Mt Ngauruhoe, a younger volcanic cone on the side of Tongariro
On Wednesday 12th, with my work done in Taranaki, I drove to Whakapapa Village, the main town in Tongariro National Park in the centre of the North Island. On the way I passed through sleepy Raurimu, where only the Saturday before a loony had gone crazy with a gun and blown a bunch of innocent people away. It was such a tiny little place, easy to miss in the blink of an eye, which just goes to show that in this day and age, it's always the quiet ones that go off at the deep end...
Tongariro is the oldest National Park in New Zealand, having been donated to the government by the local Maori chief when he realised that it would otherwise be taken by force. It proved a sensible move – National Parks are protected, after all – and it means that the most amazing area in the North Island has been relatively untouched by man. I arrived in cloud – is it my fate always to arrive in places with amazing mountains when they're hidden? – and camped at the local campsite, only to discover that my tent had gone slightly mouldy and stank something rotten. Never mind; I've slept in worse places than a rancid tent.
