Discover the abandoned dam in Tassie's North-East that hides plenty of secrets
By Phillip Biggs
In North-East Tasmania, a dam built to supply the Mount Paris tin mine in 1936 hides away in the bush, ununsed for decades, and is the destination for this week's road trip.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
or signup to continue reading
All articles from our website
The digital version of Today's Paper
All other in your area
I left Launceston on the Tasman Highway on a lovely cold, clear winter day, where the sun makes you believe it's much warmer than eight degrees.
The ABC's Mushroom Case Daily podcast was keeping me company as I pulled up for the first photo stop at Nunamara, at the foot of Mount Barrow.
The lamp post outside what looks like a former hotel must lead straight to Narnia, I thought. With these frosty mornings it certainly seems like we are in the land of perpetual winter.
Narnia lamp at Nunamara.
One of the things I used to like about travelling with kids, back in a past life, was their enthusiasm about going on drives in the country.
We'd jump in the car with a picnic in the boot and go off to a play park in the middle of nowhere, with maybe a kite or a ball or bikes. We'd explore, play a game, throw a frisbee, run around. Eat toasted sandwiches or sausages in bread at a picnic table like we were royalty at a banquet.
So why was I so wistfully reminiscing as I tore along the Tasman Highway?
I'd just rounded a bend at Myrtle Bank Road where, triggering my memory by not being there anymore, a fallen log with a large knot at the base once lay parallel to the highway.
Over time people decorated the knot to make it look like a gorilla head - a mudflap for teeth, cans for eyes - and it constantly changed as items were added and subtracted. And one day, on one of our country drives, we pulled our car over for a roadside photo with the kids.
A 2005 picture of the Tasman Highway roadside gorilla face - and as I would say to my daughter to get an eye roll, also a fallen tree.
In that second of driving time past a familiar, yet unfamiliar place unfolded hours of memories of a past life with the delights and demands of little kids, one that, like the roadside tree gorilla face, has long gone.
And then, how was it that my thoughts had travelled so far, for so long, and yet I had to rewind the podcast only a few seconds to catch up to where I was?
Tasman Highway A3 took me further up into the hills over the Sideling, through Scottsdale. The old houses I aimed my camera at roadside at Winnaleah, as I bypassed Derby, had not been lived in for quite a while.
Ghost house near Winnaleah.
After Branxholm, a right turn directed me onto C425, a good gravel road, minus the odd pothole here and there, towards Mount Paris Dam.
About 15 minutes later I pulled into a clearing, having skirted the edge of the former lake without even knowing it.
The Cascade River flows through holes in the Mount Paris dam.
Built in 1936, the dam was originally called the Morning Star Dam and supplied water for the Mount Paris tin mine.
In the '90s holes were cut through the base to allow the Cascade River to flow through. I walked down a track to the river and spent the next 20 minutes playing with the camera, tripod and long exposures.
Mount Paris dam.
Looking on a map, I was interested to see Frome Dam on the other side of the Tasman Highway. It might be worth a look too, I thought, and made my way through Weldborough to Moorina.
Corrugated iron patterns at Welbborough.
Frome Road started off well but soon I was down to walking pace. The slow going continued for a few minutes - maybe 10, when the shimmering blue of Frome Dam appeared through the trees.
Way out in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the Frome Forest. It had certainly seen better days - broken windows, frayed curtains hanging, an untamed hydraengea in what would have been a garden.
Frome dam house.
Frome Dam was constructed in 1908 to power the Pioneer tin mine and is a concrete-faced rockfill dam, the first of its kind in Australia.
The track to the dam wall descended steeply over a few rocks and was definitely beyond the capability of an i30.
I mean, I could have got it down there without any problems, but it would be like Beer O'Clock Hill to get back up again.
I couldn't imagine too many cars would come by this way at this time of day to rescue me if I was stuck. So it was out of the car for a short hike.
Frome dam reflections.
As I was about to leave, a small grave caught my eye.
Thomas Dunsburgh, read the incription, killed by a fall of earth.
