Day 9 - Auckland to Waitomo

When I wake up in the morning I find it’s raining which is actually quite a pleasant change from the hot weather we’ve been having. B’s house is in a very pretty place, on a large ground filled with fruit and other trees. Birds are atwitter among the leaves and a pleasant breeze blows through the house. She kindly packs food for me for lunch and dinner and assures me that she had a good time and then we bid each other farewell.

The distance to Waitomo caves is 200 kms and the GPS informs me that it’s going to take 2.5 hours. Hmmmm..... The journey is much more pleasant today because of the rain and the drop in temperature. Also, as I move southwards, the landscape gets lovelier. Brown gives way to green as the hills and fields are swathed in lovely, delectable shades of green. Up north, it was more cattle country, but now sheep start appearing in the meadows as white furry bundles head down in the grass grazing. It’s hard at times to keep my eyes away from the landscape and on the road. For once I wish someone else was driving and I was in the passenger seat feasting my eyes on the panorama spread out on both sides. I wonder what I’m doing in a metal box on wheels, burning up precious fossil fuel and whizzing by at breakneck speed. A spectacle like this deserves to savoured at a slower pace, maybe on horseback or in a horse carriage, windows open, hair blowing in the wind and spirit bounding among the trees and the hills.


After four days of company, I’m alone once again. Even though the company was nice to have, I must admit that I like the solitude. I can now actually hear myself think and even drop my thoughts and be in silence. It is usually hard to stay connected with my inner self when the attention is on the world and other surface things. So I just enjoy my own company. Sometimes I talk to the car, tell her what a great job she’s been doing, taking me across the countryside without complaint. I send out waves of love and gratitude. Did you know that all energy has consciousness?

I reach Waitomo Caves and check into the lodge. It is built into a hillside and is therefore at various levels. I find that the room I’ve been alloted is at the very top level and has a wonderful view of the surroundings. Little hillocks undulate in the distance and pine forests rise dark and thick on some of them. Sheep dot the sides of the hills and among the trees birds call and crickets sing. The lodge comprises little cottages and the owners Colin and Janet stay in the main house at the bottom level. Around each structure flowers and bushes grow in abundance. On the verandah outside the house on a roof trellis, two grape vines have spread their branches creating a green canopy and unripe grapes hang down in perfect bunches. It is so heartwarming to see foliage growing in such profusion.


Waitomo is famous for its cave system some of which contain stalagmites and stalactites and also glowworms which when viewed in the dark makes for a surreal experience. The word Waitomo comes from the Maori for wai meaning water and tomo meaning sinkhole, so it can be translated as ‘water passing through a hole’. I’ve been here before and seen the glowworms and all that but this time I want to try out black water rafting :)

So, after a quick lunch I head off to the Black Water Rafting company’s meeting point. Because we’re doing a wet exploration through the caves, we’re given wet suits to don. In the ladies changing room while we’re putting on our gear, I hear someone say ‘What am I doing here?’ again and again. :) The wet suits are, well, wet. And clingy. And stick to you like second skin. I guess it helps to keep the body heat in.

Then we all get into a van and are taken to the side of a small stream where we are asked to choose tubes that our bottoms will fit into. Tubes are circular air-filled donuts which will be used to sit upon and float once we are in the water. We are also given helmets with lights on them.

Then we do a trial run of jumping off a waterfall. We have to attach the tubes to our bottoms and jump into the water facing backwards so as to land in the water on the tube and bottom down and head up :) The trial run seems easy even though it is a bit of a shock to the system to land suddenly in the cold water, sink a little and gulp a lot of water. Then we are taken to the mouth of the cave. This cave is called the Ruakuri Cave meaning ‘cave of dogs’ because according to Maori legend, some young hunters who were returning from bird catching were suddenly attacked by wild dogs. In order to escape, they threw the dead birds at the dogs and ran away. The chief not too happy to be deprived of food sent them back to get the dogs. They, with the help of some more tribesmen came back, found the dogs in this cave, captured them, took them back, killed and ate them. In the process, also discovered this cave.

