We headed out of Rotorua past the geysers, past the fond memories of the forest we had hiked in, and towards the yet to be explored Lake Taupo to the south.
Even though we were outside of Rotorua, there were still many thermal vents. Steam could be seen escaping from the ground making it look as if gigantic wads of cotton had been strewn over the countryside.
Before too long, we came to the Wairakei generating plant. At this plant, the natural steam from the ground is converted directly into electricity in an attempt to minimize the use of expensive imported oil. This facility was closed to the public, but signs directed us down the road to the next stop on the techno-tour.
We parked at the visitor's center at the steam fields and spent a few minutes looking at the displays showing the conversion process from steam to electricity, then watched the video which explained the history of the plant and the complete process of generating electricity. We learned that New Zealand receives twelve percent of its electricity from this plant alone and that, unlike other geothermal plants around the world, the steam is unprocessed from the time it leaves the wells to when it is converted into electricity.
As part of the visit, you are allowed to drive through the steam fields to the top of a small peak to get a bird's eye view of the operation. This was a lot like driving through a steam room. Several times we were forced to stop because dense patches of steam had drifted across the road temporarily blocking our vision. At the top, the view was much like looking at the tops of clouds from an airplane window. We stayed just long enough to take a couple of pictures and then picked our way through the curtains of steam on our way down back to the main road.
Our next stop was a small crafts village. We didn't have enough time to go in and explore, and it looked too touristy for our tastes, so we settled on buying some stamps at the quaint post office and got back to our journey. Almost immediately, we saw the sign for Huka Falls. This was one of the points of interest on our pre-trip list. We had to park next to a large tour bus and several cars, so we expected a crowd of people. We followed the path to a bridge that spanned the Waikato river at a point where it had been squeezed into a forty foot wide sluice by ten feet tall rocks which formed the banks. Before we went to see the falls, we headed upstream to a lake of placid water waiting its turn to go over the falls. Then, we followed the path towards the falls along a stretch of a couple of hundred yards watching the water turn a lovely hue of turquoise. As it picks up speed, the water is churned over rocks and, finally, the rapids explode off the edge of the sluice to the river some thirty feet below in a magnificent display of thunder and mist. We waited our turn to get to a promontory rock which gave us the closest view of the falls. Without a spectacular vertical drop, the allure of this waterfall is in the volume of water which comes out over it. We were still aware that this was only a stop on our way to the farm stay, so after a few minutes, we left the 'bus people' and pointed our car towards Lake Taupo.
The city of Taupo is none too large. Before we knew it, the road we were on made a sharp left turn and we were going parallel to the shore of the lake. We stopped at a shore side picnic area. From atop an unoccupied picnic table, we could see the shore below as well as the residential areas along the coast. In both directions cliffs sprung up from the shore about a mile or so from where we were standing. The lake was so large that it extended to the horizon. The overcast sky gave it the appearance that a cold, gray monster would leap from the water any second. It would have been nice to see it on a clear and sunny day, but since we were not staying in the area, we accepted the view we had. Back on the road, we suddenly came to a sign that pointed to Weipunga Falls. Since our itinerary called for us to stop at anything that looked interesting, without hesitation, we drove into the parking area. There was only one other car there, so we figured it would not be worth the effort, but we got out of the car anyway. What we found was ten times better than Huka Falls, and ten times less crowded. For some reason the tour busses do not stop here, so we congratulated ourselves on choosing the self-guided tour rather than taking the bus.
At a distance of about one-quarter of a mile, across a canyon filled with rough vegetation, we could see the falls cascading down the sheer cliffs opposite to us forming broken veils of white that ended up in a river that was just out of sight. Janet noticed a small path which led down to the canyon. We made our way through the shrubs and low branches of this rarely used trail and after fifty yards or so, came to its end at a tree stump. We didn't find an Alice in Wonderland-like sign that said, 'climb me', but figured that this was the purpose of the trail. We climbed up the stump and got the best possible view of the falls and now could clearly see the river below. When our eyes were full, we scurried back up the trail to our car.
Janet took the helm and drove us to the port city of Napier, the sixth largest city on the North Island. Nature called. The only place that we could find was a public facility near a soccer field in an industrial section of the town.
We had a second to look at the map and chose to drive around Bluff Hill past the actual port and then down along the east coast to look for a restaurant for lunch. As we followed our plan, we noticed that the streets were named after famous artists and composers: Beethoven, Milton, Shakespeare, etc. We figured that it might have been an artist's colony or else the better part of town.
We found another Cobb & Co. restaurant. It was a Sunday so we figured that we would not find much else open. We parked our car along the street and went in. As we had plenty of time before we were expected at the ranch, we enjoyed the ambiance, and I had a couple of Lion Brown beers while Janet sipped an Amaretto aperitif.
