Putting the rubber back on the road we leave Auckland behind us again and make for Rotorua. We get as far as Hamilton and realise that all is not well with Rosie….she’s a tad under the weather! Pulled up at a roundabout, she gives a little grunt before cutting out! Despite Conor’s best efforts, she just won’t start. We manage to make it to the side of the road where I hop out and ready myself for a bit of pushing. No sooner have I started shoving and a complete stranger joins in and lends his considerable bulk- quite typical of the kiwi way really! We get Rosie to a hill and rolling down it she sparks into life again….disaster averted for now.

A little disorganised after an eventful weekend we decide to take the opportunity to do some laundry. Having left it a little late however, we have no time to dry out clothes before the laundrette closes and must pack two sopping piles into our rucksacks-lovely! Next in line for a wash is ourselves so we check-in to a swimming pool for a bit of light exercise and a freshen up. Along with a love of rugby, a competitive dislike for Australia is pretty much rampant in New Zealand. So when a few lifeguards discover that there are two Irish lads using their facilities, they take great pleasure in congratulating us on the previous weekends result. Freshening up and Aussie bashing complete, it’s high time to make for Rotorua so we set off in Rosie with our two wet bundles of joy in the back.

Rotorua- Simply Egg-static

Arriving in Rotorua the first thing that you notice….or rather can’t avoid, is the smell! Due to an abundance of geothermal activity in the area, the “eggy” sulphurous smell is inescapable and takes a lot of getting used to. Although quite unbecoming, this stink is an unavoidable product of the geothermal activity which provides Rotorua, or “Rotovegas”, with one of it’s chief pull factors for tourism. The stench is quickly put to the back of our minds when whilst searching for a safe haven for the night, Rosie decides to do another one of her stalling tricks…..and this time near quite a busy roundabout! Dodging traffic I jump out again and get the shove on. Now the hideous sight of an Irishman struggling to push-start a red 1989 Daihatsu Charade obviously invokes some empathy in onlookers as (again!) it isn’t long before I’m being lent a hand by two passing motorists. With their help we manage to get Rosie to another slope where halfway down, she spits and splutters back into action! Thankful to her for her resilience, we pull into a factory car park and call it a night.

We conk for about 20 minutes before being woken by the glare of a torch through the window. A little disorientated I immediately fear another chat with an angry ranger a la Raglan. To my relief it’s a factory worker but we’re still instructed to get the hell out of the car park! Like cranky toddlers disturbed from a midday nap we tear down the road to a nearby shopping centre and abandon ship there……sleep at last!

Steamy Holes, Muddy Pools, Boiling Jets and the odd Maori

The next morning we go in search of what “Rotovegas” has to offer. In conjunction with geothermal activity, Rotorua is home of the commercial Maori experience so we decide to take a tour of the Whakarewarewa Maori village. Here we see are shown the early living quarters of the village’s first settlors and the hot springs and mud pools which the bathed in. We are given a demonstration of their “hangi” style cooking which utilises natural geothermal heat in the preparation of meals. We then experience Mother Nature unleash a fierce display of energy through the Pohutu and Prince of Wales Feathers geyers which we observe from two ideally placed lookouts. Having apparently not packed enough excitement into one day, we are treated to a Maori cultural performance which includes traditional song, dance and games as well as the famous haka……overall $30 well spent!

With the stench getting to us and plenty time to burn before Irelands next game against the Russians at the weekend, we decide to get back on the road and out of Rotorua. In any case we’ve got two big wet bundles of clothes in the back and that need drying in non-eggy air! Not in the mood for too much travel, we make it to a campsite halfway to Taupo and proceed to hang out the washing on the limbs of a few trees. After a quick nap we go in search for the local watering hole to watch the Italy v Russia game. After poking out a rural pub we are dismayed to find they aren’t showing the game so we have to content ourselves with a few games of pool before we hit the hay. Italy go on to win in any event.

Taupo- Out with the Old, In with the New

Well the next morning is nothing short of a disaster. On one hand I wake up frozen to find that I’ve left my washing out overnight so it’s as wet as when it first came out of the washing machine in Hamilton. To compound matters Rosie is sick again, not even a grunt of life out of her! Scouring the campsite it appears every car and camper from the previous night has already up and left. To our great fortune however, tucked away in the corner of the campsite is a kiwi family with a nice healthy jeep….just what we need! We get them to pull up near Rosie so the jump leads can make a reappearance. In hindsight it would appear that the $14 jump leads weren’t the best investment in the world as there’s still no spark out of Rosie. Frustrated but not deterred a few of us shove the car up a small hill and on her little spin back down Rosie decides to re-join the land of the living…..another close call.

