Christian's Little Jaunt
Volcano country. Oh yeah, and the odd earthquake. After sampling the chilled and excellent delights of Wellington's nightlife on the 31st, getting roped into drinking too much Havana Club (Abi's such a bad influence, absolutely nothing to do with me honest guv'nor), and then enduring a hang which could only be eased by a bout of retail action (you are gonna love the LRG zip-up Neighbs), we blurrily drove up the North Island to a village called National Park. One pub, and a couple of active volcanoes outside the bedroom window. Just the usual then. This humbling place is in the Tongariro National Park, and it's the nearest "town" to the Mount Ruapehu skifields of Whakapapa (pronounced Fa-Ka-Pa-Pa) and Turoa. So have spent the last 2 days on the hill at each one. (I say "on the hill" but "on the active volcano" is more accurate in truth, as Mount Ruapehu itself is a menacing, brooding 2797m beast which last erupted in 1995\6. It's part of the Taupo Volcanic Zone which stretches up through the spine of the North Island, a bit of a stroppy area which kind of blows up every now and again). But frankly it doesn't matter that there's about a gadillion tons of molten rock 2 metres beneath your feet, as it's the best terrain either of us have ever boarded, better than Tignes, better than Chamonix. Awesome cliff drops everywhere, natural fun parks, just the sort of stuff that makes you want to bounce of everything in sight. And we did - 2 days of riding the sort of stuff which reinforces the deep deep love for sliding about on a tray. Now we've driven up to Lake Taupo - this is geyser and bubbling mud pool territory. Let you know gang, dribbly kisses. C x.