Zorbing!

09/03/09

We have to leave by 10am today, so we pack up our last little bits and scamper off to reception, who are kindly looking after our bags for us until we have to get the coach while we go and play this morning…
We find a bus out to the Aquadrome. It bizarrely, has a large sheep by the entrance… No, a HUGE sheep – presumably made of fibreglass. It’s a massive ram, with lots of curly wool and curly horns and it looks down its fibreglass nose at us disdainfully as we take pictures of him. There is also an enormous pair of scissors in the field opposite – presumably for shearing this gigantic beastie.
We spot, in the distance beyond, some massive oddly-transparent balls… Perhaps these are the eggs of the rare geotheric badger??
Or maybe, just maybe, these are the Zorbs!!
:D

We toddle into the office… It’s all basically just portable sheds at the bottom of an enormous grassy slope with a smooth side and a channelled side. We decide to go Hydro-Zorbing, which is where, instead of being strapped in tight and rolling around with the ball, you are thrown in with some warm water and slide down inside it.
There’s a bank of kiosks too, with big friendly on-screen buttons to register your name, age and nationality, and you are printed out a sheet with your details and photo on the front, and a monster disclaimer on the back, which to my paranoid brain reads something like this:
‘You are about to willingly fling yourself down a massive hill – This is dangerous and anything untoward that happens is in no way our liability, even if it is our fault, [please don’t sue us] and it is just possible that you may die. This will also not be our fault. Have fun!’
I blanch and have second thoughts… But go and put my swimmers on while I think about signing it.
Sod it. I came here deliberately to bounce down a hill in a ball and I’m not going to be psychologically beaten by a bit of outsized bubble-wrap!
So there!

eek.

Andrew goes first and I shiver in the crisp air and take photos – A lovely sequence of zig-zag ball-boundings, with a small, blue, starfish-shape in the middle, sliding about on its bottom… He he. He emerges from his Zorb, dripping wet and grinning, at the bottom of the hill. The entire ‘flight’ takes about 30 seconds… Right, my turn next…
Gulp.
I shiver. (But only because I’m cold of course… No other reason. At all. No, really.)
There are several adventurous Americans who have evidently come in a huge group; they are swapping comments about whether they should have worn socks (they advise it, but I wanted dry socks to go away in so decided not to wear them!). We set off at high speed in a rattly 4x4 van to get up the hill – a batch of nervous chattering passengers, bouncing about in the back. I suspect the bumpy ride might be all part of the fun – get you used to the idea of bouncing up a hill before you go bouncing down it! When we arrive at the top, the Zorbs are waiting. Massive, transparent eggs, three times the height of a man, glossy in the morning light and dimpled like golf balls, wait, silently.
There are two options at the top. You either go down in pairs, on the straight run, or, if you’re on your own, you get to go down the zig-zag run! I think this looks both slower and more fun… And I’m glad Andrew and I decided to go separately. My globe, when I come to the front of the queue, is already primed with a little puddle of warm water in the bottom and the Zorb guy helps me get in – there is a zipped entrance with a short bubble tunnel, which I try to get into. I dive in headfirst and get stuck half-way. I wriggle a bit and land in a sloshy, damp sprawl. It’s like being in an enormous opaque egg. I find my bottom and sit on it, looking out at the Zorb guy who tells me to push ‘that way’ when he taps on the ball (they’re held behind gates while you get in at the top), then to sit back and relax.
As if!
He zips me in and the sound changes – it echoes oddly in my head. I am in my own lonely little wet bubble. I am nervous, but the globe around me feels large, warm and safe. How dangerous can giant bubble-wrap be anyway??
When the tap comes, I lurch off as instructed, to my left, and a gentle roll begins.
This isn’t so b-!!!
Eek!
The drop catches me unawares and I stare briefly and incredulously at the ground in the ball dropping away beneath me with a slithering, sickening feeling.
My body soon realises it isn’t falling though, and I remember to relax.
This is fun!
I sprawl, inelegantly, like an awkwardly-jointed starfish in my bubble, and spin and swirl in the warm puddle, bouncing occasionally as the Zorb bounds around a corner. Bouncing over, the Zorb heads for the straight bit, the home run. Now it gets a bit rougher. The ball has sped up but, thanks to the zig-zag track, now has some serious spin on it.
Yipe!
I am twizzled around on my bottom, arms and legs out at peculiar angles, slapped in the head by the vigorous water in here with me. I howl a triumphant, wet, terrified yell to the overcast sky, which then gets stuck in my bubble too, muffled by the thick walls. The zip scrapes past me several times as I am roughly spun and tumbled, gasping in alternate mouthfuls of air and water. Now I know how the washing feels!
The ball begins to slow and I slip around inside, coming to a slithered halt as a friendly hand opens the zip and a cheery head with a camera demands a cheesy grin and a thumbs up, I am happy to oblige – that was fun!
Getting out is tricky, feet first. The ball is hard to exit, being spherical an’ all, and the hole is almost too high up to get my feet into, as well as rocking unhelpfully whilst I paddle about. I eventually slither out onto the green Astroturf, like a newborn hatchling, drenched and shivering, but elated and triumphant.
Wheeee!

