Walking in the scenic National Park. Photo / Rosalie France
Walking in the scenic National Park. Photo / Rosalie France
Rosalie France explores National Park without snow.
Sub-alpine tramping is an obsession with some people. Personally, I can take it or leave it, so the two-hour loop walk to Taranaki Falls, departing from just behind the Chateau, is the ideal length if you happen to be in National Park, you have children or you justaren't on a serious hiking trip.
It's also a good length if you're chronically lazy. The track occasionally dips into bush for some variety, and a close look at these high-altitude desert plants reveals their foliage to be really quite beautiful.
My walking partner has done the Tongariro Crossing many times in the past few years, as well as longer walks around Ruapehu and I'm treated to increasingly tiresome mini-anecdotes as we walk: "And one time I did the Northern Circuit, but I'd left my lunch on the bus so I had to do it in one day with just a couple of Snickers ..."
The recommended time for the 41km Circuit is two to three days, and the Crossing one. Because we're in the shoulder season, there are very few people about in National Park village; apparently in summer the Tongariro Crossing is rump to face with trampers.
Twenty minutes into the walk, Ruapehu is suddenly covered in cloud and it starts drizzling but we're well prepared and pull wet weather gear over our shorts. Being wet equals getting very cold up here and it's advisable to pack the right clothes.
I'm well satisfied when we finish the walk, less so when my partner suggests doing the Crossing next day. Why ruin a good thing?
So I suggest the lazy person's favourite adventure sport - white water rafting.
Rafting New Zealand has been a family business since 1991, and owners Luke and Pianika Boddington moved to its Turangi location about seven years ago, after Luke took a hiatus to ride some of the big rapids in Africa.
Friendly wildlife in National Park. Photo / Jamie Gray
Issuing pre-embarkation instructions, Luke is a friendly, immensely capable guy you could trust with your life. Naturally, it's not him in charge of our boat. Shannon is a top bloke though, and has three years' experience guiding on the river.
Pulling your weight is a big deal: "Just dipping your paddle in the water is called teaspooning - it's not going to get us anywhere."
Safety precautions out of the way ("If the boat tips you may want to stay underneath because it's cosy and red and foggy, like a night club. Do not stay under the boat") we launch on to the Tongariro.
I don't think there are any rivers as beautiful as those that come straight down from New Zealand's mountains. The water, rocks and driftwood are of such clean, crisp clarity, sharpened by the thin air and your own heightened senses that even very dull greys and greens affect deep tones. The thick bush - inaccessible by road, Luke tells us later - is thrumming with birdlife, disturbed only a couple of times a day by rafters.
The drifting periods between the mad, controlled panic of the rapids is a gift - the scenery is worth the price alone, regardless of white water activity.
Of course, there's never an inappropriate time for a domestic spat, and one of these peaceful moments is ideal for me to hiss at my boyfriend for being out of time with the girl in front. "But she's a teabagger," he whines, irrelevantly.
I'm preparing my paddle for a good knuckle rapping when the boat suddenly plunges down then upward and I'm hurled violently into the footwell between Shannon's legs, earning the reprimand, "Buy me a beer first".
Stuck upside down like a turtle with five pairs of Surrey gap-year eyes peering down at you is embarrassing and a reminder not to mess around in boats. The trip, with guided drive along the Desert Road and beautiful river cruise was cheap at the price.
