The Crack of Don

Tuesday morning we got up for the crack of Don (more on that later).  As you now know, in addition to bungee jumping and zorbs, Rotorua is famous for its geothermal craziness.  Some call Rotorua the Yellowstone of New Zealand or maybe they call Yellowstone the Rotorua of the US, I forget.  Anyway, in addition to the hot springs in the city, there are all kinds of geysers, mud pots, and steaming things not far outside the city.  Debbie had read about a geyser in one park that went off promptly at 10:15 every day without fail.  That was our initial destination.

Ok, our initial destination was breakfast and the geyser was a secondary destination.  Fortunately, you cannot walk thirty feet anywhere in a New Zealand city without running into a place that serves insane coffee.  Just around the corner from our hotel we found a great breakfast place.  Yes, that is a cappuccino and quiche with egg on top.  I had four of them.

For all the geologists in the family, on to the Wai-o-Tapu area of the Taupo Volcanic Zone to see the geyser, known as Lady Knox.  There is a bit of pressure going to a geyser that goes off just once a day at exactly the same time every day, and darned early at that (for those of you who got it and/or are wondering, yes that pun was intended).  Driving recklessly at over 40 km/hour (which as you know from your 4th grade metrics lessons and trips to Canada is close to 200 mph), turning on my wipers at every turn, we dashed into the parking lot of the geothermal park, rushed to get tickets, rushed back to the car to drive to another lot, and whew, took our seats before the magnificent miracle of nature.  Lady Knox:

Ok, maybe not magnificent yet, but we heard the Lady doth not disappoint.  We had a few moments to reflect, and Debbie and I drifted deep into the recesses of our respective pasts:  family trips to Yellowstone, visions of Old Faithful, fighting with siblings for the best seat in the car (the one out of the sun or facing backward or forward or whatever the other sibling(s) wanted that we could deprive them of), and eating Dinty Moore stew heated on the Coleman.  Anyway, back to Old Faithful.  As 10:15 approached, the tension was palpable.  A park ranger approached to give a quick talk:

We were on the edge of our seats and then . . . BAM!  It hit us, a true WTH moment (H for the youngsters reading this).  What was that in his left hand?  Hmm, looks suspicious.  Well, yes I am sure you have guessed it by now -- the lady is a tramp.  Lady Knox is no lady at all and is about as faithful as Newt Gingrich.  Mr. Ranger poured some water softener in the geyser and then walked away.  Surprise surprise, it erupted at exactly 10:15.  

Feeling somehow cheated even though the geyser was actually pretty cool, we headed for the park.  Entering the park was a good news / bad news proposition.  The good news was that it reminded us of home.  The bad news was that it reminded us of the sulphur springs near the library on the north side of town and called into question our rush to get up for the crack of Don.

The park was great and had a wide variety of geothermalocity (sorry to be so technical).  Incredible colors and kind of spooky at times.

Double, double toil and trouble; fire burn and cauldron bubble (teachable moment here; when your kids ask about this line, sit them right down and force them to read Macbeth.  If they protest, tell them it's McBeth and it's something like a McRib sandwich):

Of course all that walking and bubbling makes a person hungry, so we rushed back to lunch.  Yes, that is a common (albeit exotic for us) Kiwi dish I had, something the locals call "H-a-w-a-i-i-a-n pizza," and no, not all those beers are mine.

For more pictures, please click on:  https://picasaweb.google.com/cariboulane/CrackOfDon?authkey=Gv1sRgCKaA0bPYttDepAE#.
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