The hour long journey to Taupo gives us time to decide that we might need to enlist some professional help in diagnosing Rosie’s condition. Hence once landed in Taupo we park Rosie on a hill (just in case she needs a little encouragement to start!) and hop across the road to have a chat with a local mechanic. After he has a good look under the bonnet he makes it clear to us that we need a new battery…..thank God, things could have been a lot worse! Not only does he do this for free but he points us in the direction of a cheap auto shop which will do us a better deal on a new battery than he ever could-fair play to him. So another short trip and a little manual labour later we have a nice new battery and one very happy and healthy sound Daihatsu!

With our car troubles behind us we decide to make the most of our time in Taupo. First port of call is some natural hot springs for some relaxation and another little freshen up. After chilling here we take the short trek to the bungee viewpoint and watch a few richer and braver souls than ourselves throw themselves off a platform with nothing but a strap of elastic around their ankles-a great laugh! Taking things down a notch we head for a look at the Huga Falls just outside the town. If the Whangerei Falls have beauty then these boys have the power. Although surely a great adrenalin rush for some lunatic canoeists and the likes, I wouldn’t advise taking a leisurely paddle down them-a good photo opportunity nonetheless. An even better photo op came on the way back from the falls however when we bumped in three Irish lads from Donegal with the most elegant of modes of transport. Having bought a van from a bunch of French backpackers they have proceeded to spray-paint the entire van as an Irish tri-colour….that’s green white and gold just to clarify! So we sit and exchange stories with these lads for a while over a cup of tea and a few sandwiches and find out about Reid’s farm, a free campsite just down the road-sounds like a halting site for the next few days! Being the busy men we are we can’t afford to stay and chat so we bid each other farewell safe in the knowledge that we’ll most certainly cross paths on our travels again.

With no commitments or worries we decide to make camp in Reid’s farm for a few days so the GT tent is proudly pitched amongst a few campers by the river. Happy with our base we hop into Rosie and head towards town for the evening. With the Irish team based in Taupo for the week, the place is full of Paddys and a few familiar faces from home- if you’re Irish you can’t go anywhere in the world without meeting someone you know! Seeing as it’s not every day I meet these fellas, I share a drink with them before having a relatively early night to accommodate an early start the next morning for a spot of fishing.

Well when I say that I mean Conor is going fishing; he’s quite the able fisherman and tells me NZ is the Mecca of river trout. I’ll just be tagging along to do a spot of writing and hopefully watch my dinner being caught. Besides I still need to dry my bundle of clothes properly!

So the next morning Conor rents some gear and we set off for the day. I’m just settled on a river bank when I get roared at to get downstream and take a photo of him and his first catch of the day……a beautiful trout to be fair! Thinking there’ll be plenty more where that came from during the course of the day, Conor lets this one go free-dinner can wait a while. His luck seems to be in when he nabs another 30 minutes later so Nemo is let go again. Some 5 or 6 hours later however we’re thinking we should have held onto them, the sun comes out and the fish go in leaving us to find an alternative for dinner. Oh well, at least I finally got my clothes dry!

Don’t Try this at Home Kids

Back in town and in need of nourishment we spy a “Roast shop” that takes our fancy. Parked up and making for the restaurant I suddenly her a very loud and explicit shout from Conor…..he’s after locking the keys in Rosie! So we stand there like two crestfallen eejits looking in the window of our locked car at the keys laughing back at us as they dangle in the ignition. A few unreiterable sentences later we decide it best to ponder our options over some food. For the record the roast lamb sandwich special was lovely but there was a somewhat sour taste hanging over the whole meal.

With the only obvious option being to break the window we decide to gather a few more heads and go in search of those friends from home. After hostel hopping for an hour or more (we’ve no phone) to find them, we’re almost immediately back at square one with no cunning solutions forthcoming. As it now looks like we’re going to be breaking into our own car we pick up a good sized rock on the walk back to Rosie. Before we get there however we see a police car pulled over and tell them our story for the hell of it. After having a good laugh at us (who wouldn’t?!) we’re directed towards the station where someone will be on hand to help. Upon arrival there we’re greeted with another chuckle before being given the loan of a few implements any car thief would be delighted to get as a Christmas present. Jokes aside we manage to pop the lock in one of the doors and get back into Rosie without causing her any cosmetic damage. An eventful end to an eventful day it could be said…..let’s just hope it doesn’t happen again!

