Rotorua is, by most accounts, the most touristy place in New Zealand. Tourism feels very different here than in the states. First, there are (it seems) many fewer people here, so Dave and I frequently find we have the place to ourselves. Second, there are (it seems) many fewer lawyers here, so tourist attractions are visibly less concerned with issues of liability.

On our way from Taupo to Rotorua, we stop off at Orakei Korako to see what a proper geothermal area looks like. The parking lot is on one side of a lake. The steaming silica terrace spills out on the other (this looks like a lava flow, but is actually deposited from mineral rich hot springs which dribble out onto the lake. You reach the terraces via the world’s shortest ferry ride, operated by the world’s most bored boat driver. (When I ask him about this, he says that he occasionally has near misses with a landing sea plane, and I suggest he start trying to mow down waterskiiers to keep things lively.) We wander around the board walks, seeing geysers, mud pools, hot springs, and a rather nice cave. As with everything else, we have the place mostly to ourselves.

Upon arrival in Rotorua, we check into the Regal Palms Motor Lodge, where we get a room that’s just lovely. It has a cunning little kitchenette. It has a decently sized TV. Lots of different restaurants deliver. And it has a GREAT BIG SPA BATH! We begin seriously to consider never leaving.

But leave we do, because I’m determined to try out the Skyline Skyrides. We take a gondola to the top of a big hill overlooking the lake. Then we (repeatedly) take a luge most of the way back down. This “luge” is actually a sled with handlebars and brakes. There are three tracks to choose from. We start on the “scenic track” to get the feel for it. On the way down, I notice that, in typical New Zealand fashion, (a) there are very, very few people here besides us and (b) there are no safety rails, so that if you were to totally lose control of the luge, you could plummet directly off the side of the track and straight down the hill, which would probably make the ride much, much more exciting. On the way down, Dave notices that he has mistakenly taken one of the smaller sleds, and he is having an interesting time maneuvering the handlebars around his knees.

At the bottom, we push our sleds onto a conveyer belt and ride a chair lift back up to the top of the hill. (The sleds proceed down the conveyer belt and are automatically hung off of the bottom of the chair lifts.) With a cry of “AGAIN!” I run right back to the start of the luge track. Dave follows good naturedly.

The scenic track moves reasonably quickly, and I’m very conscious of the lack of safety rails, so I’m a little wary of upgrading to the “intermediate” track until I’m shown up by a very, very small child in front of me. Happily, the intermediate track isn’t too much more difficult, and Dave has managed to find some larger sleds, so we swoop down in great style. I have one dicey moment when a rather large rabbit hops out into the track in front of me. I don’t know which of us is more surprised, but the rabbit has better reflexes, and a tragic accident is avoided.

We discover that it’s theoretically possible to ride the luge directly onto the conveyer belt, thus saving the effort of pushing it and looking very cool in the process. After about four tries Dave manages to stop the luge in just the right place, but his dismount is a little too slow, and he is left suspended over the luge like a crab, on all fours with his pelvis stuck in the air, as the sled ever so slowly makes its way down the conveyer belt and out from under him. “Looking cool” was not in the picture.

Finally, we feel we’re ready for the advanced track. I handle the course swimmingly, although with perhaps a little more brake and wobbling than was really called for. I get to the bottom, and look back up the hill for Dave. He isn’t there. I’m starting to picture him in a crumpled heap somewhere, and wondering if I’m going to have to ask the chair lift attendant for assistance, when he comes ever so slowly down the course. As it turns out, he has once again picked one of the small sleds, a fact that he doesn’t realize until he comes across the first steep downhill section of the course. When he pulls the handlebars back to apply the brakes, he discovers that they can only move a centimeter or so before solidly encountering his knees. His only remaining option is to fly down the downhill at full speed, emitting some sort of prolonged yodelling cry of panic. When he reaches a flatter section of track, he is able to splay his knees enough to brake, but steering is difficult, and he has to take the rest of the course very, very slowly.

Good times.