The thrust pressed our backs against our chairs as we pulled up off the ground. A buzz rose from the seats as the kids gripped onto their armrests. Giggles flared up everywhere, and when the nose lifted, there was an eruption of laughter. Lollies went around to soothe and comfort sore ears. I glanced at little Miss - her first time flying. She peered down through a cloud, bellowing at the birds-eye view of her house, she pointed out Roscommon School. The noise faded as all eyes leered through large puffs of clouds. Their expressions fixed in a moment none of them would ever forget. They gazed in awe as the land fell out of sight. Landing was slightly rough, as it always was in Wellington, but worry of the hurling wind and a dark sky was lost in all the excitement.
The mist seeped slowly into the hills as we climbed the Rimutaka. A range that stood like a giant in a small garden. Pines and Junipers, rooted deep in this mountain trailed to the peaks with monstrous postures. I wondered if the dark clouds that hovered ahead would unleash, but they did not – just a light drizzle instead. The steep winding roads crawled up into the hills like liquorice - each corner had it’s own silhouette, -a family of trees, a jagged rock edge, spindly grass and bushy shrubs of different reds and greens. Our van glided smoothly over the tar-seal, embracing every swerve as the voices in the back seats sang cheerfully.
Cape Palliser
The kids stirred in the van as we approached Cape Palliser. The seals were close, apparently closer than usual. They bathed like wet slabs of rock, unbothered by the eyes and voices that commanded their attention. The girls in the back seats pressed up against the windows. Their eyes wide, pointing and squealing with excitement, a first time sight for all of them. Matua Shane swears that his van load received a welcoming wave from an upright sitting seal. Maybe Tangaroa sent his children to shore to powhiri our babies… who knows, I’d like to think that he did.
With under an hour of sunlight left, we waved at the seals and made off toward the light house.
The climb was not an easy one… speaking for myself. I was relieved to reach the top and still see light over the ocean. A spectacular sight indeed. By then, everyone was ready to head down. One photo with the whanau was worth every drawn out and painful step of that climb. We were blessed to make it up and down again before the sky turned navy.
Whare Ngawi opened her warm arms. She glowed and steam floated above her chimney, which indicated she was warming something up. The aroma of kai was on the air as we pulled up to her. Excitement stirred again and the watering mouths behind me piled out of the van. Janeen’s spread was worth the long drive. We devoured her hot cheesy trays of Lasagne with crispy salad and spongy rolls. A slab of moist chocolate cake and fresh cream bought us all to our knees. Kendyl graced us with her waiata about Ngawi, and after a night of roaring laughter and fun, we hit the sack and when we opened our eyes, Whare Ngawi and Ma Walker had a selection prepped for breakfast.
A morning stroll across the road was refreshing. Strange shapes and colors of seaweed lay across the black sands. A tempered wind caused the waves to curl and break early. The kid’s exercised their arms while skimming pebbles. Another group embraced the surroundings as Mr. Televave jogged alongside them. I turned over a pile of seashells. And just one glimmered in the light. A beautiful paua shell. Tēnā koe e Ngāwi, tēnā koe Tangaroa.
Another slice of Paradise
The Pinnacles
We waved goodbye to Whare Ngawi. A sense of sadness fell over us as we watched her fade into the distance. A trail of morning mist hovered over trees across the ocean and as we veered a couple of corners we arrived to Whatarangi Buff. A family of cliffs wonderfully fashioned by earths oldest elements. The same element that washed away part of Papa Toi’s bridge.
We turned into the Pinnacles entrance. The sun was low on the east rise. I watched as the kids spilled out of the van onto the driveway. I knew I’d need to good stretch to keep up with them. The climb wasn’t as steep as Palliser, but 10 times the length at least. Mr. Televave and Whaea Claudine lead the way, crunching through the dried river bed. We appreciated the small bolders that were smoothed over by water. We ducked and swished through fluffy toitois which added a nice touch to the prickly bushes and bladed grass. We zig zagged through, over and across a gentle running stream and in the last stretch I could hear the kids cheering me on.
Almost to the end, just have to get there for the group photo.
The giant cliff shoulders towered into the skies. They had long dreaded beards that fell like strands of rope into the ravine. Each one peered down from the overcast as if to greet us with their ancient rehearsed poses. Nature had adorned them with entwining vines, dashing trees and shrubbery. Some wore top hats, others posed under pointed peaks and overhangs. Each of them gathered to the round table that was far too small. For a brief moment I’d forgotten how exhausted I was, and as I stood in the centre of the round table catching my breath, I raised my head in honour of these mighty kings, these majestic ancestors who made up the Pinnacles.
Day 3: Castle Point
We slowed to 25km after dropping into a blue paradise. Small but rough waves broke and slapped against the sand as we inhaled the playful breeze. Across the way Castle Point lighthouse boasted beneath his green hat. His white trunk glowed in the early afternoon sun. Tangaroa wore a blue myriad coat with shades of aqua and hues of cobalt that accentuated the curved corals. A silver glistening spread over the surface as far as the eye could venture. And in the crest, light wisps of clouds brushed over the creator’s hand drawn horizon.
At the foot of the intricately designed hills, a moist sand was dotted with footprint trails and squiggles. One group frolicked in the water, another dug holes and built castles while the rest basked in the golden rays. A rocky hill the colour of fawn protected us from the roaring waves that pummelled relentlessly at the jagged terrain on the other side.
We moved 80metres further down the shore. A small piece of paradise moved about under the watchful eye of a cliff. It was shaped like an octopus whose long arms reached down into the waves that sprayed in the air. Every so often the sun threw out his rays and our browning skinned kids laughed, danced and pounced as each wave tossed them gently about. Hours pulled the tide out, and before long we were driving into the west setting sun that had splashed gold over the valleys.
Te Aroha o Nukutaimemeha
The breeze carried the karanga across the atea. At the gates we shivered in the wind. The girls gathered at the front, the boys close behind.