Down Time & A New Adventure

Following the trauma of the previous night, nothing but a prolonged dip in a hot spring will do so most of our last day in Taupo is taken up doing just that. As a treat before heading back to Rotorua for the weekend game, we go out to watch Australia v USA. While out we get talking to two Welshmen who by chance have two spare tickets to Wales v Namibia the following week. With Rosie’s illness behind her and not a whole lot better to be doing with ourselves, we agree to take the tickets.… another adventure for the book no doubt!

In the meantime it’s back to the serious business of Ireland v Russia and a return to Rotorua.

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Auckland Revisited

Rosie battles her way back to Auckland where she pulls in at the airport to pick up the third installment of the trio….Hughie. Hughie is another college friend who braved the move to New Zealand in June after finishing college and is currently based in Queenstown. Initially there was going to be three of us touring around but poor Hughie ended up getting offered a decent job down there so he’s doing his best to get in some rugby round that. Nonetheless it’s all systems go once we pick him up and with two days until the game we head north towards Whangerei to see what it has to offer three lads and a llama.

A few hours later darkness is fast approaching and it’s high time to pull in for the night. Now however much we love Rosie, she really is only comfortable to sleep two….if you could even say that. With this in mind we find a nice campsite in Loyola by the beach that’ll take us for the night at $6 a head. Giving Rosie and her reclining seats to Conor and Hughie, I pitch my GT tent before we head to the beach for a beer, a stroll and a bit of catching up.

There’s enough time the next morning for a dip in the Pacific and a cold shower before really dressing Rosie up for the weekend that’s ahead of us. Aside from the couple of flags we already have draped off her, Hughie has been sent some Irish bunting from home so we proceed to wrap her like a Christmas present. Happy with our handy work we make a make a beeline for Whangerei.

Whangerei- Sights and Scantly Clad Cave Explorations

First mission in Whangerei is to find the best pie in town. Like crafty tacticians we hit up tourist information and are very pleased with the eventual outcome. After a stroll and a coffee by the waterfront we head for Parihaka Scenic Reserve to grab a great view of the town. Feeling a bit adventurous we take the short drive out of the town to the caves. Abandoning Rosie on the side of the road we head through the fields for a look……well at least that’s what we intended.

What starts out with a look into some dark wet holes slowly turns into the abandonment of footwear and dipping of feet for an enhanced view. Before we know what’s happened we’ve discarded the jeans, wallets and passports in some cases, and are navigating our way around jagged rocks waist high in water! Much like our night jungle trek in Malaysia, we’re a little ill prepared and have nothing but the light from a mobile phone and camera flash to guide us through the caves….no point in making things any easier than they need to be I suppose! A few hours of near death experiences later we’ve emerged in a field of cattle and sheep which gets us a host of puzzled looks from other tourists who are simply content to take pictures of the outskirts of the caves. Content with our little adventure we have a quick roadside freshen up before we’re off to Whangerei waterfalls.

Although they have been described as the Paris Hilton of NZ waterfalls (not the prettiest but certainly the most photographed!), the 26 metre high Whangerei waterfalls are definitely worth a look. What’s more, there doesn’t seem to be anything preventing thrill seekers from taking a leap off the falls apart from their own common sense so have at it if you will. For us it’s only a quick visit however as we are due back in Auckland that evening to gear up for the big game the following day.

Game Time, Round 2: Ireland v Australia

Back in Auckland we’ve been taken in by the same hosts as our initial visit and are very thankful for it. For myself in particular I’m all but eternally indebted to them when they offer me a ticket to the game. This is by far Ireland’s biggest pool stage game with Australia currently ranked second in the world compared to Ireland’s lowly ranking of eighth. A win here puts either team in pole position to win the group and secure a better chance of advancing in the knockout stages…..so I’m both ecstatic and grateful to be given a ticket!

The buzz around Auckland is amazing. The streets are jam packed with Irish, many of whom have recently emigrated to New Zealand and Australia given Ireland’s recent economic woes. Today’s not a day to dwell on that however, today’s a day for rugby! Kitted out in our Ireland gear, the three musketeers make their way to the fan zone by the harbour to meet up with some friends of Hughie’s. Inside the fan zone we find one of them, Peadar, in the midst of blessing some of the Irish crowd with “holy (tap) water” using a luminous green toilet brush…..quite the first impression! Blessing delivered, the worshipping crowd then go forward to the stadium in the firm belief that the good Lord himself will smile down kindly on the Irish for the day that’s in it.

