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Travel - New Zealand by bus

A window on the North Island

Our tour of New Zealand's South Island took us from the flat agricultural land of the Canterbury Plains, west across the rolling foothills and rugged granite peaks of the Southern Alps, then down into the lush green rainforest of the wave-swept west coast, and finally to the ferry dock at Picton. In many ways, even in its European heritage, the South Island is a miniature replica of western Canada. But the North Island, across Cook Strait from Picton, is unlike anything back home – a landscape dominated by volcanoes, a climate bordering on sub-tropical, and a society strongly influenced by Maori culture.

Two and a half hours out of Picton the motor vessel Lynx nosed through the narrow opening into Wellington's circular inner harbour and we were treated to a magnificent view of New Zealand's windy capital city. The harbour occupies the flooded crater of a long extinct volcano, and behind the docks and warehouses of the waterfront the city runs up the steep hillsides and curves around three sides of the harbour.

Clarke, our Coach Captain for the North Island, met us at the dock and immediately set out on a tour of the city – the summit of Mt. Victoria, the houses of Parliament, and finally the famous Wellington Cable Car. Built at the turn of the century, when horse-drawn trams were the only alternative to walking, the tramway connected new suburbs to the city. Originally powered by a steam winch, it became an instant success, and today the upgraded tram continues to serve both local commuters and tourists. We rode it to the top and spent several hours exploring the trails and viewpoints in the Botanical Gardens.

From Wellington we travelled north along the Tasman coast to the town of Bulls, then inland to the "Desert Road" that skirts Tongariro National Park with its three active volcanoes. Mt. Ruapehu, highest mountain on the North Island, is a multi-peaked volcano with a hot, ice-ringed Crater Lake simmering near its summit. It is also the North Island's principal ski area. During a previous visit to New Zealand I climbed Ruapehu and watched steam curling off the glassy surface of the Crater Lake as I sat in the snow eating lunch.

That serene vista has been shattered several times since then, most recently in 1995 and ’96 when violent explosions produced clouds of black ash and sent debris flows rushing down the upper slopes. The activity played havoc with skiing but the inconvenience paled in comparison to the disaster of 1953. In that year an eruption blocked the overflow from the lake and when the dam burst the resulting lahar, a slurry of water, ash, and rock, washed out a railway bridge moments before a crowded express train sped off the tracks killing 153 people.

Ruapehu is quiet now but as we rolled along the Desert Road, across the scars of past lahars, Clarke assured us that an electronic warning system is now in place.

A short distance beyond Ruapehu the symmetrical cone of Mt. Ngauruhoe rises to a small summit crater. Constantly shouldering, this classic, steep-sided volcano periodically belches out showers of hot ash and as recently as 1975 lava spilled from its crater. Still farther north the volcanic belt includes the great caldera lakes of Taupo and Rotorua, the geothermal fields of Wairakei, the geysers and boiling mud pots of Rotorua, and the spectacular rift-zone across Mt. Tarawera.

Armed with a fishburger and coffee Betty and I found an unoccupied park bench at Taupo and settled down to watch the endless flow of tourists. With an area of more than 600 square km Taupo is New Zealand's largest lake, a caldera formed by one of the earth's largest and most violent volcanic eruptions. Historical accounts of darkened skies recorded around 186 AD throughout Asia and Europe are believed to chronicle the effects of ash from the Taupo eruption, which blasted hundreds of cubic km of pumice into the atmosphere. The resulting circular depression, now filled with water and trout, has become New Zealand's favourite fishing hole. On a busy weekend, Clarke admitted, the place becomes a horror of congestion.

Before continuing on to Rotorua we visited Wairakei where geothermal steam has been harnessed for power generation. Our viewpoint, near two of the wellheads, is wreathed in steam and the muffled roar of the separators. The Wairakei Power Project has come a long way since the first 20 MW of power was generated in 1952. Today it provides about 5 per cent of New Zealand's total electrical power, but success has not come without a price. The Wairakei Thermal Valley, once one of the most active in the world, has been virtually sucked dry by the neighbouring geothermal wells. Of the 22 geysers and hundreds of boiling mud pools that gave it the name "Geyser Valley" only a few mud pools remain.

At Rotorua we are assailed by the pervasive smell of sulphurous gasses from the countless fumaroles, boiling springs, and bubbling mud pools. This is the heart of the North Island thermal zone, a place where evil-smelling vapours drift out of rock gardens, street drains, and cracks in the earth. It is also the most popular tourist destination in all of New Zealand, a distinction that has earned it the nickname "Rotovegas."

Originally settled by Maoris who arrived by canoe in the nearby Bay of Plenty in the 14 th century, Rotarua still has a large Maori population whose culture dominates the tourist scene. We strolled among the magnificently carved houses of the Model Village, gorged on a traditional hangi feast, and were entertained by Maori songs, poi, twirling dancers, and the blood curdling haka.

Before heading north from Rotorua to Auckland Clarke swung west to Waitomo for a visit to the glow worm caves. Discovered in 1887, these limestone grottos have been a tourist destination ever since. But despite the hordes of visitors who drift through them in small skiffs, the tiny light-emitting larva of fungus-gnats that cling to the ceiling continue to put on a spectacular show. Surrounded by total darkness the myriad points of light on the roof of the cave look like stars in a clear moonless sky.

Later that day, rolling into New Zealand's largest city it was obvious why Auckalnd is known as "the City of Sails." Built on a sliver of land between two magnificent harbours it is surrounded by water where thousands of yachts, including those competing for the America's Cup, lie berthed in sprawling marinas. From the top of the Skytower, tallest building in the southern hemisphere, we have a panoramic view of the harbour and the suburban metropolis with its countless green parks and extinct volcanic cinder cones. Without doubt the most cosmopolitan of New Zealand's cities, Auckland now has the largest concentration of Polynesians in the world.

Leaving the city on the Harbour Bridge we headed into New Zealand's Northland, that narrow spine of land projecting north from Auckland. The climate of Northland is milder than the rest of the country and the area was once covered by mighty Kauri forests. Valued for both timber and their amber-like gum, only a few stands of these giant trees have survived pioneer logging. We walked through a protected stand and later visited the Kauri Museum at Matakohe which has excellent displays of the steam- and oxen-powered technology that all but wiped out these magnificent trees.

When we reached the Bay of Islands Betty and I left the Kirra tour and spent the next week exploring on our own. We discovered the local watering hole where beer and food are half the price charged in the tourist spots. On a day cruise to the "Hole in the Rock" a pod of porpoises played in the bow wave of our catamaran, and on a trip to Cape Reinga our special bus sped along the wave-packed sand of 90-mile Beach on our way to Cape Reinga. With just enough room between the breaking surf of the Tasman Sea on one side and steep sand dunes on the other the coach sent up plumes of spray as it sliced through the foam of receding waves.

Ninety-mile beach is actually only 52 miles long but back in the 1800s it took ox-carts three days to make the trip, and since oxen averaged 30 miles a day the name stuck.

At Cape Reinga, on the very northern tip of the North Island, a small lighthouse stands on the green, cliff-bounded point of land where the Tasman Sea merges with the Pacific Ocean. According to Maori legend this is the departure point for spirits on their long trip back to Hawaiki, original homeland of all Polynesian people.

As we left Cape Reinga and started our own long trip home. Whistler seemed as nebulous and distant a place as Hawaiki itself. There was still so much more we wanted to see in New Zealand.