This morning I was doing something mum has always wanted to do, so much so that I actually felt guilty that I was doing it and she wasn't. I am, of course, talking about white water rafting. That feeling soon disappeared though as a squeezed myself into my second wetsuit and helmet in two days. There were eight of us in the raft including the instructor who was a cocky b****** called Gofor. When soon realised how cocky he was when, as we went over the first rapids, he got cleanly elbowed in the crotch by the Swedish girl next to him. Apparently she hit him so hard it actually hurt her elbow. He then proceeded to take us down the rest of the rapids, including a 7metre waterfall which made me kack myself, with bruised balls. It wasn't until near the end of the trip that we realised how bad he was from the punch, to the point where he started throwing up when we got to the end. Bless him. The rafting itself was hard work but sooooooooo much fun!! It definitely got the pulse racing which I never thought it would. There were some awesome photos taken including a brilliant team shot so when we got back to the base we put out money together and got the photo cd.
We then made our way to Rotorua to pick up the others who didnt want to do the rafting and went straight on to Taupo. This was where most people did the sky dive but I decided not to as I had only done one a couple of weeks ago. Instead I dumped my stuff and went for a walk around the town, making the most of the fabulous weather. When the others came in from the sky dive they were all on a high so we all gathered and had dinner.
The next day was an early start so we were on the bus and away by 7am. Today we were climbing mount Tongariro ie mount doom off lord of the rings. We got there and the weather wasn't too bad, in fact it was quite warm, but as we paid for our guided tour (a 8hour trek up this mountain) the guide took one look at my hoodie and poncho and headed my a thick oversized fleece telling me I will freeze if I didn't take it. The look on his face told me it was probably best to just take the fleece. He was right. The hike up to a certain point on the base of the mountain was easy and I was boiling, cursing the guide for making me carry that damn fleece. Then we started our ascent up the 'devils stairway' (always encouraging when something is called that) and the temperature soon plummeted. Not only that but the clouds started to gather and the wind picked up speed. The track up to the summit became unstable and loose underfoot and with the wind beating against you, the journey felt dangerous but exciting. We finally made it to the summit about 3hours later and what could we see? Nothing. In fact we couldn't see 10 metres in front of us. It was a shame we couldn't see the amazing views that you usually could see on a clear day but I didn't mind because I felt like we had battled the elements! It would have been boring if it was a perfectly clear day. The weather then became so bad that we eventually had to make out way back down the way we came, instead of taking the looped route the guides had planned for us. Rain settled nicely into our skin just to add insult to injury on the way down. Despite the awful weather, the lack of views and the shortened trek we were all in a good mood, making the most of a bad situation. We told jokes, sang songs and tried to out-do each other on our travel stories. I came out top with my appendix story. Half way down the guides received a phone call saying that a group of three from our bus were lost and still up the mountain so they left us to make the rest of the way down ourselves. We were cold, wet and hungry but as we climbed on the bus the driver handed us a beer which definitely improved the situation. After 6 and half hours of mountain climbing we arrived back to our lodge, a beautiful converted barn with jacuzzis and a restaurant. A quick shower, a huge burger and chips (we deserved it) and I passed out in bed for the best nights sleep ever!
I was meant to be leaving the next morning for Wellington but my body would not let me leave my bed. No only that but a cold had settled in so I wasn't in the mood to sit on a crowded bus with air conditioning blasting at me for 5hours. So I decided to use one of my precious spare days to rest at the lodge. After breakfast we hopped in the jacuzzi for an hour, letting the jets massage our tired muscles. It was annoyingly a beautiful day and we looked up the mountain we had climbed the day before to find there were only a free wispy clouds floating at the top. The weather was mocking us. I had an hour kip just to try and shake off the snotiness and a couple of us decided to take a wander to Tuoapakurua Falls, a walk that was meant to be a 2hours, there and back. The man who gave us the map was wrong. Very wrong, especially for a local. Four hours later we finally made it back to the lodge. Our earlier idea of make a giant lasagne for all of us went out the window when we realised the shop was closed and we couldn't be bothered so we just got a meal from the bar. A couple of wines later and I was ready for my bed, muscles sore and my head fuzzy from alcohol.
The next day we were off the wellington and we were greeted at the entrance of the lodge by a new driver called Natalie and a much smaller bus that apparently likes to break down a lot. An hour journey down the road and we were in Tahape, home of the famous gumboot (its basically your average welly boot). The entire town was dedicated to this gumboot. They even had a sewing shop called the Quilted Gumboot. Here we got off and in the lovely sunshine we had a gumboot throwing competition. I did pretty well for one of the first to do it but a Swedish girl called Rachel and a Canadian called Jason won in the end. We found out the world record for throwing a gumboot was 65metres. Some people had no lives. It was an odd start to the day but it was fun. After a bite to eat when had a movie song quiz on the bus and our team kicked ass and won! Woo! It was only a chocolate bar but it was the principle of winning. Driving on and we wondered the incredible scenery. So far New Zealand hasn't failed to amaze me. It's landscape changes dramatically around every corner, from flat grassland for the farm animals to graze to the sharp peaks of the mountains, to the clear sandy beaches on the coast. It was the strong and sturdy mountains that impressed me most. They looked solid and muscular against the soft rolling hills of the grassland below. I will definitely miss them when I leave New Zealand. Now I understand why mum makes a big deal about seeing the Mourne Mountains when she goes home to Ireland.
Leaving the mountains behind we came to the coast and eventually into Wellington, the capital of New Zealand. Driving through it just looked like any other city but for some reason it seemed to have more character than most with it's quirky looking buildings and odd road layout. We stayed at a Base hostel which was a huge building with 200 rooms and a kitchen which was way too small. With the chill of the south island coming up I thought I would be wise to go shopping for some warmer clothes so a bunch of us got our wallets and went off to spend some money (again). I ended up just buying a hoodie and I pair of trackies but I was still pleased with myself. That night was a chilled out one in preparation for the madness the following day.
Yep, the next day was St Patricks Day and o my good god they love it here. A bunch of us decided to be cultural and go to the museum but even walking through the city centre at noon, the pubs were ready packed with Guinness lovers head to toe in green. Im so glad I chose to stay here an extra night. The museum itself was absolutely massive. It was a brilliant museum, full of interactive stuff for us simple-minded folk, but after 3 hours of reading, watching and playing, we had only made it half way round the building. We were all museumed out by this point so the others went food shopping and I went to buy a 'kiss me I'm irish' hat (classy) and face paint. The night was awesome. I can't remember the last time I got that drunk but apparently we went to an Irish pub called Molly Malones and at 4 in the morning a bunch of us went to get maccas. The pictures on my camera give the impression it was a fun night so that's what I'm sticking with. Thank you Saint Patrick.
An hour of sleep and I was on the ferry travelling across to the south Island, still pissed as a fart but happy knowing I had gone out with bang.