Tag Archives: Landscape

Mud, mud, gurgling mud

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Monday 16 February 2026 – Having checked in yesterday and indulged in a cup of Twining’s Finest Earl Grey, we found ourselves with a little time on our hands. So we went for a walk. Obviously.

We had a bit of a side trip as part of my tiresome tireless search for an electric toothbrush, because the cheapo Colgate battery-driven number I’d bought in Auckland turned out to be pretty rubbish.  Our walk to Woolworth’s took us past quite a fine mural.

Shame about the graffiti on it, though.  However I know that you will share my (and Jane’s) delight that my search for a toothbrush proved moderately successful!

Our hotel is pretty much beside the lake, so it was a short walk to take an overview. Its geothermal pedigree is on clear display (and, of course, you can smell it, too – there’s a distinct “rotten eggs” niff of Hydrogen Sulphide in the air.

Jane had discovered that there is a walkway beside the lake out to a place called Sulphur Point, so we took it

whilst being sure to be careful because of the not-inconsiderable danger of death that seems to lurk round every corner.

As we walked along, we noted a vast flock of gulls by the lakeside.

I had assumed that the waters of the lake would be too toxic to support aquatic life, but apparently there are fish in the lake for the gulls to eat alongside insect and plants.

The walkway led past some black swans

who were doing the duck dive thing, which I’ve not seen before.  At Sulphur Point there are a couple of pieces of art

“Waters of Rotorua”, by Rory McDougall. No, me neither

lots of gulls, some greylag geese and swamp hens.

There’s also been a strong effort to make the loo look pretty.

It was getting late by this stage,

and the light on the lake was lovely.

We hastened back to the hotel, walking through Government Garden and passing the museum, sadly largely covered in scaffolding and sheeting, but the exposed areas of which look very attractive.

Government Garden is a handsome place

and houses, among other things, a Māori Teahouse.

That was yesterday. Today was set to be Geothermal Day. Our itinerary took us to Orakei Korako, a geothermal park. When I visited New Zealand back in 1988, I based myself in Auckland and explored by simply driving as far as I could on day trips, one of which was to Rotorua, which is when I experienced its heady aroma for the first time. In those days I was neither culturally aware nor in possession of a guide book; all I wanted to see was some boiling mud. If memory serves, I did, although I can’t place exactly where I found it. But I must have seen some, otherwise the angst of having gone all that way and not found any to look at would have stayed with me for those intervening 38 years. So, I had high expectations of a boiling mud persuasion for today.

Orakei Korako is about an hour’s drive from Rotorua, through some typically quirky North Island scenery

and past significant evidence of vast amounts of logging.

It’s astonishing the amount of planting that has gone on of Monterey Pine trees, which are grown for the making of paper, since Eucalyptus doesn’t flourish here. There are impossibly steep slopes covered in these pine trees; I couldn’t imagine how they were even planted, let alone how the logging was done. But, clearly, it is done, and is a significant industry in the area.

Geothermal activity is a brutal thing, involving huge temperatures and pressures (and, I was hoping, boiling mud, of course). Orakei Korako has managed to put an entirely charming and low-key package together to showcase it.  One parks lakeside, and is given a friendly but serious safety briefing (basically not to stray from the  boardwalks, as this can be fatal) when collecting tickets, and is then transported across to the actual brutal bit on a cute little ferry.

The walk round the park takes 60 – 90 minutes, and is very well laid out, with maps and info boards to show you where you are and what you’re seeing.  It was pleasantly quiet, with just a few people wandering about in the park. The boardwalks are easy to navigate,

though there is quite a bit of up-and-down as you pass and view the various sites.

It is a typically “blasted landscape”

with considerable evidence of sulphur, and steam rising in many places, often above boiling pools.

Some areas have names; this, for example, is called the “Artist’s Palette”.

It wasn’t particularly colourful today, but apparently under some circumstances it can be overrun by boiling water, which is an ideal growth platform for algae of a wide variety of colours.

I was feeling that there was a bit too much emphasis on pools of boiling water, when we came across this sign.

