Well I did say I wanted to hang out with the girls. So here I am, 12 metres above the forest floor, dangling from a flying fox like a forgotten sock on a clothesline. Waiting to be rescued. Yes, rescued. Oh no it’s fine… I’m in safe hands – plus the view is awesome. So you can leave me here while I explain.
Myself and my two daughters are enjoying an eco adventure with Rotorua’s Canopy Tours, a three-hour jaunt that takes us – via six ziplines of breathtaking length – through and over the beautiful canopy of Dansey Scenic Reserve Forest.
This experience – which deservedly took out Supreme Winner at the NZ Tourism Awards – is hands down (and legs dangling) one of the most fun activities I’ve ever undertaken. And judging by the grins and delighted shrieks from our fellow zipliners – including my daughters Lucy, 19; and Susanna, 17 – they’d agree.
The course increases in height as you advance along the 1.2km network of ziplines, swingbridges and treetop platforms in the upper foliage of this ancient native forest. One of the platforms is 22 metres up a 1000-year-old rimu tree. (Yes, I did hug it.)
If at this point you are thinking, ‘I’m sorry but this sounds like hell’, let me reassure you. I am no lover of heights but the sheer exhilaration of being not just in nature but virtually a part of it, not to mention the fact the guides clip you on and thoroughly check your harness a zillion times throughout the afternoon, means I feel infinitely safer than I do driving to work in Auckland.
There’s an educational aspect to this tour too. As we hopped down from the tour van that brought us here from central Rotorua and first entered the trail, guide and Canopy Tours conservation manager Gary took out a small blue tin. “Oh, good, a mint,” I thought, but no.
From the tin he produced a worm, and down swooped a North Island robin to take it from his hand. I’ll say that again. Down swooped a North Island robin. Because you see this is quite something… this tiny, cheeky bird is one of the native species that has only recently begun to reclaim the forest as its home.
Gary explained that just four years ago, Dansey Road Scenic Reserve was quiet, virtually no birdsong. But at night it would come alive with the creatures responsible for the eerie silence – hundreds of rats and possums were gobbling up all the native birds’ eggs.
Now, thanks to a dedicated trapping programme (funded largely by the tours), birds like the coquettish little robin, the long tailed cuckoo, bellbirds, kaka and the bush parrot – plus other rare species like the Pacific gecko – are beginning to return.
Most of the species here, by the way, are found nowhere else in the world. So like, what… we’re having fun and funding conservation work? Exactly. Well, if dangling above a forest floor is allowing some rare eggs to hatch, who am I to argue?
Well yes, back to that. At the start of the tour our guides Gary, Chris and Alex explained several times that when they yell “grab the rope!” at us as we’re swooshing towards the arrival platform we, well, grab the rope. This is because you might start to slow down so much that you don’t make it to platform. How dumb would you have to be, I wondered during the safety drill, to not grab the rope if that’s what they’re yelling at you?
So anyway. Having failed to grab the rope on the last-but-one zipline – the Plight of the Kakapo – I have just whizzed all the way back to the middle of the 170m-long wire and am now suspended high in the air.
The rain is lashing my face and as I peer down, everything is just so green and shiny it makes me very happy indeed. I’m almost disappointed to see Gary step down from the arrival platform, clasp the zipline with his gloved hands, and grapple his way along so he can haul me to the platform.
At the final zipline, Gary urges us to go upside down. This sounds like a death wish but actually, as I watch both my daughters do it and survive, I decide to give it a go. By tipping your head back as instructed, it’s amazingly easy to invert yourself like a bat. By now I feel about 10 years old. Wet, tired, face prickling with cold, but zinging with happiness.
We’re in Rotorua for just two days, and even though it’s only Saturday afternoon, we’ve already packed in quite a bit.
We arrived last night at Rydges, a 4.5 star hotel in the central city with a large heated swimming pool on the roof and a view over the racecourse.
Our two double rooms are so huge, I feel guilty at the extravagance, realising we only really needed one. “Oh this is so wasteful!” I exclaim on arrival. A statement Susanna reminds me of on Saturday morning as I waft between the two suites declaring “I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE having all this space!!!”.
As big horse lovers, we’re very excited about our first activity on Saturday morning: a ride with Horse Trekking Lake Okareka. The trip takes about 15-minutes by car from the central city and, five minutes in, the wipers are working full pelt as rain bombards the windscreen. I worry the ride might be cancelled. But no, as the website promises, they really do go out in all weathers. And Horse Trekking owner Lucy Playne is well prepared.
Friendly and with the kind of briskness that lets you know you are in extremely capable hands, she hands out long raincoats and helmets. In her down-to-the-ground coat and white domed helmet, Susanna looks every inch the Storm Trooper. I hop onto my horse Punga, and spread my raincoat out over Punga’s hind-part (there is probably a more horsey name for that) to protect both myself and the saddle.
Can I just say that if you think riding through a downpour sounds about as much fun as root canal work, you couldn’t be more mistaken. As with the canopy tours, if anything the rain just adds a whole new richness to the experience. We are warm in our gear and the landscape has taken on a mystical, romantic aspect. Kathy, a high school teacher who works here at weekends and is riding just ahead of me, recalls how one day she rode here in a mist so thick, it was like trotting through Middle Earth.
