Central North Island June 17-26

Despite some of the shortest and coldest days of the year, we were blessed with a blocking high parked over the North Island, which gave a solid week without rain and allowed me to fit in everything I hoped to do with my visiting brother and sister. There was a curious, almost eerie lack of tourists everywhere we went which I thoroughly appreciated. The North Islanders were friendly as always.

The trip started before I even left by waking up early, semi-consciously noting the abnormally cold bathroom floor, groggily jumping in the shower to defrost, and then looking out the window to discover the winter wonderland that was going to make the drive to the airport an adventure. Once ready I walked out front and snapped some photos, admiring the lack of cars and relative quiet, when I started chatting to a neighbor who told me to look up the road where several crashed cars lined and filled the streets. Most cars that drove past slipped and skidded at least to some extent, while some had tires spinning disproportionately to their rate of travel. My fearless stunt driver Giulia picked me up and off we went to the airport at parade speed. Destruction and chaos were in the air. It felt a bit like driving in a war zone (or so I imagine). We passed no fewer than 40 wrecked, damaged, guttered or abandoned cars on our drive- some in the middle of the road. I think the route we took was the only possible way we could have made it to the airport successfully with other routes blocked by jack-knifed tanker trucks. We played soothing music on the CD player, but you could still feel the tension in the air as we drove. In short, I was on one of two flights that left the airport before it was completely closed for the day! It was a beautiful flight over the South Island with (surprise, surprise!) the worst weather centered on Dunedin.

Coromandel Peninsula: Once landing in Auckland and sorting out the siblings, we drove for the Coromandel. The most notable thing about the drive was a sign in a farmer's field of a baby seal holding a sign that said "Save the Human Babies" (maybe you had to be there). The next day we did a couple short hikes including a beach, a waterfall, a kauri forest and a steep route up Castle Rock for 360 degree views of islands, beaches, forestry and bush. We ended the day hiking in the dark up to the Pinnacles Hut, New Zealand's largest. The hut sleeps 80 but there were only a cosy 6 present at the hut when we finally arrived. The following day we went up the stairways and ladders to the top of the Pinnacles for more panoramic views. This area has an interesting history of mining and logging.

Photo taken by Michael

White Island: We toured White Island, New Zealand's most active volcano and some of the most spectacular volcanic landscape I have ever seen. From Whakatane, a hour plus boat found us at the island where the boat anchored just offshore and we were ferried to shore in a small Zodiac. The water at the landing site was all sorts of beautiful tropical milky blues from the mixing of the murky ash-colored crater rivulets with the dark blue sea. We landed at the remnants of old sulfur mining ventures from the 1920s and before, thoroughly rusted and corroded from the aggressive volcanic atmosphere. My brother made the appropriate (but hard-to-explain) comment that the island and the whole trip had a very Wes Anderson/Life Aquatic feel to it. The landscape within the crater was very cool- mounds and ridges emitting steam, sulfur, and boiling mud surrounded by snaking streams of various acidity, color and horrible taste. Colors abounded with sulfur yellow, ash white and rust red dominating the scene. We got to see gaping holes with violently boiling liquid- one of which was less than a week old! The crater lake (pH of -0.1!) was only visible briefly between bursts of steam. The gas masks provided were not just a tourist amusement- in this area the air irritated the back of your throat and made you cough constantly. One area normally visited by the tours was appreciated at a distance since it was sporadically shooting a several meter high explosion of boiling water with significant steam accompaniment.

Rotorua and Taupo: After staying in Rotorua long enough to convince my brother and sister it was too touristy (about an hour), we drove on to visit three world-class hot springs, each progressively hotter and more satisfying. Kerosene Creek has several large pools with hot waterfalls and is a well-known classic. The second, which I will not name here, consisted of a lovely pool sheltered by overhanging cliffs and trees and has a 2.5m hot waterfall plunging into it. The hot vents seeping through the sand at the bottom of the pool, the lack of people, and the massaging power of the waterfall were welcome charms. Lastly, we relaxed in Otumuheke Stream, another well-known soak near the Waikato River at Taupo. Perfect temperature and steam from a nearby waterfall acted as a sauna. We also checked out the always amusing mud pots (exploding bubbling mud and rude slurping sounds) and went for a two hour mountain bike ride.

