Our new van is painted with bright colours with a big red bug, possibly an ant, on one side, and a pair of sandals on the other. This may seem like attention attracting decor, but in NZ most camper vans are painted decoratively in some way or other. The van, which last night I decided would be called Leopold because it looks a bit dandyish, just doesn’t have the same charisma that our sadly departed Olive had. After driving it for a while, I decide that Albert is a better name for it. Olive had clocked up 278,000 km when we lost her, but Albert has done 334,000!! There is a little luxury of an MP3 converter for the tape machine, though as we only have Caz’s iPod, whether it really is a luxury is debatable.
Waitomo is only an hour’s drive from Te Kuiti, and Caz and I book a caving experience while Mary decides to go on a more sedate walking tour. We check into the Juno Hall Backpackers Hostel, which is a wood bungalow set on the edge of a farm and has a very relaxed feel to it. We discover here that there is a ‘rabbit shearing’ show just down the road. Our curiosity sparked, we decide to pay a visit as we have a couple of hours to kill before Caz and I go down the cave.
Angora rabbits are commercially bred for their very long fur. These have been purpose bred and are unlikely to survive in the wild because of the density of the fur. We are informed that they are common in Germany by the grandmotherly lady who feels it necessary to compere the ‘show’ in the corner of the shop using a microphone even though there are only four people watching as her daughter performs the shearing on a contraption that looks like a torture rack, with the rabbit spun slowly around in a circle like a spit roast with its four limbs tied up to stretch it to full length. This may seem like some heinous act of animal cruelty, but the bunny seems very relaxed, and may even be enjoying it, as it doesn’t twitch at all. It probably knows it is about to be relieved of all its unnecessary fur and when the shearing is over, it is put on the floor of the shop to lazily hop around. Normal rabbits would probably have a heart attack if it was put through this treatment, but these ones are entirely unconcerned by human contact and we are able to pick it up with no more a reaction than would come from a drugged cat.
They are very soft and feely, and the ‘show’ is free, but the sweaters in the shop made of the hair are far from cheap, though Caz decides to dutifully considers buying a scarf, a slightly cheaper option. In slight compensation, I buy a completely non rabbit related touristy New Zealand T-shirt with the slogan ‘not all who wander are lost’ under a scene of walkers in Cook Valley on the South Island.
After the show it is time for Caz and me to drive about eight km out of Waitomo for our ‘Fun in One’ adventure with Rap, Raft ‘n’ Roll. We are promised the opportunity to abseil down into a glow worm infested cave, where we will go, um, ‘caving’, whatever this means, ‘black water’ rafting and rock climbing.
We get driven in a beat up van to a site hut where we get changed into some worn out wet suits, ripped cotton pants and white gum boots with hard hats fitted with head torches. With us are two young and, Caz tells me, ‘fit’ young men, but we all look like we have just come out of a nuclear plant after a meltdown which leaves us with only minutes until our flesh starts to fall off our bones. However, as we walk through sloping grazing fields to get to the entrance of the cave in our get up, I feel more like an alien who has just crash landed in the middle of nowhere.
The cave we are visiting is like a big but well disguised slashed hole in the ground like some great Norse God had thrown an axe into the earth. Our first task is to abseil down a twenty seven metre cliff face into the darkness of the cave. Having abseiled down a ten storey building not long before I left the UK, I don’t feel much trepidation, because I know that as long as I don’t have to look down, I will be alright. Also, it doesn’t seem so unnatural when you are gliding yourself down under the belly of some fields rather than slipping down from the sky. Caz, who a few days previously jumped out of a plane at 15,000 feet, is somewhat more nervous. Women, there is just no logic to you is there?
Once on the floor of the cave, where an ice cold stream flows through, I discover that my gum boots are not at all waterproof as there are holes moulded into the soul of each one. ‘Why?’ I think to myself as loudly you can think to yourself, as my toes numb into tight beads.
While waiting for the rest of the party to make their way down, I see the first of many eels swimming through the stream. Our guide, who I earlier overheard praising the flavour of eel, later demonstrates a trick whereby he sweeps his hand across the stream thus scooping an eel out of the water and onto the bank. He picks it up and gets each of us to feel it. I don’t know what it might taste like, but it feels tough, muscular and rubbery. To my relief, the guide slips it back into the water and it wiggles itself down the stream.
Walking into the darkness of the cave carrying inner tubes to float on when the water gets deeper, we start to see the distant star like shine of a galaxy of glow worms and then Bang!
Like a stick of dynamite has gone off. Actually it was just the guide slamming his inner tube onto the water. This makes the glow worms, which are actually fly larvae, glow brighter because they feel the vibrations of sound which to them means food is near, and the light attracts their prey.
The black water rafting is sadly not adrenaline fuel, the stream flow not even being enough to push us forward without some self propulsion, but it does give us the opportunity to lie back and look at the roof of the cave.
The caving part of the trip involves crawling through the gaps and crevices caused by the rock slipping away from water erosion. It seems quite pointless in appearance, as it doesn’t deliver us anywhere that walking a few metres along the cave wouldn’t do much quicker. However, I find struggling my way through these gaps strangely rewarding, and good exercise too. As we are only a group of four people, we do quite a lot more of this than a bigger group would, as it is quite time consuming.
As the time approaches for us to get out of the cave, dusk has passed. Our guide Steve finds it quite amusing that Caz and I’s first experience of climbing a cliff face will be in the dark. He goes first, making the climb look like a walk up some winding steps. Our climbs are made easier by him half pulling us up, as he tries to finish our ascents before the last light disappears. Although I am tired, it would have been nice to have been in the cave when the only light that could be seen was emanating from the glow worms, but apparently if we didn’t re-appear soon, the rescue parties would have been sent out.