Back in the present day, for us, a different kind of adventure begins :)

The cave system here is made up of tunnels with uneven stone floors and limestone walls and stalactite ceilings. It not dry but has a constant flow of water flowing through it sometimes at a rapid pace and occasionally the floor dips so that the water then gushes over the fall. As we enter the cave it gets dark, so we switch on the light on our helmets. Then clutching our tubes we pick our way gingerly over the rocks, trying to avoid the limestone jutting out or the stalactites hanging too low. When the ceiling is too low, we get on our tubes, lie back flat and float through the gap. We climb into holes and through holes, lose our balance, grab the walls, scrape our skin. Over the waterfalls, we attach to tube to backsides, stick our bottoms into it and jump. Yippee!!! And land in a splash, gulping water and getting soaking wet.

I must say that it is interesting to note and very heartening to find that in situations like these total strangers become very helpful. For helping hands reach out whenever someone is in need of help and everyone looks out for the other. It must be the presence of danger that kindles a kinship with people you’ve never met before, who do not even speak the same language as you and whom you may never see again.

All throughout the cave system glowworms are to be found. Actually, only the first half of the word ‘glowworm’ is true because even though it glows it is not a worm, it an insect called the fungus gnat. And it’s not the insect that is glowing, it’s its shit. So what we’re looking at is glowing shit. The gnats themselves are in the larvae stage and they attach themselves to the roofs of these caves, excrete luminous stuff and thin, sticky lines that hang down. Flying insects that get into the caves, are attracted to the glow and when they come near, get trapped by the hanging lines. The glowworms pull them in and make a meal of them. They hang around like this for 9 months after which they metamorphose into adults. The adult gnats, however do not have mouths, so they cannot eat, so they just mate furiously for 3-4 days, after which the male flies off and dies. The female, then goes around laying around 120 eggs, after which she also dies. Out of all those eggs around 40 survive. The survivors proceed to eat the unsuccessful ones, thereby producing shit and then the cycle is repeated. All very fascinating.

After all that wading through ankle-deep, knee-deep water and jumping off waterfalls, we come to the most mind-blowing part of the adventure. We are asked to get into the eel formation which involves us getting into single line, putting your legs on the side of the tube of the person in front of you and grabbing the feet of the person behind you whose legs are on your side. Thereby, we form a tight line. Then we switch off our lights. And then the guide in front slowly pulls us along. I just lie on my back, my bottom in the water, looking up, and in the darkness, the roof above is lit up with the glow of thousands of glowworms. It’s like as if the starry sky has come down and is almost within reach. It is almost totally silent except for the occasional splash of water and I just lie there gliding slowly through the water, in the near total darkness, under the soft light of the glowworms. It is elemental. It is exhilarating. It is surreal. All the wading, and jumping, and scraping and falling out of tubes and gulping water suddenly becomes worthwhile.

After that wonderful experience, we come out of the eel formation, climb some more, wade some more and then come to the real test. Our guide tells us to switch off our lights and glide thorough the pitch dark all by ourselves. And off we go, bumping into each other, the walls and sometimes the floor, trying not to get lost or get left behind. Finally, light is seen at the end of the dark tunnel and we all climb out of the cave into daylight. I feel stiff and exhausted. My body sends messages like “I’m not young anymore”, “Stop torturing me”. Which I conveniently ignore. Hehehehe :)))

Back at the premise, I climb out of the wet suit and get into the hot shower. Aaaahhhhh!!!!! What a great feeling! Hot water against cold skin! To get warm again after more than an hour in a cold, wet cave system wearing a wet suit. Then we all go and have a free complimentary soup and bagel. My body is partially pacified :))) That was such a great adventure. Even though I must admit that there were times when I wondered, ‘Why am I doing this?” “What am I doing in this wet suit, jumping off waterfalls?” Pushing boundaries, of course :)))

Back at the lodge, after dinner, I pick up a conversation with Colin, the owner. Turns out this is his retirement business. He is a former high school teacher. I compliment him about the profusion of plants and flowers and his success at grape-growing. He says things grow because they can’t help growing, because the climate is such, it is conducive to growth. I enquire about a place close by where there are a few lions and you get to pet the lion cub when it’s just a few weeks old or until it grows it’s fangs. He says wild animals should not be allowed too close contact with humans, else they lose their wildness and forget their real nature. (I would say the same about myself :))) Look at dogs, he says pointing to his dog, they are pack animals, they follow a hierarchy, alpha male and alpha female, then others down the pecking order. Our dog waits for us to finish dinner before she has hers, even though we keep her dinner out first because she knows that she is further down the hierarchy. Therefore humans should never allow dogs to sleep with them, then the dogs will think they are above and will rebel when they are controlled. Dogs are like children, they like structure, Cats, on the contrary are independent and solitary and don’t care for hierarchy or structure. Quite interesting!



