caving and culture

Day three: Waitomo Caves and Maketu.

So far each day had started with an early wake up to get the bus moving by 8am. I’d been told that caving was one of the more unique activities I’d get the opportunity to do here, since maneuverable wild caves rigged for tourism aren’t all that common. We’d had beautiful weather for kayaking and hiking, so we weren’t at all fussed when it was steadily raining on the day we’d be underground, cold and wet in the caves anyway. Only 6 of our bus of 21 elected to go caving, but 6 turned out to be plenty in one group. You’re all harnessed up, abseiling one at a time through crevices and down holes, and then you’re waiting in knee-high cold water down below while the rest of your crew navigates the way through the tunnels and down the rappel lines. I didn’t fork over the money for the touristy shots the guides took of us down in the caves, but this before shot conveys about enough goofiness for you to get the point.

Caving was much more physical than I expected with a great deal of slinking across ledges, scaling up rocky walls, and hoisting yourself over boulder obstacles. Though I’m not in any kind of triathlon shape, I’m relatively fit, and some of the physical requirements of caving were a challenge for me. I wonder how the company can gently tell someone that they don’t look capable of the physical work that will be required once you’re down in a cave, wet and cold and exhausted, needing to shimmy your way across a little ledge three feet away from the ladder you’re at the top of with hands that feel less than useful after an hour in cold water.

But I don’t want to make the experience sound unenjoyable because it was absolutely cool. The rock formations were stunning, and we got to spend a little time with the famous glowworms. The two guides were funny and easygoing and experienced, and they definitely spent a little time showing off for us. One would abseil down a waterfall, get all rigged up to help us down one-by-one, and the other would stay at the top to give instructions. Then whichever one was at the top would come flying down the ropes, Spiderman-like, with a great splash into the pool at the bottom.

After caving we headed out to Uncle Boy’s, which is a Maori center for backpackers. The staff at Uncle Boy’s have the evening all planned out for you: dinner, Maori cultural performance, and then the guys learn the haka and the ladies learn the poi.

Here’s a funny bit: my new Irish friend Rob says to me, “I took some great videos with your camera while you guys were doing the poi!” Oh cool, I thought. I turned my camera to review mode and started watching the first video. We laughed and laughed for about an hour about this.

After the show was finished, we were left to our own devices, whether that was having a drink and hanging out or reading a book in bed. Bed, by the way, was all of us in the marae on hostel mattresses that we’d spread around the room. There was some concern about the difficulty of sleeping in a room with 20 other people, but I popped my earplugs in and slept soundly.

In the morning we were instructed to pile the mattresses back up in one corner, pile our sheets up in the center of the room, and put our pillows back in a stack. I do not know how not washing pillowcases is acceptable, but apparently it is. “No worries” is taken quite literally sometimes. Oh well. On to the next adventure!