Taupō II

As already mentioned, you really have to earn the beautiful spots here in Taupō. They do not just fall into your lap the way they do in Queenstown. So I still had two days left, and I was seriously considering whether to do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Twenty kilometers, starting at 1120 meters elevation, then up over South Crater and Red Crater to 1886 meters, followed by a descent of about 1000 vertical meters. A shuttle would take you from Taupō to the trailhead 80 kilometers away and then pick you up again eight hours later at the endpoint. Thanks to the Department of Conservation for the excellent information and videos, really well done.

I thought about it for a long time. The weather window would have been there. In the end, the deciding factor for not doing the tour was not that I was afraid I would not make it, nor was it my fear of heights. No, it was simply that I could not be bothered to sit in a shuttle at five in the morning with other hikers for 80 kilometers. Not that I have not been awake at five every day for the last two and a half years, just as I am now. But having to talk to other people that early, or even just run the risk of it, and on top of that it is cold in the morning, no thank you. That reason is just as valid as any other for not doing it. If you need an excuse, you will always find one. Besides, I have to leave something for next time. Better to tick Taupō off now, then I do not have to come back here again. It is pretty, sure, but it is not Queenstown either.

So, since I had a bike, a front suspension mountain bike, I made use of it once more. First, two small blacks, which is what espresso is called here, then onto the 16 kilometer trail towards Aratiatia Rapids, past Huka Fall, about 100 meters above it. My backside still had not fully recovered, despite being patched up. But I know this already. On my first ride to the Côte d’Azur, along the Rhône Valley, after eight of twelve days I could no longer sit either, so you ride standing up. It is particularly good exercise for the gluteus maximus and the hamstrings. It certainly shapes that part of the body, and I have rarely had problems there. My problem area lies further forward, the thick layer of fat over the abdomen.

It was fun riding along the trail. On the way I kept wondering where exactly my fear of heights had gone, because in places it dropped off quite brutally. Well, if I start missing it too much, I can always try jumping out of a plane, it will surely come back to me then. And we all know what stands at the end of this journey we call life. It is death, and that is path independent. People who understand thermodynamics may laugh here.

So I blasted through the jungle on this narrow trail, uphill, downhill, and arrived fairly quickly and exactly on time at the dam. I rode to the different viewpoints and decided on the lower one, which already seemed a bit crowded. I slipped through and set up my GoPro. I had an idea, and it actually worked, relatively speaking.

When the dam opened its gates, I found myself wondering when the dwarves would arrive in their barrels, or whether they already had the day off. Sadly, they were not included in the ticket price. By the time I was done with my recording, the place had already emptied out quite a bit, and it was getting rather late in the day. I had apparently dawdled a little in the morning. I checked the time, just before quarter to three. Craters of the Moon closes at four, I can still make that.

I swung myself onto the bike and tore through those ten kilometers over roots and rocks and up and down hills, and sure enough, not even half an hour later I was standing at the entrance, breathing hard and satisfied that my speculation had been correct, the last entry was at four, but the park itself stayed open until five. The lady at the ticket desk was adorable. Had I walked all the way there? She explained the park to me in detail while the blood was still roaring through my ears. I had really pushed quite hard. After handing me a bottle of water, she let me into the park, not without some safety instructions. By then the queue behind me had grown very long. That kind of thing always bothers me, the lady less so.

In general I have to say that the greatest treasure here is not nature, but the many kind people. Time and again I am overwhelmed by how willingly people speak with you here. No one makes you feel like you are from somewhere else. Everyone is incredibly nice and communicative. I could get used to that.

Craters of the Moon, my legs were still a little shaky as I walked through the park. A boardwalk leads over steaming ground. Craters of the Moon is a geothermal landscape north of Taupō, where steam vents, craters, and discolored earth create an almost lunar scenery, complete with its own very unusual flora. The circuit takes about 45 minutes, with an additional lookout that costs another 15 minutes or so. What is particularly interesting is that this field also reflects the development of the Wairakei geothermal power station system.

I got back out in time and was sitting, no, standing, on the bike again. On the way back to Taupō I passed another point where a little path branches off to the left from the cycle track towards the Acid Drop. A short trail descent with two hard jumps in it. I pushed my equipment right to the edge of what it could handle, but I had to take them. When I arrived at the bottom, a small group of young mountain bikers in full gear were standing there, helmet, pads, full suspension bikes. They stared at me more or less in disbelief. At least they had seen the last jump as I rode past the kids, cheerfully whistling.

Although I do not like to brag about it, I can ride a mountain bike. Especially trails like these here, null problemo. Normally I ride around on a fully loaded, unsuspended touring bike, 130 kilos plus, and if necessary also on mountain bike trails, or mountains without trails, or down ski slopes. There were years when I averaged 15,000 kilometers a year on the bike. At that point you cannot help but develop a few skills.

Even so, I was glad to be back at the accommodation after shopping and to get something to eat. It had been pretty exhausting. The next morning my first paycheck came in. Not bad for a bit of digital nomadism, including a follow-up job. Nothing you could really live on, though perhaps? Anyway. Get up, coffee, gym, and then I still wanted to climb Mount Tauhara, the pregnant woman.

I had actually wanted to cycle to the parking lot, but my Polish hostess objected. She insisted on driving me to the foot of the mountain. She said the road there was not really suitable for the bike. She was right, not particularly sexy. Maybe she had also seen what I had done to her bicycle the day before and did not want me to put it through any more. So there I was, sitting in the car and being chatted at. I already felt a bit guilty about not making my way to the trailhead under my own muscle power, but the road really was not great. I should call her again when I was done. Then she dropped me off in the parking lot.

There it said that you should be fit, that it was steep, that it was three kilometers from 550 meters elevation up to 1080 meters, and that it usually takes three to three and a half hours up and down.

The last two and a half years I have not been kind to myself. I worked far too much, ten to twelve hours, six days a week, neglected my body accordingly, and cursed myself on the very first meters going uphill. Really, I was breathing hard, wrestling with myself, wondering whether I was even fit enough for this. An hour later I was standing on top of Mount Tauhara. Oops.

I very nearly wrote that I had mounted the pregnant woman. In German that sounds so awful, luckily I did not write it. I had Die Ärzte in my ears, Die fette Elke. The band had already taught me things back then, these were lyrics you could not really get away with today. I grew up with that, great music. And what do people associate with Germany? Beer, lederhosen, bratwurst, autobahn, and of course Rammstein. Oh man. Back in 1995 I thought they were cool for a few weeks, until I saw who all wanted to Das Blut vom Degen lecken. That put an end to that fairly quickly. Die Ärzte, so good.

At the top I was greeted by an armada of sandflies. They were tough and bothered me more than the altitude. Then came the hard part, going downhill. Really, I can walk uphill for hours, no problem, StairMaster training makes it possible. Going downhill, though, I still need to come up with something for that. After exactly two hours I was back down at the parking lot, and once again, people here are so nice, someone gave me a ride back into town.

Now just work a bit more, do laundry, pack, and tomorrow I move on. In that spirit.