I come back to the room and sit and gaze at the landscape outside. The setting sun has lit up the grass and the light is streaming through the leaves. The dusk chorus is actively twittering in the trees. Thus, another memorable day has come to an end.

Day 8 - Kaitaia to Auckland

Morning finds me still in bed reluctant to get up simply because I’m still feeling tired but we have to checkout at 10 and there is another long drive ahead. A hot cup of tea and a cold shower revives me somewhat. Unfortunately, the motel has not kitchenette, so we cannot make any breakfast so after checking out I inquire about the breakfast facilities at the hotel only to be told that it was over at 9. Darn! However driving through town I find a cafe and having refueled myself to the full take to the road again :)

The weather is perfect for a long drive. It rains occasionally which helps to keep the heat down and the cloud cover reduces the harshness of the sunshine. The landscape is as usual beautiful. Rolling hills, cattle grazing in paddocks, pine trees glowing dark on the hills and occasionally we go through forests where trees, ferns and other vegetation grow thick and dense. Little one-lane bridges straddle streams and sometimes rivers and tiny ponds flash by. The colour as we drive southwards changes from brown to green. Fields of corn appear lush among the grassland and the hills as we drive further south get greener and greener. Through it all, A R Rehman and R D Burman compositions provide sing-along company.

B is an inveterate clock-watches. She checks the time meybe every 10 mins and I ask her if she has a train to catch :) She says she spent a lifetime working by the clock so now it has become a habit. But you are retired now, you can throw away your watch, at least take it off and put it in your handbag, I suggest, and enjoy the moment. She measures the distance covered and remaining and calculates the time that will be taken to reach our destination. I sigh in resignation. Maybe she needs to keep her mind busy.

Why this focus on the destination, I wonder. Destinations are like signposts, when we reach one, another one has taken its place. They keep moving and shifting through life and sometimes we focus so much on them that we forget to enjoy the journey. The final destination for the body is the grave, the mind gets lost in oblivion but the spirit knows no signposts nor time, it forever dwells in the present.

Even though the drive is long and sometimes arduous, I find myself enjoying it. Driving is like meditation sometimes, The mind goes into cruise control, the hands steer and the foot works the levers seemingly without any direction from the mind. Surely, there must be some deeper intelligence driving this whole mind-body thing that we become aware of at times like these.

We arrive at Auckland finally a lot later then B had calculated, mainly because of traffic. I tease her about that. So I’m spending the night at her place. No places to visit today, just the inner spaces of myself.

Day 7 - Paihia to Kaitaia

I am drop-dead tired. If my narrative meanders or stops altogether then you can assume I’ve fallen asleep on the keyboard. But let me start at the beginning :)

It is a beautiful morning in Paihia. I sit with my cup of tea in the morning and just look out of the window. I’m so much in love with this little town, with its lively air, its beaches, its sparkling blue waters, its bays that I’m reluctant to leave. So is B. But leave we must. So we pack our things and bid a sad farewell, looking out at the bay for one last time.

We are headed for Waitangi. This is a historic place for this is where the Treaty of Waitangi was signed between the Maori and the British, pledging to put an end to the fighting and to co-habit in peace. There is a memorial structure built to commemorate this historical occasion inside there are guided walks and tours and maybe a pictorial history of the whole thing, but we decide to give the tour a miss and carry on ahead.



We stop at the Haruru Falls next. This is a little waterfall that is formed when the Waitangi river falls over a drop of few hundred feet. It is a nice picturesque little place and the sound of the water falling is very soothing with the spray rising from the water and showering you with tiny droplets. I linger on wanting to just sit by the falls and watch it all day. There surely is something magical about the sound of falling water. Once again I cast one last look at the falls and go on ahead.




