Yesterday, we had tentatively planned to do a little exploring in the remote stretches of the far north of the Coromandel Peninsula, but the timing didn't quite work out. Instead, we drove along the east side of the peninsula on the way to Hot Water Beach.
Santa hitching a ride
(courtesy of Pierre and Gisele! :D )
Every single moment of the drive was gorgeous. We ended up taking a delightfully odd detour to Opito Bay, which rewarded us with a remote beach with sparkling white sands and postcard blue waters. To get there, though, we took an unsealed gravel road off the main highway, through some steep logging paths, then downhill towards some more gravel. After a slightly alarming downhill drive, we ended up hitting sealed road again and reached what must be some variant of a resort town. Rising from the gravel dust were a series of really interesting houses, completely at odds with other houses we've seen in New Zealand and, more relevantly, the stretch of uninhabited land around it.
We had heard that there was a beach somewhere around there, so we ended up driving in a few confused circles, before asking someone if the set of steps over the fence would lead us to the beach. We parked the faithful (and now extremely dusty) Zigfrond, hopped the fence, and made our way to a beach straight out of a magazine.
I have no pictures of the beach, but I assure you that it was phenomenal. The only problem was that there was -- gasp -- another family on the beach.
Seeing the other family, far down the other side of the beach, made me realize how spoiled for land New Zealand has made me. They were tiny little blobs in the distance and yet I felt almost affronted that other people dared to be on what was obviously my beach. What were they even doing there? Couldn't they find some other beach? (And I'm sure they felt the same about us interlopers.) It was one of those ludicrous moments where I had to laugh about how absurd it was.
In either case, we sat at the edge of those sparkling waters, ate lunch, and just let the waters lap over our feet.
Aftewards, we went to Hot Water Beach, a singular little location where hot springs are located right on the beach and you can dig yourself a hot pool. My sister had been excited about this, so I had looked up the tides literally months before, and we ended up arriving at the perfect time. (I'm not going to lie; a portion of the itinerary was actually planned around low tide on Coromandel.)
I honestly wasn't sure what I expected from the Hot Water Beaches. I'd heard that it could get really crowded and really busy, so I was braced for massive swarms of people and a beach of absolute madness. Then, as I remembered later, we are in New Zealand and "really crowded" and "really busy" take on a much different meaning. The beach was, for the most part, entirely empty, except for a small stretch of sand where you'd see maybe a few dozen people. This was, shockingly, where the hot water was.
Nope, no hot water here
The process of digging a pool is actually pretty interesting. The general location of the springs isn't difficult to find, but the specifics are a bit more difficult. In my case, I walked between pools until I found a spot where my feet were toasty, took another step and then did a flying leap backwards as I realized that the water was really hot. (Apparently the water can get up to 60 degrees Celsius or 140 degrees Fahrenheit.) The trick is to find those hot spots, then pick out a place a little bit further down so the hot water will trickle down, combine with the cooler beach water, and then fill up your personalized hot tub.
We didn't have a shovel or a spade, nor did we care to rent one, but we managed to catch some other people who decided to leave early. We snagged their half-dug pool and then settled in, scooping it wider with our hands. At various points, the water would get too hot or cold, so we would build a sand dam to block off the hot water or break it down to bring more in. It was, needless to say, a really sweet way to spend an afternoon.
As the day went on, the tide started to come in, and I was really excited to have a wave wash over our tub. It turns out that our tub was apparently designed for maximum spa time and was a bit too high up the beach for the water to reach, so I scooted down until I could feel the hot spring water below me and the cool ocean waves lapping up. So, so neat.
Once we got off the beach (and reapplied sun block for umpteenth time), we ended up driving a little further down to visit to Cathedral Cove. It was a pleasant walk from Hahei Beach, made more pleasant by some cafe indulgences. Between the four of us, we had a feijoa smoothie, a flat white, and a chai latte. Mmm.
Cathedral Cove, apparently featured in Prince Caspian, is one of New Zealand's ridiculously scenic areas. It's located in a marine reserve and has these incredible beaches hidden away.
View from Cathedral Cove
I wish we could have spent more time in Coromandel as it was so beautiful, but we were on a schedule and had to be in Waitomo for a caving adventure the next day. We did a delicious dinner in Thames before heading down to Waitomo.
By then, nightfall was well on its way, and I was pleased to discover that while New Zealand doesn't have streetlights on rural roads it is extremely well signposted. It occurred to me on the road that Claire and I hadn't done much driving at night, outside of Wellington and familiar ground, and the bright reflector strips lining the frequently hilly and twisting roads were welcome.
We drove through Paeroa, the P part of the World Famous in New Zealand L&P beverage, Hamilton, and finally arrived in Waitomo at around midnight.
As an aside, searching for the YHA Waitomo was possibly the scariest thing I've ever done. My printouts seemed to indicate that the hostel was right off the main road, but that was apparently not accurate. Claire and I crept along at a snail's pace peering at all possible signs for an address or some indication of how far down we needed to go. Keep in mind that Waitomo isn't actually a town, so much as a place where caves are, and it was pretty intense. That being said, we also passed a sign with what looked like a person hanging from the fence. It took us a heart attack's moment to realize that it wasn't actually a real person, but a wetsuit with boots and a hat.
We did find it, though, and we settled in to prepare for tomorrow's adventure of abseiling, spelunking, black water rafting, and rock climbing. Phew!
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