma’ asked the girl whether she suffered from travel sickness and I crossed my fingers that she didn’t as I was directly in the firing line of the remnants of her lamb burger I’d earlier seen her eating.
It was then just a short drive into Turangi, my chosen place for two nights prior to my 5th housesit in NZ. On arrival at the bus stop ‘Grandma’ and girl were greeted by the girl’s parents which must have been quite a lovely moment for all.
I’d booked ‘Settlers Motel’ via the website booking.com which was just across the main road from the bus stop. In the reception I was greeted by Donna, who leases and manages the site. She’s like a tiny bird, nothing of her, and she was sitting behind the desk wearing a thick cardigan and woolly hat. When I’d told a lady in Palmy who asked me where I was going she’d responded “It’s freezing in Turangi” which had unnerved me somewhat. Donna told me that her only employee had recently left without notice so it had fallen to her to clean the 8 units and cover the reception, open from 0700 – 2100! I was hoping that I might be able to do the local one day walk, Tongariro Crossing, which takes 8 hrs and is 19km long but she told me that during winter/early spring it’s best to walk with a guide as the markers are covered by snow and crampons have to be used as it can be icy. She gave me a leaflet with the contact details of a company, Adrift. She also told me that she ran across it, although hadn’t done for some time, which impressed me as she’s nearly 60.
The weather wasn’t looking great for the next day, the only possible day I could do it, but I contacted the company by email which appeared to still be open at 6pm. I then went to the Turangi Tavern, forgetting my phone, for dinner. On returning to my unit I realised I’d slightly messed up the email address of Adrift and got a response from some beach accommodation. So I tried again, although the company was shut by then.
Turangi is famous for trout fishing and allegedly the ‘Trout Fishing Capital of the World’, located just south of Lake Taupo set on the Tongariro River. (Note that in NZ they don’t say River Waikato or River Tongariro but Waikato River, Tongariro River. Interesting….well, not a lot!). Other than the fishing people are attracted here by white-water rafting and skiing and tramping in the nearby Tongariro National Park.
No rush to get up on Tuesday as the weather was drizzly and quite cold, cold enough for me to wear my woolly hat and gloves. Having received no response from the correct ‘Adrift’ company I went into town, which seemed a rather sad, lonely place with no real ‘heart and soul’ and a few degenerates were hanging about. It no doubt serves people well who stop for supplies for their mountain walking and trout fishing. Another activity is walking along the Tongariro river trail and the forecast for the next day looked great so decided I’d do that before getting the 4.30 pm bus to Taupo. I’m ashamed to say that I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in my unit reading and writing rather than facing the cold weather and exercising. Still, I’ve done rather a lot of exercise recently so figured it wouldn’t hurt and it was nice to have a day off from the long daily walks and veg out! At 2.30 pm I got a response from Adrift offering to take me on the walk the next day for $195! I declined as would have missed the bus and may well come back at the start of summer to walk it by myself before the crowds descend upon it (or should that be ‘ascend’?) as it is supposed to be quite spectacular.
So on Wednesday morning I set off for the trail, not far from the motel, having dropped my main luggage at the I-Site office for safe-keeping. I thought I’d take in the National Trout centre, not because I’m particularly interested in trout or fishing, but because it’s a local attraction given the importance of trout in the area. Donna suggested that I turn right at the rive, cross over via a suspension bridge then continue on the trail on the other side until I got to another bridge called Red Hut Bridge then return to Turangi popping into the Trout Centre en route.
It looked to be straightforward and I set off quite happily, passing a lone fisherman before crossing the suspension bridge to the opposite side.
On the other side I met a South African man who asked me if I’d seen a blue duck as I was reading a sign about the Blue Duck Project where trap boxes had been placed along the river to trap the blue ducks’ predators such as stoats and rats. I said I hadn’t (and had only just read about them anyway) and asked if he had. He told me he had in 1967, so I thought I was very unlikely to see one! The sign also asked dog walkers to keep dogs on a lead and suggesting they might like to put their dogs on an ‘avian avoidance course’. I had a bit of a chat with him and he told me he lives in Pretoria back home but comes regularly to NZ and Oz as he has a child in each country. He told me how lovely it was to be able to walk alone along the riverside, not something he’d be able to contemplate in SA!
There were some lovely views of the mountains in the distance and soon the trail passed by fields before then going into the ‘bush’. I really enjoyed it but didn’t find the Red Hut Bridge. I decided, reluctantly, to retrace my steps and bumped into an Australian mother and daughter who were also wondering where the bridge was. We walked together for a bit but didn’t find it so I decided to walk back the same route as didn’t want to risk getting lost and missing the bus. So I missed the trout centre after all but think I can live without seeing it!
While waiting later at the bus stop, Murray arrived in another bus with ‘Skip’ on the side. Apparently this is a kind of off shoot of Inter City, cheaper but quicker although doesn’t do that many destinations. We had a chat and he had remembered by name which rather surprised me. The journey to Taupo was just under an hour and the driver made no attempt to entertain us. The journey was mainly around the west side of Lake Taupo, which looked lovely:
NeverSayNeverNomad 