NZ Day 5 - Island with added volcanicity

We’d booked our boat trip to the volcanic island off Whakantane (pronounced Thakatanae) weeks ago but according to the captain, gale forces were on they way. Strange really as it was a beautiful, still day so totally gutted we’d wasted our time. We then looked into an alternative to getting there calling the Vulcan Helicopter tours instead. It was quite expensive at $400 each plus another $400 to pay for the extra empty seat unless another party came forward. We took the chance and were treated to another exclusive trip and have the island to ourselves.

It was a short drive outside the town to a toy-town airport and Mark, our pilot dismissed the weather forecast. It was a wasp-like chopper (similar to Magnum PI) taking 20 minutes passing Whale Island. It was certainly windy but the pilot did well to land it on the crater like island. We were given a safety helmet and gas mask in case the volcanic activity misbehaved. The landscape was incredible and felt like walking on the Moon or Mars with craters of steam, bubbling pools and constant smell of sulphur. Apparently, there were 10 miners killed in 1937 from an eruption and the only survivor was the cat. We were walking around the island for about an hour then flew back for our drive down to Rotorua.

Our road journey was full of uphill, forested areas with windy roads then the landscape changed passing three huge lake each one trumping the last by size. You knew you had arrived in Rotorua when the van window needed to be shut due to the sulphur smell. We found the campsite quite quickly and headed out in search of a spa and maybe a massage. En route to the centre of town was a public park with some bubbling and steaming pools reeking of eggs. We weren’t able to get a massage so skipped the first spa and went to the Polynesian Spa for a 30 minute deluxe private spa pool. This was our private outside pool overlooking the lake at night to the sounds of squawking sea (should that be lake) gulls who were privileged to my birthday suit. It was hot water, soothing bliss.

On the way back to the campervan we spotted a bar/restaurant called Brass, which served Parmesan Cheese and Garlic Bread. Although the music and décor was stuck in the macho Hollywood approved 80’s, the food was generous and delicious. Our Englishness must have stuck out from the crowd as one of the owners came over for a chat who said he wanted a bar based on a fire station.