We inspect the official photos and decide that they are rather better and clearer than our own, so I get them. : ) And a t-shirt – coz then I can try and look cool and adventurous!
;)
The sun is shining again when we leave to catch the bus back, though there is a chill bite in the air, especially to my wet hair. But the bus is warm and we are soon back at Treks. I grab us some brunch from Capers as we wait for the coach. Mmmm… Tasty sandwiches and a little volcanic chocolate pudding-cake… With treacly goo as well as icing. Even the fast food here is good… :D
We hop on the coach, which has a very friendly driver who gives us a little basic information as we go through places, but there is no ‘Maaa-Mooo’-ing, which is nice.
We pass a geothermic power station, which produces 12% of NZ’s National Grid’s power cleanly and cheaply.
The atmosphere in this coach is chilled and happy. I spot an oriental girl sitting a few rows back who was on our coach to Wai-O-Tapu and who was staying at Treks too. She seems shy.
The music on the driver’s radio is from a good station and I enjoy UB40’s ‘Ivory Madonna’. The sun is high as we pass through a pine forest and it shines in my window and floats over my sun-browned hands and nose.
We arrive at Extreme Backpackers in Turangi, which is happily very close to the bus stop. We have come to do the Tongariro Crossing, which I am assured is a little like the Lake District. Ish.
It takes a while to sign in as the lady behind the counter is very busy – I think she is doing a grand impression of a busy octopus, what with sorting people out for the in-house climbing wall, answering questions, being the weather forecaster for the Crossing, warning people about weather and clothing and selling internet time.
Phoo!
We are given our key and our room is in the climbing wall building, I am slightly perturbed by the fact it appears to be in a big blue corrugated box, but my fears are needless. It’s a nice basic little room, with an en suite, a double bed and a set of bunks, which we are assured haven’t been allocated to anybody! Though that could have been quite fun. The sort of backpackers you get in these far-flung, potentially soggy, windy outposts of NZ, are generally lovely. :)
We investigate the kitchen and decide to cook dinner. The kitchen is currently occupied by a large number of chaps (and one girl) from the RNZAF who have brought an enormous box of food (the size of a chest freezer) for the week. I think this must be a fun week off for them to bond with various activities up here – their itinerary certainly sounds fun! They are barbecuing in the cool sunlight and someone has made a huge bowl (more a cauldron) of salad for the boys and sliced large numbers of buns. There is a happy, laddish gaggle in the little courtyard, and the smell of toasting meat.
Dribble.

We pop out and get good solid pre-walking food of lovely beef sausages and lots of veggies. We also get buns and cheese for the walk tomorrow. It’s easy to prepare food in this big kitchen. There are two entire hobs, two sinks, space for four chopping boards and plates and forks enough for an army. It’s very well-organised and spotless. Andrew and I manage to cook dinner without actually needing to confer, which is rather nice.
And it’s very good…
Team work!
Off to bed before an early start and a long walk tomorrow…
Zzzzz…

;)