As we clop over the undulating terrain, occasionally ducking branches and yanking the horses’ heads away as they try to chomp on every overhanging leaf, there is plenty of ‘ooh and aah’ material. Fluffy ivory lambs; Lucy’s little dog Katie (also in wet weather gear) in a stand-off with a platoon of sassy cows; scampering rabbits; a wild black pig. Actually it’s owner Lucy who spots the pig. It’s already vanished into the trees so we have to take her word for it. As we do when she points to an empty, mist-cloaked horizon and alleges “Mount Tarawera”.
When we finally clamber down, a full two hours later, we are a little achy around the haunches but feeling on top of the world. Being on horseback is reassuringly meditative, the gentle swaying and the beautiful landscape a massage for the senses.
By the end of Saturday, we are seriously in need of good food. Incidentally, if you’re thinking of inviting us to dinner one day, don’t. We’re the guests from hell. Lucy, 19, is coeliac and both her and her sister are vegan. I am vegetarian. However, riding tutor Kathy has recommended a restaurant called Abracadabra. And Kathy, if you are reading this; bless you.
Abracadabra is indeed magic. On our first night we ate a delicious Thai meal on trendy Eat Streat which, as the name suggests, is a rather buzzy little lane with a host of al fresco eating options (plus the excellent and always lively Ponsonby Road bar, where you’ll catch the owner – politician and ex-TV host Tamati Coffey – working behind the bar). Away from there, I assume the options for vegetarians will be limited. But if Abracadabra is any indication of how the city is evolving, it’s great news for the non-carniverous indeed.
Owing to a big mix-up, which I’ll convey in telegram form – misplaced ID (Lucy’s). Tension. Arguing. Wrong room keys. Coachload of foreign tourists – we miss our 8.30pm reservation.
However, on seeing our crestfallen faces, the maitre d’ ushers us into our own little private room, decked out in Turkish style with turquoise walls, richly coloured cushions and soft, low lighting. This is the first reason to love Abracadabra.
Other reasons include cocktails – pomegranate margarita for me; coconut and pineapple margarita for Lucy, a similar mocktail for Susanna; a waiter who actually shifts furniture and repositions lamps to get our photo lighting just right; and an all-embracing menu that means carnivores can chomp cheerfully on spare ribs etc while their co-diner enjoys vegan and vegetarian fajitas to die for.
A little stiff the next morning from our extensive saddle time, our next appointment couldn’t be more perfect: a massage at the Polynesian spa. On the shores of Lake Rotorua, this geothermal bathing retreat has drawn people to dip a toe in its healing waters since the 1800s.
We enjoy an hour-long relaxation massage that starts with a gentle pressure on my back not unlike when the family moggy uses my spine for a catwalk in the middle of the night. This progresses to a firmer, but still pleasant kneading of the entire body with Polynesian Spa Mud Body Polish, Pure Fiji Coconut Body Lotion and Pure Fiji Mango Exotic Oil.
We take our post-pummelled bodies for a soak in the pools, and in the natural lakeside setting, all rocks and native plants, it’s like some sort of Garden of Eden – if Adam and Eve had had fluffy bathrobes and towels.
After a revitalising green juice in the spa cafeteria, my body is indeed a temple as opposed to a Two-Dollar Shop, which is how it feels much of the time.
For lunch we’ve been recommended café Be Rude Not To for vegetarian options, and are glad to find, in our woozy post-spa state, that it’s a short amble away. Un-woozed and revived by a wholesome lunch, we saunter down to the lakefront for 30 minutes of adrenaline with Kawarau Jet boats.
As our jovial guide Cam hands us each a lifejacket and wet weather gear with hoods, I’m quietly relieved I’m not going to get my hair wet. What part of me, I wonder later, imagined that being swished through water at speeds of up to 80km per hour would keep my hair dry?
Every now and then Cam does a little twirl in the air with his finger; a camped-up gesture that on a dance floor would be amusing; in the boat it’s a warning – we’re about to do a 360 degree turn at high speed. This manoeuvre produces a curtain of water that soaks us thoroughly. Lake: 1, Blow-wave: 0. Susanna laughs so hard I worry she’ll fall out of the boat.
Cam talks us through the history of Lake Rotorua and points out the different landmarks: among them Kawaha Point, Sulphur Island and Mokoia Island, in the middle of the lake. Mokoia is now a wildlife sanctuary that’s home to around 25 kiwi.
It’s also the scene of a famous love story. It was the home of Tutanekai, a young warrior in love with the beautiful and noble Hinemoa, who lived on Owhata on the opposite lake shore. So besotted was she with her guy, she would swim the some 3km across the freezing lake night after night (clearly not fussy about her hair).
As we head out of the city for our drive back north, we reflect on what an awesome time we’ve had. True, I look like Kylie Minogue circa 1984 (frizzy damp hair and in bad double denim; I didn’t pack well); we have never spent more time outside in the rain; we’re still slightly achy from our adventures; and we didn’t leave a huge amount of time for lolling around our luxury suite. But radio turned up loud, singing along cheerfully to the Bee Gees, not even the Auckland traffic can kill our happy Rotovegas vibe.
Words: Maria Hoyle
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