Orodruin

You may be surprised to hear that leaving South Island is one of the best experiences I've had so far. It was sad of course, but visually I couldn't have asked for more. After getting out our tent at the terminal to help it dry we board the ferry and embark upon the three hour journey between the North and South. The first hour of this journey is taken up by a trip through the spectacular Queen Charlotte Sound; actually a sound this time, not a fjord. Perhaps it is just the good weather mixed with my rising sense of excitement but I swear this place gets prettier and prettier every day. Once again I can be found rushing from one side of the boat to the other, or even from one end to the other (a journey involving a few flights of stairs, a lounge and one too many low doors) trying to take all the photos I possibly can.

The sound widens out around us in an ever expanding circle of emerald. Above the sky melts from the icy blue of the horizon upwards to the deepest azure. Below the water is the perfect shade, as if the wide blues of the sky and the sweeps of green of the land have been mixed in a great sea of colour. It is perfectly uniform save for tiny flecks of white that adorn it.

We turn and pass down a narrower channel. The sides of the sound close in and we see the forests and fields that lend the hills their tones. Small islands float by as patches of green on the blue. Eventually we reach the oceans edge and rocky cliffs line the island's rim, brazenly protruding out to sea. The land I have spent the last three weeks on fades behind us. The place I did my first skydive (first of many I'm hoping) and saw my first glacier. It retreats, a shrinking strip of green giving itself up to the ever encroaching blue.

The prow of the boat tells a different story. North Island is already in sight. It perches on the horizon, faint and distant but steadily growing.

The wind here is relentless. I stand by a railing leaning into the gale. It is hard to stay upright and with every photo I take I fear for my phone's life. The deck at the front, once heavily populated, is now bare save for the few willing to brave the winds. We enter a great natural harbour and I decide North Island has serious potential. The land flows by and I feel my excitement building as Wellington starts to reveal itself from deep within an inlet.

I love new places, I love new cities. You never know what you will find or what you will do. I can't wait to get off and explore.

The walk along the shore-front to our hostel is very promising. The city seems diverse and interesting. We pass sculptures and art, old buildings living in harmony with new and a group of teenagers delightedly leaping from the pier into the sea. That evening we wander through the streets and find a city alive. The population of Wellington is not far over half that of Christchurch yet it fees ten times the size. We walk down a street and pass takeaway after takeaway, any one of which would have fulfilled the one desire we had of Christchurch, the one thing we could not find.

North Island emerges on the horizon.

Weta Workshops, for those of you who don't know, is, along with it's sister company Weta Digital, responsible for the conceptual design and creation of (digitally or actually) the props, costumes, and sets for films such as The Last Samurai, Master and Commander, King Kong, Avatar and of course, what made them famous, The Lord of the Rings. They are responsible for innovations such as Weta Tenzan Chain Maille, a cheap and light hyper realistic chain mail and also Bigatures, these are simply miniature versions of sets or locations but recreated to such scale and detail that when on film they appear to be the real thing. For example, one of the biggest bigatures created for LotR was the tower of Barad Dur which, in the story, comes in at over 1,400 meters, almost twice that of the Burj Khalifa. Instead of creating this using digital effects they built a bigature. The 'model' built by Weta was nine meters tall, or thirty feet, so big in fact that they could not find a building large enough to stand it up in so instead filmed it suspended on its side then rotated the shots so it looked vertical.

Anyway, this is the place Amy and I visit on our first full day in Wellington, we are greeted outside the door by the three trolls made famous by The Hobbit. What follows is nothing more than a tour straight from my dreams. Props, costumes and models that I instantly recognise, straight from the films. There are a few things not from Lord of the Rings but no one pays them any attention, that's not why we're here. They tell us about the design and production process and I am amazed by how much time and money it can take. For example in the film District 9, with the aliens trying to find a home in Johannesburg, each individual alien gun (much lighter than they would be in real life but heavy enough that the actors appear to be carrying a bit of weight) cost at least two thousand dollars to make. No wonder films are so expensive.