The enrgaving was difficult to read. He was aged 24 years, excavating on the Frome River on January 9, 1878, when the bank collapsed.
A couple of his co-workers raised the alarm and some 60 miners quickly dug him out, but the fall had already been fatal.
Discover the abandoned dam in Tassie's North-East that hides plenty of secrets
"The Lord giveth, and the Lord hath taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord", finished the inscription, quite aptly, partially buried in the dirt.
Retreating to the car, I had another quick glance on the map and was intrigued to see the Moorina Power Station pinpointed at a nearby bridge over the Frome River.
Frome River.
This didn't add up, I thought, as I stood on the bridge in the cold air looking at the sunlight filtering through the trees onto the mossy rocks.
Referring to the phone, up popped few seconds of video showing an area of the forest I wasn't looking at. Even with only one bar of 4G I was able to work out that there was more to see than I was seeing.
After following my nose for a few minutes - well, quite a few minutes - I found myself looking at the ruins of houses and buildings from the Moorina Power Station.
It was a bit spooky out there as nature reclaimed the site. It was silent but for the wind in the trees - and the ringing in my ears.
A ruin at the Morrina power station site.
The power station operated from 1909 using water from the nearby Frome Dam. When decommissioned in 2008 it was the oldest operating power station in Australia.
I'd easily got my 10,000 steps up by the time I got back to the car. Back in civilisation, I was able to watch the video fully and found an interesting story, with a visit to the working power station by Scottsdale High School, as well as an old ABC interview about the Pioneer tin mine.
Night was falling as I drove back over the Sideling, past the ghost of the gorilla face. I'm looking forward to seeing what else I can find in the forest on my next road trip.
Words by Phillip Biggs
Phillip Biggs is a photographer for The Examiner
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
The Advertiser
2 days ago
- The Advertiser
I watched a loggerhead turtle nest at Mon Repos - here's what I learned
The Mon Repos beach. My feet sink into warm sand as I huddle in a group with a dozen other tourists, trying not to make any sudden moves. It's about 7pm, and the sun has set on Bundaberg's Mon Repos beach. It's so dark I can't tell where the shore ends, but I look towards the horizon and see thousands of stars. Subscribe now for unlimited access. or signup to continue reading All articles from our website The digital version of Today's Paper All other in your area This Queensland beach is where most of the world's endangered loggerhead turtles come to nest. Nesting season, in November and December, is a popular night-time attraction before turtle-hatching season between January and mid-March. Out of about 130 eggs per nest, it's believed only about one in 1000 turtles will hatch and survive to adulthood. We're told this species' population has plummeted since the early 2000s for reasons including pollution, fishing, poaching and increasing sand temperatures spawning more male turtles. This makes what I'm about to witness that much more special. Amy, the park ranger, says it's crucial to remain still so we don't frighten a turtle who has landed after swimming for thousands of kilometres. A 41-year-old loggerhead turtle digging her nest at Mon Repos beach. Picture: Bageshri Savyasachi "Be very quiet," she says. I notice a smudge in the dark, a few metres in front of me, slowly crawling up mounds of sand. The ranger goes up to the creature and waves our group over after a few minutes. We gather around as Amy shines her torchlight on the turtle, who has already laid about 20 eggs in her nest. The turtle drops the eggs, which look like slippery golf balls, down a narrow hole as park rangers mark the nest and simultaneously take notes about the mum. We find out the turtle is 41 years old, almost three feet long, and has returned to nest after five years. "Why doesn't the light bother her?" one person whispers to the