My Tripod Page
Finally more of the story so far!

Sat 2/6/99

I have been staying at a farm called Wilderland Trust on the West coast of the Coromandel peninsula west of Auckland. Yesterday I picked both apples and tangelos for the roadside stand. There are also plums and peaches ripe. Figs and persimmons may be ready when I make a return stop at the end of my trip. A wide variety of vegetables are also being picked. Had fresh sweet corn, carrots, winter and summer squash, basil, chard, snap beans, bell peppers, garlic, leeks... all free for the picking by WWOOFers. The property is over looking a large bay south of Whitianga with frontage on the bay and a series of small deep spring fed rock pools to cool off in. Tomorrow I hope to bike over to Hot Water Beach, 10 miles away where one can dig your own hot tub! At low tide you just dig a basin in the sand and it fills up with hot spring water. Have to figure out how to regulate the temperature. I think you have to cool it down with sea water.
That’s all for now check back next week for more.

Pararoa National Park 3/1/99

I arrived at Punakikai, on the central west coast intending to do a hike involving a number of stream fordings. The first days’ hike was only 7 miles I spent he morning doing the pancake rocks/ blowhole walkway, the major tourist draw in the area. The Parora National Park is in a largely limestone area known as a karst topography. The pancake rocks are an unusual layered limestone landscape with the ocean carving the layers into stacks of pancake like formations. In addition to the curious shapes, there are a number of sea caves where the waves surge in and spurt out in “blowholes”. This one is a major splash, but the previous night when the waves came from a different direction, a different hole was sending a 6’ by 80’ gusher into the moonlight with the 7th wave surge. One mysterious crater just breathed like a dragon breathing in the underworld below our feet.

As luck would have it the weather which had turned back a number of hikers the day before began to clear. I hit the trail at 1:00 PM, getting a ride with a couple from England and Ireland to the trail head 8 miles from the hostel. The trail first led up the Fox River a broad generally shallow stream, topaz blue in the deeper pools and with a stony bottom. I had planed ahead this time and had my rafting sandals with me, a necessity, as it would later prove. The ford, when I came to it was about 75’ and started out calf deep but the clarity disguised it deeper nature. Toward the middle it became just over knee deep and the temperature was a bit achy on the feet. A mile further upstream came the next ford, shorter but faster water and also above the knees. The next ford came soon after and I decided to leave the sandals on this time, a good choice as , though the map showed the trail staying on the left bank, the stream bed had changed course and the last mile involved 4 more crossings. I suppose it might make some people disheartened but to me it felt like pioneering and being immersed in the landscape of wild New Zealand.

I arrived at the shelter provided for the first nights’ camp. I should say provided by the nature. Millennia ago a huge sink hole had created a cave and the river had eroded away al but one side leaving a 100 yd, 60’ high, 60’ deep overhang festooned with ferns, mosses and lichens. I used my tent just to keep out the sand flies. The company for the night was a couple from England and a fellow from Connecticut. We ate our separate suppers but shared stories around the campfire that night. The morning revealed a raiding party of mice had bored through my tent and also the Brits’. I must have scared them off in my sleep for they had not quite made it through the side of the oatmeal bag.

After a breakfast of same oatmeal, I put on the sandals to ford my way back to the junction with the Dilemma River. I met a fellow from Austria drying his pants from the mornings fording. I had delayed my hike anticipating warmer temperatures. The sun was hot and I was soon ready for a plunge in the deep pool at the Fox and Dilemma River junction. The Austrian looked on while I slipped into the 55 degree water, The swim was brief but refreshing. Another sunbath and lunch and on to the Dilemma. The trail was more or less straight, however the Dilemma was not. It wandered from one side of the gorge to the other and for 3 miles I crossed and recrossed the stream about 30 times. Thank god for sturdy sandals. (and strong ankles) The weather had turned not just better but there was not a cloud in the sky. The forest lush native bush (New Zealand for forest) Southern beach and rimu, with tree ferns, “regular” ferns, mosses and lichens galore. After a couple of hours of fording, I came upon a group of hikers getting ready to cross the next ford, coming my way. Crossing to meet them, they informed me that I was at the last ford for the day. My news was not as welcome. I particularly sympathized with those who would spend the next 4 miles barefoot and with backpacks through the innumerable crossings that lay ahead.