After a thoroughly enjoyable time in Weta and a few selfies with the life sized carving of Gandalf the Grey we head to the botanics. Every city in Australia and New Zealand it seems has a botanical garden and normally they are no more than what I would call parks back home. This one is better, it has themed gardens, labelled trees and information signs; a sculpture walk, a visitors centre and a Victorian greenhouse. It also offers views over much of the city of Wellington. At one point we get lost and end up in a beautiful, but no doubt expensive, part of town where large coloured houses cling to deeply forested hills. One day perhaps.

We return through the city and I like it even more. The sun is shining and everybody seems to be outside having fun. If only we had the money to join them. Perhaps a working holiday visa in New Zealand is in order?

And people complain about the Scottish Parliament 

The biggest and best museum here is, by far, Te Papa. It reminds me slightly of 'Chamber Street Museum' in Edinburgh in content if not in appearance. We spread our trips there out over three days because there is so much to see, an hour or two each day so as not to lose interest. It has all the usual: whale skeletons, volcanic rocks and the history of man. There is, not surprisingly, a large section on the population of New Zealand, from the Maori seven hundred years ago to the Europeans three hundred years later.

The main thing that struck, and deeply saddened, me was the devastating effects humans have had on this wonderful piece of land. When the Maori first arrived on New Zealand the islands were green. Eighty five percent of the land was covered in forest, most of the remainder was mountain terrain or wetland with grassland taking up a mere five percent of the total area. The forest, being the hub of biodiversity that it is, formed the habitat for countless species of plants, birds, amphibians and invertebrates. Mammals were surprisingly absent; their only presence was in two species of bat. Perhaps the greatest of all these inhabitants was the Moa, the dominant herbivore of the land. It was a grand flightless bird that could reach up to twelve feet in height and its only predator was the Hasst's Eagle, the largest eagle ever to have lived.

The Moa had ruled this land for sixty million years and it only took the Maori only one hundred to hunt all nine species to extinction. The Hasst's Eagle, with no prey and a declining habitat quickly followed.

Along with hunting came the inevitable forest clearance and the introduction of mammals that the local fauna had not evolved to deal with, primarily rats and dogs. All three of these things began the dangerous decline of many of the islands native species. By the time the Europeans arrived the forest cover had dropped from eighty five percent to fifty five and it was just to get worse. We introduced many more new species and continued the destruction of the forests. Today only twenty five percent of the land remains forested and over half of it now grows introduced grasses. I found a list of all the species that have been driven to extinction through Human Kind's propensity to destroy. There were plants, fish, amphibians and invertebrates, one of the only two mammals and, the greatest list of all, fifty different species of bird.

Setting aside for a moment any issues about who 'owns' this land and the way in which the Maori people were treated by European settlers. What I wonder is whether we, as a race, truly have the right to 'own' land such as this and treat it as we will. If land has been occupied for millions of years by other species then should we possess the authority to simply turn up and claim it as ours and only ours purely because we are human. I think not.

It seems our past as a race, from the moment we gained awareness of ourselves and what we could do has been one of destruction and carnage. We have been burning our way through history with no regard for what we are leaving behind us. It seems that it is only now, when it is almost too late, that we are beginning to realise what we have done. That we are realising that we have to preserve those animals we have nearly destroyed, that we have to rebuild habitats we have eradicated, that we simply cannot continue to live as heedlessly as we have been doing for millennia.

I do think that considering how long we have been on this path of destruction (which many are still on!) the speed at which we are starting to begin a turn around is heartening and I for one feel hopeful. The question remains though, will it will be fast enough.

These three pictures show the forest coverage of New Zealand before the Maori arrived, at the time that the European settlers arrived and finally today. One of the worst affected trees have been the magnificent Kauri Pines. In the whole world these trees only grow naturally in the northern peninsula of North Island New Zealand, their forests once covered twelve thousand square kilometers. They can live for over two thousand years and grow up to eight and a half meters wide (that's twenty seven meters in circumference!), though none of such grandeur remain today. Today it is estimated that only four percent of Kauri forest remains and that small amount is spread far and wide in tiny pockets of woodland.

