Commencing my last month in Sydney homeless and penniless you would think I would be a little ashamed. On the contrary, I haven’t got a regret in the world! At the end of March I packed up my belongings and set off for a month long adventure which would take me all over New Zealand and down to Melbourne.
Risking a lifetime of abuse, Lydia and I had decided to board the big green emblem of all that is Gap Year tragedy, the Kiwi Experience bus, as it seemed like the easiest way to get round the country. It was that, but so much more.
Imagine a bus filled with 50 of your new best friends (I renamed the Kiwi Experience 'Rent-a-mate") going from one epic location to the next for 3 weeks. We laughed, we cried,* we worked out syncopated dance routines to terrify locals, but most importantly ; we saw the best country on this whole damn earth.
When people now ask me what New Zealand was like, words escape me. I can only let out this strained wail that sounds like a cross between a lonesome wolf and a woman in labour (not the Harriet Harman type)- it was just too brilliant. For such a small landmass, there is almost every type of terrain; whilst on one day we might be clambering over the cliffs of a wave battered shoreline, the next we could be kayaking through an untouched rainforest. It wasn’t all goon sacks and arms-wide photo posing (or as I like to call it, the panic pose), we did some fairly strenuous stuff.
(This rather long extract from my journal sums it up with a bit more aplomb)
" Easter Sunday! And what better way to see it in than by nearly killing myself with exertion? We boarded the bus bound for the Tongarero Crossing (aka the path to Mount Doom) at 5.30am to arrive at 7 feeling more excited and cheery than we’d be for the rest of the day.
The first part involved getting up Devil’s Staircase (aptly named). Once there it was a short walk to the base of Mount Doom where, if you made it before 9.15am, you’d be able to start the long ascent.
I really hadn’t planned on doing it as it is RIDICULOUSLY steep and RIDICULOUSLY high, but I realised I couldn’t wimp out of the opportunity. Julia, Gavin (an excitable and somewhat sweaty Englishman) and I made a pact to give up together if one of us couldn’t make it. After that it was 2 hours of climbing hand over hand up the most sheer slope.When Frodo and Sam are half-sobbing and near death as they scramble up the mountain in “The Return of the King,” they weren’t acting.
There was such camaraderie amongst all of the tortured climbers as all the way up we’d repeatedly bump into each other, collapsed across one rock or another, and gasp out words of encouragement. The penultimate summit revealed that the real summit split into two. The smaller, on the left, steamed as though on the verge of eruption! The one on the right was the ridge of a giant crater. Its sides were made of scree so crumbly that as soon as you had clawed your way a little higher, you would immediately slide back to exactly where you had been. So ruddy disheartening. I can see why Frodo gave up. We all ate our lunches at the top with much cheering and open-mouthed awe at the views below us. Below the scattering of clouds, we could see Lake Taupo in the far distance and a few hidden Emerald Lakes of the purest green. The terrain ebbed and flowed in the most startling array of blues and greens with barely a mark of human habitation visible.
When descending we had to take the route that falling lava would, which basically meant we surfed rocks down the mountain. This proved both hilarious and awful. Nicky even managed an accidental front flip.
There was also a terrifying moment when someone dislodged a boulder at the top. It started erratically pounding down the mountain at such a pace. The people going up and down started yelling “boulder!” and I’m pretty sure I heard a man scream. Even though in reality I’m sure it was about 20 metres away from me, I did a blockbuster style dive out of the way leaving me pretty shaken.
When we finally got to the bottom we were so ridiculously pleased with ourselves, the box of extreme exertion surely ticked. That was until we caught a glimpse of the sign for the road ahead, a 4 hour trek.
I decided to lone wolf it and so carried on into the crater beyond. It was so startlingly red and barren that I was reminded of images of Mars. The path went straight through the centre of its flat expanse with the huge ridge forming a wall around it. Heart-breakingly there were two more hills to climb beyond. My muscles were crying out and it really didn’t help that I had drunk all of my water. A kind Scouse chappy took pity on me and gave me the last of his water. When I caught up with him later I did my best to communicate that I’d thought he’d saved my life.
The second hills’ summit was the most spectacular of all. It afforded a perfect view down to the Emerald Lakes which contrasted so vividly with the rusty red of the rocks that encased them. It was one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen.
Beyond that point the landscape got greener and milder. The path skirted around the last hill, once again showing the beauty of Lake Taupo, and down to a hut where all the trampers sat around laughing and joking about the day. It seems everyone had seen the boulder incident. I chatted with the Scouses at the end and we found ourselves some of the first people down. Lyds and a gorgeous Danish girl, Ann-Sophie, caught up not long afterwards and we agreed that rather than going back to the hostel and crashing we would head straight to the hot water stream just outside Taupo. This awesome natural phenomenon of a cascading waterfall of hot water meeting the meander of a broad, cool river makes the most perfect bathing spot. Locals take beers and spliffs down there and lie in the shallows until the last of the rays of the day sink out of sight. Some of the boys that had finished even earlier came down to join us and we all took turns dunking ourselves in the freezing stream and lying back down in the warm and fresh bliss of the pool. “
Through a mixture of peer pressure and “when in Rome” attitude I also allowed myself to be thrown out of a plane at 12,000ft. I would have been more relaxed at the crucial moment had I not just witnessed the parachute of the guy before me being cut away mid-air...comforting. It was arguably one of the best things I've ever done though and I couldn't wipe the smile off my face for hours afterwards.
There were so many other adventures and hilarity that when it came to leaving New Zealand and the entire bus crew, who were resolutely sticking around in Queenstown for another fortnight, I was utterly torn and VERY nearly didn't board my flight to Melbourne. I'm so glad I did though as Melbourne was awesome. I dread to say that I actually preferred it to Sydney. The streets were broad and leafy but hid stunningly contemporary back-alleys filled with street art and hidden curiosities. I spent the week chugging coffee, going to zany art exhibitions and discovering a new love for 90s hip-hop. Yes, Matthew, tonight I am going to be "edgy."
I have now returned to relative normality, if you can call sleeping on your friend's boyfriend's sofa normality, and am trying to squeeze every last ounce of Sydney out of Sydney before I say goodbye to it and some of its fantastic inhabitants for an extremely long time.
I should also say that my blog 'stats' inform me that my biggest readership (upwards of 1) is in Alaska. Thank you Alaska.
*Factually incorrect
I clambered into the giant foam strawberry lent to me by Heather (now dressed as one half of a Double Rainbow) who had handed it over saying “you will enjoy this” with a knowing glint in her eye. She was right, I have NEVER had so many unsolicited hugs in my life. The comic effect of my frugality only maximised my approachability. Where most people had sensibly bought some “gum” boots to face this knee-high mud, I insisted on wearing flimsy shoes encased in plastic bags. I don’t think Aussies have ever come across this method before, a trick, I told them, that was all down to my Scottish ingenuity. 
