Paddling through New Zealand’s paradise
For every familiar pine tree, Rotorua has an exotic burst of tropical Kiwi ecology
ROTORUA, N.Z.— Slipping away from the earth into the glassy, lateafternoon waters of Lake Rotoiti is an action laden with familiarity. Once my two-person kayak, steered by Hilary Munro of Waimarino Kayak Tours, leaves the shoreline, I’m thrust into a moment of déjà vu.
Dense forest surrounds the narrow channels of water and the gentle dips of our paddles are the loudest sounds around save for distant bird calls and the occasional splash of a frisky rainbow trout. Vacation properties sparsely dot the shore. A few more moments and you might convince me that I was back in Ontario, paddling, perhaps, through Algonquin Park in the early summer. But then come the differences.
For every familiar pine tree there is an exotic burst of tropical ecology: gigantic palms, mighty Kauris and neon-green beech trees.
There are no moose or bear to look out for, or swarms of bugs to swat away — just an incredibly still landscape and a promise of glow-worms to come. I guess I’m not in Canada anymore. “Rotoiti means ‘little lake’ in Maori, but it’s not so little,” Munro explains as we paddle the waterway formed some 8,500 years ago. She guides the excursion as part of Waimarino tours, which specializes in intimate and informative kayak adventures in Rotorua.
“Sea kayaking is very popular here because there are so many different lakes and mild conditions with gorgeous scenery,” she says. “And, of course, there’s the geothermal aspect as well.”
Our first stop is the Manupirua Springs hot pools facility — a rustic resort and best-kept-secret of locals, only reached by boat.
Rotorua native Cath Van Sitter waves us in from an upper balcony of the main lodge as we pull up on the shore of the deserted property. Sitter oversees the venue and nearby pools, which have been used by the Maori and locals since before1849 for cooking, bathing and medicinal purposes.
“They range in temperature between 38 and 41 degrees,” Van Sitter says after helping us onto the property’s expansive deck. “They are totally mineral-based — we don’t put anything in them to alter them at all.”
Before we take a dip, Munro cooks dinner as we watch the sun set over the lake. The menu includes wild venison sausage, caught and prepared by the Waimarino boss, fresh local salmon and an organic salad from the nearby Okere Falls café.
Over a glass of New Zealand wine, courtesy of Waimarino, Munro tells me about her partner. They live happily in a school bus nearby, which they personally converted, and both work on the water out of passion.
“Couples will often come do this kayak to celebrate an occasion,” Munro says of the company’s starlight tour. “It’s very personal.”
As I slip into the sulphuric hot tubs a short walk away, I’m feeling very spoiled that there is more adventure to come.
As darkness begins to fall, the heavy clouds foreshadow that the stars will be invisible. But not to worry, reminds Munro, there is something far more brilliant on the way.
“Glow-worms are 100 times better at night time,” she says as we head back out into the water.
Another 20 minutes of paddling sees us edging closer to the glowworm cave, which, from a distance, appears totally foreboding and wonderful. Closing in, there is only a small entry, with just enough room for us to slip in and be shrouded in darkness.
Once inside, we’re in a mythical goblin’s lair. The echoes of water hitting the cave walls create ghoulish burping noises and the only light to help us see is coming from above.
When our eyes settle, the passageways of the cave before us seem unmistakably haunted, with hundreds of glow-worms creating the brilliant starscape I’d hoped to see outside on the black rock ceiling. There we wait, and the longer we wait, Munro says, the brighter they’ll become.
“What you’re looking at is the larvae stage of the New Zealand fungus gnat,” Munro says, revealing a series of eerie truths about the living specks of light.
Immediately after hatching from the egg, the larvae will emit a light, prepare a nest in the form of a tunnel of mucous and silk and suspend it as a fishing line. Insects that fly curiously toward the light, including adult fungus gnats, are destined to be trapped, drawn in and devoured.
“We would say, ‘Come one, come all, to see the cannibalistic larvae of the New Zealand fungus gnat,’ ” Munro says, “but that wouldn’t work so well on the brochure.”
I learn as well that the Maori name for glow-worm is “Titiwai,” which means “light projected over water.” Lake Rotoiti has been used as a main channel of travel, trade and welfare for local Maori for centuries, and in this supernatural hollow, it’s easy to understand why it’s rich in lore and legend.
Back on land, we load up the kayak and say our goodbyes. When I then climb into the wrong side of my vehicle to begin the drive back to town, I’m reminded that although I feel right at home here, I’m on the other side of the world. Liz Beddall was hosted by Tourism New Zealand, which didn’t review or approve this story.