Enough on this. I could go on forever.

On our last day in Wellington we meet up with a good friend of ours from Melbourne who is touring the North Island with his parents. They, much to our envy, have a camper van. We, due to money issues, had to go for a bus pass instead. If you ever come here then a camper van is they way to do it, or at least a car. You can go to so many places that are otherwise inaccessible and you can do it whenever you want. Often we find we waste whole days because there is only one bus and we have to wait for up to two hours in small towns to make connections.

With Peter we spend a day in the glorious sunshine with some pitchers of cider. Since coming to New Zealand this is I think only our third or fourth (and I suspect last) time buying alcohol. We have discovered that when you are on a budget out here there is always something better to spend your money on. Today though, catching up with friends, it seems like the best option. We meet a group of lovely Wellingtonians that we spend most of the night with. At one point I trade one of them my sunglasses for a pitcher of cider. Monetarily it was a worthwhile trade although I instantly regret my loss. He kindly lends me his Ray-Bans for the evening, a very bad move. Somewhere along the way me, him and the Ray-Bans (purchased that very day) all part company. No one knows where they are now. I hope whoever has them appreciates them though, they were wonderful not to mention expensive. Amy and I end that evening in a hotel room full of Maori playing a guitar and drinking energy drinks. We make a dash for it and lose each other in MacDonalds (large fries and a soft serve), then make our ways, separately and circuitously, back to the hostel.

She can't stop. And she won't stop. 

Made by Weta Workshop don't you know. 

Early the next morning we tenderly get on the bus north. To Mordor. We drive for hours, the cloud grows thick and the sky grows dark, the land dark below it. All around the world is flat then in the distance I see what appears to be a small cluster of snow capped points. They form a circle. It is the caldera of Mount Ruapehu; highest point of the North Island, largest volcano in New Zealand and one of the most active in the world (last erupting six years ago). Behind it I see a dark foreboding peak appear. The tip wreathed in cloud. Mount Doom beckons.

We drive past both of these magnificent structures and come to our next stop. It is a small village in the Tongariro National Park, imaginatively named National Park Village. Honestly. The Kiwis it appears are almost as skilled at naming things as the Australians. Either they use the Maori name, they use a name from Britain or, if forced to come up with something themselves, end up with names such as Summit Peak or The Big Lake (both genuine names).

That's all by the bye. We are here to walk the Tongariro crossing; supposedly one of the best day walks in New Zealand it crosses through the middle of the Tongariro National Park between Mount Tongriro (another volcano) and Mount Doom (which by the way does have a real name but no one seems to know it).

It turns out 'they' are right. The walk is stunning. It crosses land like I have never seen apart from in films. We walk through great fields of frozen lava, each rock is twisted and contorted into alien shapes, the result of solidifying while being thrown thousands of feet into the air. We pass through vast pale craters and by towering black cliffs. We are in Mordor and we quote Return of the King relentlessly.

It's a strange feeling, walking through this fantastic world. Hills rise on either side of you and you instinctively assume you're walking through a valley, then you reach the centre and realise you're in a huge crater. The rock is the most bizarre colours. We reach a crater unsurprisingly named 'The Red Crater'. It is, well, red. But it is also green and brown and purple and black. The surface we walk on is volcanic sand and pyroclast. It crunches and slides beneath our feet in a myriad of colour that blends to a dull grey from a distance.

The landscape is vast. Orodruin towers, patches of ash grey and mahogany red streak down its steep pitch slopes. Endless flat plains extend, paths wending their way over the dusty ghost-grey between great dark boulders. We crest a ridge and emerald lakes reveal themselves. They are actually called the Emerald Lakes, in the distance we see the larger Blue Lake. They are pristine and crystal clear and steam drifts from vents around them. It rises from the ground filling the air with a noxious smell. 'Eggy cat food' Amy calls it, and she has it spot on. In the distance smoke pours from behind a hill to disperse on the wind.

