Day 50. Tapau via Butchers Pond

This region is where many of NZ's thermal pools are to be found. They're everywhere, and like the seals we came across earlier in the trip, you smell them long before you see them. A kind of lingering, sulphurous, stale-underpant whiff helping any curious tourist locate the nearest hotspot.

The crazy thing is, many of these suckers think nothing of shelling out $25 to have a guided tour of a pool. If only they could be arsed to do a little research, a similar sized stench trench could be at their disposal for absolutely nothing.



A Dutch couple we'd met on the South island tipped us off about Butchers Pond, a fantastically smelly sinkhole bequeathed to the nation by one of the early settlers.

Sure enough, a decent map and a bit of perserverence brought us to this geological gem. Not a soul was about, so it was undies off and straight in for a soak.

God, it felt good. All the heat of a sauna, but in the open air, with thousands of little gas bubbles tickling one's undercarriage as they rose to the surface.

Most pleasurable.