A 15 minute train journey complete with a good old fashioned sing song gets us to Eden Park. Here I have to wave goodbye to the two other musketeers as we have different tickets. After wrestling through the hoards of Irish, I get to my seat and can finally enjoy what lies ahead. A tense first half ends with me half hoarse and the teams deadlocked at 6-6. It’s all worth it though when the final whistle blows and Ireland have won 15-6….looks like the holy water worked!! I’ve been to quite a few games but the atmosphere after this one was on a different level. There was singing both inside and outside the stadium, the trains are nearly derailed with hopping Irish fans and there are rumours that the Guinness supply of Auckland was drained! All in all it’s the first upset of the World Cup and gives Ireland a great chance of getting further in the competition than they ever have before.

For the three musketeers it means a very slow start to the following day before Hughie grabs a flight back to Queenstown. Returned to a terrible twosome, Conor and I get Rosie back on the road…..next stop Rotorua!

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New Plymouth

Getting There

Feeling liberated by the addition of Rosie to the group, we instantly head for the coast and Whanganui. With seemingly all the time in the world at our disposal we relax, take in the sights and pot our trip to New Plymouth from the haven of Kailwi Beach.

Back on the road we make very good time before stopping in Stratford for some grub and an overnight stay. After much searching and deliberating we settle on a gourmet burger bar and what an inspired decision it turns out to be. Famous for its agricultural sector NZ offers some of the best meat and fresh produce available internationally and two slabs of burgers go down an absolute treat. With nourishment sorted it’s time to sort a home for the night….enter Rosie. We drive around the town looking for a car park that will house Rosie, us and her reclinable seats for the night. We stumble upon a suitable town hall and pull up in the far corner of the car park. With our beds made for the night it’s time to go in search of somewhere showing the England v Argentina game.

Five minutes walk from our mobile home lies a quaint and deserted sports bar which will do the job nicely. With only a few locals and a sharp smell of manure to keep them company, we order a drink each and find a secluded spot for ourselves. As the game gets under way however, the place begins to empty out to the point where there’s just us two, another gent, the barmaid and the ever-present stink of manure left. Obviously not one for his own company the gent approaches us and asks if he can join us. No problem! Turns out he’s a local farmer and quite an interesting character. Things get a bit more interesting when he finds out we’re sleeping in the car for the night and instantly tells us we’re coming back to his to take advantage of his spare room and his wife’s great cooking!

Not knowing our luck we try to be polite and refuse but he’s adamant and we accept- we can even watch the second half of the game back at his in the comfort of his games room! 15 mins later we’re back in Rosie following Colin and his wife Cheryl back to their place. True to his word he has a great games room for watching the second half and safe in the knowledge of having a decent nights sleep ahead of us we relax. England go on to eek out a win and we get a huge bed for the night, not bad!

In the morning Colin and Cheryl’s generosity went even further. We awake to be presented with a traditional kiwi breakfast, provided with showers and are supplied with drinking water for the road ahead….. the type of hospitality that would impress a traveller to return the favour to others if a similar situation arose.v

Game Time, Round 1: Ireland v USA

A wee 45 minute drive gets us to New Plymouth in plenty of time to soak up the pre-match atmosphere. The Irish have travelled in force with splashes of green visible all over the town. With no accommodation sorted as usual we poke out a lovely scenic car park to leave our mobile home. Luckily it’s Sunday and nobody needs their parking space for work- there’s nothing but Irish campervans pulled up in the car park for the night. The party and music really get going when we bump into a couple of friendly faces who have the same idea about accommodation for the night ahead. There’s even time for a few American supporters to get in on the act and the craic is mighty.

After a very jolly walk to the stadium it’s done to serious business- game time. Flattering to deceive, Ireland somewhat stutter to a 22-10 victory but it’s a winning start nonetheless. Three more of those and we’ll be singing all the way to the quarter finals. We’re far from singing the next morning when we awake to discover Rosie is a bit sick and won’t start. Not to worry however, an investment in a shiny set of jump leads and a little help from some Donegal lads and their Toyota Corolla has Rosie purring again in no time.

With no notion of what we’ll do with ourselves we decide to meet a college friend who is doing some travelling herself. Not knowing our luck in the hospitality stakes; Fiona, her sister Aileen and travelling companion Jane end up taking great care of myself, Conor, Rosie and the llama. We get showers, another huge bed and a slap up breakfast the following morning- much appreciated girls!!

Sheep, Sea, and Springs

As has now become routine, we wave goodbye to life’s little luxuries, get back on the road and head further up the coast. A little unsure of where we’re off to we stop off at Te Kuiti, which for all you wool enthusiasts, transpires to be the sheep shearing capital of New Zealand. With plenty evidence to support its claim to fame, it could be said that Te Kuiti is a little different to your average town. It also pays great homage to Colin Earl Meads, its most famous son having been voted the greatest All Black rugby player of all time.

