We rose early and were out the door by 9:00 AM, knowing that we needed to stop and get petrol before making our way down the winding Waitomo Village Road to the Waitomo Glowworm Caves. We also had a list of sites to visit along the route, which had been provided by the flirty barkeep from the Thirsty Weta the night before. He even told us what order to do them.
When you're in your own country you take simple things for granted, like getting gas for your car. There was a whole process involved for us to do it here. First I looked in the tour book to find out whether one could self-serve or had to wait for service. It had no information about that so I decided just to find out at the station. Before we left we confirmed which side the gas cap was on and how to open it. Then we drove to the station and a girl immediately came out to serve us. The only difference from service in the States was that I actually had to walk inside to pay afterward. Later I found out that you could also self-serve just about everywhere too, and that the options on the electronic pumps are totally different, and that you still have to go inside to pay afterwards.
When you're in your own country you take simple things for granted, like getting gas for your car. There was a whole process involved for us to do it here. First I looked in the tour book to find out whether one could self-serve or had to wait for service. It had no information about that so I decided just to find out at the station. Before we left we confirmed which side the gas cap was on and how to open it. Then we drove to the station and a girl immediately came out to serve us. The only difference from service in the States was that I actually had to walk inside to pay afterward. Later I found out that you could also self-serve just about everywhere too, and that the options on the electronic pumps are totally different, and that you still have to go inside to pay afterwards.
I chose to set out without the GPS that day because I had noticed that signage tends to be quite clear (provided my horrible eyes can see it in time). It also seems that I learn the route faster, pay attention to landmarks, and generally feel more competent on the road when I'm not waiting for orders from the electronic voice in my phone, which had been getting confused a lot anyway. We had a list of things to see after the caves and, after reviewing the paper maps, were confident we could find them without Google's assistance. We were mostly right.
The only unclear thing was where to pick up the glowworm cave tour. There were tons of businesses along the way with signs and information about acquiring tickets and visiting the caves. Only a couple of them were official outfits, and we stopped at two before we found the right place. The actual tour area was an attractive wooden dome that housed ticket kiosks, a couple cafes, and a large gift shop. We figured out where we were supposed to be, which was no easy feat, and watched other confused tourists gather in the same place. A couple of them for whom English was not their first language tried to use one of those translator apps to read the signs in the area. I wonder how the app handled the sign that just said "Welcome" in a dozen different languages.
Soon a tiny woman named Mere came to collect our group. We walked down a path to the cave entrance where she gave a small talk and then led us through the door. Mem and I were toward the back of the line, and just as we were about to enter the door, a young Chinese couple shoved past everyone, including a German threesome in front of us, to get through the door first. Expressions of disbelief were exchanged. As we walked through the first dark cavern, the Chinese man turned on his mobile phone flashlight, which is forbidden for several reasons, and frankly ruins the effect. One of the German girls decided to police the scene and told him to stop using his mobile. I thanked her.
Mere led us through several large caverns, including one area with a high ceiling known as the cathedral. She mentioned that actual weddings and some choral concerts took place there. One of the women in the tour group asked Mere to sing us a song. Mere was a bit nervous and shy about doing so, but eventually treated us to a simple but mournful Maori love song. It was a really touching moment and of course I had tears in my eyes.
Now it was time to get into the boat and float beneath the starry glowworm caverns. No photography was allowed, and tourists were asked to remain silent, partly for effect, and partly out of respect for the deeply spiritual significance of this place. A few folks chatted as they climbed onto the boat and Mere gently shushed them. I got in and ended up seated in front of the badly behaving Chinese couple who chattered away unabashed. In fact, they had been chattering away and PDAing the entire time Mere had been talking during the tour. As soon as we were ready to disembark from the platform, I turned around and put my finger up to my lips, made a shushing sound, and whispered, "Silence," hoping one of these gestures would translate. They understood, but only whispered more quietly for awhile. Eventually they went silent and gave us all a few moments of respite. I was just grateful I couldn't understand what they were saying, and their indecipherable whispering made the boat ride even more trippy and dreamlike at times.
Mere stood on the bow of the silent boat, pulling us along via several horizontal overhead ropes tethered to the cavern walls. The ride was short but unforgettable. Above, patches of glowworms emitted green light almost as bright as a full moon, illuminating large sections of cavern. You could hear the blurred echoes of faraway voices, drops of moisture falling from the ceiling into the still river below, and the occasional slosh of water as the boat turned. I would have loved to kick everyone else out of there, tether a canoe to one of the guide wires, and lie down staring up at the "stars" all day.