ranger measuring the turtle, which seems indifferent to our presence. The ranger says the turtle can see and hear us, but is ultimately driven by survival instinct. And hormones. Her turtle brain is flooded with oxytocin, and she's experiencing a wave of calm and safety, allowing her to nest peacefully. Like countless others, she has spent years at feeding and breeding grounds before her journey to Mon Repos, where she hatched as a baby. Apparently, it's in their DNA to remember their birthplace as a safe place to nest and use the Earth's magnetic field to find their way back. Hatchlings head for the water. At this point, the adults in the group have joined the children in dropping their jaws. "Woah," I unintentionally quote Crush, the loggerhead turtle from Finding Nemo . I walk away from the experience with more appreciation for this female sea turtle, whose shell had a chunk missing from it and who had beaten the odds just for a chance to contribute to the survival of her species. I now understand why Turtle Sands, a minute's walk from the conservation centre at Mon Repos beach, has crafted its entire holiday park to safeguard the habitat of these endangered creatures - from restricting beach access and loud noises at night to angled window shades that keep indoor lights facing away from the shore. Accommodation at Turtle Sands. But my favourite part is the park's only beach house, which I have all to myself - including a private deck with leafy views and a comfortable day bed, where I enjoy napping between activities. I'm also impressed by the kitchenette stocked with the basics and the room next to it with a laundry set-up, a rare luxury for those who pack light. The cottage's best feature, a massive, comfortable bed, is eclipsed by the oversized bathroom. Of course, I take a relaxing bubble bath and flip through a true crime novel while sipping on a cold ginger beer. I feel pampered. Before heading out the next morning, I take advantage of the Bluetooth speakers in the room to play music while I pack a bag and hype myself up for a day trip. On my way to reception, I spot caravans and trailers parked close to one of the beach paths, flanked by a row of glamping tents and spacious cabins. I chat about my turtle encounter with the park's assistant manager, Melissa Floyd, who says Turtle Sands, which NRMA reopened in September 2024 after renovations, has been around since 1974. "It's unique," she says. "It's on private land surrounded by a national park, so we're very conscious that we have a great responsibility to ensure the longevity of the species." Rows of family-friendly cabins and glamping tents at Turtle Sands (spot the kangaroo). Picture: Bageshri Savyasachi She tells me guests who aren't keen on cooking can order from food trucks coming to the park or call for a pizza cooked in the onsite wood-fired oven. Also on offer are complimentary yoga classes in the morning, around the same time other early-risers take a stroll on the beach or follow some nature trails nearby. I decide to do a tour of the entire campsite, and quickly realise how big Turtle Sands actually is, and how busy it could become. A large saltwater pool in the centre of the park seems to be very popular with families and children, whose voices you can hear before you see them. My eyes dart around as visitors come and go from the amenities block next door, which has a camp kitchen and courtyard with lawn games. I retreat from the crowds back to my room. There's nowhere more blissful than my beach house. Getting there: Turtle Sands is a 15-minute drive from Bundaberg Airport. You can take a taxi from the airport rank to the holiday park. Staying there: Options range from a studio room from $166 per night to a villa (sleeps six) or a private beach house (sleeps two) for up to about $390 per night. Explore more: The writer was a guest of Turtle Sands Words by Bageshri Savyasachi I report on crime, emergency services, police and jail matters. Email me on bageshri.s@ or send confidential tips to bageshri.s@
The Advertiser
2 days ago
- The Advertiser
It's the world's most famous pilgrim route - but are you ever too old to walk it?