Acclimatising to the litany of sheep scattered all over the place, we make an attempt to get to Raglan, the surfers paradise of NZ. When I say an attempt I really do mean an attempt and not a very good one at that. A couple of wrong turns (which were my fault seeing as I was holding the map) has us driving up the side of mountains in the pitch dark with no town in sight. After an hour or two of enjoying the treacherous bends NZ roads have to offer, we finally get to Ka and pull up in the harbour for the night.

Bright eyed and bushy tailed, we arise the next morning and make for Raglan….and make it this time! Although not exactly peak surfing season (it’s Spring after all!), there is still a good buzz around the place. We make straight for the beach and take in the fine views on offer. Being one of the colder days we’ve encountered thus far, we decide it best to refrain from having a dip especially seeing as we’ve no wetsuits. In the car park afterwards we meet a very excitable kiwi who’s only mad to chat with the two Irish lads. It turns out his daughter got swept up by an Irishman who was on tour in NZ a few years back and he subsequently smuggled her back to Ireland….sorry about that! Before getting on his merry way he gives us some contact details in case we want to sell Rosie to him when we’re done with her- a fierce nice fella altogether!

In need of a wash we head about 30 minutes outside Raglan to the Waingaro hot springs. Heated entirely by geothermal activity some 12 kilometres below the earths surface, you could say they’re not your average bathing pools- they even put New Zealand’s longest water slide there for good measure. With lady luck still smiling upon us we roll up to find that 10 other Irish lads have been waiting two hours for the springs to open but we can just go right ahead- thanks for that lads! We relax here for a few hours in the warm pools and have a good go off the slides before showering and getting back on the road to Raglan.

In a rush to watch Scotland v Georgia, we get some take away only to find to more Irish lads with the same idea…..we’re seemingly everywhere over here. Having been in Raglan for a few days they know a good place to watch the game so we duly tag along. The Scots edge a truly dower contest after which we set about finding a home for Rosie and ourselves for the night. We settle again for a lovely seaside spot and recline our seats for the night.

Perhaps we should’ve taking more care in choosing our spot for the night as we’re awoken early the next morning by a park ranger banging on the car window. Not best pleased he points to a sign no more than a few feet from Rosie that clearly states “NO OVERNIGHT STAYS OR CAMPING”. We appeal to the kindness of the man and he lets us off with a friendly warning. Although the pair of us must have looked like right bums we spared a little more dignity than the driver of the camper next to us who, at the time we were pulling out, was seen arriving out of his camper in just his boxers to have a chat with the ranger…..classy fella!

Back on the road it’s off for the another installment of rugby, time to revisit Auckland!

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Like a man bringing his new found love home to his family, the llama has first been introduced to my homeland, Ireland. Although far from being native to Ireland, the llama appeared to settle quite well. In particular it took Dublin in it’s stride and hit it off with the River Liffey and Molly Malone- two of Dublin’s most famous landmarks. Despite a brief encounter with the law, the llama’s maiden voyage to Dublin was a great success.

While the llama first visited Dublin, I myself hail from Cork- the largest county in Ireland located 3 hours south of Dublin. Unfortunately I had to leave the llama at home for a few days while I attended to the minor matter of college graduation.

Now for any readers interested in travelling the world after college, I would advise you leave a little more time between your graduation and your flight than I did. In this sense, bidding your friends farewell at a graduation ceremony at 02: 00am and checking in at an airport at 04: 45am is not the best preparation for a long haul flight! However it was a bit of a story in any case. Reunited with the llama and followimg a brief layover in London, it’s next stop Malaysia.

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Diarmuid Dennehy AKA Bomber is a Grand Trunk brand ambassador currently traveling the world in the spirit of adventure.  We loaded him up with a bunch of free GT gear and now you can follow his travels right here on our website.

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Every adventure must begin somewhere and mine begins in the home of Grand Trunk- Chicago. Having spent a very enjoyable summer there in 2009, I returned for summer 2011 to take up a very stressful job on North Avenue Beach. It was here I stumbled across Grand Trunk and more fell into their lightweight travel hammock, spending much of my time “managing” a business from it (sorry boss!). Renting Grand Trunk’s beach shelters and parasheet beach blankets soon put me in touch with Kevin and Jon- Grand Trunk’s proud founders. After spending enough time with them, their ethos quickly became mine and here I am! Entrusted with taking care of the llama it was soon time to bid farewell to Chicago and hit the road.

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Diarmuid Dennehy AKA Bomber is a Grand Trunk brand ambassador currently traveling the world in the spirit of adventure.  We loaded him up with a bunch of free GT gear and now you can follow his travels right here on our website.

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