Hello from Napier

Friday, March 25

We left Wellington early after picking up another rental car. Traveling north, our destination for the day, Napier. Reading in the Rough Guide and the Lonely Planet, we hope to find a place to stop and explore before we arrive. That spot turns out to be the Pukaha Mount Bruce National Wildlife Centre and we're just in time for the naturalist walk. The first stop is feeding of the long-fin eels, in a frenzy as pellets hit the water. A single large trout hangs about. Then we walk by spacious pens where native endangered birds are raised until they're big enough to defend themselves from imported predators and then released into the surrounding forests. There is a kiwi house where one might observe kiwis. Active only at night, the kiwis are difficult to find and watch. The naturalist disturbs a resting young kiwi to weigh and evaluate its progress. She brings it close to the fence for us to see up close and photograph.

Napier is a phoenix town. On February 3, 1931, for two to three minutes, Napier was rocked by an 7.9 magnitude earthquake. Much of the downtown was destroyed by the earth's wrenching upward 6 meters and the ensuing fires. Land appeared, where there was none before, enough for an airport. The town was rebuilt immediately in the style of the time—Art Deco. We stayed in the County Hotel (a former government building), one of the few buildings to survive the earthquake, beautifully redecorated, with few patrons. We had our first lamb shanks and kumara mash (sweet potato) in the neighborhood Irish pub across the street, complete with a bar imported from Belfast and lively Celtic music. The next morning we walked the broad streets to find breakfast at a sidewalk table and then returned to the hotel along Marine Parade shoreline park. Heading north to volcano country. Bye, bye to Napier.

Playing in a Caldera

 

In the Frying Pan (Caldera)

Sunday, March 27

Ever wonder about the sense of people who live with the knowledge that their world may change in an instant from volcanoes and earthquakes, where the evidence of cataclysm is all around and yet they stay and build as if there is nothing to worry about? That is Rotorua and its environs, where the air smells of sulfur and the lake water steams from vents beneath the surface. The Te Arawa people adapted, appreciating the warm earth in winter, cooking their food in hot water, bathing in the warm water. Birds didn't need sit on their nests to keep eggs warm. When Europeans discovered this area with geysers, boiling mud, and warm mineral pools, tourism and the health spa business took off. However one night in 1886, Mount Tarawera erupted, destroying the beautiful Pink and White Terraces and terrifying Maori and Europeans alike. The Original Bath House now the Rotorua Museum is next to the Government Gardens, where croquet is still played.

Yesterday, we hiked in a downpour in the Craters of the Moon (on the road from Lake Taupo to Rotorua). This active volcanic site resulted from the construction of the Waitakei geothermal power station which changed the underground water dynamics. Warnings were frequent: stay on the paths, don't step into a fumarole. Steam was everywhere, more so because of the rain.

We strolled along the lake in Rotorua this Sunday afternoon in the sunshine, observing residents and tourists alike, there in the caldera. We did not see all the spectacular geothermal sites. Perhaps some day we will bravely return, trusting we will not be caught by some natural disaster.

Into the Matai Bush at Dusk

 

Sunday Evening, March 27

When we travel, we have had an unwritten rule, that we try to have our own experiences not those provided by tours. In Rotorua, there are Maori family reserves doing big business and almost all tourists there spend an evening eating from earth ovens and seeing traditional performances. It is said to be a good way to learn about that indigenous culture. On our second and last night in Rotorua, on the spur of the moment, we relented and spent the evening in the company of a couple hundred others with the Maori Matai family.

The hangi dinner was tasty--kumara (sweet potato), roast lamb, and other treats. The table company was multinational. They were all interested in American politics, so Henry obliged.

At dusk groups were led down the path to clear beautiful Rainbow Springs, water bubbling up at the bottom of the stream. Further on a fantail bird is close by in the brush. Then, young men power up the stream in a traditional waka (wooden canoe) in torchlight as night falls. Walking back up the path in the dark we see points of light, glowworms! From there to the traditional performance of the welcoming ceremony, a protocol not understood by early European explorers. Maori warriors challenge visitors to test their intent with threatening swinging clubs, staring eyes, and protruding tongues. Women then make the welcoming call and sing. Peace is made and eventually our visitor representative experiences the ritual touching of foreheads and noses (hongi), binding friendship. In addition, traditional dances were performed. The men participate in a very physically demanding war dance. The women dance and rhythmically swing white poi balls (made of NZ flax leaves). The leader explains more about the earlier Maori stone-age way of life. We all leave a little wiser.

Bay of Islands

Wednesday, March 30

The Bay of Islands lies north. Its calm aqua waters are a famous harbor. Paihia and Russell are its communities. The bay is where New Zealand, the colony, began. Captain Cook found it welcoming, just as the Maori did in when they arrived. The bay's history of rowdy sailors, whalers, and other ne'er-do-wells made Russell the "hellhole of the Pacific." When Darwin visited in 1835, he noted as much. In former times, when New Zealand was Aotearoa, a Maori fortified village there was called Kororareka or Sweet Penguin.

We take a ferry ride from Paihia, where we are staying, to Russell and spend the afternoon visiting small museums and walking along the beach. I find a fragment of an old dish, white with brown painted decoration. One museum had so many such artifacts, it had no interest in mine. These days visitors to Paihia and Russell learn history. Close to Paihia is where the Waitangi Treaty was signed in 1840. That treaty is still the basis for Maori-Pakeha (European settler) relations.

We did not swim with the dolphins, fish for marlin, jetboat, parasail, kayak, or dive the wreck of the Rainbow Warrior.