World-class hot spring

Mt Ruapehu (New Zealand's tallest volcano) from Desert Road

Whanganui River: If I had to pick a highlight it would probably be the 3-day, 92km canoe/kayak trip down the Whanganui River. In summer the trip is very popular with 20+ bunk huts and large campsites filling to capacity. Despite the cold, I found the trip thoroughly enjoyable in that we did not see another person for 2.5 days and thus had the huts and scenery all to ourselves. The scenery was spectacular with tree ferns lining the bush-river interface, interesting mudstone cliffs covered with ferns and mosses, countless waterfalls, the odd large rata or totara tree sticking commandingly above the rest of the bush, and many dark tributaries to explore. The small rapids and other obstacles (logs, rocks) were taken seriously to avoid flipping in the very cold water. We went on the side-hike to the Bridge to Nowhere, a huge concrete bridge built in 1936 spanning a deep gorge to open up land to pioneering farmers. By 1942 the valley was abandoned. Today the bush has reclaimed the land and the bridge really does feel dramatically out of place. The last day was foggy which gave a completely different persona to the valley. My favorite stretch of the trip was Te Wahi Pari, "The Place of Cliffs," where still water reflected the steepest and tallest vertical cliffs. We also stopped to check out Puraroto Caves, interesting mudstone stream passage caves. The scenery, history, solitude and adventure of being the only people around really made the trip.

The Bridge to Nowhere

Photo taken by Lauren

Waitomo Caves: I got the celebrity treatment at Waitomo Caves, which admittedly felt quite nice. A mate gave us free private VIP custom tours of the famous Waitomo Glow Worm Caves, a black water rafting trip in lower Ruakuri Cave (good clean/cold fun), and a tour of the upper levels of Ruakuri Cave on which >$4million was spent to develop as a tourist cave. Walking through the Ruakuri Cave gate, we found ourselves at the top of a huge futuristically-lighted spiral staircase. At the bottom of this circular shaft is a ritualistically-lighted chunk of naturally-sculpted limestone with water dripping on it from the ceiling far above. It was like finding an ancient altar of sacrifice inside a space station. I also revisited the Ruakuri Walkway which I still think is a work of art as far as trails go.

Black water rafting (photo by Brad)

Weirdest cave entrance I know of!

Auckland: I really don't like cities- they bring out the worst in me (and everyone else I reckon). To grasp for positive things to say, I still ran into many friendly, helpful people and the Auckland Museum was a good visit as always. I can't get over how cool it is that the Maori gave a specific name to everything from swords to instruments to a sharpening stone and they all had a history. Some Maori war clubs made of pounamu (jade) are given the name of a distinguished ancestor and treated with the same respect as that ancestor.

Thanks to Giulia, Travis and my brother and sister.

Inside the Auckland Museum marae (traditional Maori meeting house)

Nettlebed Through Trip June 2-3

I finally got around to going through one of New Zealand's most classic and challenging alpine caves, Nettlebed Cave. It is the deepest through trip in the Southern Hemisphere at 889m between the Blizzard Pot entrance on Mt. Arthur and the Nettlebed entrance down near the Pearce River. Incidentally, it is also one of New Zealand's longest caves at over 25km of passages. The overnight through trip from Blizzard Pot to Salvation Hall Camp and out the Nettlebed Entrance the next day is about as classic as cave trips get.

Two things left a lasting impression on me. The first is the immense amount of effort that very obviously went into exploring this cave. The explorers pushed several very grim looking crawls and a great number of climbs to connect parts of the cave. This is made all the more impressive by the fact that the cave was explored from the bottom entrance all the way up to Old Joke Inlet which joins the Blizzard Pot pit series to Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. A very impressive feat which gives me a new appreciation for the explorers. They really wanted this cave to go somewhere! The second and perhaps more amazing thing is the shear serendipity that the whole cave system is able to be traversed by humans at all. There are several very small passages that are the only known connection between parts of the cave. In some cases, just one extra boulder or a little more flowstone filling a passage and a through trip would not be possible!

Right. I made sure to pack light for this one. I even forewent the camera. I could have taken a little extra food, otherwise I figure I miraculously took exactly what I needed. We left the evening before to stay up at Mt. Arthur Hut to get a theoretical early start the following morning. The hike to Blizzard Pot was cold and snowy and I was beginning to worry that I didn't take enough warm clothes. The approach hike helped to add to the adventure of the whole trip though and to put things in perspective.

