The other side of the Mountain

On our first day in New Plymouth, we could have been excused for thinking that those who said there was a mountain right behind the town were lying.  The sun was shining, but thick cloud on the land side of the town covered any trace of Mount Taranaki.  When we saw the snow covered tip of the mountain peeking out, I was so excited – I just wanted Pete to take pictures.  Sadly, the snow looked just like more white cloud and the bits of mountain looked like grey cloud in our photos.

The 4 days we spent in New Plymouth all followed the same weather pattern – rain – often heavy – in the early morning, followed by a gradually clearing day.  But on the New Plymouth side, always cloud over the mountain.

But when we drove around Mount Taranaki to the inland side, the picture was completely different.  Mount Taranaki is a perfect, cone shaped volcanic peak – just like Mt Fuji and Mt Kilimanjaro.  It stands over on the coast, in line with the other central volcanoes – Ruapehu, Tongariro and Ngarahoe, and Maori legend tells that Taranaki angered the other mountains, and was banished to the coast.

On “the other side of the mountain” the Egmont National Park  (pakehas – white settlers – called it Mt Egmont) allows access to the upper parts of the mountain.  We wanted to see the goblin forests – trees festooned with trailing lichen, the Dawson’s Falls and the Wilkies Pools.  We put on our walking shoes and set off.  The Goblin Forest was easily seen – as we strode along the well marked and maintained DOC (Department of Conservation) path, the lichens almost brushed our faces.  “This is a piece of cake,” I thought.  There were even tyre tracks from a quad bike.  My blistered feet would stand up to this.  And then, around the corner, the path stopped.  There in front of us was a river – boulder strewn – and on the other side, the orange flags to show where the path continued.  My first instinct was to say – “I am going back down the path.”  But against my better judgement, I stumbled across the rocks, supported by both Pete and Richard, carefully keeping my feet dry.  I needn’t have bothered!

Two DOC workers, busy making a straight path to the pools, told us nonchalantly that crossing the river was the worst part of the trail – it was easy after that.  They then loaded their equipment onto their quad bike and went back down the path.  They must have laughed all the way back to the camp!  The walk to the pools wasn’t bad – a bit slippery in places, but fairly level.  And the view of the mountain was incredible – the snowfields sparkling in the sun, clear water gushing down from the peak, huge rocks which had been thrown or washed down thousands of years before, lying tumbled in the river bed.

But the rest of the trail was NOT easy.  A narrow path, following the river, crossing it over and over – sometimes on bridges but often on rocks   and once over and under a small waterfall – provided lots of challenges.  With my fear of falling and never being able to be carried out, and with Vanessa’s deep fear of falling, Pete and Richard were in great demand as holders, buffers, rocks and stays.  And they were amazing!   Even when I turned round, forgetting I had a backpack on my back, and almost brushed Pete down the ravine.  As we realised we were safely on the campground, a group hug expressed our relief.

 Did I enjoy it?  At the time, probably not.  It was beautiful, rugged, and the scenery was breathtaking, but the amount of adrenaline I produced was staggering.  But am I glad I did it?  Definitely!

Driving back round the mountain, through hobbit sized hills, I was awed by the power of this amazing landscape.  New Zealand is so beautiful – exploring it is an adventure.