So, after a quick look at the cave

we hastened down so I could get my fill of boiling mud, mud, gurgling mud!

If you want to see the mud in action, I included it in this overview video of the place wot I produced,

which also gives a better idea of the scale of the place than any of the photos we took. It’s very nicely laid out and pleasantly uncrowded; we enjoyed our visit immensely.

We had to get back to the hotel in time to be collected and taken to our evening’s activity, a Māori “cultural experience”, a description apt to send a shudder up the spine. Ours was to be hosted at Te Puia, which John at Kiwi Dundee had described as “legit”, so I wasn’t absolutely dreading it.

A bus came to pick us up at around 5.15 for the short journey to the place.

We filed in through the arch and joined a whole heap of people who were there for the evening’s entertainment to witness a Māori welcome ceremony. In real life, of course, it has the possibility of going sadly wrong unless you know what you’re doing, but we had a host marshalling us around; he picked a sucker volunteer from the crowd to be the “visiting chief” and made sure that he didn’t get stuck by an angry challenger.

His job was to approach the pavilion which houses the “natives”.

 

…who come out to look you over…
…and send a couple of chaps down to challenge.
A fearsome display, then…
…placing a token to assess your intent
It’s important to pick this up calmly…
…and retreat. This is the point at which it could go wrong.

Some final display then leads to the visitors being accepted and led into the pavilion. I have video, but you get the idea.

Inside, we are treated, as you might expect, to an exposition of native culture – a welcome speech from the “chief”, singing, dancing, explanation of the cultural and practical significance of dance accessories and weapons, and, of course, the haka, which is probably the single most famous Māori cultural export of New Zealand. If you’re a rugby fan. Again, I have video, so, erm, here is some of it.

It was by and large a jolly pleasing noise, but one thing struck me as unexpected. Not that I wish to accuse anyone of cultural appropriation, but there were a lot of familiar western harmonies in the songs they sang….

Following this was a part of the evening which I least expected and most enjoyed – a visit to the centre’s resident geyser*, Pōhutu. It was preceded by a session around a firepit where Māori cuisine was discussed as a prelude to the “Māori feast” we would have later, and then we all trooped down into the Te Whakarewarewa geothermal area in the centre to hope that Pōhutu would do its stuff before we had to troop back and eat.

It took a while – some twenty minutes of gradual buildup – but it was pretty spectacular when it finally came to the party.

The meal was set out as a buffet, and quite a massive one at that. Jane and I had been allocated Table 12, and were both pretty glad to find that it was a table for two. We partook reasonably lightly of the buffet, unlike the couple next to us, who came from (I think) Finland and could reasonably be described as comfortably upholstered.  She had a dessert between two visits to the main course buffet stations, and he had just started on his third main course plateful – the third being after a dessert – as we left. A short bus ride took us back to the hotel, and that was it for the day, and a very enjoyable one it was, too, loaded as it was with many things geothermal of which we don’t see much in the UK.

I said that the Haka was New Zealand’s most famous cultural export, but there is, of course, an even more iconic, erm, icon of the country. This is what we shall learn about tomorrow. See you then?

 

 

*  Pronounced “guyzer”,by the way. A “geezer” is who was taking photos of it.

Transfer to the Coromandel Peninsula

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Friday 13 February 2026 – Jane had ensured that the room we had at the Auckland City Hotel had a kitchenette, which gave two advantages. Firstly, of course, we could prepare mugs of Twining’s Finest Earl Grey* at times of our choosing; and secondly, we could prepare our own breakfast, since the buffet at the hotel was OK but short on fruit and not particularly good value. As well as the longed-for dental gear, we’d also stocked up with fruit and yoghurt so that we could breakfast at leisure and reasonably healthily.

The mission for yesterday was simple – check out of the hotel, pick up a hire car and drive to our next destination, Whitianga, on the Coromandel Peninsula. We manhandled our bags for the 10-minute walk to the car hire office. It’s actually an 8-minute walk, but one tends to spend a lot of time standing around waiting for the lights to change at busy and large intersections. On occasion I’m tempted to ignore the lights and just walk across if it’s obvious that there’s no reason to wait. But four or five lanes lugging baggage encouraged caution, so I waited for the lights with barely-concealed impatience.