After that it’s one long haul up State Highway 10 northwards towards Kaitaia. While driving our GPS lady has other ideas. She repeated asks that I ‘turn around’. Against my better judgement and fearing that I’ve missed a turn I turn around only to find myself being led into somebody’s backyard. I quickly beat a hasty retreat, turn off the GPS and from them on just follow the signs till we reach Kaitaia. All the going round in circles has made us late and hot and tired and it’s 1.15 when we finally find our motel when we had been expecting to reach by 11.30 or noon by the latest.

The hotel manager informs us that Cape Reinga is almost a 2 hour drive, so we have a quick lunch, fill up the petrol tank and head off again. Cape Reinga is the northern tip of NZ and other than that geographical fact it also has a lot of significance for the Maori. But before we get to that, there’s the Ninety Mile beach to explore.

It is the longest beach in NZ and the name is a misnomer because it’s actually on 60 miles long. It stretches along the west coast from just west of Kaitaia and ends just south of Cape Reinga, running northwest for most of its length. Because it’s such a long stretch of beach and also because it is almost flat, people sometimes drive their vehicles over it. So that’s what we do next. Head towards the beach and enter it at a place called Wapapkauri. The sand here is compact and tightly packed and there’s a ramp that goes down to the beach so the car goes over the beach quite smoothly. We park and gaze out at the long stretch of beach and the surf that comes over the sand in lovely patterns. Because the ground is flat, the waves are gentle and form pretty little crests before spreading their foam out on the sands. I stand and gaze at this breathtaking beauty for a long time, loathe this leave this place as well :)))



From there the drive to Cape Reinga is 110 km. I do it in one stretch because for some reason once I start driving I don’t like to stop until I’ve reached the destination. So up and down hills we go, around curved bends and through tiny villages. The landscape in these parts is mostly brown. It appears as though the rain god is not so active here and I feel sorry for the sheep and cattle eating the brown, dried-up grass. But I guess, just like us, animals adapt to conditions. The heat beats down relentlessly and I can feel by hands on the steering wheel smarting under the sun. Finally after about an hour and half we reach the Cape Reinga landing point.



From here it is a short walk to the lighthouse and land’s end. All along the walk there are wooden plaques that tell the story of Cape Reinga and why it is so significant for the Maori. They consider this to a site worth veneration and so it is requested of tourists that they do not consume food and drink on the site. The story that unfolds is that Kupe was the seafaring captain who first arrived in NZ with his men in their weka (boat) from Hawaika (Polynesia). According to Maori legend this is the departing place of spirits on their journey to the homeland, Hawaiki. Legend tells of a spirit trail along 90 Mile Beach, starting at the southern end of the beach, the departing spirit waits for an outgoing tide before journeying back to Hawaiki.
There is a single tree growing at the tip and it is beleived that the spirits had to descend the steps formed by the roots of the tree and wash in the two streams that flowed there before they could fly off.

The headland of Cape Reinga (Te Rerenga Wairua) rises steeply to 290m above sea level. Cape Reinga is the point of confluence of the Pacific Ocean that lies to the east and the Tasman sea that lies to the west. The Maori believed that the male (Pacific) and the female (Tasman) united at this point which led to creation itself.




At the lighthouse there is a pole with markers of various cities with their directions and how far it is from this point. So there is a board facing south saying ‘South Pole’ with the number of nutical miles and kms. Similarly for Copenhagen, Paris, London, Equator, Los Angelos, Vancouver etc. This is a great photo op and everyone gets a photo taken at this point.




But what really take the cake is the view of the sea and its environs from the point. The blue waters simmer on 3 sides and waves crash down below on the rocks. There is such a great feeling of silence, of vastness, of immensity, I feel like I’m light and free and my spirit expands and soars in the profound silence. It is easy to see why legends have been built around this place and why this is considered a sacred site.



We stand for a long time, drinking in the silence and peace and then leave reluctantly. Back down the hill and then take a detour to Spirits Bay. Spirits Bay is another historic site steeped in legend. It was named by the Maori ancestor Tohe who left the area to find his daughter kidnapped by another tribe. He told his family that if he did not return they must catch his spirit on its way past and he called this place "Kapowairua - Catch my Spirit". This is normally a golden sand beach but for three months of the year, the whole beach is covered with tiny pieces of coloured shells. I pick a few of them as mementos :) A great surfing beach. People lived here in the summer because it was close to fresh water supply for their gardens. There are a few tents that people have pitched, I guess they like to live in these natural environs close to the beach in the middle of nowhere, a bit apart from civilisation. I guess it would be nice, to wake up to birdsong, go for a morning swim, and then just laze around the whole day or go paddling in the sea.



