There is something romantic about indigenous people’s legends, more so if it sought to explain a very complex geological landscape with vivid imaginary, in a most mysterious, yet enchanting allegory. It goes like this…

Maori legend has it that there were 7 spirits. Each was a spirit of a Maori God or warrior of gargantuan strength, living peacefully around Lake Taupo in the center of the North Island. All of them; Tongariro, Ruapehu, Ngauruhoe, Tauhara, Putauaki, and Taranaki were male except for one; elegant Pihanga; cloaked in a deep green forest she presented an alluring sight to all the other male Gods. They were all in love with her and jealously vied for her attention.

One night Taranaki dared to make an advance towards beautiful Pihanga, and this led to all the other Gods to fight fiercely for her attention. The sky grew dark, and the land trembled as violent eruptions, smoke and fire filled the air. The mountains belched with anger, but Tongariro, reproached the others, and lovely Pihanga moved by the victor’s side. Thus Tongariro became the indubitable leader of the land. While the dispossessed; Ngauruhoe and Ruapehu poised themselves at a respectable distance behind, but Tauhara unable to completely purge his love sat smoldering at the Northern end of Lake Taupo. Putauaki (Mt. Edgecumbe) headed North, while Taranaki (Mt. Egmont), forlorn and melancholic; he wrenched his roots from the ground and left the coterie of the other mountains and dragged himself towards the setting sun; gouging a deep wide trench as he lumbered South West until he stumbled upon the coast. Weeping; his tears flowed down the deep scar trail he had left along his journey, to form the Wanganui river. As he slept the devious Pouakai Ranges snared him, and when the sun came up he got petrified, forever rooted on the west coast. It is believed that when clouds shroud the volcano, Taranaki is actually concealing his tears for his lost love, and on a clear day, Taranaki is proclaiming his love for Pihanga. However Taranaki is believed to be silently brooding and will one day try and return inland to fight. However Tongariro erupts time and again; warnings that Taranaki should not come back. Consequently many Maori will not live in the area between the two mountains.

The tale ended and I was like the kid eagerly listening to a bedtime fairytale, I wanted more. This was by far the best geology lesson I had ever heard. No one could have explained the complex tectonic and volcanic history and yet make it so interesting. I had the opportunity to walk into the fairytale myself; to follow the legend in its footsteps.

Indigenous Maori folk marveled at Aeoteoroa’s (New Zealand’s) landscape much like I am today. With no geological understanding of how a turbulent past that wrinkled the island’s surface, the hunter-gatherer-warrior tribes had a different insight. Their stories engraved in legend have survived through the generations even though their ethnicity is now diluted. But we now know that New Zealand is situated on the Pacific Ring of Fire, beneath which runs an active margin of the Australian Tectonic Plate and the Pacific Tectonic Plate. The majority of the volcanoes align themselves on the transverse axis of the faults, all bunched together at the center of the north Island, around Lake Taupo, (which is also an extinct 3km diameter crater of a volcano) ; creating new surface, as much as destroying it. This complex setting has allowed this island to have almost every conceivable volcanic genre, totally fascinating for a geology buff like me.

I didn’t have to start far, for I live in new Plymouth, on the West coast of the North Island, at the foot of the stratovolcano, Mt Taranaki; shaped like a humongous conical ribbon cake, layers of lava, ash and other ejecta from the numerous eruptions in his geological history. My town never needed a manmade land mark, because Te Mauna o Taranaki towers majestically, crowned regally with a veneer of snow, in background of a blue unblemished sky. I had to attempt to climb it, it didn’t seem that big from my window anyway. After 4 hours of knee jarring climbing, It took every ounce of energy to lift each leg of mine to climb a 48 degree incline ridge of volcano slope called the ‘Puffer’! Unseasonal summer snow made the ascent up to the summit, the ‘Sharks Tooth’, and into the frozen crater impossible. But the view was breathtaking; I realized I had climbed over the cloud line; a carpet of clouds extended in every direction, feeling literally on top of the world! I looked eastwards and could see Mt. Tongariro and Ngauruhoe poking their peaks above the clouds, as if to be spying on us.

