The coach rocks up and we hop on. We're informed b our overly enthusiastic driver that we have a good hour to drive then we swap coaches to get kitted up. Be cruise round the lake and an just about glimpseTongariro, mt Doom and Ruhapeho in the distance, shadowy reminders of New Zealand's violent geological history.
Thanks to some minor for thought and planning I only have to take boots, crampons and an ice axe for the trip. The latter two items surprised me, worried me a little but ultimately excited me. Finally, some adventure and best of all some snow before I go.
We hit the track at 08:30, and told to get on with it and that our gides would meet us in an hour before w e start the 'interesting' part. Having long legs and a long standing habit of speed walking I'm one of the first to reach the first checkpoint. By this time, with thermals, hat, gloves and a snowboard jacket I am sweating my balls off. Only the distraction of the realisation that I am treading in Frodo and Sams hairy foot steps keep me going without too much bother. I can't moan too much, I am all too aware of how much the weather can change just a few hundred metres higher, though the sun is holding strong in the sky and the clouds seem more afraid of Mt Doom than Hugo Weaving.
Myself and 9 others arriving close by are put into group one with our guide for the day Terry. Reminds me alot of Taggart from Eureka, chirppy aussie with a penchance for dangerous activities.After an hour cruising across boardwalks and hopping streams we finally get to some seriouselevation. The track is fairly narrow, the ground uneven but not much snow. We climb for a good hour continuously till we reach a small plateau where we promptly collapse then crack out the food and water. Terry has somehow managed to talk the whole way up while I struggle to breathe but it's good to see he's also got a good sweat on. At this point you have two options, head north towards Tongariro, or east up Mt Doom. 16 Americans had to be rescued last week from Mt Doom, needless to say the felt rather sheepish. We head over south crater where the snow really shows, it's ice and hard packed crunchy snow. The crater is flat as a pancake and surrounded on all sides. We stop a short way across and it's crampon time.
I have never worn crampons before but they are a shitlot of fun. Once strapped on to your boot you feel indestructible, with 8 steel spike on each foot you can't slide on the ice if you wanted to. We jog around a bit and do star jumps to make sure we are all strapped in safe. We look like a bunch of mountainous lunatics.
Then we hit e first part of the Devil's staircase. This is slightly hard than the previous climb but not all together that bad. TE crampons and ice picks (I felt like and icy ninja) made it almost effortless, aside from all the effort. We hit another plateau and the view....from where we came we can see all the way down the valley and south across the national park and Mt something (I am not good with kiwi names) over 140km away, it's white peak poking above the smaller ranges surrounding. In front, another valley, to the right Mt Doom and just peeeking out behind it is Ruhapehu, also covered from head to food in the glorious white stuff. Everyone stops for some more food and another round of 'look at me, I was here' photos. Since buying a camera only two days before I am forced to admit it would be nice to finally have some photo evidence of this so I let someone have a snap at me.
We finally reach the top of Tongariro and red crater, and my Christ what a sight. We can no longer see where we came from besides our track across the south crater in the snow. Doom is still looming over us, with Ruhapeahu slowly edging into view. But now we have the incredible view of Central crater, not an actual crater
But just a flat bit that looks like one. To the west side the is blue lake, a glimmering mirror nE styles in between peaks, to the east and down two turquoise lakes behind a steam vent where we are stopping for lunch. No snow here due to the heat from the vent and from the sweltering sun. Someone in our group drops his camera case and it begins to roll, and roll, and roll. It goes for atleast 200m down hill, hits the corner gathers some more speed and carries on. Luckily half tour is off down that way soon. I slam my ice axes in the ground and hook my bag onto it.
Our group sneaks off from the rest, being the faster More agile groups of youngsters we are taken the fun way down past the lakes. It's longer and harder but we each relish the challenge and secretly enjoy the special status we have earns ourselves.
We catch up with the last group over the final valley at the edge of the snow. We de-crampons(?) ourselves and get cracking. Unfortunately as we have now mashed together with the last and slowest group we have no choice but to hang about behind or amongst them. The track here is narrow and the drop to the side is in places unforgiving. The old folks and nervous women stumble across rocks and slide nervously on ice patches with mere inches and certain death awaiting them below, as the rest of us hop skip and jump around like mountain goats. The view from this side is as spectacular as the other. Lake Taupo stretches out in the distance behind small ranges, ahead of us directly a valley of bush and scrub much like the Scottish highlands.
After another hour we reach a small cabin, another foods and rest stop. The guides congratulate us and tell us it's only another 6.5km an hour and a half and we can get on with it as soon as we like.a few of us jump up and get cracking. E long and winding road snakes between the scrub and as we slowly ascend it seems the road wwill never end. We are however, confident, surely as with most walking times it's an estimate for the average person ambling along snapping off shots left right and centre at a slitly different angle of the same view. 45 mins later we reach a bench and a sign post, 3.2km to go and 45 mins. Our small band collapses, disheartened, we were really going for it and we're sure to get all the way down within the hour. After a quick smoke we get back on it, this path won't walk it's self. Now we hit jungle/rainforest, a stark contrast to the desolate tundra we crossed a few hours ago. We snake through, the tall canopy blotting out the sky, the sun flashing throu the trees at a rate hi enough to give you a sesure if your not careful. We walk, and walk, and walk, and walk and finally we reach the end of the trail, our bus idling in the car park. We return our borrowed gear and flop onto the bus, I pass out and awaken only once the flashing street list of Taupo reach my weary lives and hour later. I'm shattered beyond belief, my feet our pounding, my legs aching, but I can already taste the sweet amber nectar waiting fro me across the road as I drag myself from the bus.