As we approached the mouth that fed into the open river, light began to fill the cave. Mere brought the boat to a halt at a dock just outside and we all climbed out. She thanked us and then pulled the vessel silently back into the dark mouth of the cave. A toddler had been seated next to us in the boat and had managed to stay silent for the majority of the trip, as instructed, except for a couple of small exclamations of wonder. Mem told his parents what a good boy he was, and I chimed in that he behaved even better than some of the adults. We waited around a bit to take photos of the surroundings. Here the river had cut down deeply into the terrain leaving steep cliffs on either side, which were covered from top to bottom in green. Two huge trout swam nonchalantly out of the cave and floated unconcerned nearby while we gawked at them.
Tourists disembark
Dark cave entrance with a trout emerging
Here fishy fishy...
The gift shop contained little of interest except for a glowworm puppet that Mem used to make silly voices at me, so we left.
The next stop on our agenda was Marokopa Falls, so we headed west on the curly road. The speed limit said 100 kph as we entered it from the roundabout, but I kept it around 60 most of the time. There were tight, blind turns and the road was narrow. Driving fast didn't seem prudent. As we went along, the lyrics "Ride the snake" from The Doors' This is the End came to mind, and I began to sing it. Along the way we stopped to take pictures of the impressive view and excitedly pointed out new signs that we recognized from the driver's manual.
The narrow bridge sign: this indicates that a one-lane bridge is coming up. If the arrow pointing in the direction you're traveling is red, you have to yield to oncoming traffic.
Getting to the falls was a 30-minute drive, followed by a "10-minute" walk down a wooded path. I say that in quotations because I think the times given on these signs are for professional trekkers who have the stamina of caribou. We entered the trail just as an elderly English couple was exiting. Mem asked whether it was worth the hike and the kindly gentleman with the Attenboroughesque voice replied, "It's worth going down two times!"
Mem practices her ventriloquist act
Just an average roadside view in these parts
Getting to the falls was a 30-minute drive, followed by a "10-minute" walk down a wooded path. I say that in quotations because I think the times given on these signs are for professional trekkers who have the stamina of caribou. We entered the trail just as an elderly English couple was exiting. Mem asked whether it was worth the hike and the kindly gentleman with the Attenboroughesque voice replied, "It's worth going down two times!"
Cows at the trail head!
It had begun to drizzle so we grabbed our hoodies to take with us. The canopy over the trail was so thick that they weren't even necessary. It smelled of Washington rainforest and birdsong alternated with deafening bugsong. Within a short time, although I suspect longer than 10 minutes, we were at the falls, their sound announcing their presence long before we could see them. As the canopy broke away, we found ourselves face to face with a squarish cascade of water pounding the moss covered boulders before it, a sparkling mist rising up from the chaos. The flow of water leading away from this physical drama was surprisingly placid. One could have easily waded across mere meters from the cascade rushing down from the cliff above.
An excited looking mother-daughter pair with an apathetic looking dad in tow emerged from the trail and asked us to take their family photo in front of the falls. We obliged and they returned the favor for us. I stared at the fall a moment longer and then we ascended back up the gently sloping trail. It got our heart rates up, but wasn't terribly strenuous.
Just down the road was a sign for Piripiri Caves, which were supposedly five minutes from the road. What they failed to mention was that these "five" minutes were spent ascending a wooden staircase that wound around the side of a steep ravine, and then descending again on the other side to the mouth of the cave. That's right, uphill both ways. As we neared the mouth of the cave, the German family we had seen at the waterfall emerged and headed back toward the carpark. We smiled and said hello. The cave itself was wide and tall, with a single staircase descending a few meters down into it. There was little protecting the cave's features and all one had to do to go traipsing around in it was step over the wooden railing. I'm sure more than one person had done it. The cave was only lit by the daylight coming through the tiny opening. You had to wait a few moments for your eyes to adjust in order to appreciate the numerous stalactites and other slowly formed features inside. Had I not been as interested in geology as I am, I might have been pissed about the physical exertion required for five minutes of enjoyment.
