(my apologies for the delay; excuses of class work will only work for so long)

Part the first: adventure has a way slipping into your blood and breathing, shading the way you see the world

standing in the chill darkness, my still damp suit was miserable to put on; i could feel the goosebumps rising all over my body. down the steep embankment i could hear the water of the stream rushing by and voices of the rest of the group rising up with the steam from the water. the motorway was almost out of earshot, the sound of an occasional passing car or truck filtering though the trees and bush. i slipped my shoes back on and tried to slip though the brambles reaching out over the small track without getting myself caught on the barbs.

"i was hoping to just head into town and find supper and then go home" my beloved whispered.
"i know, but this should be good. com'on, do you really want to pass up a hotpool in the middle of the bush?"

slipping into the warm water of the stream was a relief after the growing chillness of the air. as i sank to the gravely bottom i thought back over the last few days.

the drive south was somewhat mind bending. coming from the northern hemisphere we're accustomed to associating "cold" with going further north; whereas here in the antipodes its the opposite. it seems like a simple enough idea to wrap your head around...

the late afternoon sunlight was fading as we pulled over at on the edge of a small town. there was steam rising everywhere, from small clumps of bush and little piles of rock. looking closer one could see fenced off enclosures scattered around ostensibly to prevented wanderers from straying too close to cracks in the rocky ground or pools of hot mud. driving a short while longer down the highway and then down a few deserted byways lead us to an even more impressive display of geothermal activity. a bubbling, spouting pool of mud lay before us. around the edges mounds had built up, miniature volcanoes sides flowing with years' accumulation of spattering. it was fascinating to watch and even more to listen to. it burbled and spat, sounding for all the world like grumpy old men arguing about detailed matters only they could see as important. the nearly full moon shown down though the rising steam, reflecting back from wavering pools that danced as they were disturbed and speckled by falling drops of mud. the growing chillness of the air hurried us back to the car the promise of a soak in a hotpool more alluring than further observation of bubbling mud.

the heated falls was a long walk down a closed road. the air was weighted and still, no birds or insects could be heard, just our voices and the sound of our footfalls on the rough pavement. you could hear the falls a good ways before the turn off into the bush. a quick change and some groping in the dark and then the slow immersion into hot water. steam rose, was caught in the tree branches and fell back in fat drops. the waxing moon slowly rose, moonbeams breaking through the dense bracken and seeming to solidify in the misty air. but for wanting supper i could have willingly stay in the pool all night.

the chill evening had given way to a cold night; the damp cold that works its way between the fibers of your clothes and then settles down for the night. we were camping near another waterfall, this one not heated. it's voice could be heard around the small embankment, the stream moving off into the darkness. we set up our borrowed tent as quickly as we could and curled up for the night.