Monday 10th December. Lake Tarpou is on the edge of the thermal region so in the hope of seeing some geysers(Hot water geysers not diamond geysers!) we head off to the Wairakei Thermal Valley which is up a dirt track past a Thermal Generation Plant shrouded in a cloud of steam rising from the scalding water that runs along open drain pipes. Eventually arrive at a tired looking chalet selling devonshire cream teas. Outside there are peacocks, chickens of all descriptions, an alpacha (recently clipped and looking very self conscious). The proprrietor is a five star con artist who relieves the tourists of $12 eachto take a walk up the valley on a self guided tour in the hope of seeing geysers etc. At least I beat him down to $10 (could not persuade M to jump over the fence to get in free!) It's all a bit ofn a disappointment as the boiling mud pools have dried up and the water geysers are now just steam vents as a result of the generation plant drawing off too much water down the valley. Set off for the Taranaki area where I hope to be able to trace an old friend of William's who he met in Austria over 40 years ago and brought home and stayed for nearly a year. To get to the village that he came from we turn off the "Forgotten World Highway" (very appropriate name) onto a road that takes us through the mountains the highest part of which is not tarmaced. Marilyn is driving and decides that it must be a goat track despite it being called a major road on the map. Sure enough we come accross several wild goats at the summit. Most amusing of all is a sign beside the track in the middle of nowhere saying "Polling Station" (There was a general election last week) Beside the sign nailed to a tree stump is a lavatory seast with the lid up. Just goes to show that even in NZ are regarded with the same sentiment as in the UK. After a very long and twisting drive we arrive at Uruti - Max's village. It is so small that we have driven past it before we realise it is there. Consists of a little tin church, a school with only 10 pupils until two more joined today, a community hall and a few houses scattered over the hinterland. The school secretary directs me to Blake Hall's house as he is one of the oldest inhabitants. His house is up a steep rough track and he looks a bit like a hermit with long white beard and bare feet. (he is a fencer). He knew Max well but sadly he died of a heart attack whilst giving a skiing lesson on Mount Taranaki well over 10 years ago. Directs us to a memorial plaque at the community hall which is dated 1991. All very sad but at least he died doing what he loved doing. His mother had also died about a year ago in her 90's so there is noone else for us to see. Felt rather flat after the anticipation of meeting up with a friend. Drive on into Stratford at the foot of Mount Taranaki the summit of which is lost in the clouds. Book into a B & B that can only be described as "Jaded Colonial" run by retired farmer and his wife both in their 80's.bAcre and a half of garden filled with over 100 different Rhododendrons most of which were in bloom. Quite a sight. Apparently the whole area is well known for it's Rhodies. There's hardly a sole about in downtown Stratford at 8.30 in the evening probably because it is a dairy farming area where everyone gets up at 4.00 in the morning. Not a place for M. Just at dusk the cloud lifts from the mountain and we have a sight of it in all it's snow capped splendour.