Hot Water Bitch

So, both Mike and Lyn and Tom and Linda, as well as numerous Kiwis said we should see/experience Hot Water Beach. Its on the East side of the Coromandel Peninsula - a somewhat out of the way location. The thing is that there is a thermal (hot spring) beneath the beach, so that under "the right conditions" (this is the fine print) you can dig a pit in the sand, be in your own hot pool on the edge of the beach, and have the cool Pacific wash over you at the same time. Sounds great - we love hot water and spas in general. So we planned a trip.

Now it turns out that it's really hard to get there on public transportation. (Like getting to our house on public transportation. You can theoretically get a bus once a day to T-town if your timing is just right, but then you are still 12 miles away and 2500' lower than where you want to be. Hitchhike or walk are the options....) And so, for Hot Water Beach we decided to rent a car.

We have avoided doing this for almost a month for a couple of reasons, the largest of which is the Kiwis drive on the left hand side of the road. OK, I'm going to say it, they drive on the wrong side of the woad. I mean really. Let's take a planetary vote here. Right side 90%, left side 10%. It's a done deal in my mind. Right is right.

And I've been driving on the right side for about 50 years. No kidding. In Arkansas, back in the last millenium, I took Driver's Ed at 13 and had a license when I was 14. So I've got a lot of very old habits to break to drive on the wrong side of the road. But to get to Hot Water Beach in the time we had left there was no other option. So rent a car we did...

Started out from Rotaroa at about 9am. Had to be at HWB by 11am (low tide) the next day. Not too hard right? It's really just 3 hours or so away. Well... Off we went. CT and I do many things well together. Most things in fact. Actually everything except driving/navigating. But for this trip we declared a truce on our old patterns and set a few ground rules, and off we went. And we did just fine for the first few hours. I was tense, I will admit. This is HARD!

We stopped for lunch in a little town of Katikati which successfully reinvented itself in the 80's when California figured out how to grow Kiwifruit and the local industry collapsed. So they painted all their buildings with murals, built a beautiful walk alongside the local river with haikus engraved on every boulder, and began to thrive as a roadside attraction. Anyway we had a nice riverside picnic in the sun amongst the poetry, stretched our legs, relaxed, went to a local rugby match. Then we got back in the car for the next leg of the jouney to the sleepy beach town whose name sounded something like WTF (well supposedly sleepy now, post season), the nearest town of any size close to HWB. But now its late afternoon, the road gets very twisty and steep, up and down. I mean really twisty. I'm driving and I'M starting to feel car sick. And in minutes we're leading a parade of annoyed drivers because we're going so slow. And the sun is intermittantly in our eyes, and the windshield is smeary, and the road is narrow,and the shoulder is nonexistant, except occasionally, but the first time I pull off to let the parade go by there is a drop off onto the pullout and the car scrapes bottom and now I'm REALLY tense.

But eventually, and in one piece, after pulling off the road multiple times to let the strings of impatient drivers go by, we get to WTF and find the hostel we have picked out. Thank god that piece of highway is behind us. Then we learn that we have arrived for the weekend of the Festival of Speed, an annual event when they put on races for almost every type of internal combustion conveience from lawn mowers to the sea going versions of unlimited hydroplanes, and so the town is packed with those who have come to participate in and/or to enjoy this festival. Which explains the hoards of fast drivers that were piling up behind us like sheep in chute on the way in... And also explains why the hostel is full (first time we have encountered full in almost a month), as is every other hostel, motel, hotel, B and B, and campground within about a 30 km radius. But the lady at the hostel is sympathetic, makes a bunch of calls, and finally locates a room for us. And it is located, of course, back down at the other end of the highway of terror that we have just traversed.

So with tears in our eyes, we set out to get back on the highway. CT is doing a great job of navagating, but what she doesn't know is that the entire center of WTF town has been shut down and closed off the the street dance. It takes about half an hour just to get turned around and out of the crowd, and start back down the highway, now in the dusk turning to dark. With a continuous stream of late and impatient speed freaks coming at us.

