Hot Water, Cathedral Cove and Rotorua

With low tide at the painfully early hour of 8:30, Sunday began bright and early for us.  The rush was to get to the infamous, and nearby, Hot Water Beach before the tides rolled back in to cover the sand. 

As its name aptly describes, the beach has a rather unique feature: hot water.  A natural hot stream makes its way down to the beach, and for an hour on either side of low tide, you can dig yourself a hole in the sand to create your own hot pool.

Intrigued, we made sure to be at the beach before 9:00 and rented (or “hired,” as they say here) a spade (shovel) from the café next to the beach.

Being early spring, and given many guidebooks’ propensity for exaggeration, I fully expected us to be wading through tepid water, at best. That presupposition was further reinforced when we had to cross this truly glacial stream to get to the area where at least a dozen other people had already made camp.

There was a nicely-dug hole near the tree line that someone had abandoned, so we thought we’d save ourselves some work and just squat in that one.  We slipped off our shorts and sandals and stepped in, convinced that we were about to be somewhat let down.

Let’s just say we were wrong.  The water wasn’t tepid.  It wasn’t even hot. It was positively scalding. 

With a “owowoowowowowow!” we were quickly out of there.  It took us a few minutes to figure out that the best course of action was to dig a hole closer to the water’s edge, and create two conduits – one that would let the hot water in from up the beach, and one that would let it out into the ocean.  We were constantly adjusting the temperature by opening the gap in the sand, and then quickly filling it back up once we started to get uncomfortably hot.

Digging a hole

When the waves started to move back up the beach, we packed up, dumped the huge amount of sand that had lodged itself in our suits, got changed, and headed out to the other main attraction of the Coromandel – Cathedral Cove.

It’s a place I’ve long heard about, but had never visited.  You often see it gracing the covers of tourism brochures, Lonely Planet guides, and posters, so you know it’s pretty spectacular.  I hadn’t read up on it before arriving so I was a little surprised by the sign that greeted us at the parking lot: “Cathedral Cove 45 min à”

So we had a bit of a hike ahead of us. It was mostly downhill on the way there and it wound its way through a gorge, some forest, a working sheep farm, and down a ton of steps.

I don't know why this loaded sideways, but if you turn your head, you'll see how steep those stairs were.

Fortunately, the sign lied, and the trip only took some 25 minutes. Unfortunately, I had just taken a Gravol to counter the effects of the sharply undulating roads, so my senses were a little dulled and I don’t think I gave the fabled cove the attention it deserved.  It really was quite pretty.

See? Pretty!

After climbing back up all those steps and slopes, we hopped back in the car and headed out to Rotorua.  There were a few false turns, and for some reason no matter where we went, all roads seem to lead to Tauranga – we must have seen eight or nine signs pointing there, while only two reassured us that we were well on our way to Rotorua.

All roads don't lead to Rome.  They lead to Tauranga.

When we did find the town, we were greeted by the telltale smell of sulphur, which over the past two days has put me off eggs for the near future.

For the uninitiated, Rotorua is a hotbed of geothermal activity.  Nestled in a zone qualified as “volcanic,” steam rises from various points across the landscape and escapes from innocuous looking puddles and vents. 

See the steam there off to the side?  Fragrant.

Ponds tinged turquoise or orange burp up gasses, while pools of mud bubble and boil. 

You can cook a full chicken and some potatoes in a few hours if you bury it (in foil or a pot, obviously).  Most hotels and even hostels have spa pools fed by naturally-heated water from the ground.

Nick and Christina spent Monday touring the nearby “Geothermal Wonderland” where there are particularly spectacular manifestations of what’s brewing beneath the ground, including a geyser that shoots hot water some 20m in the air every day, and the huge bubbling Champagne Pool.

Having visited that site last year, I opted to stay in town.  I started off at the public gardens which offer a taste of the geothermal, as well as two nice little pools in which to soak your feet all for free, which was great for my budget!

Bubbling mud.  Also fragrant.

One of the ponds in the public park -- don't go swimming here.

Ahhhhhhhhh...toasty

Unfortunately for my budget, I also recklessly spent far too much money on a trip to the Polynesian Spa.  There they have a series of increasingly hot pools ranging from 36 to 42 degrees C.  I never did manage to work my way to the 42 degree one – I was dying in the 40.

It was really nice at first, since for a good 40 minutes I was the only person in the entire area.

Calm and peaceful, no?

I had a mud wrap, which, other than the paper g-string I had to wear, was heavenly, and then returned to the pools for a bit (had to get my money’s worth, after all!).

Here's what they gave me to wear...

And here's what was inside that little baggy.  Comfy!

In the evening Christina and Nick headed to a Maori cultural show where they explain customs, legends, and history.  Included is plenty of song and dance, a “hangi” – a meal cooked underground using the steam created by the earth – and my personal favourite, the maori chant called a “haka.”  Again, it was something I had experienced last year, so I left them to it.  I won’t pretend I didn’t envy their delicious dinner as I ate my reheated pasta and settled in to watch the American reruns that seem to dominate the TV schedule this time of year.