Thursday May 23 –I liked Stratford.
It had lots of stop signs, and few traffic circles.
Foggy, but with coffee, pack up and off to
Mt. Taranaki.
I had decided to go to the
Dawson Falls access point on Taranaki.
It was the closest to Stratford; more time on the mountain.
In introductory geology labs,
there is always a (to me) pointless unit on landform classifications, including
drainage patterns. One of these is
“radial drainage”, i.e. streams that drain from a central point – like an
isolated volcano like Mt. Taranaki. I
suffered for my judgement while getting to Dawson Falls, as poor MG labored up
and down through valleys carved innumerable radially draining Mt. Taranaki streams.
Mt. Taranaki used to be called Mt.
Egmont, but at some point the Maori name was honored. It’s still located in Egmont National
Park. I suggest looking at this on
Google Maps or the equivalent; it’s an almost circular preserve. Odd. On the ground, this is an abrupt boundary between open agricultural
land and a literal wall of extremely dense native flora. The road into the park was effectively a
tunnel hollowed out of this abundance:
The road was narrow. Blind
corners. At least I was between radial
drainages. We climbed, and the fog
vanished. But I pulled into Dawson Falls
to a clear blue sky.
I figured I had a few hours to
day hike before heading eastwards towards Tongariro National Park. The summit was out of reach. It would be a full day effort with alpine,
sub zero conditions at the top. So a pair
of short hikes. I parked MG at the
Visitor Center, right about at 900m elevation. A short downhill (including 230+
steep stairs) to Dawson Falls, which
turned out to be an 18 meter waterfall, flowing robustly. The splash bowl and alcove were humid and
verdant – mosses and ferns in abundance.
It was hard to be sure, but I expect the falls formed where Kapuni Stream
flows over the lip of a lava flow. I was
puffing hard by the time I got back to MG.
But more uphill was indicated, as I wanted to hike to Wilkies Pools
further up the Kapuni Stream drainage.
The trail description said I’d quickly be moving into “goblin
forest”. Hmmm. Well, an apt designation; the humidity I’d
seen at the falls persisted (I expect being on the windward side of New Zealand
helps too) and the gnarled, twisted podocarp trunks were literally entombed in
mosses and lichen. It looked very
Middle-Earth, even with the sun filtering through the canopy.
I climbed, crossing the stream a
few times, and then basically hiking up a side stream, or so it seemed. The understory was a dense assortment of
broadleafs, vines, and grasses. If I
were a moa, I’d keep my head down for sure.
This would be brutal country to try and walk through – I wonder how the
Maori used it. I was thankful for a nice
trail.
Wilkies Pools were underwhelming,
although the view of Mt. Taranaki was world-class. I wasn’t tired yet, so I kept climbing,
eventually returning to MG along the Ridge Track. It was described as the “wet
weather” route, I guess meaning that you’d be less likely to ride a flash flood
on it during heavy weather. More goblin
forest.
Back at MG, another visitor –
I’ll guess a Euro in his 20s – walked up to me and asked if he could get to the
summit from Dawson Falls. I said yes,
but that it was already very late in the day for a 1400m ascent. He seemed unconvinced. He also kept looking over my shoulder:
distracting. I finally turned to see
what the deal was. The pair of German
girls I’d passed on the trail were, um, changing all their clothes in the
parking lot.
It was time to leave.
Back to Stratford, petrol, a
ginger beer, and east on Route 43, known as “The Forgotten World Highway”. How could I not take this road? It promised the kind of driving I love the
most, a sinuous, always interesting up and down and empty road through interesting
country. It requires attention to
driving, but with enough latitude to keep an eye on what’s going by
outside. Probably fun in a touring car,
but MG did just fine.
The road transected what appeared
to be a dissected plateau of uplifted marine sedimentary rocks. Little evidence of faulting or folding, just
lots of jagged hills and steep valleys, with the Forgotten Highway strung
across them. Pretty clearly beach
sediments near the start of the drive, grading into deep marine sands and
finally muds by the end. These shallow
water rocks to the west, deep water to the east are interesting, because if you
think about it, the present coast of New Zealand is the opposite: deep water to
the west off the coast. So perhaps these
sediments came from some other landmass which docked with New Zealand in the
past.
