We slowly made our way to the east coast on non-highway country roads with single lane bridges and sheep herds scattered upon them.
Destination 1: Rotorua. (Yes, you're probably pronouncing that wrong...I am).
I arrive in Rotorua to darkness and pouring rain...and a cop. I saddled up to a red light in town, not 4 minutes after arriving, and noticed the bloke behind me wanting to turn left (Note: we drive on the left side of the road here). So I do the friendly, Canadian thing to do and inch forward to give the guy some room to turn. As I'm inching forward, said red light turns green and I proceed into the intersection.
Suddenly, to my right (not what you're thinking) red and blue lights are flashing. It's bright, and dark, and raining all at the same time and my Lonely Planet is now on the floor of the passenger side and I've lost my page with the list of backpackers on it. I pull over. Cop pulls in behind me. Ironically, I was going to pull over anyway to get my bearings. He rolls up to my window and the conversation when something like this:
"Mate, any reason why you ran that red light, mate?"
"Well, I didn't run the red light-"
"Mate, mate, yeah you did, mate, I saw ya, mate."
"Officer I was just-"
"Mate, any reason why you ran through the red, mate?"
"I was just inching forward so the guy behind me could turn lef-"
"Mate, it's a red light, mate. Don't worry about the guy behind ya, mate. He can wait, mate."
'Wow, he managed to rhyme that one.'
"Sorry, officer, I was just trying to let him turn and then the light turned green as I was-"
"Mate, you ran the red, mate, I saw ya, mate."
(He paused here for effect...I was trying not to laugh.)
"Do ya have a license, mate."
"Yeah, sure, here you go."
"Ah, international, mate?"
"Yeah, I'm from Canada."
(Another pause for effect/laugther suppression).
"Well, mate, I understand you were trying to be the, uh, the uh, whaddaya call it, uhhhh, gooood samaaaritan, and all...but it's a red light, mate. You can't go through those, mate. Because if you've got a red, mate, other people have got a green. And that could be trouble, mate, ya know, mate?"
"Uh, yeah."
"That ticket is usually $150.00, mate."
(Pause for effect. I think he wanted something from me here...thanks, tears maybe...I paused for effect as well. Two can play that game, copper...mate)
"Well, mate, seeing as you're on the, you know, the leeaaarning curve, mate, just be careful and don't go through any more red lights. Alright, mate?"
'Learning curve?! I been driving for 12 years, dude!!! What learning curve?
"Yes, officer, mate, won't do it again...mate."
Welcome to Rotorua....
...home to incredible mountain bike trails. The next day I managed to get to
Whakarewarewa forest, or the Redwoods, to do some mountain biking. This forest was incredible. About 100 years ago they planted all different types of non-native tree species here to see what would take in NZ's climate...the California Redwoods, amongst others, took very well, hence the name of the forest. I managed to ride for just over 2 hours. There was a 100km N-Duro race going on that I didn't have prior knowledge of...so I just followed part of the course they had layed out so I wouldn't get too lost. I stayed on another night in Rotorua hoping to get a good day's riding in the next day, but it poured incessantly. This meant a 4 hour drive to Ohakune, a small ski town at the base of the Turoa ski field on Mt. Ruapehu, the most active volcano in the southern hemisphere.
Gotta love this land...4 hours driving separates dirt from snow. I'll let this short video explain what that's like...
You might have noticed a few things in that video.
1) Me wearing shorts in one shot, then 2 seconds later driving in blizzard like conditions. That is misleading. It was more like 3 hours late.
2) The music. Radiohead, "Jigsaw Falling Into Place."
3) How sick my funny little car is at handling snow. Never underestimate the FunCargo.
4) A silly downhill run with my bike parked 50 metres uphill. Yeah, I challenge any one of you roadie nerds to do what I wouldn't dare.
A friend of mine from high school, Ryan Jolie, happens to be teaching in NZ as well and met me at the mountain for some snowboarding.
Unfortunately, we were snowed in for 2.5 days and the ski field was closed, which is common on the volcano...high winds and poor visibility when it snows. So we filled time by talking to strangers, watching movies, playing poker, kicking our feet up for a pint of Guiness, searching out bars that carry Tuesday Afternoon Football (known as Monday Night Football in N.A.), and making Glühwein, a German inspired, warm alcoholic beverage.
The ski field finally opened and we were among the first up the mountain, and the last down it. The highest lift at Turoa brings you to 2322 metres, but the summit is 2797 metres. That leaves about 450 metres of untouched snowy goodness. If you want, which we did, you can hike to the summit (which takes anywhere from 45 minutes to 1.5 hrs), check out the volcanic lake of acid, take in the views and bomb down untouched powder. The single best day of boarding I've ever had.
I'll just leave you with some pictures I took along the way...enjoy.