In the Canopy of Kauris

 

Tuesday, March 29

We spend the morning with our friends aboard their 38-foot sailboat, on the hard at Dockland 5 in Whangerei. Then, lingering over lunch in town by the Hateo River marina, we give Linda photo cards of Shrek the sheep and Brad gets a small gadget. The sailors head back to much more work preparing for their departure to Tonga, and we take our leave. Our best wishes go with them. When and where will we see them again?

Just north, within walking distance, is the AH Reed Memorial Kauri Park. We slip quietly out of the afternoon sun and heat and onto the moist green path. We hear overhead the greeting of the honey-eating tui, whose song penetrates the forest. Also called the parson bird, its white bib is in stark contrast to its black body. Part of the path lies along a stream, but the best part is an elevated wooden walkway about halfway up the enormous kauri trees, where we peer down through the lacy silver tree ferns to the shady water below. It's an entirely new perspective. Instead of craning our necks to look up so far, we see the way some birds experience this remnant of an ancient forest. Coolness envelops us. We're tempted to linger there by the waterfall at the end of the trail. It's our only chance to see the kauri, these old podocarp trees from an age beyond our imagining when continents split apart and isolated these islands.

To Land's End in the Car from Hell, March 31

Cape Reinga


Time is short. Linda and Brad say we must see Cape Reinga. There's something special about that place. Our rental 2002 white Nissan Bluebird is acting a strangely. The transmission seems to stick, often in a high gear. In a land where everything is either uphill or downhill, downhill is fine but going uphill gets slower and slower. Trusting that the car will last two more days on the road, we go for it. We're not going to let a car keep us from seeing that place. So from Paihia we drive north up to the remote and beautiful Cape.

Getting there is not too bad. We make it OK to the end of the "90-mile beach." After the busload of tourists leave, and a group of bicyclists on a fund-raising trip cycle back south, peace and serenity envelop us as we look in all directions. The blue waters of the Tasman Sea on the west and the Pacific Ocean on the east mix in confusion just off the point. We look south at the beautiful beach where we imagine Maori spirits walking toward us. Then along the coast just to the right of the lighthouse, there is a lone 800-year-old tree which has never flowered. Legend says Maori spirits slip down this tree by two springs. One spring cleanses before the spirits proceed on to their homeland; if a spirit drinks from the other spring, it returns to the living world. We observe the custom not eating or drinking there then quietly return south to the car and the real world.

But returning is not so easy. The car really starts having problems climbing hills, we creep up to the crests then accelerate down to get enough momentum to keep going. It seems we're being pulled backward. About halfway back, Henry stops to call the car rental agency. They assure him the car's just fine and offer no assistance without a mechanic's say-so. No, there's no mechanic nearby. So, we hope and continue, finding the least hilly route, finally getting back to Paihia for overnight. Then we manage to get to Auckland the next day. At the car agency, they offer to drive us in the same car to our hotel which is on top of one of Auckland's volcanoes. We turn up the hill and the car refuses to go any farther. We get out and walk the three blocks with our luggage to the hotel, happy to be out of that car at last, but also happy to have made it to Cape Reinga.

Tiri Tiri Matangi, Saturday, April 2

Greg, the Takahe, on Tiri

Our last day in New Zealand, we think about what would be a fitting end to this month-long trip. We're back in Auckland, without a car rental, and we wake up early to a blue sky. We decide to make the trip to Tiri Tiri Matangi Open Sanctuary and to take a volunteer-guided walking tour.

The boat departs from downtown pier 4. Everyone checks their packs and shoes to be sure they are clean. No hitchhiking alien seeds or mammals are welcome on the island. The fast catamaran takes about an hour and a half to reach the island. Along the way there are a few little blue penguins on the water. When we arrive, there is a ray under the dock.

Tiri Tiri Matangi (Maori for "looking to the wind") is one of the New Zealand islands which are being actively managed to ensure that native plants and birds survive. The island is open to the public, a source of concern. The Department of Conservation does not wait for natural regeneration of native systems. Harmful introduced species are killed. Many volunteers seed, weed, and then release endangered birds. Thanks to the endless hours of continuing work by school children and sanctuary afficionados, "Tiri" looks very different from its recent agrarian past. Newly restored native habitats and the birds are thriving. Much work remains to be done.

Many of New Zealand's native birds are threatened. Before colonization, these birds had few predators. After contact, birds' eggs and the young birds were easy prey for mice, rats, possums (an Australian marsupial), and others. Now in the island sanctuaries populations of these endemic species are rebounding. We see some birds in the brush with the help of our experienced guide, Alison. There are juvenile saddlebacks scrabbling in the duff, whiteheads looking for insects within reach, a single napping brown teal, a secretive North Island robin, melodious bellbirds, fancy fantails in the shade, a red-crowned parakeet on a sunny branch, a secretive North Island robin, assertive honey-eating tuis, and big, bold takahes.

Takahe birds (Porphyrio mantelli) are special. Once thought to be extinct, they were rediscovered in 1948 in Fjordland National Park. They now number about 200 individuals. Ground dwellers, their reproduction rate is low and predation (eggs and chicks) is high. Old Greg (pictured) hangs around the Tiri dock area in plain sight.

Back in Auckland, after a day in the sunshine and forest shadows, we talk about the day in a local pub on the way back to the Quadrant Hotel at the top of one of Auckland's five volcano cones. Tiri Tiri Matangi is the last and one of our best New Zealand times.