Our next stop was the Mangapohue Natural Bridge. We hadn't really read a description of it so we weren't sure what to expect. I assumed it was something like a big suspension bridge through a wooded area, such as the Capilano Suspension Bridge in Vancouver, British Columbia. The sign at the entrance said it took 10 minutes to get there on foot, which I doubted very much by now. The walkway wound along the rock face below which the Mangapohue stream of the Marokopa River ran. The clear stream hardly moved and it looked like a great place for fishing (assuming there were any fish). We crossed a couple of small bridges over the waterway and wondered at each whether this was the "natural bridge" we had come to see. One was even the swaying suspension sort like Vancouver's.
Along the walk, we passed the German family again, laughed, and waved at each other. Finally we came to the actual natural bridge, which might have been more aptly described as an arch, since you couldn't actually walk over it, but rather under it. It was a collapsed volcanic cave, only the top of which remained. There were some stalactites and ridge-like features on the underside of the arch, which gave it the appearance of a giant animal rib cage.
Beyond the great arch, we could see that the walkway descended to a small fence. There was a special three-step staircase with a handrail set up there to allow people to step over the barbed wire safely. We had seen another family go that way, so we decided to follow. While it had perhaps been an actual 10 minutes to the natural bridge, I had a feeling what lay beyond was a much longer trek. At the fence, the treed canopy suddenly parted, giving way to a grassy, wildflower covered meadow; the stuff of fantasy. Spiky black volcanic rock structures jutted out of the ground intermittently like something out of an H.R. Giger creation, providing a severe contrast to the surrounding gentle greenness.
We saw an upward sloping trail marked for hiking, which appeared to lead past a sheep pasture and beyond into parts unseen and unknown. We decided to follow it awhile to see where it led. What proceeded was a thoroughly enjoyable gentle hike through rolling green fields blanketed in wildflowers, punctuated by rocky outcrops. We compared ourselves to Frodo and Sam on their epic journey to take the ring to Mordor. The trail curved around 180º until we were walking parallel to Mangapohue stream. The stream and natural bridge were so densely covered with trees that you would never have known it was there. We plodded along carefully on the soft ground, avoiding cowpies, and stepping over a couple other fences via the convenient staircases. Soon, we could hear the voices of other adventurers and the carpark came into view. This walk was easily one of my favorite parts of the entire trip and I was sorry it was coming to an end.
Lastly, our list instructed us to visit the Ruakuri Scenic Reserve. When we got there, it was more hiking trails through wooded areas, and this was also the pick-up area for the more adventurous additional glowworm cave tours, the kind that involved headlamps, and crawling around in dangerously tight spaces. By then we had done quite a bit of hiking and I was just about out of energy. We had a quick look around the picnic area, read some tourist information signs, and then got back in the car to seek out the restaurant that had been recommended to us: Huhu Café. On the way, we made jokes about how it's name sounded like a euphemism for the vagina.
Huhu Café was abandoned except for the German family we had been following all day. In hindsight, I wonder if the server at Thirsty Weta had given them the same agenda. We took a table out on the patio, where little sparrows fought over French fries on the abandoned plates of other patrons. Even though the restaurant was far from busy, no one had bothered to bus the dirty tables yet. Our patio seat overlooked an RV park, beyond which we could hear repeated gunshots. One of the staff explained that there was a gun club just beyond the nearest grove of trees. The food was quite good. Mem ordered some Cajun spiced chicken strips, and I had king salmon with broccoli slaw and beetroot something or other. Both were quite tasty.
Fairly exhausted now, we went back to Carrie's for a rest and to wash up for dinner. Carrie had invited us to dine with her at the Otorohanga Club. The well-equipped club contained a central bar, a big open room full of pool tables, and an enclosed section with several TVs playing sports. There weren't many people in the club and the ones there were mostly men. We ordered food at the bar and then sat. The food was so-so, but filling and cheap compared to most other restaurants, and we had a great time chatting with Carrie.
That night we packed our things and retired early. We would be hitting the road by eight o'clock because we had a long drive ahead of us, all the way to the southern tip of the North Island: Wellington!
The trail
Small but majestic Marokopa Falls
A hobbit!
Just down the road was a sign for Piripiri Caves, which were supposedly five minutes from the road. What they failed to mention was that these "five" minutes were spent ascending a wooden staircase that wound around the side of a steep ravine, and then descending again on the other side to the mouth of the cave. That's right, uphill both ways. As we neared the mouth of the cave, the German family we had seen at the waterfall emerged and headed back toward the carpark. We smiled and said hello. The cave itself was wide and tall, with a single staircase descending a few meters down into it. There was little protecting the cave's features and all one had to do to go traipsing around in it was step over the wooden railing. I'm sure more than one person had done it. The cave was only lit by the daylight coming through the tiny opening. You had to wait a few moments for your eyes to adjust in order to appreciate the numerous stalactites and other slowly formed features inside. Had I not been as interested in geology as I am, I might have been pissed about the physical exertion required for five minutes of enjoyment.