Camino de Santiago. Picture: Getty Images By Susan Gough Henly Updated August 1 2025 - 2:35pm, first published 2:00pm Just an hour or so into my journey along the Camino de Santiago, I pass a radiant woman walking slowly on crutches, the fleeting image of her smile stays with me still. Subscribe now for unlimited access. or signup to continue reading All articles from our website The digital version of Today's Paper All other in your area "You're an inspiration," she tells me and I demure saying it's she who's the inspiration. I'm among a group of 14 travellers on a guided walk specifically for seniors. But it turns out we are far from alone in being of a certain age. Pilgrims of all ages, shapes and sizes have been walking the Camino de Santiago for a thousand years and in 2025 it is no different. In fact, this bucket-list pilgrimage is more popular than ever. These days there are nine pilgrimage routes of differing lengths but all end at the Cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, the capital of Galicia in north-western Spain, where many believe the remains of the apostle St James are buried. City of Santiago de Compostela and its cathedral in Galicia, Spain. Picture: Getty Images The most popular route, the 771-kilometre French Way from Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in south-western France, involves a commitment of at least five weeks walking. You do not have to carry a backpack with all your gear as you can arrange for a luggage transfer service. However, you can walk the last 115 kilometres and still qualify for the Compostela, which is the official document in Latin certifying that you have completed "The Way". In 2024, almost 500,000 pilgrims received their Compostela - a 90 per cent increase in the decade since 2015. Australian walking specialist UTracks is offering one of the first guided Camino walks for senior travellers. Ranging between nine and 18 kilometres a day, you cover those 115 kilometres in a leisurely nine days. And you stay in atmospheric inns with comfy beds and ensuites, enjoy delicious local foods and get your luggage transferred daily. All you carry is your day pack and your joie de vivre. Our group is primarily from Australia, as well as two Americans and one Brit. We gather in late May on the sunny deck of a hotel in Sarria for a pre-walk briefing with our enthusiastic young Galician guide Pedro. He explains that we can walk at our own pace and he'll arrange meeting spots along the route. We sign up to a WhatsApp group for ease of communication. At a glance, I put most people in their 60s, with a couple in their 50s. I later learn that at least five people are in their 70s but, as the saying goes, 70 is the new 50 and most people look fit and raring to go. A group of UTracks walkers, including the writer at left. Picture: Maria Lara Bright and fresh, we begin walking together through the old town of Sarria and into the countryside, where the path turns to dirt beside a rushing stream and an old man sells hand-carved walking sticks for a mere 10 euros. We climb a hill through a forest of oak and chestnut trees and stop to get our first Camino passport stamp from a local who's offering fresh fruit for a donation. I chat with Susanne from New York and Susana from Wollongong in our group. Both tell me that the Camino has been on their bucket list for ages. Out into the sunshine, walking past just-ploughed fields framed with apple blossoms, I smile at three teenage girls in short shorts walking with linked arms. A priest in black prays with his rosary as a farmer forks hay. Blond Galician cows chew green grass. A spring gurgles beneath a stone wall. Middle-aged women in groups of two and three, chat animatedly as they pass a slender woman (who looks like she's struggling with cancer), hand in hand with her partner, both wearing red pants. Galicia's ever-present horreos (granaries) perched on toadstool-like stone stilts, witness it all. A marker on the route. Picture: Getty Images A couple of young families from America, including a toddler in an all-terrain stroller, are bird-watching and the dad suggests we look out for goldfinches and robins, blue tits and skylarks, and soaring red kites cruising for prey. I fall into pace with Sol in our group from Chicago, who's on her fifth Camino. She tells me., "Everyone always has something to share if you take the time to ask." I'm blown away by the gobsmacking diversity of pilgrims ... from Spain, of course, but also Italy, Japan, Mexico, Wales and so many other places. And this is just my first day. There's a pervasive generosity of spirit among the walkers. It's unlike any hike I've done around the world, where you might say a quick hello to people but rarely connect. Here, the path feels communal. A traditional horreo grain silo has been converted into a hotel for