boltsintotheblue   Le mariage and beyond

We set off in convoy from Orewa with me driving the bus and Jo charged with navigating us through the rugby mayhem of Auckland and onwards to the wilds of the Coromandel Peninsular. This is a rugged coastline on the east side of the North Island, marked by tiny towns and endlessly serpentine roads barely hugging hillsides or at other times barely above the lapping waves. I loved it although was disturbed by the distinct lack of sheep. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a Welshman or anything but I’d read that NZ has over 30m sheep and I was looking to get my teeth stuck into some fine lamb chops.

A highlight of our first day road trip was deciding to take a “short cut” across the peninsular along what the guide book told us was the legendary 309. In fact, this was essentially a 30km gravel road that took us into the heart of Jurassic Park, a bonkers twisting, undulating, deserted road-to-nowhere fringed with a dense thicket of tropical lushness that threatened to produce monkeys and veloceraptors at any point. In my mind we were pioneers discovering an ancient route to hidden treasure, Jo just told me to keep my eyes and our camper on the road as we swayed from bend to bend with my “enthusiastic” driving. Along the way, there were vague signs of life – a very disturbing hillbilly compound notable for it’s ramshackle dwelling and array of rusting vehicles (either abandoned, or hijacked and burnt out as far as we could tell). At this point I had the dueling banjo scene from Deliverance playing in my head and we sped on whilst being chased away by several mangey hounds of death salivating with great gobs of Satan’s rabid slobber.

Eventually, we emerged on the other coast and half an hour later arrived at our campsite destination. Despite the inclement weather (read lashing rain and gale force winds) we donned our swimwear and headed to the beach with a few borrowed spades. No we were not in training for the British sand castle championships, we were after the thermal springs of hot water beach, an infamous NZ phenomenon where hot springs seep up through the sand to provide warm pools akin to natural hot tubs. During the frigid 20 minute walk down to the beach we mused that this could just be a cruel kiwi joke to send unsuspecting Brits down to dig up the beach just for shits and giggles but as we rounded a rocky outcrop there were several others lounging in their little sandy hot tubs. We quickly set to work with our spades and before long realized this was no joke, the water coming up through the sand was so hot we actually had to dig with flip-flops on to stop our feet being scalded. After a few minutes we were basking like seals in the sun as our own pool was complete, although with the tide on the turn our time was limited. Still, it was a very surreal (and uniquely cool/hot?) experience to have a steaming bath actually on the beach in the midst of chill winds and frigid waters!