The route leads down 10 more or less rapid-fire pitches to 31m in the Blizzard Pot Series (including Look-See-Misery, Big Bong Pitch and Big Virgin Passage). At the bottom of each pitch the rope is pulled down such that after the first drop you are committed to going out the bottom of the cave. Vertical gear comes off once Old Joke Inlet is reached. A short climb up a rock pile finds you in an enormous room (no doubt one of the largest in New Zealand), aptly named Goodbye Yellow Brick Road. This thing is huge- over 100m across! After a brew and recollecting ourselves in the great void, we took on the Funk Hole, a truly impressive 100m high rock pile through which you must weasel your way through. Essentially, imagine yourself as a very tiny bug in a jar of sand trying to work your way through the voids between the grains to the bottom of the jar. It is easy to get lost if not careful and the way has an abundance of precariously loose rocks. It would only take one large rock to cut off the route and render the cave impassible. Then comes the Knee Trembler, a steep underground scree slope down a passage. A series of upclimbs, downclimbs, ladders and handlines known as The Clamble leads to the Salvation Hall Camp, which comfortably sleeps 5. The camp itself is up on a ledge overlooking the main Salvation Hall room. Water is collected in buckets under drips. Pee is evacuated via a funnel and hose which wanders off to some unknown location away from camp. The camp includes sleeping bags, sleeping mats, dishes/cups, a stove, a table and a bench. After a good night's sleep (thank god for ear plugs), we headed up some ropes at the back of the camp to the Ancient Briton passage. Through the Overlander, past the Abyss, down Reprieve Alley, into the Snow Passage, out the Prickly Tube, through Rockfall K, and up and over the Up and Overs. Then comes the pools and The Ducks. Fortunately for us the water level in The Ducks were very low so with care I was able to stay completely dry in what often can be a wet neck passage. Then came the infamous Hinkle-Horn-Honking-Holes, three admittedly tight squeezes through which the whole cave is connected such that air flows rapidly through them. I fit through no problem of course, but getting the packs through was a different story. Once through the holes, a little more passage and a couple more handlines found us in a dry creekbed surrounded by stinging nettles, fresh air and a nearly-past day.

Since we were behind schedule, I left the rest of the group and charged down the icy river to make sure our pick-up knew we made it out alive. It was dark by the time I reached the end of the track where a note said that showers and food where waiting at the ramshackle house with the lights on nearby. The whole experience was surreal in ways I can't describe: two days of caving to hike down a river surrounded by 5cm ice crystals sparkling in moonlight, stumbling upon a house in the middle of nowhere, a hot shower and hearty dinner of wild boar fed to me by three hillbillies who repeatedly told us they weren't hillbillies. After a long day of work (and sufficient quantities of alcohol), they pull out the garden hose and water the rutted drive up to the house which instantly turns to ice. Once everybody was fed and showered we went outside to watch them use an assortment of novel vehicles (kayak, wash basin, tire, and a rusty wok) to luge their way down the steep hill, often with hilarious results. They said that whenever they see tourists walking past on the trail they play the Deliverance banjo song full blast on the stereo for amusement. As we finally left around 11, they told us to "watch out for the hillbillies on the other side of the river." They were real good people, of a kind I don't often meet. What a strange world we live in.

The trip could have been better and it could have been much worse. The pace was abysmally slow on account of one person on the trip who had no right to be in such a challenging cave without more experience and fitness. Much effort was expended on the rest of our parts to keep the individual functioning. We all made it through safely which is the most important thing. The good news is that since I was able to do most of the route-finding, I feel very comfortable leading my own trip through next time.

On the drive back I made the most of the one degree Celsius weather by jumping in the Sylvia Flat hot springs and soaking away the aches of several days of caving.

Thanks to Christie, Derek and Moira, Mary, and Chucky for hospitality and places to stay along the way.

All photos except last by Gavin or Bob.

Above: The first rappel into Blizzard Pot

Hiking to the cave (Mt Arthur in background)

Loose rocks in the Funk Hole

Salvation Hall Camp: I'm the red lump

Cave nap

A small dose of relaxation

Babylon May 31

I had a great time in Babylon Cave. The entrance would be about 50m high were it not for the rock pile which fills all but the top 5m. Clambering down this great rock pile brings you to the Euphrates Plain (and the Euphrates River), about 500m of boulder hopping and stream walking in the bottom of a 60m high by 15m wide passage. Then you climb past the Hanging Gardens, up a 80m high rock pile called the Ziggurat. Here the immense passage all but ends in rockfall, but down the backside is a small downward leading hole know as Ishtar Gate, which is incidentally gated. Side note: I am able to squeeze through the locked gate. Down a small climb, past two squeezes and two more rabbit holes later you once again find yourself in good-sized passage. I tried leading Ray's Reach, an incredibly exposed climb, but found myself with no protection and 2 moves away from either safety or a nasty fall. On another day I would probably have gone for it. The climb leads to the Naked Lady Series, which will have to wait until next time. We then continued along to Summer Heights to snap some photos before heading back. This cave has serious potential and I think needs to be pushed harder.

Golf Course May 30

Today I went through a fun cave called Golf Course, so named for the chain of deep, overhung potholes requiring delicate maneuvers to avoid falling in. The cave is located in an impressive karst field with deep dolines (sinkholes) separated by high ridges. We took a wrong turn at some point and found ourselves closer to the exit than the entrance and so went through the cave in reverse. After exploring a few caves and holes that were not Golf Course, we eventually found it. The upper section is a tall, narrow stream passage with a distinctive potholed floor. The stream is then abandoned for a dry upper level knee crawl that goes down two rifts via 5m cable ladders. Yet another rift passage leads you to the complex, multi-storied lower entrance. A 6m chimney climb brings you back into the daylight. The streamway was the definite highlight- features were always where they needed to be to allow a bit of creativity to keep you dry. In the middle of one of the largest potholes was a bedrock pillar that acted as a perfect stepping stone to traverse what would otherwise be an inevitable swim.