pilgrims. Picture: Susan Gough Henly On our second day, Queen's Don't Stop Me Now is blaring from a loudspeaker at a gift shop called A Paso de Tortuga (the Turtle's Pace). I love the humour. We stop anyway to buy scallop shells for our day packs. These might be the world's first souvenirs. Pilgrims in the Middle Ages picked them up from the beach in Fisterra (where, after Santiago, many walkers end their pilgrimage by the Atlantic Ocean) to prove they'd walked the Camino. Now the shells are ubiquitous. We pass the 100-kilometre way-marker to Santiago; rest on a stone seat under a soaring oak tree; stop at bars and chapels to stamp our pilgrim passports; marvel at ancient standing stones incorporated into shale walls where wildflowers and ivy grow through the cracks; and walk through pine and eucalypt plantations. It turns out that Rosendo Salvado, a Galician Benedictine monk, who was the first abbot in New Norcia in Western Australia, is responsible for sending eucalyptus seeds back to Spain in the mid 1850s, thereby establishing an invasive species in these parts. On the Camino, we're alerted to the environmental hazards of a proposed eucalyptus pulp mill nearby and are asked to sign a petition to stop it. Guide Pedro points out the spires of the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela. Picture: Susan Gough Henly The next day, we pause at a 250-year-old chapel in Saint Nicolao hamlet, mesmerised by the resonant tones of three men singing in Latin to the shrine inside. Later I explore, alone and in the sunshine, the ruins of the Castro de Castromaior, a remarkable Celtic Iron Age fort. Sometimes we're shrouded in forests with just the sunshine at the end of a tunnel of green drawing us forward. We pass an old woman planting her vegetable garden. A troupe of Argentinian cyclists in pale blue and white-striped jerseys flashes past. A young man dressed in a Saint James cape stamps our pilgrim passports. Beside a Knights Templar stone chapel that began life as a pilgrim hospital, we drink cold beers and eat lunch at a restaurant, with sheep and chickens grazing out the back door. Go on a guided trip geared for seniors with shorter daily kilometres, comfortable hotels with ensuites, and luggage transfer. Give yourself an accurate self-assessment of your overall fitness but don't let age define you. Build up your walking endurance over several months before you start. Pace yourself. Walking the Camino is not a race. There are dozens of places to stop for a rest and a reviving snack and drink. Blessed with morning mists that clear into balmy bright blue skies, our days develop a comforting rhythm. We're up early, fuel up on hearty breakfasts and are on the road by 8.30am. Walking dirt paths beside newly planted fields, we pass through hamlets jumbled with stone houses, chapels and barns then tackle asphalt roads beside busy highways, truck drivers often honking support as they roar past. A woman sells foot cream made from local plants. Dread-locked hippies in a combi van display their handmade jewellery. Sunhat-wearing nuns stamp pilgrim passports in the blinding sunshine. A Brazilian offers strawberries and cream beside a medieval bridge. The iconic walk in Galicia, Spain. Picture: Getty Images Our accommodations are varied and comfortable, with standouts being the modern two-star Hotel Vistalegre in Portomarin, with a sundeck and hot tub that can be reserved to soothe aching muscles, and Pazo Santa Maria, a beautifully restored 18th century stone manor house surrounded by gardens on the outskirts of Arzua. Along the way, we savour specialties like boiled octopus with paprika, Galician steak, grilled scallops, Galician broth made with vegetables, beans and pork, and tarta de Santiago almond cake. Bring Vaseline to prevent blisters, Moleskine to put on sore spots before they become blisters and Compeed Second Skin once blisters start. Also bring antiseptic ointment, gauze and scissors. Invest in good-quality seamless, moisture-wicking socks to help prevent sweaty feet, which can be a primary cause for blisters. Wear good-quality, comfortable hiking shoes that have been broken in and are waterproofed. Take off your hiking shoes and wear sandals once your hiking for the day is finished so your feet can air out. Dress in layers. Carry waterproof gear. Wear a hat and sunscreen, and drink plenty of water. Stretch before, during and after each day's walk. To the metronome of our footsteps, my fellow travellers and I toggle between grunt and glory, discussing the mundane (blisters and aches) then sharing intimate reflections about our lives. There's a refreshing lack of small talk. When we stop at one of the many Camino bars, I notice a Canadian who has passed his pilgrim staff to a German asking her what is singing in her heart at that moment. Okay, maybe this is veering a little