At the Budget offices, the hire process appeared to be going smoothly until Kevin, the chap sorting us out, queried the end date of the booking, which he had as 22nd March. This is, indeed, the end date of our trip here, but we only need this car until we get to Christchurch on the South Island, at which point we hop a train. We were supposed to have a booking for a new hire car for when/where we disembark the train and thus the rest of our stay, and it seems that the local agents for Discover The World hadn’t twigged this.  Fortunately the sainted Kevin (he of the arcade?) and his boss, Sue, sorted the situation out for us and we’re grateful for their staff work. The queue of customers building up behind us probably weren’t, though.

So we took possession of a brand spanking new Mitsubishi ASX, with just 35km on the clock, which will be our steed for the next three weeks or so. It’s a bit larger than I’m used to (though not the utter monster we got in A Coruña when we walked the Camino Finisterre) so we started a bit gingerly whilst I got used to the car. Being Japanese and in New Zealand, the indicators and wipers are the other way round from UK cars, so driving round roundabouts with the wipers going will be a feature of the next few days – and the first few days of driving back in the UK, no doubt.

Anyhoo… our exit from Auckland was smooth and through only slightly congested traffic, and then we had the decision to make as to whether to take the more direct route to Whitianga or go the pretty way. We decided on the latter. And it was a very pleasant drive, through lots of typical North Island landscapes.

We (of course) saw sheep.

New Zealand is often quoted as having more sheep than people, and ChatGPT tells me that this is still true, though not as much as in the 1980s, when there were some 22 sheep per inhabitant. These days it’s nearer four or five.  What surprised a little, though, were the numbers of cattle.

The area we were driving through, round the bottom of the Firth of Thames, being flat, was obviously very well suited to either dairy or beef farming.  I read that there are about half as many cattle as sheep on the island, and they’re split roughly 60-40 in favour of dairy animals.

I guess many people will have read of the enormous amounts of rainfall that have been suffered in the North Island, and saw for our own eyes some evidence of its effects.

We stopped for coffee (OK, yes, and ice cream) at The Pink Shop at Kaiaua,

which is a very individual kind of place, serving as cafe, ice-creamery, eatery, corner shop, post office and second-hand bookshop.

They claim to serve the best coffee in Kaiaua, and I think this might be because there isn’t another cafe there, but it was a welcome break on the journey and the ice-cream was very good.

A little further along the road there actually was another cafe, but we decided not to stop there.

We carried on, through ever-impressive New Zealand landscapes but darkening weather.

After one leaves the flat plains south west of the Firth of Thames and starts up the Coromandel Peninsula, the roads become quite twisty, with climbs and descents, so sometimes one is by the coast

but more often into more hilly countryside. As one might expect, this gives rise to some more handsome scenery, and the roads feature lots of places where it’s safe to stop at the side to take photos.

It really was lovely scenery and it made the journey a pleasure.

We arrived at our accommodation, the Beachfront Resort in Whitianga, at around 4pm yesterday, and were greeted very genially by Paul on the reception and taken to our suite, which is comfortable and is set up entirely for self-catering. So we had a cup of tea, obviously, and then headed out for the fleshpots of Whitianga in search of (a) understanding where we had to get to for the items on our itinerary whilst we’re here, (b) sustenance for the day and (c) breakfast for the subsequent days we’ll be here.

Our schedule includes a couple of planned activities: a half-day cruise around the local coast and an all-day hike. In both cases we have to get to the local wharf, and for the hike we have to catch the shuttle ferry across to the other side (a place engagingly called Ferry Landing).

Having understood how all that worked, our next priority was to find a restaurant for an early dinner. Jane has good instinct for these things, and so, despite the fact that it was raining, we made our way past several eateries in order to get to a place called Salt,

which is a cocktail bar and restaurant. And a very good restaurant, too: we had a great meal based around snapper (yes, I had fish’n’chips) for outstanding value. Whilst we ate, the rain came lashing down, right through the screen that was supposed to protect us,

But it was only a shower, albeit a biblical one, and it was interesting to see the screen once the gusting wind had cleared the rain.

