Cape Reinga - 19/1/07

Cape Reinga (Ree-ANG-er), the most northwesterly tip of the North Island, is a long but rewarding day trip from Paihia. As well as being the meeting place of the Tasman Sea and the Pacific Ocean, Maoris believe that their souls leave the mainland via the Cape on their way to the afterlife. Out of respect for the Maoris, visitors are requested not to eat, drink or sleep at the Cape - so we were stuffing our faces as much as we could as the Awesome Adventures bus passed through mist-filled valleys and fields full of tiny lambs.

By the Cape lighthouse, members of a Maori tribe were standing quietly in a circle, all facing inwards. We hovered nearby anxiously, wondering if we were intruding on a funeral ceremony. In fact, they were there to provide a short performance for the tourists including some singing and a demonstration of one of their tribal haka, complete with weapons. It was amazing to watch, especially set against the stunning ocean backdrop. All around me, cameras were lowered as people were so mesmerised that they almost forgot to take any photos.

The afternoon was much more active, beginning with sandboarding down the nearby giant Te Paki sand dunes which are about 85m high. To my untrained eye, the sandboards looked like surfboards, with a smooth underside, and a slightly textured topside on which you lie face down. Our guide explained that the idea was to lie down on the board, shoot down the dune, across the quicksand stream at its base and end up in the grassy area beyond that. Navigation and braking are controlled by your feet - tapping against the sand to steer and dragging against the ground to slow down. Everyone started to look slightly concerned as he reminded us that due the remoteness of the area, in the event of any serious injuries, any emergency services were at least a 2hr drive away. "Oh, and if you fall off your board, don't let go of it 'cos if you get your arm stuck in the sand, you'll dislocate your shoulder" he finished. At this point, the girl next to me put down her board and said: "Well, there's no way I'm going up now!"

We went up the dune in single file. I struggled from the start with my sandboard which was nearly as big as me, and too wide to tuck under my arm. What with the slippery sand and the wind that threatened to rip the board from my hands, I was an extremely unhappy Jo. The climb was definitely the worst part - though when I lay down on the board and looked down the steep gradient of the slope, expletives starting exploding in my head, but it was too late to change my mind.

"And GO!" said our guide, removing his leg which had been supporting my board from underneath. Clutching onto the end of the board for dear life and keeping my elbows firmly tucked in, all I was aware of was the hissing of the sand below me and the tiny dots of my fellow travellers coming into focus as I hurtled wide-eyed down the slope. However, I wasn't going at top speed, as I dragged my feet in the sand from quite early on and so slowed to a halt 3/4 of the way down the slope. Although exhilarated by my first sandboarding experience (as well as surviving it!), I couldn't face the tortuous climb back up the slope for another go. Instead I contented myself with trying to remove as much sand as possible from my face and clothes - it gets absolutely everywhere. Hours later I was still turning sand out of my pockets and kept experiencing the occasional "crunch" of grains in my mouth. Lovely.

My other favourite highlight of the afternoon was going tuatua (TOR-tor) digging on the beautiful Ninety Mile Beach, the 2nd longest in NZ. These cockle-like shellfish can be found buried in the sand at the low tide mark. Our guide instructed us to start digging into the soft wet sand with our feet, and once we hit something solid, that would be the tuatua. We obediently began prodding the sand with our toes - and immediately struck what seemed like hundreds of tuatua shells, which were then rinsed off in a bucket of water.

Suddenly one of the girls dropped her handful of tuatua and began dancing around: "ARRGH! Something came out of the shell!" she squealed. I didn't have a clue what she was talking about until I noticed a "tongue" of flesh slide cautiously out from the shell of one of my recently unearthed tuatua, and then zip back in again. I screamed too, but then watched in surprise as it started to burrow back down into the safety of the sand. We collected 3 huge buckets which our guide said would be used at the funeral of a revered Maori which would be taking place shortly.

However, not all of them were destined to end up at the feast. We gathered round as our guide smashed open some of the tuatua shells against the bus bumper and offered them round for a taste. We stood there with a tuatua each, not wanting to be the first to try them. A group of American girls looked particularly revolted: "Is that its sh*t?" one of them exclaimed, peering at a darkish bit of its insides. I finally plucked up courage to take a bite, and hoped that it wouldn't make any kind of movement as I brought it up to my face, or wriggle on the way down. To be honest, it didn't taste of much to me in its raw state, though it had a nice meaty texture. Some of the others said that it tasted like oysters.

Once back in Paihia, a group of us had a frankly bizarre supper on the beach made up of everyone's leftover food and snacks - biscuits, melon, plums and beer. The others were from wildly different backgrounds and nationalities - a German winemaker, a Dutch psychologist, a Japanese accountant and an Israeli girl who had just completed her compulsory military service. I don't think I'll ever get over the variety of people that you meet when you're travelling.