We trudge across the arid crater, the cinnamon-brown land around us barren except for the occasional boulder. If it weren’t for the infrequent drone of a plane overhead and the steady line of hikers wending their way ahead of and behind us, it might be possible to imagine that we’re on Mars. We’re not quite that far away, but coming from the cold and snowy Northeastern United States, it’s a place that feels equally exotic to my husband and me. We are in the South Crater, part of the renowned Tongariro Crossing at Tongariro National Park in New Zealand.
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