All we had to do then was to find a supermarket to get comestibles for the morrow, and there’s a substantial Woolworth’s in the town so that bit was straightforward.

And that was yesterday sorted.  Today we were supposed to be going on the cruise, but it, sadly, fell victim to the windy and wet weather,

but the hike should go ahead tomorrow, and can maybe be engineered to see on land some of the sights we would have seen from the boat. The practical upshot of this is that much of today has been a day (thus far) of splendid relaxation and further trying to get over jet lag (I’m getting there, slowly).

However, sloth for an entire day is not an option (I’m told. In no uncertain terms); we are travelling and so we Can’t Just Sit Around All Day (bugger!). What do you do on a rainy day? You go to a museum. Fortunately, Whitianga has one. What luck!

Whitianga might be a tiny place, but the area has some significant history. Just around the corner – the other side of that ferry journey – is Cook’s Beach, where he moored the Endeavour in 1769. He witnessed the transit of Mercury whilst here, and hence gave the name of Mercury Bay to the area. He also attended a powhiri, a welcoming ceremony with a local chieftain, where they exchanged gifts (Cook donated the potato to this new land) and established a meeting of minds between the two nations. The interpreter, by the way, was a gifted local linguist.

The museum covers the period from 950AD when the first humans, a Polynesian called Kupe and his crew, set foot on New Zealand; but it wasn’t until 150 years later that Polynesians came in numbers to colonise the new land.

Obviously, there’s Polynesian history figures in the exhibits, with models of the boats they used

This is a model of a 20m replica, Te Aurere, built in the 1990s to demonstrate the voyaging capabilities of these boats.

and examples demonstrating the skill in carving.

There’s a lot of information about Cook, of course, and a rather uninspiring display about HMS Buffalo, a convict and timber transport vessel which was wrecked in Mercury Bay in 1840 (the year of the Treaty of Waitangi), It gave its name to Buffalo Beach, beside which I am typing the very words. Other things covered in the museum include: inevitably, the Kiwi

among displays of other local birds

including, let us not forget, the Giant Moa

an enormous (extinct) bird with an improbably small head; information about historical aspects of the area, including mining; and information about the Kauri tree, an important conifer, particularly to the Māori, who historically used its timber in boat construction (pub quiz fact: it’s the only native timber that floats) and its gum for a variety of purposes. A European-driven industry grew up around it in the 1800s, similar to the Huon Pine we saw in Tasmania, and by the 1930s most Kauri forest had been logged. It’s also significantly threatened by Kauri Dieback, which is transmitted via tiny spores, very often carried on the soles of shoes. This kind of ecological threat explains why biosecurity is taken so seriously on entry to New Zealand.

There is something of a disconnect between the opening hours of the various establishments in Whitianga; the museum stays open until 4pm, but the restaurants, as far as we could tell, don’t open until 5pm (and the cafes closed at 2pm). So we pottered back to our accommodation for a couple of hours before venturing once more into town.  Having looked at the options, we settled on a place called Get Stoked and headed there through some reasonably heavy rain.  It turned out to be a cheerful and slightly noisy place, and provided very tasty salads and fish, though a Greek would not have immediately recognised the salad bit. We ended up chatting to a couple of old codgers on the table next to us for a few minutes before we left. It was a swift but very amiable meal and the pissing rain had stopped by the time we left, which was a plus.

We’re on a tour involving some hiking tomorrow, on the Cook’s Bay side, and have to get across the ferry betimes to meet our guide, so we’re back to early starts for a couple of days. The forecast is basically damp – anything from showers to deluges, temperatures in the mid-20s and humidity in the mid-90s. I hope we don’t get too badly drenched, but you’ll have to come back to find out how the day unfolded.

 

 

 

 

*  To their credit, the Auckland City Hotel provided Earl Grey tea in the room and large cups from which to drink it. It wasn’t Twining’s Finest, but it was perfectly decent; evidence, should one need it, that New Zealand is a civilised country.

