"The Big Build Up"
When we first booked our trip to New Zealand, Mrs Top Hat took it upon herself to organise our itinery. I say took it upon herself, but she had no choice really - I hate making plans and so if it had been left to me, we'd have been stuck in some dreary Auckland hotel for three weeks.
Part of Mrs Top Hat's plan involved a gruelling seven hour, yes seven hour, hike up a bleedin' volcano. This was to take place on Day Four. On Day Three, we reached the foot of the volcano and I wondered whether I was up to tomorrow's task.
The volcano, Nguaruhoe, was a spectacular sight, looming ominously over the blend of lucious green and barren rock landscapes. It had been used in one of the Lord of the Rings films, but I'm not sure which one...all those elves and wizards don't appeal to me - it's too much like a family get-together for my liking.
I'd never seen a volcano before and it didn't disappoint. With its near black sides and crimson red stains at its flat edged peak, Nguaruhoe fits the stereotypical image of a volcano. And is all the better for it. It looked a long, long way up though.
"Do we go right to the top of it?" I asked Mrs Top Hat.
"Almost. I don't think you can go right to the top because of the fumes."
Oh great. So I'm going to be blowing out of my arse, completely knackered and gasping for air, and the little bit I do breathe in is going to be poisonous.
I looked down at my weary legs and wondered if they were up to it. My knees and ankles have both had more than their fair share of injuries over the years, thanks mostly to playing football like a rhino on a kid's bouncy castle. They ache and complain pretty regularly, especially when it is cold...I just hoped they weren't going to embarrass me on day four. The last thing I needed was to get out-paced by Mrs Top Hat, a woman who prepared for the adventure by going to the gym twice and eating two packs of Ginger Nuts a week instead of three. I'd been training fairly hard for over 6 months. It was a good job I had my old footballing injuries as a convenient excuse for a pathetic showing.
The sight of the volcano was the second surprising element of the day. The first had been a geyser and some stunning geothermal pools that we had visited on our way to the Tongario National Park (where the volcano lives). The thermal pools were similar to Hell's Gate, but much grander in scale and stench. One of the more unusual pools was called 'The Devil's Bath' which was a phlegm green pool of sizzling liquid. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. Or smelled anything like it. Whereas the pools at Hell's Gate had been mildly unpleasant, these pools were as rancid as a hobo's gusset. A gagging concoction of Ralgex, burning rubber, and dinosaur flatulence. In many ways, it reminded me of my brother's bedroom when we were teenagers.
The pools were much more aggressive than those at Hell's Gate, and bubbled and spat violently like an IBS sufferer's stomach after a greasy curry. The 'Champagne' pool was particularly pungent and steamed and frothed constantly. The heat coming off it was incredible.
As spectacular as the pools were, they weren't the most incredible thing I saw there. No, that honour goes to an unnamed European man, possibly Czech - I couldn't tell for sure. What did he do to earn this accolade? He displayed a level of rudeness and inconsideration that I'd not witnessed since...well, since those bastards on the plane had fully reclined their seats.
At 10.15 every day, the geyser blows, tricked into spurting by a rather saucy packet of soap powder. As you'd imagine, this is a popular tourist attraction and so you need to get there early to get a decent seat. We arrived at 10.00 and sat towards the back of the bank, where we thought we'd get the best view. As it neared 10.15, the place was getting full but everyone could see clearly and with the sun bearing down on us from behind, the audience was perfectly placed for some great photographs. Next to us, an elderly English couple sat politely, adjusting their camera. At 10.13, in comes the obnoxious European with a camcorder that could double as an anti-tank gun. And he stands directly in front of the elderly couple, completely obscuring their view. Too polite to complain, they tutted away as is the English way. Feeling some sympathy for our compatriots, we moved up a bit so that they could see. I half expected the European tit to shuffle across with us.
Finally, the guide brought out the packet of soap powder. Now, I'm no geyser expert, but I could definitely see why this would work. The soap powder had obviously made some effort to look her best, with sensual lingerie revealing her tender white flakes. The tarty little packet gave a knowing wink to the crowd before the guide hurled her into the dark crater at the peak of the mound. The ground trembled slightly and a deep gurgling noise rumbled out of the geyser. Then, without any other warning, it ejaculated ten feet into the air. I couldn't help but wonder if the soap powder lay in the hole, feeling incredibly frustrated.
After the geyser spectacle, we drove to Tongario National Park. The roads were more or less deserted and curved through some beautiful scenery. Large, brilliant blue bays and curving green hills lined the pock marked roads that were covered with loose stones. As the Suzuki rattled its way forward, the stones clattered against the panels...it sounded like we were driving through Iraq in a star spangled tractor. Thank God we had taken out that extra insurance. If you go to New Zealand and rent a car, make sure you do the same because Kiwis don't believe in road repairs - 'if the road is a bit choppy, just chuck some loose stones on it' seems to be the policy.
That night, we were staying in The Discovery Lodge, one of the few accommodation options near to the famous Tongario Crossing walk. On first sight, it was less than impressive. A tatty chalet door that reminded me of a particularly run-down Butlins opened directly into our bedroom, which to be fair, was quite pleasant. From the bedroom, grim lino that looked like it belonged on the set of 'Some Mothers Do 'Ave 'Em' led to a shelf that doubled as a kitchen area and a garish, wooden panelled yellow bathroom. We were too tired to be disheartened and settled down for a kip.
That night, we ate in The Discovery Lodge's restaurant. We were surprised that the friendly receptionist was also working as our waitress. She seemed to do everything there. I wouldn't have been surprised if she cooked our meals too. Fair play to her if she did, because they were the finest meals we had in our entire stay. On that first night, I tucked into a delicious chicken and ham dish...just what I needed to take my mind off the torturous seven hour hike on the horizon.