After a mosquito filled night, the 5:45am alarm was particularly un-welcome. My mood was not improved when, having spent several hours drafting, tweaking and being thoroughly pleased with yesterday's blog entry, I managed to delete it as I closed the app down... In a silent rage I rewrote what I could remember, finally finishing around 130...
We crept around the campsite in the half light of the chilly early morning getting our things together before setting off into the Tongariro national park. I was suddenly very aware that the enema's fuel gauge had started flashing, the level varying from half a tank to empty depending on the gradient we were climbing... Too late to turn around we pushed on to the Ketetahi carpark in hope of the fuel fairy paying us a visit when we levelled out.
We parked up and made final preparations to our bags. Bob refused to use the composting toilets and I soon found out why. Just before the shuttle bus arrived, our rotorua rafting friends Kevin and Fabien arrived in their orange 'spaceship' called Uranus which Bob now remembers clocking in Whangerai at the start of our trip. We all piled into the bus with our guide-maps, containing more smiley faces than useful cartographic features, and chugged around to the start, driven by a crazed female Kiwi who was more focused on giving a guided history tour of the incredible local mountainscape than on piloting the coach up the narrow winding gravel track. She let out a rabid whoop to indicate our arrival and tried to smear white emulsion sunscreen on anybody who made the mistake of making eye-contact with her as they disembarked.
With Bob (Gollum) as a guide the initial ascent was pleasant with distant views of Mt. Terinaki 170km behind us and Mt. Ruapehu's snowy slopes to our right. It was nice to catch up with our Swiss friends who were excellent company, discussing their recent worldwide adventures and offering us some great advice for our onward travels. Soon we reached the Devil's staircase, a 2km winding uphill slog which abruptly filtered out the salad dodgers. After 45 minutes grind under the sun's full force we erupted onto the saddle under the imposing presence of Mt. Ngauruhoe, aka Mount Doom from Lord of the Rings!!! The map gave us the option of summiting this landmark in just 3 hours, but the scared smiley and talk of the need for 'sturdy footwear' had put off the majority of our fellow trampers who continued on.
As an intrepid 4-some we set off straight up the scree field of loose pumice and ash, with our sights set on the distant ant like beings, moving around on the summit. After over an hour and a half of toil we had reached the final approach and the summit did not disappoint. With postcard views as far as the horizon in all directions, a smoking vent behind us and the volcanoe's huge crater disappearing in front of us we could have been in Mordor. Well worth the gruelling climb.
Descending was more concerning. Although it was possible to 'ski-the-scree' down, this opened up the people below you as a target for the boulders you dislodged and 1 couple only narrowly avoided hospitalisation as a rapidly accelerating football sized piece of pumice bisected their romantic descent. Being the excellent boyfriend that I am I accelerated on ahead out of the danger zone and sat back to observe the somewhat more considered descent of Bob and her Swiss guides whilst I tried desperately to defrost my frozen water bottle and stay hydrated. On their arrival we removed the unwanted pumice that had accumulated in our boots with the smug satisfaction that we had conquered Mt. Doom! Bob chose this moment to display the significant blesse which her shin had sustained in the process of braking her fall downwards...ouch! Bad boyfriend.
The rest of the walk took in the stunning Tongariro range and its collection of opalescent lakes of varying colour and smell... The temptation to take a quick dip was overwhelming, however, the numerous steaming vents were enough of a reminder that these were not swimming pools. The sun was blistering and the descent long and unnecessarily winding through the foothills of the distinctly active Te Mari volcano. After 3 km we entered the joyful shade of the lush forest and the track continued to wind and undulate, every step scraping more skin off my heels and cause more chaffing where things shouldn't chafe.
Eventually we arrived at the carpark with my waterbottle still just containing a large ice cube so we shared a couple of awesomely cold beers and a partially frozen bottle of tonic water from the amazingly chilly chilly-bin which was extracted from the furnace which was the shadeless enema.
As Uranus blasted off, taking our friends with it, we were left with the concerning task of refuelling before the Enema ran dry. A tense 30km of long gentle uphill ascents and rather out of control speed carrying descents brought into sight the canopy of the fuel station in National Park. Willing it to be open we coasted onto the forecourt and the cashier watched my refuelling victory dance and Bob's rush to the restroom with only mild confusion.
With a full tank of petrol, sore legs and 2 magnum ice creams we set off to our overnight stop at Wanganui. Nothing could stop us as we happily cruised through the meditteranean-esque landscape straight into the rays of the falling evening sun which had instigated the unilateral pinkish hew we were both starting to develop.
Wanganui's Top10 campsite was located in a less than desirable suburb but it was irrelevant as right now all we wanted was to shower, eat and sleep. Sadly our air bed had other ideas. It's limp and lifeless form had gone un-noted until now and inspite of my hopeful reinflation whilst bob showered it was soon returned to its flaccid useless state. Under the assumption that the earlier heatwave had caused an integral malfunction I persuaded the owner of the campsite to let us have a cabin for the night. The smile on Bob's face as she returned rejuvenated from the shower was made even wider when she found out it was bunk-beds.
After a swift supper of surprisingly good carbonara, cold beer and exhausted conversation retiring to a cabin rather than the boot of a people carrier was heavenly and I almost forgave the extra £15 the inadequate air bed had incurred. After thorough assessment of Bob's significantly swollen shin and the application of much after sun sleep in the cabin was blissful.