Moldovița – a smaller monastery on a bigger day

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Saturday 27 September 2025 – The half-day’s activity envisaged for today turned into a very enjoyable whole day’s set of activities. The morning was taken up with a visit to another monastery, at Moldovița, a half-hour drive from our accommodation. Our chauffeur was Gabriel, the boyfriend of Daniela, the daughter of the house. I was quite surprised when the car he led us out to was actually a British model, steering wheel on the right-hand side an’everyfink. It turned out that he had only relatively recently left England, where he’d been first studying and then working for a few years; he could legally drive his British car for a total of 90 days before having to do something about it. It was very convenient for us to have a local guide who had such good English, and we were pleased that Daniela also joined us.

I had expected simply to be deposited at the monastery and left to our own devices whilst we wandered around it, but actually the two of them joined us in viewing the monastery, and were able to provide some commentary about it, which was very welcome. It being a Saturday, it was clear that there would be quite a few people there (there was a coach parked outside, for example), but we’d got there early in the hope that the crowds wouldn’t be too oppressive.

Anyway, the monastery: this is the sight that greets you as you enter.

The central church building sits within a pleasant, albeit fortified, complex.

As with Sucevița, the outside is painted with saints and biblical stories. It’s not as large as the one in Sucevița, but it’s still very striking. The frescoes have fared well on one side,

but sadly, on the other,

the prevailing winds and rain have wrought great damage. This church dates from 1532, when Prince Petru Rares built it as a replacement for another church which had collapsed. We went into the church for a look around.

It has an external narthex,

and inside there was the expected ban on photography. However, two things convinced me that I could get away with taking a few pictures: Gabriel said that it should be all right; and other visitors were brazenly taking photos anyway. I think maybe the use of flash is what the monastery was particularly trying to avoid. So, here are a few pictures of the inside, which, as with the others, is hugely ornately painted.

In preparation for the day, Jane had, as ever, been researching other things to see in the area, and she had come up with a very unusual-sounding option – a decorated egg museum, just a couple of minutes drive away. Daniela and Gabriel were happy to take us there so we could look around. It’s actually the residence of a specific artist, Lucia Condrea, and is situated at the end of a row of pretty houses.

We paid the entrance fee (though I discovered later that we could have simply sneaked in through the front door) and were treated to an explanation of a film of the artist actually creating coloured eggs, using a batik technique, which involves covering with wax the parts of an egg that should not be coloured, before immersing the egg in a colouring dip – and then repeating the process with different colours; so the artist has to visualise the pattern as a negative rather than a positive image. It was interesting to see the film… but the place is astonishing. Lucia Condrea has created over fifteen thousand eggs in her lifetime, and the interior shows a stupefying variety of sizes, shapes, patterns and colours.

There is huge elaboration in the eggs,

and the artist has taken, as her inspiration, patterns from fabrics, from other cultures, and many and various sources. There are a couple of pictures of her on the walls with local dignitaries.

Upstairs, there are a couple of rooms dedicated to eggs from other places, literally all over the world.

It was nice to see Britain represented

and we were particularly taken by these, from New Zealand.

How do they do that?

There were eggs for sale in the place, but we didn’t have sufficient cash and they didn’t have a working card machine, so we left empty-handed and started the journey back to Sucevița. The journey takes you over some hills and past some great views; Gabriel had said on the way out that we could stop at one viewpoint on our way back, and so we did.  It was called Pasul Palma and had a couple of kiosks there, but not evidently a huge amount else. I thought it was just to look at the view, which was indeed great,

but actually we spent quite a lot of time there for one reason or another. Taking coffee was one reason, and we sat overlooking the view as we drank it.  It turns out that the place also offfers guided horse rides

and there’s a zip wire across the valley, too; we watched a few people whizzing down the wire as we drank our coffee. Across the road from these kiosks was a huge sculpture of a hand

which is the logo of the place – “palma” means palm, as in palm of the hand, and the place, according to Gabriel, is to acknowledge the hard manual labour undertaken by people in rebuilding the country (or some such – he wasn’t absolutely certain of this). Anyway, the sculpture was, as one might expect, a nexus for some nifty Romanian entrepreneurship.

