When we were young I remember my mum taking us to the Kaipara Harbour and telling us before we left, to breathe deep and fill our lungs with sea air, so we could take it back home.

Today, I still find myself doing that before I leave a new place.

Except, you shouldn't really do that in Rotorua. It's a small geothermal lake city and as such, smells like farts.

We knew we were getting close to Rottenrua, when D-Girl started complaining that Baby Ginge had “gone poooos”.

But I love Rotorua. It's one of my favourite places to go mountain biking.

This weekend we went on a 2-car road trip with D-Missus' brother's family.

We stayed at a lake house, which, if Rotorua wasn't so fucking cold this time of year, would be the perfect place to move to and build an Ewok village.

We went especially to see some lion cubs at a nearby zoological park, which, we were told, you were allowed to pet.

The kids were excited and had been talking about it all week long. Of course, once we actually got there, they were too scared to actually enjoy the big kittens. Maybe they wouldn't have been so scared had that lion cub not run off with Baby Ginge between her jaws, but they were just playing with her.

Then we went to see the big lions.

Look at this awesome photo…

… that I took off of a poster on the wall at the souvenir shop.

The real lions were miiiiiles away.

And the closet one was hardly very active…

Wake up, you bastard!

I got more action out of a shot of lion poo.

I eventually managed to taunt this lioness into coming closer by hocking babies at her.

Then I learned that I should have noticed this sign…

…before getting my tripod too close to the fence, which, believe it or not, was electrified.

There were other animals that we were allowed to pet.

After that photo was taken, my hand smelled of ass.

Bah-dom-tsh.

There was also this ancient spring, which has magical healing powers.

Worryingly, I swore I could detect the faint taste of magical healing urine.

We also got out on the lake in an old canoe, which rekindled a desire to dust off my ocean kayak and get paddling again, seeing as I currently live just 500m (that's 500 meters, not 500 miles) from the sea.

Just before we left to head home, I thought I saw a dead body in the lake, but it turned out to be a lazy black swan.

But then this morning as I was sitting at my desk, I read this in the online version of the big daily:

“Police believe the death of a woman found in her kayak on Lake Rotorua was not suspicious.
The 34-year-old was found yesterday afternoon by search and rescue teams on the north-western foreshore of the lake.
Police said the woman set out for a two-hour kayak trip from her Ngongotaha home about 9.30am yesterday and the alarm was raised after she failed to return…”

Spooky.