AT LAST, we get to where we are going, back near the turn off to HotWaterBeach, back near the place where about 2 hours ago CT suggested that we might want to look for a place to stay but SC snapped "Oh, no, we're going to stay at WTF" and drove on. CT tactfully does not point this out. And there is a place, but it is an entire cottage big enough for 5, costs more than any room we have had in NZ so far, and its cold. No heat. Not no heat on, no heat period. No fireplace, no stove, no nothing. It's a summer beach cottage.

We sleep warm enough because we pile up the covers from all 3 beds, but the next morning we can see our breath as we are trying to make coffee and breakfast. We know the sun will warm the place up in a few hours, but we dont have a few hours because we have to be at HotWaterBeach at low tide. So we pack up and quickly get in the car to warm up, armed with the shovel the lady gave us last night ($10 deposit) to dig our hot pool in the surf. And its starting to rain. But we've come this far, and by god we're going to experience it.

We get there, walk out on to the beach, and find ourselves in the middle of a crowd of a couple hundred tourists all looking bewildered and digging holes in the sand but not finding any hot water. After a lot of confusing discussions, we finally meet a little old man who is local, there with his grandkids, who explains that today (more fine print) the low tide is not low enough to expose the part of the beach where the thermals come up, but if we wade out to about knee deep we will find hot sand under our feet. But not to swim in the surf or even wade out to waist deep because there is a nasty undertow that regularly sucks away unsuspecting touri in exactly this situation.

So we do go out to knee deep, and indeed if you work your feet in there, you cant really stand still for long because the sand is too hot. Hot Water Beach

Fortunately, CT realizes that in about 10 minutes the theoretical window of opportunity for experiencing the wonders of HWB will be over, several hundred curious folks will be leaving, and it would be good to head now to the one cold shower/foot washing station at the parking lot. And sure enough, by the time we are drying our feet, the line to rinse off is very long. But we are outta there.

More Milford

All that SC wrote was true, but CT wants to add a few more impressions.
The first day was a short hike thru low brush to Clinton Hut. It was warm, sunny and we followed the clearest blue river I have ever seen. You could look down from the swing bridges and see large trout and eels that were 3 ft long. No swimming.
We had plenty of time to lounge around, meeting fellow hikers and reading books by the river but we did get to meet those famous New Zealand sand flies. Their evil reputation is well earned.
The huts had bunks and 6 kitchen sinks and propane cooking burners, so the 40 of us could cook very efficiently. It was fun seeing what various people had brought. We had freeze dried, but we saw every possible combination of pasta, couscous, and even some "real food". There were 3 kiwi guys who were hiking in shorts, sneakers and had brought 3 cans of beer each for every night. Couldn't wait to see how THAT worked out !
The ranger at the Clinton hut lead us slowly and cautiously down a side path after dark without flashlights or headlamps to see some glow worms, living under a cut bank by the river. How intriguing. And then he lead us back to a wooden helicopter landing pad in a swamp near the hut and we all lay down on our backs. He had a laser light and pointed out various constellations.
Back at the hut, we were instructed to hang our hiking boots from the clothes line, because a pesky bird ( the kea) sort of like a very large parrot, loves to come at night and chew up hiking boots.
The next day we again had great weather as we started up the mountain. And settled into Mintaro hut after 6 hours of moderate climb, with numerous river crossings but all on well built bridges. Just as we arrived at the hut it began to rain.
It rained all night, and the next morning it was raining, hard. The ranger gave us very clear instructions about the trail ahead. We were to stay in our rain gear for the first 6 switch backs, then , no matter how wet we got, stop and put on every warm layer we had underneath. That is because the next 5 switchbacks took us out of the trees and up to the top of the pass and it would be very cold and windy with no shelter at all. That was very accurate. Sometimes the wind up there blew me sideways.
The rain poured down and the trail on the far side of the pass turned into rivers. That was the hardest part for me. Sometimes we had to cross rushing streams that cascaded down the mountain side. SC would leap over first, then he would reach back to me with a trekking pole and give a strong pull as I jumped across. Where were those bridges now ? But, with the heavy rain and flooding, the trail is constantly changing, so you make do. Then the drama started, as SC already described.
Usually the last day of a hike is the easiest because you have eaten up some of the food weight. But, for us the hike from Dumpling Hut was harder because all our clothes were soaking. How many pounds of water can you hold in your boots, jacket and pants ? Took us days to dry out.


