Adventures in Tribal Lands (part one)

Forty-eight hours in New Zealand can be a very long time indeed.  Somehow, in the last two days, I've done the following; had a cold cider in the company of a wild boar, tried tightrope walking, eaten dinner that's been cooked in hessian and a layer of mud, trekked in rainforest, joined a busload of twentysomething backpackers, watched a haka, and been invited eel-fishing in the stilly watches of the night (but more of that later).

So much has happened it's hard to know where to start - or end, which is why this blog post is a two-parter.  I supposed it really all began yesterday, when I had to leave my cottage with its gorgeous view of Lake Taupo

saddle up my SUV and head into the hills.

The day before had been a gentle introduction to New Zealand's diverse, gorgeous, unspoilt empty landscapes, criss-crossed with roads that seem to barely ever see a driver.  God, but driving in this country is fun; I channelled my inner rally driver to whizz along the wonderfully-named Forgotten World Highway, stopping off to get my passport stamped at the Independent Republic of Whangamomona (population 15), and crawling  along the unmade road through the spectacular Tangarakau gorge, trying to take pictures over the steering wheel as I drove.

None of which prepared me for my foray deep in Maori tribal lands, when I left the main highway to drive through mile after mile of towering pines (turns out its the biggest man-made forest in the world).  I drove on through the small Maori town of Murepara, and finally ended up at a ramshackle lodge that wasn't actually in the middle of nowhere - it was beyond that, a good few kms beyond.  From the moment I arrived the day went bonkers - off to meet the owners family and then catapulted onto a backpacker bus who were touring the tribal lands before all staying at the lodge as well.

Surreality aside, it was an amazing glimpse into Maori culture and life.  Dinner was a hangi - a traditional feast where they wrap meat and vegetables in hessian sacks on hot stones, cover it with mud and leave it to steam cook for three hours.  Here, Karl is throwing water on the meat and hot stones to create steam...

before its covered in sheets of hessian, and the great shovelfuls of mud

If it sounds naff and touristy it wasn't (I've done that version of Maori culture today too, but more of that in part two).  Perhaps because it was SO back-woods, so low-fi, it just felt genuine.  Plus, after dinner we all packed up the leftovers into boxes to give to the elderly in the village - normally guests take the leftovers into the local school the next morning, but it was the weekend so the olds were in luck.

What's so fascinating is how much Maori (they actually pronounce it Moudi) culture is a part of society here.  There are massive issues - Maori's are in the process of being given back huge swathes of land that were originally theirs, and that's breeding resentment in some quarters.  And there's  problems in Maori society; lack of work in places like Murepara means drugs, gangs and crime.

But I've learnt an amazing amount in the last few days about a real tribal culture - and one that is still very much alive (and one that feels, according to every Maori I've spoken to, quite fortunate compared to other indigenous peoples, such as the Aborigines).  It adds another layer to this slightly other-worldly, far-flung, spectacularly beautiful land.

Anyway, back at the bonkers lodge the wild boar had just ambled past my front door,

and the sun was starting to set on the lake,

I'd tried my hand at tightrope walking (as you do) and the hour of eel-fishing was almost upon me.  Could I avoid it?

Wait till tomorrow to find out...