Steam, hot water and a volcano

From the Coromandel we moved to Lake Whakamaru Reserve, a campsite on the waterfront that became our base for several nights and several long day trips. (Another very long drive; another arrival in the dark; another curtain-opening the next morning.)

Wai-O-Tapu Thermal Wonderland was the first trip out: bubbling, steaming, luminous ground, the sort of landscape Cezar assumed must somehow be fake. Then a long soak in the hot pools at Waikite Valley, fed by the Te Manaroa spring, a rare afternoon on this holiday where nobody had to walk anywhere.

And then the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Twenty kilometers is too much for our three, Anna might have managed it, Cezar certainly not, so we walked in towards the volcano and turned back. Even that first stretch was worth the drive. We have made a promise to come back one day and do the whole thing: the walk between the volcanoes, the emerald lakes, the full twenty kilometers. It's on the list now, and we asked the children to hold us to it.

South

The crossing to the South Island did not go to plan. Through pure carelessness we missed our ferry, took the very last spot on a late sailing, and crossed the Marlborough Sounds between half past eight and midnight, in total darkness, seeing precisely none of the scenery that people cross specifically to see. We reached Picton late, drove another forty minutes to Whatamango Bay, and put everyone to bed. The day after, everyone enjoyed a very slow morning.

But the South Island paid us back with interest. In Abel Tasman we stayed at The Barn in Mārahau, right at the edge of the park, expensive, beautiful, gloriously laid back, and did an eleven-kilometer coastal walk that unfolded into one impossible bay after another. Eleven kilometers, all three of us, with the constant motivation that the view around the bend would be at least as impressive as the previous one.

Then south along the coast: seals and their pups at Cape Foulwind, a roadside stop that turned into an hour. And New Year's Eve at Franz Josef, all five of us packed into a hot tub with a drink, watching the year run out under the mountains.

The best part of the trip

We were running behind schedule and Milford Sound was slipping out of reach, so we swapped the long drive for a small plane. Forty-five minutes over the mountains and past Mount Aspiring, a cruise through the Sound itself with seals and their pups on the rocks, and forty-five minutes back. It saved us a day of driving and turned out to be the single most spectacular trip of the entire holiday, the sort of thing all five of us went quiet for, which with our three is the highest available review.

From Makarora we drove down to Queenstown, where the plan for the night was the Twelve-Mile Delta campsite. It was full, so we parked at the picnic spot instead, which turned out to be the better address anyway: right next to the water, with the Remarkables standing across the lake, living up to their name. We had dinner by the lake and then went in for a swim, which was very, very cold. Mia was first in and last out, confirming what we had suspected for some weeks: she is comfortably the most audacious of the five of us. A spectacular swim, and a spectacular view.