Once back on a regular trail and out of the gorge, the bush grew more mature. There were also several water filled as well as dry depressions along the trail, evidence or the cave forming activity around me. Dusk found me at a large opening in the bush where a cattle station (ranch) had been incorperated into the park . One last ford through what we call a creek in N.C. One of the stories from the night before came to mind. Well I went through the ford an hiked a couple of hundred yards to a suitable campsite. Thought I would top up my water for dinner and gathered up my bottle and filter gadget and duly set off for the creek. To my surprise I found a dry creek bed. There had obviously been a lot of water through the riverbed lately but none in sight. Then I remembered the English couple had mentioned that they had gone to sleep next to this ford and though it was rushing when they had gone to bed, in the morning the river had quieted except for a curious sucking sound. Evidently there was a cave that carried the normal flow just below the ford and I would have to hike back to the ford for my water. Well there was a campervan down the road the other way and maybe the creek was back above ground down there. Seemed I should meet the neighbors anyway, so off I went. That’s how I met Derek the spelunker. Derek was just finished with diner and as there was no water in the creek there either he toped off my bottle with “good Christchurch water”. “By the way, do you have a few spare hours in the morning?” he asked. Well my hike was only 4 hours the next day so I allowed that I had but asked what for. It turned out, Derek was looking for a partner to go caving in the morning. His regular partners were not expected till the weekend and he, being retired had come ahead hoping to enlist someone in the meantime. He had extra helmets and lights so the deal was made. I moved my site to a spot by the caravan and joined Derek in the campervan to cook diner. We shared stories and food and night come on, I headed off to bed with visions of mysterious passages and a bit of apprehension, going off to the underworld with an acknowledged eccentric. Derek is a retired engineer and former coal miner who moved to N.Z. in the 50s. But he had made it this far without getting lost underground and I was up for a new adventure. After a leisurely breakfast , we made for the cave entrance. There are many caves in the area, many interconnected and we were headed to one called “xanado” a main I recognized from a brochure at the information center in town. It is one of the favorites with commercial caving trips however we had it all to ourselves. The entrance is a narrow slit and one has to slide in sideways and duck to get in and then it opened up a bit. We wandered through a maze of passageways, our helmet lights illuminating whatever one looked at. In places there would be larger rooms but no grand pleasure dome. Derek wanted to find out how high t5he water would be after the recent flooding so we headed down to level 2 ducking through a hole over a 10’ drop which required a bit of bouldering technique. He marked the spot with a bit of driftwood so we would recognize the spot. One could not see the hole we came through from the vantage of the bottom. I added a rock to hold the driftwood in place. More winding wanderings and we came to the passage to level 3. Sand had closed all but the top 4” of the passage The end of the road or so it seemed. I tried to dig the sand away but it seemed futile as it would take a while. I tried to kick the sand through thinking it might giveaway but no luck Giving up I headed back to Derek but he decided to have a go. Scooping the sand to a depression nearby he started to make headway I relieved him and succeded in kicking a way through. Being the skinnier, I wriggled through widening as I went and barely squeezed out the other side. Scooping from both sides we made the opening sufficient for Derek to worm his way through and doffing our helmets we were off gain down to level 3. It was a short walk down a moderate grade but as we neared the bottom we came to the water. 4 or more feet deep and with a 1’ airspace at the roof we had meet our match. The trail ended here. We retraced our steps. The driftwood showed the way and Derek held the rest of the route in his head. There were some chalked arrows in key places left by the Commercial guys. To make things interesting Derek led the 3way out a different rout through level 1 and after a bit of a steep upgrade (he had a rope in case I proved inadequate to the task). Proving my mettle, I made the grade unassisted . The light of day dawned with blazing brilliance as we emerged from our troglodytic experience. I felt like a bat at high noon, but the world gradually returned to it’s accustomed appearance in a few moments.

Lunchtime had arrived and we shared tidbits with a family of Wekas, a chicken sized fowl related to the Rail. They are notoriously cheeky around people. I had encountered one in the backcountry, which walked up to me and pecked the toe of my Bean Boots for several minutes. After eating we headed to another cave 45 minutes walk through the bush. We were headed to Cave Creek Cave. The water there is coming a mile underground from the cave system we had been in that morning. The trail led past the site of the “Cave Creek Disaster”, an event I had heard about and the effects of which I had seen echoed through Park procedures throughout the country. In 1995, a group of trampers (several with whom Derek was aquatinted) Had stopped at a platform overlooking cave creek valley. 15 of the 16 group (mostly teenagers and their leaders) were on the platform when it gave way and tumbled into the gorge a n 80‘ drop. Only one of those on the platform survived. The foundation had been anchored in unstable rock and possibly the extra piers had done more to weaken the rock further. Throughout the National Park system structures were closed for examination. 4 years later I found a number of Short wooden bridges marked “Facility closed for Repairs” The signs placed to one side leaving easy access to said facilities. The way to the cave led past the crash site. There are 14 small rock cairns arraigned on a large boulder and nearby photos and even a leather bracelet placed by 14 stream stones engraved with the names of the victims. (The Park had built an elaborate secure staircase down what had been a ladderway to the floor of the gorge. The rest of the cave exploration was unremarkable as the water level prevented extensive access, the impact of the memorials echoing in my mind.