too close to schmaltz, but everyone is genuinely more openhearted, precisely because they've committed to this journey, which feels like a collaborative endeavour. Indeed, it seems that even if people are walking solo (as many are), there's no sense that they're walking alone since there are so many opportunities to connect with others. My new friend Sol tells me that one of the things she's learned from her Camino pilgrimages is that it's okay not to be perfect. I think she's leaning into what it means to be human. From my research about Saint James, whose story is fuzzy at best, it appears that, despite his best efforts, he was not a very successful missionary in Spain. Perhaps he's the ideal role model for all of us walking the Camino. Posing with a statue of Saint James. Picture: Susan Gough Henly As we get closer to Santiago, I find myself savouring walking meditations on my own. I marvel at purple foxgloves and white calla lilies; pass shrines to saints and sinners, that is, ordinary people; smile at advertisements for the Gloria tattoo parlour in Santiago; and take a freeway underpass where a giant, spray-painted yellow-and-black butterfly wishes me a Buen Camino. On the penultimate day with the most kilometres to walk (18), I come to the sudden and surprising realisation that, despite my blisters and sore muscles, I don't want the Camino to end. Maybe it's the adrenaline. Maybe it's the endorphins. Or maybe it's just the elimination of the inessentials of everyday life and putting one foot in front of the other to just keep on going? I ask 79-year-old Yvonne, the oldest and - dare I say - one of the fittest people in our group, "Are you ever too old to walk the Camino?" A stamp provider along the Camino dresses as Saint James. Picture: Susan Gough Henly "That's a tricky question," she tells me. "Before booking the trip last year, I thought, 'I must do this before I get too old. I hope I can manage it.' However now that I've walked it, my mind has changed. I now think I could walk it easily enough next year, the year after next, even the year after that. We're all travellers on our journey through time." A friend sent me pilgrim blessings written by a nun at the Church of St Stephen on the Camino. Three of them really resonated. "Blessed are you pilgrim, if you discover that the Camino opens your eyes to what is not seen. Blessed are you pilgrim, if what concerns you most is not to arrive, as to arrive with others. Blessed are you pilgrim, because you have discovered that the authentic Camino begins when it is completed." So, are you ever too old to walk the Camino? Are you ever too old for connection, community and comradeship? The question answers itself. Getting there: Qatar Airways flies via Doha and Barcelona, to Santiago de Compostela, for around $3200. You can take a taxi or bus from the airport to the Santiago train station, and then take the train to Sarria, the UTrack hike's starting point. Doing the hike: The 12-day UTracks Guided Camino Walk for Senior Travellers, which includes all accommodation, 11 breakfasts, 10 dinners and luggage transfer, is $3851 per person, twin share. Explore more: The writer was a guest of UTracks
The Advertiser
3 days ago
- The Advertiser
10 amazing after-dark adventures you can only have in New Zealand
When night falls, Aotearoa awakens. New Zealand doesn't go to sleep when the sun sets - that's when the magic begins. Subscribe now for unlimited access. or signup to continue reading All articles from our website The digital version of Today's Paper All other in your area By Ute Junker Updated August 1 2025 - 9:46am, first published 6:00am Stargazing at Tekapo. Picture: Rachel Gillespie 1. Soak in the stars in Tekapo Batman and Robin. Strawberries and cream. Yin and yang. Some things just work better together, which is why we love the Soak in the Stars tour at Tekapo in the centre of the South Island. It combines two great experiences in one: a soak in soothing, naturally heated thermal pools, and a spot of stargazing in one of New Zealand's International Dark Sky Reserves. Powerful telescopes give up-close views of distant planets and galaxies while you relax in mineral-rich waters. Now that's the sort of multi-tasking we enjoy. 