Disclaimer: I spent some time
looking for a good overview of New Zealand geology before this trip but
couldn’t find anything that was at the “ABC” level or severely local and technical. So I am faking it as I go along.
Initially, the Forgotten Highway countryside
- through Toko, Douglas, and Strathmore – was agricultural, sheep and beef
cattle. Grassy hills and ridges,
fingerprinted by livestock tracks. What
I expect now in New Zealand. Eventually,
somewhere past Huiakama, the terrain got too steep for animals, and the native
bush has survived. The same high density
as at Taranaki, but on a grander scale, including tree ferns, a couple of the
native conifers, and taller shrubs.
Still lots of moss. At a
distance, this gives the landscape a sort of spongy, quilted texture, much
nicer to look at than sheep and grass.
Halfway, a pause at Whangamomona
for a long black (Americano) at the Whangamomona Hotel bar. If I liked bars, this place would rock. Clearly the center of local culture
(generations of pictures of the local rugby club) and tourist universe.
Onwards through Marco, Tahora,
and onto the 16 km dirt section of the highway.
This was the most comfortable part of the drive. I couldn’t rush. There was no traffic. The road surface felt smoother.
Best of all, I finally solved the mystery of
MG’s horrid rattle: it’s the custom bracket that holds up the curtains between
the cab and bedroom. Nothing a pair of
dirty socks couldn’t fix.
 |
| Yup, a dirt road through a dirt tunnel |
Back into ag
land, and a flattening of topography as the rocks got muddier (and
softer). An end to the Forgotten World
at Taumarunui. South on Route 4 to
National Park. An abrupt termination to
marine sediments (faults?) as we entered the Taupo Volcanic Zone, the north-northeast
to south-southwest volcanic core of North Island. Everything hereabouts is covered over by
recent volcanic eruptions. East on Route
47, then southeast and uphill to my destination, Whakapapa, in Tongariro
National Park.
Tongariro is a UN World Heritage
Area, and has long been on my list of places to go.
It has a fabulous world-renowned hike, the
Tongariro Alpine Crossing,
which transits the high plateau between Mount Ngauruhoe (aka Mt. Doom in LOTR) and
Mount Tongariro.
At 21 km, it was
totally doable even with crampons and ice axe.
I brought enough gear that I’d stay warm, I
hoped.
But, ultimately I opted against
the trek as conditions the next day were to be foggy and well below freezing;
the point was to see bits of Tongariro, not check a box on the accomplishments
list.
I was not surprised, I’m here out
of season for doing stuff at elevation.
Friday May 24 - A predictably cold night at 1640 m. Extra condensation on MG’s windows. I was plenty warm in my nest, although it was
hard to get up.
The Whakapapa I-Site recommended
the Tama Lakes track as an alternative to the Crossing. Why not?
It started in Whakapapa, so that was good. I drove MG 500m from my campground to the
portal, loaded up my pack (lunch, snacks, first aid kit, rain gear, extra warm
clothing, water, camera gear, repair and emergency kit) and headed off. It was foggy. The trail - grey gravel set in rip-rap, cut
into the landscape – was impossible to lose.
This is good, as New Zealand parks aren’t big on accurate maps. People seem puzzled when I ask about
them. There are just signs that say
things like “Tama Lakes, 2.5 hours”. No
distances specified.
It stayed foggy. I descended into a birch forest, then into
open subalpine landscape. I was by
myself. I thought, this is great. It’s awesome to be out. I descended and ascended over numerous drainages
(vaguely radial, the topography was complex).
I took a detour look at Taranaki Falls; another cascade over a
waterfall, with another brutal set of stairs.
Then a long two hours walk out to
Lower Tama Lake. I’d gradually been catching
up with a hiker wearing red. When I got
to Lower Tama Lake, she was there. We
said hello. She was French. We waited for an opening in the clouds. Lower Tama Lake is basically a volcanic
crater lake, one of a series in this zone on the slopes between Mt. Ruapehu and
Mt. Ngauruhoe. I was happy to look down into
the lake basin and avoid the steep scramble down to the water.
 |
| Lower Tama Lake. Note French woman and German man |
As I got up to proceed to Upper
Tama Lake, the French woman asked me if it was worth the climb. I said, why not, when else am I going to be
back here? She seemed unconvinced, but
then hiked with me up the trail. She
plied me with questions about Taranaki. I
got ahead of her on the steep ridge of loose volcanic debris (porphyritic
andesite, sand- to boulder-sized rocks speckled with white feldspar crystals). I arrived, puffing. She was not far behind. We agreed that the view as worthwhile:
Lunch, adios, and I started my
descent. I’d seen a few more hikers on
my outward leg, all Euros, mostly young, who were as severely equipped as I was. Often in full windproof rain gear; it was pretty
blustery. Then at the beginning of the drop
to Lower Tama, I passed and greeted a dozen Kiwi guys – they were wearing
shorts and t-shirts. A few of them were carrying
water bottles, no packs.
