I left my heart at Orakei Korako

I am woken by the squeal of brakes as the car come to a gradual stop. The trip down seemed never ending as my two older, dominant sisters knew how to get their way.

I take a reluctant step out of the car and am instantly hit by the cool air. The putrid smell of sulphur whistles up my nose as I look out over the hidden geysers and steam. A group of kids come hurtling past, desperate to reach the crisp, cool lake water.

The murmuring of the families reaches a crescendo as old friends reunite, laughing and chatting on the expansive deck overlooking the lake.

We drag our bags to our modest cabins, the warmth of the pine welcoming us in. We hurl the bags to claim the top bunks, enjoying the sense of superiority over the unfortunates below. Having sorted out the most important matter, we dig the essentials out of our bursting bags, leaving the rest of the unpacking for later.

I see the inviting water out the window. Without delay, I bend and twist into my wetsuit, coughing and spluttering in the dust it gives off. The sprint across the grass slows to a tentative tiptoe as we reach the sharp gravel of the car park.

My long-lost mates and I navigate our way across it, weaving through the gleaming boats waiting for their owners to come and take them out for a spin. Imposing 4x4s with their sparkling chrome rims cruise into the car park, roof racks stacked with wakeboards. Skis poke out of the packed boots, their perfectly polished undersides gleaming in the sun, seeming to wink at me as they go past.

Orakei Korako attracts all kinds of adventure enthusiasts.

We frantically gather at the water's edge like feeding time at the zoo, four of us eager to begin the day's activities, ignoring stomachs that are beginning to twist into knots. Lunch isn't a valid use of our precious time.

One by one we begin to pile onto the air biscuits like a stack of pancakes. The veins in my wrist bulge as I nervously grip the handles. Chills run down my spine, and I'm unsure whether they are from the icy water or what is about to happen.

Ripples run up the beach as the boat grumbles to life.

A sharp pinch gets me in the back of my neck as Dad slams down on the throttle. Immediately we are skimming along the clear glassy water like a skipping stone.

The boat quickly makes a sharp left and we fly over to the right side of the wake, holding on for dear life and leaning over until our faces are so close to the water that I can see my refection. Before I can regain my balance the boat makes a sharp turn to the right and we get flicked to the other side, the towrope making a whip-like crack.

This time we cannot muster the strength to keep the biscuit upright. I am rammed into the water like a jackhammer striking concrete.

My body folds and my legs are thrown over my head as I go into a tailspin, tumbling across the water. Eventually I slow to a stop, choking on water that was forced down my throat as though by a high pressure hose.

My choking eventually becomes hysterical laughter, while at the same time my mates groan in pain, trying to remember why they agreed to such an excursion in the first place.

After heading back to shore, we jump off the boat, our teeth chattering as we race each other back to the shower block.

Luxuriating in the warm water after a long day of skiing, I notice that my skin still smells of sulphur.

Hopping out of the shower, I am glad to be getting into a set of warm clothes, as the chill of early evening starts to set in.

I can't wait to join the other families crowding around the dinner table, waiting to be fed. It's funny how the smell of steak can make the pack of dogs silent and still.

Mum yells, "Dinner time!" and BANG, like the gun at the start of a race, everyone stacks their plates as high as they can.

Bloated and satisfied after dinner, we decide to play a friendly game of cards, giving stomachs time to settle before bed. As the game drags into the night, exhaustion from the day's excitement takes its toll.

Dragging ourselves to our rightfully claimed top bunks, we collapse and fall into a sound slumber the kind that is only possible after a long physical day, so that we can be ready to do it all over again the next day.

Golden beams of sunlight reflect off the lake and stream in through the gap in the curtains, fluttering down to touch my face, tickling at my sensitive sleeping eyes. I peer out over the vast lake and experience its mystical powers; the early morning steam spirals up towards the clear blue sky.

A deafening chorus from the choir of cicadas accompanies my last day here in paradise. The surrounding valleys of trees seem to wave goodbye in the gentle, cool breeze.

My heart begins to sink, as it is time to say our goodbyes to the many families who have come together as one. The connection I have formed with the lake comforts me, as I know that part of me will stay with the great hidden lake of Orakei Korako forever.

Henry Brunton, Year 13, Hamilton Boys' High School