Coromandel Peninsula

After being stuck in a cave in Whangarei for several hours.... we set off later than expected with the goal of hitting Coromandel town. As the light faded and the hope of making the intended destination before the camp site office shut diminished, we decided to stop just north of Thames. The camp site owner was, what we now know to be typical of the out of towners, an unshaven, unwashed hippy who had a butterfly house business on the side. He was also the proud owner of some tuneful toads and had literally no personality. In other words a potential axe murderer. We duly locked the van that night. Luckily Paul had his trusty 8 inch Bear Grylls knife to accompany him in his tent. We survived!

We set off early for Coromandel. Despite the name suggesting we were heading to the set of the Lord of the Rings, it is actually a small town caught in a gold rush time warp. It was cute, but after a delicious mussel based lunch (steamed, in a chowder, and with 4 and 20 blackbirds baked in a pie) and a visit to the local fishmonger, we were ready to head towards the infamous hot water beach. (So called because of the hot water springs that flow under the sand, which can be reached by digging your own personal jacuzzi.)

En route we decided to hit Hahei Beach because the axe murderer suggested that it was worth a visit. This was one of the highlights of the trip so far. A beautiful cove of soft sand that made you want to throw off your jandels (kiwi for flip flops) and bury your feet whilst whiling away a few hours reading a book or a kindle thingy. We had to hand it to him, although a little scary, axe murderers know all the best spots!

That night we headed to hot water beach at sundown with shovels in hand (who's the axe murderer now) and a bottle of wine in our backpack looking for the promised romantic spot to dig a jacuzzi overflowing with natural hot springs.

What we found was a trickle of boiling water that was too hot to sit in for longer than a few seconds at a time. We were accompanied by 20 burly Europeans in tight swimming trunks, drinking cheap beer and listening to Eurovision classics on an old stereo. So much for the romantic spot! Undeterred we stripped to our swimsuits in the freezing cold, dipped our toes in the boiling water and joined in the fun with our new found European chums!

Neil