There are times you find yourself in the middle of something and you think to yourself, now this is a situation I hadn’t planned for. This was one of those times. Kayaking, slowly, in the pitch black, in a torrential downpour, across a lake in Bethlehem. No, not Jerusalem, but a little suburb in the town of Tauranga, in the heart of the Bay of Plenty. Some 200 kms south of Auckland, on New Zealand’s north island. Quite an apt town though, as it was Christmas.
In the almost silence, only punctuated by the rhythmic rowing of the paddles, I thought, “what am I doing here, in the cold, at night, steering a 2 person sea kayak towards a very dark canyon?”
As it happens I was on a glow worm tour with Waimarino Kayak Tours. A tour that I would highly recommend. If you like being out in the heavy rain, in the dark, paddling across a lake into the unknown, hoping you don’t suffer the same fate as our lead guide, who discovered a spider crawling up his leg, which was entombed in his kayak.
Am I selling it to you? Are you on the website right now, booking? In all seriousness, you should be, because the whole experience was excellent.
Nineteen of us left the pick up point in a bus driven by one of the guides, Josh, whose hybrid accent told me he wasn’t a local. The phrase “going oot in a boot” gave it away for me. Originally hailing from Victoria Island in Canada, he is a long way from home, following a time honoured template. Travel. Meet girl. Fall in love. Stay. He is not the first, and he won’t be the last.
After a short 20 minute drive, up through the lush green hills surrounding Bethlehem, we were parked up, and on the shore of Lake McLaren. The first part of the tour was quaffing a selection of local wines and nibbling on delectable cheeses, and fresh fruits. The wines were very good, and from the Mills Reef winery, literally next door to where we were. We were soon joined on the shore of the lake by some very inquisitive ducks, hungrily eyeing up the selection of crackers we had.
I had planned to kayak in just my lightweight hoodie, thinking that as I wasn’t planning on tipping the kayak over then I wouldn’t be getting wet. Yeah, I know. Naive. How thankful was I that I was talked into making full use of the gear provided on the tour! The waterproof jacket and spray deck, that seals you into the kayak, were lifesavers. Between the spray from the paddles, and the deluge of rain, I would have been completely drenched without them.
As dusk turned to dark, we got fitted into our kayaks, told how the feet paddles worked the rudder, and were slid from the launch onto the lake. It couldn’t be easier. Left foot to go left. And right foot….well, you get the picture. That said, I am not sure the mother and daughter team did, watching them paddling around in manic circles. I think they may be confusing their left from right.
Once we were all in, and our guides were strategically placed around us in formation, we slowly made our way up to the canyon. Even on the way there, glancing at the trees around the lake, we could see the unmistakable sights of the glow worms, like a string of fairy lights festooning the trees. But this was nothing compared with what was to come.
Guided by only the red light on the back of the heads of the guides, and the constant tidbits of very useful information, we slowly paddled up the lake, and into the canyon. And what a sight greeted us. Hundreds, nay, thousands of little shimmering lights adorned the walls of the canyon. Across both sides, and seemingly everywhere. A moment to take in. As we all rested in our kayaks, and enjoyed the silence, but for the sounds of birds, and whatever other creatures were out there. This was why I was here.
The interesting thing is, glow worms don’t really exist. Not really. What we were seeing were fungus gnats (arachnocampa luminosa). Don’t sound quite as appealing do they? And so the tour companies rename them as glow worms, knowing that this would sell more tours. The fungus gnats are bioluminescent, which is the blue/green light you can see when it is dark. The brighter the light, the hungrier the glow worm, as this is what they use to attract prey. What you don’t see, thankfully in my opinion, is the sticky webs they create, and drop down like hanging mucus, to catch their food. Fascinatingly, the glow worms can even turn off their light to preserve energy, such as when there is too much light, or if they feel threatened.
As the glow worms are essentially the larval, or maggot stage of the fungus gnat fly, there is a natural lifecycle, which results, after a period of between 9 and 12 months in the fly hatching. The bad news for the fly is that it is born without a mouth, meaning it can not feed, and has a lifespan of only 4 days. The good news is that those 4 days are purely for mating, and producing eggs for the whole cycle to begin again.
In my awe, I had almost forgotten it was raining. That was until we exited the canyon, and had to make our way back to the kayak launch point. Getting a little wet was such a small price to pay to see such a natural wonder. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat.