The commute back to MG began to
drag on a bit. The sky stayed overcast,
although the fog had lifted. No
mountains to be awed by. So I started
looking at the flora. I know nothing
about botany, but there seem to be two distinct plant communities on these subalpine
slopes. The broad ridges were capped by
a solid quilt of what I’ll call heather – broadleafs, at least a dozen kinds of
mosses (bryology paradise), bunch grasses, small shrubs, and dwarf cedars, all
set in a healthy soil horizon a meter or so thick, weathered out of volcanic
deposits. Clearly undisturbed by
eruptions recently. I could have a yard
full of this stuff and be content, if it wouldn’t require building a refrigeration
unit covering my property. It was wildly
colorful: dark red, three shades of yellow-green, four shades of green, orange,
olive, very pale pink, red-brown, rust, pale yellow, and orange-rust. The heather was interrupted by drainages,
which were dominated by lichen and other types of moss, encrusting all the
rocks and boulders. A bit less colorful,
including fluorescent orange, darkest red, and pale green. I’m not clear at the relationship between the
heather and these lower, more barren areas.
The latter could have grown at the expense of the former through
landslides, plus erosion by streams and the occasional lahar from the volcano.
Eventually, the parking lot. I was tired.
Another night in Whakapapa seemed like a good idea.
Saturday May 25 -Another cold night’s rest. I discovered that the campground had a drying
room, so I was pleased to have a non-damp towel in the morning. Another Tongariro hike, this time a couple
hours return jaunt to Silica Rapids. I
can’t resist an interesting mineral spring.
The cloud ceiling was higher this morning, so I had hopes of seeing the
peaks. The trail wound through birch “goblin
forest” before entering subalpine heather like I’d seen the day before. Much of this seemed rather boggy; the trail
followed boardwalks for several kilometers across this. Better that wet gooey boots. I kept checking the skyline. Finally, Mt. Ngauruhoe almost peaked out of
the clouds:
Backlit, but still awesome. Presently I reached the Waikate Stream drainage
and turned uphill towards Silica Rapids.
I assume this is a fault-controlled drainage, and that water rich in
iron, aluminum, silica, and other stuff dissolved out of the underlying volcanic
rock makes it to the surface along the cracks.
I crossed a bridge, and the stream bed turned rust orange: iron-rich
cold springs. I’ve seen lots of these in
the Cascades in Washington State.
I climbed further. When Waikate Stream came back into sight, its
bed was a pale yellow color; aluminum and silica cold spring deposits. Unexpected.
Unique as far as I know.
Back to MG, and time to leave
Tongariro. I regret not doing the
Crossing. Maybe it would have been fine. Maybe I’ll come back. We headed northeast on Route 47 to Turangi,
and then further on Route 1 to Taupo. Much of the drive was along the shore of
Lake Taupo. It’s a volcanic caldera, approximately
the size of Singapore (Xin, there will not be a quiz). It formed from a series of catastrophic
eruptions about 26,000 years ago. Eruptions
of this scale are rare, thankfully, it would have caused a good decade’s worth
of global cooling.
The weather was gross for looking
at the lake: hazy and humid. The town of
Taupo grossed me out even more. It’s a
holiday place, and the descent from Tongariro into streets full of boutique shops,
hotels, eateries, and LOTS of people revolted me. I’d planned to stop there for lunch, but I
fled further north instead. I was not emotionally
prepared for the abrupt transition; my mind was still out in the quiet of the park. I recognized this reaction from previous
reentries into “civilization”. Oh well.
Lunch then at Craters of the Moon,
a local geothermal area run by a land trust.
Nice steamy views:
Tonight, I’m in Rotarua. Much quieter than Taupo. Tomorrow, more geothermal, some Maori culture,
and whatever looks enticing.
