Wellington Boot-iful

The pace of my travel is relentless and there was no hanging around in Rotorua for me. I had made my impression. It was quick smart onto the InterCity bus again with my dear grey haired friends with reading specs & dilapidated luggage (actually I fitted in pretty well). Destination: Wellington. The route from Rotorua goes high up onto NZ's desert road with some dramatic scenery which I didn't really take many pictures of - I was on the bus, alright. Aptly enough the route to Wellington takes in Taihape, New Zealand's gumboot capital (as NZers call Wellies). More people in boots than in barefeet in that town.
A fast flowing river in a gorge. Gorge.

Mt Ruapehu from the desert road south of Taupo, the highest peak in the north island of NZ at 2800m.

Wellington, referred to as The Windy City. More meteorological than 'digestinal'. They weren't kidding. I nearly lost my toupee and had permanently watering eyes. At least the sun was shining, a novelty. I liked Wellington, seemed a bit more down to earth and manageable than Auckland, not that Auckland is some daunting megatropolis. Also the bus driver dropped me at the door of my hostel. How kind is that? It's the little things that colour your opinion. Can't imagine your average Brit bussy doing that, if they actually stop at a bus stop, that's a gift.

A New Zealand version of a Belisha beacon (and that's what they're actually called). Amused me for some reason. I guess it saves on leccy.

Some dummy I met at the New Zealand Cricket Museum at the Wellington Basin. Little did I know this was to be the high point of my cricket experiences abroad in 2006.