Photos by Chucky.

Half the trip is finding the cave!

Xanadu & Cave Creek May 29

I gave myself a self-guided tour of the Bullock/Cave Creek cave system. I first boulder-hopped down to the low flow resurgence then scrambled back up to the impressive phreatic tube entrance of Cave Creek Cave-to think this cave is still active and roars during floods! I went in a couple hundred meters to where a deep wade or possible swim would be necessary. I then returned to the car to put on some caving gear to check out the overflow submergence of the system, Xanadu Cave. I knew this cave was a vadose flood maze but my god I've never been in a cave so mazy in my life. This cave required quite a bit of brainpower to remember landmarks and junctions so that I would be able to make it out again. I made it about 30 junctions in before the passage I chose began to disintegrate and I decided I better try to make my way back. Happily, I went back exactly the way I had come with minimal head-scratching. It was more of a mental workout than a crossword puzzle. I am mildly hopeful that an overlooked passage could connect to Myopia/Cataract Pot/Cave Creek, thus connecting the whole system in what must be a cave of respectable length. The last misadventure of the day was bush-bashing my way down to the Hole-In-The-Wall, a 100m long natural tunnel that frankly was barely worth the effort.

(no dog riding)

Te Ana Puta May 28

Loaded with all relevant maps and a tide chart, I checked out a cave near Greymouth called Te Ana Puta, "Cave of Escape Holes" in Maori. I ended up climbing down the Bent Pot entrance and following my senses down the muddy dip slope passage to the back of the sea cave chamber for which this cave is famous. A passage leads to the top of a 20m by 20m chamber with a narrow opening to the sea with a frothy, turbulent surge pool attacking the cliffs below you. I made sure to be there at high tide for maximum effect (although the swell could have been higher). What a special place. It was a total sensory overload. The sea pulses in and out the small entrance with voracious intensity. Each time a wave reaches the entrance it fills it, causing the light in the chamber to dim down to just the light filtering through the water. The waves hit an overhanging cliff below the overlook, causing the rocks and air to reverberate as a heart-palpitating boom fills the room and abuses ear drums. Occasionally, a large wave would splash as high as the viewing passage. It would be a sobering place during a heavy swell. Other stops were made at Pancake Rocks and Punakaiki Cavern before driving on to Bullock Creek.

Back to the primordial forest. I absolutely love this scenery- thick beech forests draped in mosses and tree ferns on cliffs of blue limestone. Bullock Creek is eerie- a huge gorge with a bone-dry river bed in one of the wettest places on Earth. The reason is that Bullock Creek has been pirated by Cave Creek to the south via a complex and very active cave system. The water sinks underground and resurfaces over a kilometer to the south.

I have found that my student motorhome works exceedingly well when no sandflies are present. Essentially I leave the back door open and trick the sensor into thinking the door is closed so that I don't wear down the car battery. Then a custom duct-taped tarp is draped over the back and secured to the frame of the car using bungee cords. With the back seats down I can very comfortably sleep on my 4 inch thick foam pad, while my gear conveniently fits underneath the back door.

Pancake Rocks

Bullock Creek swamp

The student motorhome

Cave Stream & Arthur's Pass May 27

A long, full-on day. I happily snapped photos of the sunrise-lit morning frost as I drove along. Being in no hurry, I decided to drive via back roads to Geraldine since I may never be through that way again. I stopped for a brisk walk around the karstic wonderland of Castle Hill where limestone has eroded into towers and sculptures set against snowy peaks of the Southern Alps.

Two suggestions for an adrenaline rush in a tourist cave: go alone when you've never been in the cave before, and, go when the cave is in a moderate flood. Whereas the deepest place was supposed to be just below the waist, I fought my way up the swollen Cave Stream in shoulder depth in several places. I got pushed back several times and after a while became intimidated by the raging torrent and would try to climb above. I wore little clothes (despite having a wetsuit in the car) and just kept constantly moving. Between the intimidation of the water and the cold, my body had to rely on adrenaline to keep me functioning. The cave went on forever and I was constantly questioning what a good idea this was and whether I was half way through yet and whether some yet upcoming obstacle would force me to turn back. In two places I had to chimney high where the force in the stream was so great I would never have made it up. In some cases I had to lunge for key handholds before the stream could sweep me down. The last pool before the exit seemed to be the worst yet (with the steel ladder and entrance light visible!), but on closer inspection it was manageable. I was very happy to be out in the sun and I had a good laugh at my own expense. It was one of the few caving trips that I really wanted to end while I was in the cave. It was a long hour!

Castle Hill