By American standards, the menu was quite limited and the food was only so-so. Considering the other fine restaurants that we had found made us swear to avoid any more of this chain unless absolutely necessary. After we finished lunch, we followed our noses down the coast a short distance to the Napier Aquarium. This seemed to be the only way I was going to see the local fish up close since SCUBA diving was no longer on the agenda. The facility was medium sized and centered around a huge tank in the middle with many smaller viewing aquariums encircling it. The building consisted of three floors. We took our time to make three laps around the building and ascended the three levels. At the top was a solar observatory and observation deck. We could see for miles along the black sand beaches of Hawkes Bay and back to the docks. Directly ahead of us was South America, many thousands of miles away.
Lacking the patience to wait for the fish feeding demonstration, we headed for the ranch. Using both the Gwen-supplied and AA maps, we had no problem getting to the town of Havelock North. We entered the traffic circle in the middle of town, but could not find the sign pointing to Te Mata road leading out of town. Our gas tank was close to empty, so we took the opportunity to refuel and ask for directions.
My mind was on the directions, so the U-turn out of the station ended us up on the wrong side of the road. There was a median separating the two lanes, but without hesitation, I drove a short distance to the next opening and switched over. I remember hearing shouts coming from the gas station, but our thoughts were now on the traffic circle ahead of us. We finally found Te Mata road which was, in fact, well marked -- not with street signs on posts as we were used to, but the names of the streets were painted on the curbs!
As our map was now recalibrated, we had no trouble from then on. We knew we were getting off the beaten track when the road became one lane wide. We drove for several miles and squeezed past a few cars coming in the opposite direction. We found MacKenzie Road which led to our goal, the MacKenzie ranch. Here the road was metal. Driving carefully past a few cows and sheep, we came to a gate across the road with hundreds of sheep on the other side. As Janet hopped out of the car and opened the gate, the sheep shied away from her. After the car was through, she closed the gate and got back into the car. We drove slowly through the herd which parted like the Red Sea to let us through. A hundred yards from the first gate was another, so Janet repeated the ritual.
The first farm we came to was not the MacKenzie's, but as we reconnoitered, found the sign pointing out 'Gruniard'. This was the name on our map, so we followed a narrow road through an area that might have been an orchard, to a ranch style house that looked like it was plucked off a suburban street from the city we had just left. This was it, the destination that we had been anticipating ever since we made our first travel plan. We parked the car next to the house and were alone for a few moments as anxiety about meeting new people clashed with the excitement of the moment, wondering what to do next, when Gary MacKenzie popped out from around the back of the house and welcomed us in a very thick accent. From his balding head and graying hair, Gary must have been in his late forties. His ever smiling face and thinly built body subtracted some years from our estimate. His exuberant attitude made us feel right at home.
He showed us to our room which faced the spot where we parked the car. It was decorated with simple Early American (Early New Zealand?) furnishings, and we had our own bathroom in an area which doubled as a laundry room. We hardly had time to drop our suitcases on the floor when Gary led the way down the hall to the kitchen. Even though he was ahead of us, we could not have lost our way because we were already following a most wonderful aroma down the hall to the kitchen. There, we interrupted the dinner preparations to meet Wendy. In the five-foot-two-ballpark, she spun to greet us with a warm, welcoming smile and kind word. Two of their three sons, Michael, who was about ten years old, and Richard, about fifteen were playing computer games in a nearby bedroom to avoid having to help with dinner, but each came out for a minute to say hello.
We sat with Gary at the kitchen table with the informality of a friendship of many years. As our ears acclimated to his accent, we began to understand what he was saying and exchanged the usual small talk of origins and our recent matrimony. Wendy served some appetizers of crackers and smoked mussels. Janet loved these, but I just ate the crackers and some cheese. Gary opened a couple of half-liters of DB (Dominion Breweries) beer which helped wash away the many miles of the trip. Stopping only briefly to check the rugby scores on the television, Gary brought us up-to-date on the dire news in that part of the country as result of the recent drought.
Just before dinner was ready, Wendy took us for a twilight tour of the ranch. The older boy, Richard, and two of his friends had shot three wild turkeys in the hill behind and to the west of the ranch. Wendy explained to the neighbors to tell their mothers that it would be easier to remove the breast meat rather than clean the entire bird and roast it. The two boys loaded the birds on their motor bikes and took off for home while we headed for the open fields.
It was not easy to see everything because the sun was setting rapidly, but we got the general feel of the place and did get to meet Fergie the goat. Being hand raised, Fergie came right up to us and expected a treat of bread, but settled for a scratch behind the ears when he discovered that we were empty handed. While we were heading back for the house, Wendy pointed to the hill and we could just see the silhouettes of three turkeys as they roosted on a fence in the ruddy afterglow of the sun that had already set. As a result of the careful preparations, dinner was on the table in a flash. |