To update you : today, while we were in the Wellington Te Papa museum, we got a phone call from Michelle, saying that Mark was indeed alive and doing very well. He had several operations at the medical school in Dunedin to replace a section of his aorta and aortic valve. He wanted to thank SC for taking care of him on the mountain, and also making such an accurate diagnosis. On the basis of SC's opinion, the helicopter took him straight to Dunedin where there were cardiac surgeons rather than to the local hospital in Invercargill. She didn't think he would have survived otherwise.

The Milford

We hear the helicopter approaching up the valley, and Blake, standing next to me in an orange rain parka, puts his arms up in a V. This is the signal for "we need you"; CT and I learned that studying the guidebooks, but little did we think we would see it used.

We are on Day 3 of the Milford Track. We have ascended the Clinton River valley, crossed the McKinnon pass, and are halfway down the other side. At my feet is M, another tramper from our party. He is in shock. I'm pretty certain he is having a dissecting thoracic aneurysm, and his chances of survival are small. But he is still alive now 2 hours after it started, so maybe he has a chance. So far, our medical intervention has been to keep him head down, and as warm and dry as possible, and to keep other well meaning folks from giving him aspirin. Aspirn would be just right if he is having a heart attack, but potentially fatal if he is indeed dissecting. It's a tough call.

As warm and dry as possible... The first two days of the tramp were sunny and warm. Yesterday evening as we arrived at the Mintaro hut, it began to rain. It hasn't stopped , nor is it expected to. By the time we get to Sandfly Point on Milford Sound, late afternoon tomorrow, it will have rained on us between 16 and 20 inches. Not terribly unusual for a place that has been known to get more up to 9.3 meters (over 30 feet) of precipitation a year. We've already experience more than we get at home in a year. M went down on the trail, after a particularly vexing part of the trail - a detour necessitated by a washout caused by the HEAVY rain of 6 days ago. The detour actually follows a kind of stair step stream bed. When we came down it, the water was mid calf deep. Now it is upper calf. We moved M off the "trail" where he dropped, but the water has risen enough that we have others working on diverting the water upstream to keep him above water level.

Up til now the tramp has been fantastic, an in the end, will be one of if not the most amazing hikes we've ever taken. The Clinton valley was beautiful, and the Arthur valley where we are now is spectacular. It is indeed the land of the vertical. Very steep valley walls rise thousands of feet above us, and are festooned with waterfalls. I love waterfalls, and will often travel out of my way to see one, but by the time this hike is over I will have increased my lifetime waterfall viewing experience (volume of flow times distance of fall) by one or possibly two orders of magnitude. The Beech forests are fantastic, fern and moss encrusted. The rivers are amazing.

Night three we will spend in Dumpling Hut. In the morning, the ranger will hold up back from starting down the trail for an hour to let the water on the trail receed. The DOC (New Zealand Department of Conservation) which runs the trail and hut system is very careful about hiker safety, and they will helicopter hikers out or over a flooded trail if things get too bad. Too bad, as best we can tell, means flowing water over knee deep or still water over waist deep.

The hike is strictly controlled. Forty hikers a day start the tramp. It is by reservation only and we made ours at almost the last opportunity - about 8 or 9 months ago. Trampers move to each of the 3 huts together on schedule. We dont hike together, but everyone ends up at the hut together each night. So you get to know almost everyone in the group. There are good bunks with cushy mattresses, good cooking and washing facilities, toilets, at each hut. Wood stoves provide heat, and some clothes drying. But by the end of the third day we are all soaked no matter what our gear, and we start the last day at least damp. But tho we are wet, we are still warm.

Because of the delayed start on the last day, we have push consistently to get to the dock in time to meet our boat. But we make it with 20 minutes to spare. Enough time to change into some dry clothes we have saved for this moment, since there is still a half hour boat ride and a two hour bus ride before we are back in our room.

Back at the helicopter pickup, the chopper arrived with a several personnel including a fully equipped experienced Paramedic and a stretcher. Unfortunately, given the terrain and M's location, the pilot had to land uphill so then it was necessary to carry him in the stretcher back up the swollen creek bed to the helicopter. Later we will learn that M made it to the medical center in Dunedin and made it through the necessary life-saving surgery. Whew..