Late morning one crisp, clear day, icy Lake Taupo in my rear vision mirror inspired a desire to be truly warm. I pulled into Wairakei Terraces, attracted by the steam billowing over the car park. Even wandering the walkway past hot water streams, waterfalls and silica terraces for a dewy view of an energetic geyser relaxed my breathing. The moist air, the path, the smells, even the colours were warm.

I couldn’t resist a swim. Wairakei’s pools are small and quiet. Tucked below the terraces, under the hissing thrum of the geyser, the waters waited green from the overhanging shelter, dappled in sunlight.

Cool winter air on bare winter skin sharpened my senses. I sat in my togs for awhile, waiting for the cold to find me. Then I stepped in.

The water tipped around my feet, my calves, my knees – heavy and tight on my skin. My fingertips dipped, flicked, tested. With a sigh I collapsed, in slow motion. Wrapped in glorious, silky heat, all tension immediately melted. The water was almost syrupy, almost resistant – but that was probably because my limbs were instantly loosened. Lazy, slow breast stroke was all I could manage and, then, not far. I was happy to sit on an underwater step, stretch my arms back and tilt my face to the pale sunlight. It was simple, clear, unadulterated bliss.