The Craters of the Moon

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The first time I saw the Craters of the Moon, I was crying. The hot, white, sulphurous fumes mingled with my tears, which made my face feel very strange indeed.

I was crying because I was tired, and because my family had just had an argument. I don’t remember what it was about. Perhaps my sister and I hadn’t wanted to visit any more tourist attractions. It was late and we were hungry, but here Dad was, dragging us around yet another site of supposed interest. I didn’t know or care what the place was. I was determined not to enjoy it.

The funny thing is, though, I enjoyed it immensely. I enjoyed it so much I was eager to go back years later. I couldn’t even remember it properly, but I knew it was special.

Craters of the Moon

The Craters of the Moon are just outside Taupō, the last stop on the…

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Into a Lost World

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We’d both visited Waitomo before, but this time it was different. This time, we were visiting as adults – without our parents!

It was oddly exciting. Here we were in this natural playground, this magical landscape of caves and glowworms, and we could do whatever we wanted.

Lost World Cave WaitomoThere was no one to tell me I couldn’t go black water rafting because my little sister was too young, and it wouldn’t be fair if I got to go black water rafting and she didn’t, would it? There was also no one to pay for me to go black water rafting. (Oh, the dilemma of adulthood!) Besides, it was winter. We weren’t too keen on riding a rubber ring down a subterranean river in winter.

Instead, we decided to do something even more expensive: a dry caving tour involving rock climbing and an underground flying fox. Because an underground flying fox sounded…

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Frankton Thunder

I went to a cool, little festival the other day. There were classic cars, steampunk market stalls, old motorbikes, bands, vintage pin-up girls, army vehicles, awesome costumes and even an electric car that had been opened up to reveal its inner workings. It was an annual festival called Frankton Thunder. It took place in Frankton Village, a part of Hamilton I’d never been to before. I’ll definitely go again, though – it looked like there were a few interesting shops around.

The sun was bright and the cars were gleaming. I was wearing a hastily-thrown-together steampunk costume, (because, as you know, I grab any excuse to wear a costume, even though most of mine are still packed from moving house,) which – much to my surprise – won a spot prize from the Hamilton Steampunk Society! It was their first market and it was a good one. My mum got us a couple of fabulous hats.

At one point whilst we were browsing the stalls, some Glen Miller music started playing. Now that’s my kind of festival! There were a few food trucks off to the side, but we ended up going into a nice café with our steampunk purchases. I didn’t end up buying a chainmail (well, scale mail) bikini, but I was very tempted. Aw hell, I was tempted by everything – it was that kind of market – from corsets to blasters to a gorgeous edition of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

As well as the steampunk stalls, there were a few wonderful-looking steampunk vehicles on display. The creativity of some of them astounded me. They were made out of quite ordinary vehicles, a bit of bike here; a bit of tractor there. They weren’t truly Victorian, but they were cool. I also enjoyed looking at the army vehicles and classic cars more than I thought I would. Overall, the festival was a bit of an eclectic mix, but it worked. I look forward to next years’ Frankton Thunder.

There seems to be a festival on every weekend in Hamilton at the moment. I really do enjoy living here. During the six months my fiancé and I were away in Europe, even more improvements have been made, including a beautiful area in the centre of town, down by the river. I need to get some pictures of it! In fact, I have a whole lineup of new places I need to visit and blog about. (If anyone has any suggestions, feel free to drop a comment below.) It’s going to be a busy year.

The Cave at the Edge of Reality

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It wasn’t raining, but it had been. The air was as grey as the carpark behind us. Before us, the path disappeared into the moist, black trees. Everyone we’d met in Waitomo had told us to do this, so here we were. At dusk. In winter. Entering the bush at such a time went against everything we’d been taught about staying safe.

“It’ll be fine,” I said, turning my head torch on. “It’s a popular walk in a thickly touristed area. It’s bound to be well signposted.”

Waitomo CavesI must admit, I felt a shiver of excitement as we started down the path. We weren’t doing anything forbidden, but the hairs on the back of my neck strained against the darkness. I jumped at the shadow of a man that turned out to be a wooden post; again at the shadow of a snake that turned out to be a branch.

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