From the surprise of the photo of a paph with an orang-utan in the background, we unanimously decided not to dip in the Poring hot springs as we walked through to the canopy bridge experience.
Ah no, as Kathie would say.
None of us visitors realised the effort it would take to get to the start of the canopy walk. We were at 450m and the 10am-ish temperature was pleasantly warm, but muggy, under the trees. The steps upward were continuous and although I was not puffing, I was sure sweating.
Some of the others in the party were making heavy weather of the climb. I commented how pleasant it was, not to be ascending with a full tramping back, then realised this was uncaring as our elderly gent Ron was making a real effort. We took turns staying with him, he was determined. The sweat was just running down my ribs, and I emptied my 500ml of water on the way up. Ron hadn't thought to bring water and had a heavy camera set.
We climbed up into more elevated jungle and it was well worth the exertion. The five tree-top walkways are 40-60 metres between huge ancient trees. We were in the canopy up to 43metres.
Allowed six people on a section at once, we commended Ron's courage, as he was really out of his comfort zone, but he was a trouper. We let him cross each time without others vibrating the bridge.
By crikey we were sweating at the end of this. Then the walk down the return track to the hot pools. Just after we were on the ground, I saw a tandas, my favourite word and very necessary despite the sweating. Well, the English sure weren't going to use this facility, but they don't have a Christchurch person's familiarity with portaloos. Hermann gave me jippo about there being a python in the tandas, and said, 'you'll have to squat' - I said, what do you think I've been doing for the past fortnight?
Holy moly, the python was a jack-up, but he neglected to tell me about the spider on the tap. By this time natural functions were beyond the point of no return and I did need that hose.
I'd been kindly offered a tissue when they realised I was on a mission, but they have no idea how refreshing are the hoses.
Hermann took us maybe 10-15 minutes walk to a waterfall, away from the crowded hot springs complex. There were just a few people admiring it and a man wading in the pool below.
I quietly checked out the social conventions with Herman and gave him my watch and camera. Then unlaced my shoes. You know what's coming next. The poms did not.
Oh it was the most delicious experience EVER. Minimally clad, I was soon in neck-deep, and swimming and going right under, leaning again the rockface with the fresh water cascading gently. It wasn't unduly cold, it was simply sublime.
Some boys jumped in also. I asked if they were Moslems? No no. I said, I don't want to offend by being a pretty much naked female. They laughed and hooted and said they were locals and lets enjoy it. So, bring it on, we had a full-on waterfight.
The rest of my party, showing far better manners, dipped in up to their knees and Roger hiffed water over his sweat-drenched shirt.
The others discretely left while I put dry clothes over wet. Actually my day pack locked in the van was fully prepared with a fresh dry set as I'd intended to dip in the hot pools. This was 200x better. So far.
Dressed and with my glasses on, which does make a difference to understanding the environs, I was behind our group when I realised just how many people had now enjoyed this cavorting spectacle. I got a big round of applause when I least expected it. Ah well, just go with the flow so I joined in the banter.
I said to one young man that its normal for me to swim in nature, and that I enjoyed the water temp so much more than in NZ where the waterfalls are snow-fed. He translated this and there was more hooting and cheering.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I then told him, that in NZ its traditional to swim naked in nature, but that out of respect for the English people, who had politely only dipped their calves, I had retained some clothing. Well when this was translated it caused a riot of joyous laughter and carryon. Gee did they want their photos taken with me then, still dripping of course.
As I say, just go with the flow, and when you're in a hole, keep digging! It was just simple human joy in a shared experiences across languages but with common understanding, and the Moslem women with kabaya and headscarves - don't know if they were offended but their beautiful faces were full of laughter.
xxM