There were stalls selling liqueurs, cheeses

folk remedies, and tourist tat, of course.

Daniela and Gabriel bought a couple of things, and we got some home-made chocolatey thing which took our fancy.  Then Daniela mentioned fried potatoes. So we went to the final kiosk in this area

which sold, courtesy of a chap out the back,

the local equivalent of chips. These would be cooked to order and ready in 15 minutes, we were told, so there was nothing for it but to buy a beer and do some more sitting and admiring the view.

Overall, this was a pleasant and unexpected interlude, which was fairly closely followed by another. We had discussed walking up a (reportedly very steep) path to a chapel which gave a view of the Sucevița monastery from above. Our information said that the route going up was so steep that coming down it was not recommended and that you should follow a different path for which it provided vague instructions – “you cannot get lost”. Heather at dinner had said she’d tried to follow the instructions for this and had got lost, ending up walking along a track made by a tractor to get down. Doing this climb had been one of the things I had been considering for my afternoon’s adventure, but Daniela said that there was an easier path that led from their very house and gave a better view. So, having completed our journey back to Casa Felicia, that’s what we did instead.

We went through the back garden, past the chickens

and a terribly cute puppy called Mimi, who, like many dogs in Romania, was kept in an enclosure. More on this sort of thing in a future post, but for now, we scrambled about a bit up a steep path through pasture and entered a forested area.

Apparently, the right to roam in Romania is pretty absolute – you can walk more or less wherever you like even if it’s private property. We think we covered a mix of private and government land, but we’re not sure, as the maps are not very accurate. There were some very attractive, but probably deadly, mushrooms growing as we made our way through the forest.

There wasn’t a path as such, but Daniela and Gabriel seemed to know where they were going (with a couple of discussions…) and we emerged at the top of a hill, where we could see the monastery, but largely hidden by intervening tree branches. We made our way down to where one could get a better view

at which point Daniela told us that the best path led back up another hill where we would get a really good view. So we did that. It led past some fairly serious logging

which Gabriel said was quite possibly illicit, but not uncommon since policing the forests was very difficult. We carried on to a path that was very steep in places

but we staggered our way up it and emerged at the top, where there is a cross and a really very good view of the monastery and the countryside.

Opposite us, on the other side of the monastery, was the hill up to the chapel

where we could make out a few hardy souls toiling upwards. We, of course, now had to get down from our vantage point

which was also quite steep, but not too daunting. It also gave us a nice aerial view of the small church and graveyard associated with the monastery.

When we got down, we walked past the church to take a look at it, and one could look back up the hill we’d just descended.

In fact, in this picture of the church, you can just make out the cross at the top of the hill.

Yes, you can.

Our route back to our accommodation took us past the monastery, and we called in to see what time they closed. Jane had seen a photo of the monastery illuminated at night, and we very much wanted to see that if possible. We got a very uncertain answer about closing time, so decided that we’d go back after dinner to see if it was still open. We arrived at 7pm, and the door was open so we went in, past the (now closed) closed ticket office. There were still people there, mainly, it seemed, making their way out after some kind of special occasion.

We waited for it to get dark, expecting to be ushered out, but we weren’t. There was some singing coming over the sound system, so I got some slightly atmospheric video of the monastery church at twilight.

It got darker and darker, and everybody else left, so we were pretty much alone – and waiting by the entrance just to make sure we didn’t get locked in.

It got to the point where we realised that they weren’t going to turn on any illuminations. I suppose it makes sense – why spend money on electricity if there’s no-one there to see the result? Maybe they just do it on winter afternoons, when there will be crowds there, or possibly just special occasions. Anyway, not tonight, Josephine. So we made our way back to Casa Felicia and made our preparations for leaving the next day.

The morrow held a visit to another monastery, which we would reach by a longish walk of some 17km. The weather prospects were not as good as today’s but promised rain should at least hold off for the day. So come back to find out how our day went.