Rotorua smells of eggs, and everyone is soon used to it. The city sits in the crater of an ancient volcano, on the shore of a lake, and the ground beneath it is alive: steam rises from roadside drains, mud pools bubble in parks, and in the thermal reserve of Te Puia the Pohutu geyser erupts many times a day, throwing a column of boiling water twenty metres or more into the air. The sulphur is the price of living on a hot spot, and the nickname of Rotovegas, half affection and half mockery, covers the tourist bustle.
The land belongs to the Te Arawa, who have lived around the lakes for centuries and who still run living villages. At Whakarewarewa, residents cook food in natural steam boxes and bathe in hot pools, a way of life that continues. A hāngī, a feast cooked in an earth oven heated by hot stones, is one of the best meals to try here. Another chapter of the story lies at Lake Tarawera, where an eruption in 1886 killed many people and buried the famous Pink and White Terraces, once called the eighth wonder of the world. The Buried Village excavates houses covered by ash.
The riding is wonderful. The highways through the central North Island, including the route known as the Thermal Explorer Highway, run through pine forest and farmland, past steaming vents and blue lakes. East of the city, the road toward Lake Waikaremoana, deep in the Te Urewera forest, is a winding, remote route through native bush, with sections that may be unsealed or affected by slips, so check conditions before setting out and carry what you need. Mist and rain can come quickly, and the central plateau can be cold even in summer.
Fuel is easy in Rotorua, a town of more than sixty thousand, with stations on all main roads. The forests of giant redwoods on the edge of town are lovely for a walk after the ride, with trees planted in the early twentieth century. The best months are November to April, and winter mornings can bring frost on the higher roads.