Looking out from the cave
A column in the making
Stalactites
My precioussssss...
A young fern in the gully
Our next stop was the Mangapohue Natural Bridge. We hadn't really read a description of it so we weren't sure what to expect. I assumed it was something like a big suspension bridge through a wooded area, such as the Capilano Suspension Bridge in Vancouver, British Columbia. The sign at the entrance said it took 10 minutes to get there on foot, which I doubted very much by now. The walkway wound along the rock face below which the Mangapohue stream of the Marokopa River ran. The clear stream hardly moved and it looked like a great place for fishing (assuming there were any fish). We crossed a couple of small bridges over the waterway and wondered at each whether this was the "natural bridge" we had come to see. One was even the swaying suspension sort like Vancouver's.
A big rock with a perfectly round hole in it
The quiet Mangapohue stream
Some nerd crossing a bridge
Mem posing nicely
Interesting geology
Gnarly rock formations
Along the walk, we passed the German family again, laughed, and waved at each other. Finally we came to the actual natural bridge, which might have been more aptly described as an arch, since you couldn't actually walk over it, but rather under it. It was a collapsed volcanic cave, only the top of which remained. There were some stalactites and ridge-like features on the underside of the arch, which gave it the appearance of a giant animal rib cage.
Oh, that's what they meant.
The underbelly of the Mangapohue Natural Bridge
Beyond the great arch, we could see that the walkway descended to a small fence. There was a special three-step staircase with a handrail set up there to allow people to step over the barbed wire safely. We had seen another family go that way, so we decided to follow. While it had perhaps been an actual 10 minutes to the natural bridge, I had a feeling what lay beyond was a much longer trek. At the fence, the treed canopy suddenly parted, giving way to a grassy, wildflower covered meadow; the stuff of fantasy. Spiky black volcanic rock structures jutted out of the ground intermittently like something out of an H.R. Giger creation, providing a severe contrast to the surrounding gentle greenness.
Threshold between the archway trail and the meadow
Paradise meadow
Volcanic rocks
A honeybee doing its thing
We saw an upward sloping trail marked for hiking, which appeared to lead past a sheep pasture and beyond into parts unseen and unknown. We decided to follow it awhile to see where it led. What proceeded was a thoroughly enjoyable gentle hike through rolling green fields blanketed in wildflowers, punctuated by rocky outcrops. We compared ourselves to Frodo and Sam on their epic journey to take the ring to Mordor. The trail curved around 180º until we were walking parallel to Mangapohue stream. The stream and natural bridge were so densely covered with trees that you would never have known it was there. We plodded along carefully on the soft ground, avoiding cowpies, and stepping over a couple other fences via the convenient staircases. Soon, we could hear the voices of other adventurers and the carpark came into view. This walk was easily one of my favorite parts of the entire trip and I was sorry it was coming to an end.
Mem enjoys the view
Rolling green
Fence stairs
Huhu Café was abandoned except for the German family we had been following all day. In hindsight, I wonder if the server at Thirsty Weta had given them the same agenda. We took a table out on the patio, where little sparrows fought over French fries on the abandoned plates of other patrons. Even though the restaurant was far from busy, no one had bothered to bus the dirty tables yet. Our patio seat overlooked an RV park, beyond which we could hear repeated gunshots. One of the staff explained that there was a gun club just beyond the nearest grove of trees. The food was quite good. Mem ordered some Cajun spiced chicken strips, and I had king salmon with broccoli slaw and beetroot something or other. Both were quite tasty.
Fairly exhausted now, we went back to Carrie's for a rest and to wash up for dinner. Carrie had invited us to dine with her at the Otorohanga Club. The well-equipped club contained a central bar, a big open room full of pool tables, and an enclosed section with several TVs playing sports. There weren't many people in the club and the ones there were mostly men. We ordered food at the bar and then sat. The food was so-so, but filling and cheap compared to most other restaurants, and we had a great time chatting with Carrie.
That night we packed our things and retired early. We would be hitting the road by eight o'clock because we had a long drive ahead of us, all the way to the southern tip of the North Island: Wellington!
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