2. Tuck into a mouthwatering Maori feast in Rotorua Rotorua after dark. Picture: Tourism New Zealand Ready for a very different take on dinner and a show? From the moment strapping lads paddle a war canoe down the Wai-o-Whiro stream, you know Rotorua's Mitai Maori Cultural Experience & Dinner Buffet is going to be a treat. The evening contains plenty of highlights, including a mouthwatering hangi meal featuring plenty of meat, chicken and kumara cooked on hot stones in an earth oven. Other memorable moments include a rousing haka performance, a visit to an ancient village site, and a nocturnal forest walk. 3. Take a wild ride in Queenstown Queenstown Luge. When it comes to adrenaline hits, Queenstown offers plenty of choice, from skydiving to jetboating and whitewater rafting. Once the sun sets, however, the adventure tends to die down. If you want to keep the action going, head for Queenstown Luge. A luge kart, for those who haven't tried it before, is like a gravity-powered cross between a toboggan and a go-kart, and driving it along the twisting downhill course is an exhilaration-guaranteed experience for all ages. An evening session ensures a big finish to the day. 4. Paddle into the night in Nelson A paddle in Nelson after sunset. Sitting at the top of the South Island, Nelson is known for the sheltered, crystal-clear waters of its bays, which makes it the perfect place to sign up for a night-time stand-up paddleboarding experience. Nelson Night Paddle gives you the chance to head out on an illuminated paddleboat for a serene two-hour experience. Let yourself be lulled by the splash of your paddle as the lights on your paddleboard illuminate the waters around you, letting you gaze down on seaweed forests, slowly drifting jellyfish and other marine life. You'll feel like you're floating through an underwater fairytale. 5. Be dazzled by glowworms in the Waitomo Caves Waitomo Glowworm Caves tour. Yes, we hear the objection from the back row. How can a daytime activity be classified as "after dark"? Simple: it's always dark underground, which is why we have added the Waitomo Caves near Queenstown to our list. This 300-million-year-old cave system is filled with wonders, best experienced on a Waitomo Glowworm Caves tour. Your jaw will drop as you explore the magnificent limestone formations of the upper caves as well as the enchanting boat ride through a grotto illuminated by thousands of glowworms. 6. Go on a kiwi hunt on wild Stewart Island No, there are no guns involved on Wild Kiwi Experiences on Stewart Island. The only thing you will be armed with is a torch, all the better to spot the elusive southern brown kiwi (tokoeka) as it goes about its business. Kiwis outnumber humans on this wonderfully wild island (more than 85 per cent of which is national park), perched off the southern tip of the South Island. That makes Stewart Island a great spot to encounter these nocturnal birds. Keep an eye out for other wildlife, too, including albatrosses, yellow-eyed penguins and New Zealand fur seals. 7. Work up some steam at Te Puia Te Puia's bubbling hot pools and surging geysers have made this North Island geothermal valley one of New Zealand's most memorable attractions. Plenty of people head here during the day, but fewer explore the area by night - and they are missing out. On Te Puia's two-hour Geyser by Night tour, be awed by the lit-up Pohutu and Waikite geysers before stretching out on the naturally heated stone slabs to immerse yourself in the sights and sounds of the landscape at night. 8. Join the locals for night skiing at Coronet Peak A floodlit ski session at Coronet Peak. Just 20 minutes from the heart of Queenstown, Coronet Peak's accessibility, as well as those wide runs and plenty of vertical action, make it a favourite ski stop for locals. It is not just the proximity they love: it is the fact that they can hit the slopes after the sun goes down, thanks to the much-loved Night Ski program Many locals head here for an after-work floodlit ski session; join them on the slopes and then stay on to enjoy crackling fires, live DJs sets and plenty of delicious food. 9. Explore the moon by telescope at Kaikoura 10 amazing after-dark adventures you can only have in New Zealand It is always there, waxing and waning above our heads, but how much do you really know about the moon? If the answer is "not much", head to the coastal South Island town of Kaikoura, where dark skies make this a perfect spot for a moon-focused astro-tour. Peer through telescopes on Moana Skies' Lunar Tour to examine the moon's surface in detail, marvelling at its plains, craters and mountain ranges, as well as learning about the history and future of lunar exploration. 10. Be inspired by Rotorua's ancient redwood forest 10 amazing after-dark adventures you can only have in New Zealand 10. Be inspired by Rotorua's ancient redwood forest Who says you have to choose? Of course, you are going to want to visit Rotorua's soaring redwoods forest during the day. That's when you can tackle one of the lush hiking or biking trails, or get a different perspective on the skywalk, a series of suspension bridges 12 metres above the forest floor. But really, you are going to want to come back at night for a second turn on the skywalk when it is lit up by beautiful lanterns. Known as Redwoods Nightlights, the experience turns the towering trees and the verdant understorey into a fantastic landscape of mind-bending beauty.
