What a dump

Wellington to Taupo Monday 10th October

We said goodbye to Wellington and set off to head back to Auckland via Lake Taupo where we were stopping for the night. A quick diversion to Lindale to buy some ice cream and see a bee hive and then we headed to Palmerston North (145km).

 

John Cleese said of ‘Palmy’, as it is known, “If you wish to kill yourself but lack the courage to, I think a visit to Palmerston North will do the trick” after a performance there a few years back. The town responded by naming the local dump after him. Our reason for visiting was that Palmy is home to the NZ Rugby museum. The first ever game of rugby played in NZ was held in 1870 and organised by Charles Monro (a statue of him sits, or rather kicks, outside the main door). The museum itself was basically a history of the All Blacks and didn’t shy away from the protests against Saffa tours etc. On the way in I was asked if we had a rugby museum in Ireland. “Yeah” says I, “it’s packed with mementoes of our moral victories in the 5 & 6 Nations, Triple Crowns and World Cup Quarter Finals”  The interactive part of the museum had a ‘test your scrum power’ machine. A 12 year-old Kiwi kid built like a brick outhouse beat me...

After that we did the hard yards to Lake Taupo (242km). The clouds descended and most of the trip was spent with about 20 meters visibility. When the weather turns here it does it quick and nasty. Thankfully we made it in one piece to ‘Cottage Mews Motel’ about 3km from the centre of Taupo, and with a jacuzzi in every room. For dinner we decided to walk into town along the lake. Lake Taupo is basically a live volcano full of water but it hasn’t erupted recently. As we walked along the lake and evening fell we could see steam rising from the water. Linds decided to stick her hand in to see if it was warm. “Just like a bath” says she. “I have to go for a swim in that tomorrow”. We discussed how the famous Lake Taupo trout could possibly live in water as warm as a bath but there was no telling her (well, she is half Yorkshire). We passed a parked up camper van with ‘Irish and Proud’ posters all over it and gave them a wave.

10 minutes later as the rain started to really belt down they passed us and stopped to offer us a lift (I had my Ireland hat on). Our conversation turned up the information that they had been in the van for six weeks, were thoroughly miserable, and that they were two ladies from London. They were puffing away on fags like there was no tomorrow. They dropped us off in the middle of town. Not so much Thelma and Louise, more Selma and Patty.  A nice Italian meal sat next to two Munster boys and then a cab back finished the night off.