Monday started fairly inauspiciously. I woke up in a hostel after deciding I needed to take a proper shower and do some proper laundry after hiking the Tongariro Alpine Crossing the previous day. Although I no longer stunk I was feeling the aches and pains from my advice-defying sandal-clad ascent of Mt. Ngauruhoe, made worse by the fact that the summit had been completely socked in during my brief visit while Monday was shaping up to be a lovely sunny day with great views from the crater. I spent some time restocking my dwindling supply of dried fruit and hiding from the summer's heat in the shade along Lake Taupo. I tarried longer than usual since I had no destination picked out for the night, but finally decided to have an adventure and try my luck at finding "The Squeeze".
It began as my trek of the TAC ended the previous day. I needed to catch a ride back to the other end of the track where I had left my van. The first vehicle leaving the carpark (parking lot) wasn't about to stop for me but I held out my thumb to the second. The driver was American and happened to be heading to the same spot, having left his friends there while hitching in the opposite direction as me after walking the track in the opposite direction as well. It was fun talking to an American for a change; we reminisced about Boulder where we both had lived and made fun of the Kiwis for driving on the left. At some point I asked him a question I like to ask: "do you have a favorite spot in New Zealand so far?" Now mostly I ask this question out of sheer curiosity, expecting an answer about a spot I've been to or heard about. Cathedral Cove is popular, as are more general answers lacking in conviction. But every once in a while I get taken by surprise.
We rolled into the carpark at the track's beginning (or more likely the end) where we met the driver's friends. One of them gave me vague but slightly less vague directions to find The Squeeze than the driver had been able to. I was intrigued, no doubt, but the imprecision of the directions and the question of whose land I might be trespassing left me uncertain as to whether I'd try to find it. Fast-forward to the next afternoon.
The first set of directions were easy to follow and I soon found myself on an unsealed (gravel) road about 30km north of Taupo. From there there had been some disagreement on how far I needed to go, but after a minimum of 7km I'd find an open wooden gate. At 7.2 there was a fenced driveway, but it didn't really have a gate. At 8.6 there was a closed metal gate in a wooden fence. Hmm... After driving another few clicks up the road and considering abandoning this adventure altogether, I decided the metal gate had to be the one. The guys had apparently ran into some tour guides that said they (the Americans) weren't supposed to be able to get to that spot without paying for a tour, so it seemed reasonable that the gate had been locked in response. As to the construction material, well, close enough? I parked the van, climbed the fence, and started to walk alone the dirt road. The Americans had logged 1km in the van, so I figured 12 minutes of walking should be about right. The landmarks here were a bit unclear as well, but finally I passed a track that beckoned to me. A short way in I crossed some wooden planks and there was the stream. I still wasn't sure I believed their description of this place, but I took off my sandals and stepped in. And just like they promised the water was warm.
The stream at this point was about an armspan wide and ankle deep. Native bush crowded each edge. Still surprised that I had found this place, I headed upstream noting with joy the complete absence of biting insects. A few minutes later I found the source of the ever-increasing roar of water: a water fall maybe 4 meters high on the other end of a 10 meter section of slot canyon. And it was hot, gloriously hot. A little track led up above the falls and to an excavated section of stream which formed a beautiful hot pool. A wooden staircase let into it, so clearly someone used it with some regularity. I pushed thoughts of who that might be out of my head as I enjoyed the perfect solitude of this magical place.
I didn't stay super long as the hot water was making me woozy and I still had some exploring to do. Going back to my sandals and leaving the rest of my gear I headed further downstream. Finally the ground began to rise up on both sides of me and suddenly the stream disappeared into a canyon. The Squeeze. Six meters high and barely shoulder-width, this was a slot canyon to rival any in Arizona. As it undulated along the stream went abruptly from ankle- to hip-deep. I had to twist and contort myself to pass between the walls. Then I was up to my shoulders in the warm murky brew. And just like that I came out the other side, just 50 or so meters from the Waikato River. I stood there in awe of the narrow canyon, the hot stream, the clear river in front of me.
I couldn't help but reflect on how the most amazing experiences are often the most unexpected. And with glee I headed back into the canyon.