As we walk down from the National Park we pass through the hazard zone of the Te Maari cone. It erupted August last year and the whole park was closed for months. It is no longer throwing rocks, lava or lahar (mud slides) throughout the surrounding land but it is still releasing pressure, gas and steam ever day. It is quite exciting. We hope for a further eruption.

We leave the hazard area and wind down towards a far and beautiful land of lakes and fields. I wonder if I am facing the direction of the Shire. We walk through a great beech woodland, cut with wide streams that we must wade through and with long swathes of rocks and debris. They are the remnants of the lahar from last year's eruption and they appear to be rivers of stone through the forest, remnants of shattered trees still decay over their stony faces.

I apologise for the sheer number of photo's you are about to be subjected to.

Eruption in progress? 

Can anyone tell me what these are? 

"I've already seen this view!", I hear you cry. Well yes, but in this picture just look at that frozen lava flow!

This little crater was fenced off for scientific research. 

It is time to leave Tongariro and it is pouring. We run outside and hastily un-peg the tent before making the mad dash inside, fully constructed tent in tow. It gets packed away wet and we head towards Taupo, largest lake in New Zealand in terms of surface area; in terms of volume Lake Te Anau that we visited in South Island is the largest in the whole of Australasia.

My first view of the lake from the bus is of a vast expanse of blue that stretches to the horizon before vanishing in a pale grey veil of cloud. The far shore is out of sight. A small dark island hovers between me and the shreds of mist. It's a place that I recognise straight from Aara, the world of my own creation.

That night we frantically erect the tent as the beginnings of a thunder storm rages across the sky, lashing us with rain as it goes. It pours and pours all night long, I fear for Hobbiton a few days hence.

Morning comes the sun is up and the tent is mercifully dry. We go for a walk to the Huka Falls outside of Taupo. The river we walk along is like any other in New Zealand and I have described it a million times. Here though it is slightly greener and murkier that South Island where the water is frozen glass laced with a glacial blue. It is warmer too, hot streams pour into it releasing clouds of vapour into the damp air. We dip our feet in one and it is almost too hot to bear. A very strange feeling.

Before the falls themselves there is a thin canyon or gully. The river before is wide and languid. It gently rolls along, drifting silently and unaware. Then in the space of a few meters it is forced inwards. All of the water converges on a passage that cannot be more than ten meters wide. The water churns and roils through the gap. It hurls down the ravine with frightening ferocity, thrashing itself against the steep rocky sides as it goes. It fills with air and transcends to the freshest turquoise and the cleanest white constantly melding and flowing into one another. There is a bridge over the ravine, we try to play pooh sticks but they are instantly engulfed, they don't stand a chance.

At the end of the ravine the water pours out into the open once more, the Huka Falls. From where they touch the river a plume of vapour erupts into the air. Enough water to fill four Olympic swimming pools passes over them every minute, especially impressive considering how narrow they are. Beyond the falls gleaming white interplays with blue tourmaline, creating ever changing patterns on the waters surface. It drifts and fades and deepens, and the river returns once more.

We walk home past Lake Taupo but is is disappointing. It is grey and we are in an inlet; we cannot see its full scale or beauty from this vantage. I should have taken photo's from the bus.

I have just over one week left in New Zealand. I cannot believe it is almost over, it has gone so quickly. But then again when I think of Janice she seems like so long ago. When Amy flies I will have a couple of days in Auckland alone before returning to Australia to who knows what. It will be odd to be by myself and so far away from home. I am slightly nervous but at the same time excited for the challenge and the opportunities it presents. But before all that there are more important things to attend to. We have the Bay of Islands to explore, the Gloworm Caves of Waitomo to discover and more importantly, most importantly of all, we have Hobbiton. 

I think I might just die.