Dickson has, of all things, a tropical butterfly greenhouse. Something so incongruous demands a look. Clearly, this was someone's hobby gone mad, so that they needed an entrance fee to support it. Plenty of colorful butterflies flutter about a hothouse of orchids and tropical plants near ponds and a small waterfall.

While chatting with the friendly Dickson workers (their boss is out of town and they're still nice) I learn about a hostel called Sunkist (perhaps the best choice to stay in town) that runs a shuttle up the Kauaeranga Valley (just say "the Valley" and locals know it) for access into the Pinnacles. A few phone calls later and before I know it I'm set to go up the next day, even though I'd already made a booking for the Tauranga bus and hostel. Sunkist says they will get me out just in time to catch the bus.

It's a bit of a rushed trip, but the opportunity is too good to pass up. Early the next morning Sunkist picks me up and takes me and one other guy, first to the DOC office to get a permit to stay at the Pinnacles Hut, and then to the end of the road where the trail begins.

My hiking partner is Etan, an Israeli fresh out of the army and in the middle of a long trip (actually that's almost redundant as practically every Israeli you meet on a long trip has just finished army service). He turns out to be a good person for me to hike with.

These first few forays into the New Zealand bush are exactly as I pictured them -- plenty of ferns for that Jurassic feel, moss covered rocks, funky palms, unusual birds, plenty of green hills and clear streams. The damp clean air isn't as thickly perfumed as in the jungle but it is rich and often with a hint of the sea. The jungle gives me an ecstatically wild feeling, but tinged with a bit of fear. The New Zealand bush produces a safe, healthy feeling of wonder.

Ironically, this lushly scenic Coromandel Penninsula has a history of environmental abuse. Besides the many destructive mines, the huge kauri trees that once blanketed the hills were almost completely forested. The loggers wasted a large proportion of the wood because of the difficulties involved in transporting it out. Remnants of a railway can be seen in parts of the trail, but most of the logs were washed down the river after building up the water with dams.

The Pinnacles Hut is well known as one of the largest and most modern backcountry huts. It also costs more than most hostels and feels a bit crowded with the 20+ (school holiday now) people there, but the advertised capacity is 80! Better to tent just outside it in the summer. Except for one Belgium couple (who I won't get to meet until Rotorua!) all are locals with kids.

The hike up to the hut is easy, far shorter than the stated three hour time. However, even with packs dropped off at the hut, the final climb up to the top of the Pinnacles is intense, as raging winds (later found out it was unusually windy) nearly whisk us off the boulders. Perched on the jagged summit we can see both the Firth of Thames and the top of the Bay of Plenty with some offshore islands clearly visable. Although the distance covered with the final assent is not high, the tremendous view is dramatically broader than at the hut.

Everything must move like clockwork the next morning in order for me to catch the bus -- and it does! Etan and I take the traditional way down, on the Billy Goat Trail, getting out just before the Sunkist van arrives to drop me at the bus station.