A hole load of etiquette in the hot seat at the beach
Hot Water Beach at the height of the summer must be a social anthropologist’s dream.
The Coromandel hotspot is a microcosm of customs and cultures, all clustered together and cooking themselves in the hot water that wells up from thermal vents right on the beach.
On the day before New Year’s Eve, the mix is utterly eclectic. In one freshly-dug pit, a typical Kiwi family. Next to them a bevy of bikini-clad Europeans. The next hole over, a slightly bewildered Chinese couple.
Much furious spadework is taking place as the hole-dwellers are augmented by more and more spade-wielding newcomers, staking out their spots and digging in with gusto.
As the tide slowly recedes more space becomes available.
However many of the holes are poorly placed: too far up or too far along the beach to tap into the naturally-heated goodness just under the sand. Many holes lie abandoned, their frustrated creators having given up and moved on. Like the nests of a gannet colony, any vacant spot is usually quickly occupied.
Few, it seems, have qualms about wallowing in pools left by other parties.
It’s a weird scene and one at odds with usual beach behaviour. When people head to the beach they generally try to get a spot as far away from others as humanly possible. We need our space.
At Hot Water Beach those instincts must be overridden. The invisible bubble of personal space suddenly reduces to a foot or two – if that.
Hot Water Beach etiquette is curious and convoluted. How close is too close to your neighbour’s hole? Is it OK to occupy someone else’s hole if they are still sitting in it?
And what about taking pictures? Is it OK to play music? How about smoking, going topless, or even nude?
‘‘I don’t think the closeness matters too much,’’ says beachgoer Matthew Pullan. ‘‘Just as long as you don’t cave in the one next to you.’’
The Titahi Bay resident brought his family here to experience the beach – but he was too early and the bottom of his hole slowly becomes drier as the tide ebbs. ‘‘It’s not hot either. It’s lukewarm, if that – I think we had better go further down.’’
Also digging energetically are German backpackers Mary-Sophie Cremer, Paulina Schwab and Leah Schneekloth.
‘‘I don’t care if someone is nude,’’ opines Cremer. ‘‘But I do mind if there are children around. If there are no kids, then that’s OK.’’
What about hopping into someone else’s hole? Is that a no-no?
‘‘No, why shouldn’t we? It’s all just seawater.’’
Right on cue a man departing the adjoining hole offers the three girls to take their place in the bigger, deeper pit. The three happily take him up on his offer – but this pool is a real hotspot and with a loud shout of ‘‘Heiss!’’ (German for hot), they are leaping up and out.
‘‘I don’t know if going and occupying empty holes is really the done thing,’’ muses Raymond Van Der Stap.
The former Kiwi now lives in Sydney. Like Pullan, he brought his kids over to give them the same experience he had as a kid.
‘‘There are a lot of deserted holes, but I think all those holes are deserted because they have gone cold.
‘‘I don’t think it’s good to be playing music. We have just come from Cathedral Cove and in the middle of everyone was a bunch of teenage kids with their system blaring away. It’s pretty rude really.’’
What about taking off your clothes?
‘‘I’m not shy of the odd bit of nudity, but if it is in a place like this, with a lot of kids running around, it’s just not the thing to do.’’
It was a first-time experience for Tom Cotter of Morrinsville.
‘‘I’m looking for an unclaimed hole. There’s not many around here.
‘‘I reckon instruments would be OK. That’s how it should be down here.’’