At 2797m above sea level, Ruapehu is the most popular volcano in New Zealand, simply because it offers a unique and unparalled kind of thrill, its thick layer of snow acts as a perfect ski slope. Don’t be fooled, but this volcano is still active and blew a 12km funnel of dust into the air as recently as 1997, with a smaller puff in 2007. I attempted to ski but soon realized I could an expert at moon-walking instead! Several thrill and spills later, I cheated, using the ski lift to take me as high up as it could. The crater was still further up, but I perched myself on an icy ledge, as the gusts of wind channeled up the flanks and blasted on my face. The snow gave it a very tranquil appearance, with Ngauruhoe close by its side.

It was the end of summer and I was going to do the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, a 7 hour brisk walk though the volcanic valleys of Ngauruhoe and Tongariro and up to their summits, from one side to the other. I couldn’t have chosen a worse day. My chosen attire reflected the delusive forecast; clear and sunny. Icicles formed on the hair of my bare legs as the icy mountain air blasted against them. I began my 18.5 km trek from the Mangatepopo Valley, on a meandering track with sub-alpine herb fields and melt water streams criss-crossing my way. The beginning of the climb which quickly reassessed how fit I thought I was, twisting up 900ft of almost vertical up razor sharp pumice and lava rock ledges, aptly called the ‘Devils Staircase’. The terrain was unlike I had ever seen before, pock marked and strewn with volcanic bombs and other tephra, the fresher lava flows distinctly darker than the older ones. I approached Ngauruhoe, of Mt. Doom fame in the movie Lord of the Rings. I gave the 2 hour return climb to the summit of Ngauruhoe a miss, as I didn’t fancy myself clambering up scree! Walking up a volcanic scree is a great experience, but not easy; you cannot stumble, lest be ripped by the razor sharp pumice, its like walking up a mound of sand, three steps forwards and then you slide two steps back; and is very energy sapping as you have to use your hands, knees and legs to climb. So Tongariro it was instead, I had to cross the South Crater. I cut across through the center on the crater, flat and expansive as a runway; realizing almost immediately that I can walk easily on flat surfaces, but put a volcano in front and it gets a little difficult! Surrounded by tall rocky precipices inside the crater, almost seemed like the dark Gods were glaring down on you! I sheltered from the blast of the icy winds as I pushed my way up to the top of Tongariro. The curtain of clouds cleared and…. the Red Crater emerged. Rusty red and crowned with jagged edges, no wonder Tongariro was attributed to be a fierce God; brusied and still steaming and fuming after battle. There were fumaroles in this chasm that breathed out toxic gases; a stench of rotten eggs (characteristic of Hydrogen Sulphide), filled the air, as did billowing clouds of steam from the warm earth. I could see Mt. Taranaki in the far distance, its perfect cone shape protruding out of the flat land as a reminder; conceivably… Waiting to come back? And in this Mars’scape, in stark contrast, the Emerald lakes were in view down the valley, blue-green like a Bahia emerald! The pain in my muscles suddenly seemed worth it after all! Sliding my way down the soft scree, trying to get to the yellow fringed Emerald lakes; I had always wanted to see what it felt like if I dipped my hand into an acidic lake. Disappointingly it doesn’t feel any different! Descending down, I zig-zagged my way down, passing hot boiling pools, acidic streams and sulphur vents, it was exactly how a geologist’s dream playroom and sand pit would look like. I warmed my self around the thermal vents, volcanoes can come handy sometimes! Lining the thermal vents were delicate acicular crystals of lemon yellow sulphur, like exquisite jewels, I couldn’t leave without a sample for collection.

It was a great adventure for me, but on my way back home, I missed an important turn and way fared 200km in the wrong direction, and luckily into the town of Wanganui, where I stopped for my dinner and a glass of wine on the banks of the river. I had come full circle, and it was only a few hours to New Plymouth, with Te Mauna o Taranaki, illuminated with moonlight glow in an dark blue-black sky, a beacon to reference guide me home.