Well, it’s back to the motel again for us, after a long drive. The sun is just setting as we drive, filling the sky with beautiful reds, oranges and purples. The colours of a bay that is pass is tinted purple from the purple clouds above. The slanting rays fall on the brown fields lighting them up to a golden splendour, the brown stalks of grass shining bright in the sunlight. And that was the end of another memorable day.

Day 6 - Whangarei to Paihia

Paihia, that little jewel tucked away on Northland’s east coast is where we are headed today. The man at the motel in Whangarei informs me that there is a dolphin cruise that goes out from Paihia, so I’m eager to get there. The last time I tried to watch dolphins was when we were at South Island’s Kaikoura, famed for dolphin sightings, but unfortunately it was Christmas day then and none of the tours were operating on that day. So today, an hour’s drive and we are at Paihia booking tickets for the dolphin cruise.

The room that I managed to get here after paying a rather steep price is a family room, complete with its own washing machine and dishwasher, quite a contrast from the other backpacker places I’ve been staying in. After a quick lunch we head off for the wharf to board the boat that will take us out to the sea.

The skipper informs us that no dolphins have been sighted that day and the lady at the counter who had sold the tickets had said that there is only a 90 percent chance that dolphins will be sighted. So I send up a silent prayer, ‘please send some dolphins this way, there’s a boat load of people wanting to see them, not to mention another boat load who are waiting to jump in and swim with them.’

The boat’s first stop is Russell to pick up some more passengers. Then we head out for the islands that gives the Bay of Islands its name. The sea here is dotted with tiny islands, some too small to be inhabited and some of the larger ones privately owned. The first island that we pass by has a Maori name that means ‘First Island’. It is covered with lush green trees and the skipper informs us that it used to be barren save for three trees but the owners with the help of the Dept of Conservation and putting in considerable effort and expense had gone about replanting trees that over the years had grown to what it is today. Impressive!

In similar fashion we pass by a series of islands. Some have little beaches with people sunbathing on the sands and splashing about in the waters. I believe they go there in tiny boats and pitch tents and stay there, enjoying the sun, sand and surf.



But what really fascinates me is the sea. It gleams and twinkles like an aquamarine jewel, its blue-green body luminously opaque and shimmering, rippling gently under the afternoon sun. Sail boats sail past gracefully like as if they belong to a different era. Jet boats zoom past, creating waves in their wave but why anyone would be in such a hurry, I cannot understand, when you can lie back and allow the sea to rock you gently.

Then the skipper announces that there is good news, the boat ahead has sighted some dolphins and so she takes the boat closer to them. And then there they are! At first only their dorsal fins are visible as they swim just below the water surface. Then suddenly they surface and start playing in the water. Making little jumps and generally frolicking like little kids. The dolphins, the skipper says, are wild ones, not tamed and raised in a tank. They are not fed by humans and do not respond to our orders. They come in this close out of their own volition and it is entirely up to them if they want to make an appearance or not. They do not get fed or rewarded for turning up :) However, once they come within sight they are then treated like great care, much like we would care for little children. The boats go slow and don’t make much noise or unusual activity and the dolphins then know that we can be trusted. Otherwise, they would just go away and not come back. A pod of seven of them play around the boats for a while and then head back to where they came from. It seems like a blessing somehow, this visit by these innocent, loving, playful creatures.

The boat resumes its journey and soon we arrive at one of the furtherest islands which has an unusual feature in that the rock of which the island is made up of has a huge hole in it and hence it is called ‘Hole in the rock’. The boat passes by the hole for all of us to see and then goes through the rock opening, only just making it. This is not attempted if the weather conditions are poor, such as rough seas or a strong swell.

We turn back and after a while arrive at a largish island where we are allowed to disembark and wander around for an hour. There is a scenic spot on the top of the hill that gives a 360 degree view of the bay, so I make an arduous 10 min climb to the top. The effort is worthwhile indeed as I reach up and gaze out at stunning views of the bay. Little beaches tucked away, boats sailing lazily, green islands dotting the blue sea and the sea in all its blue-green splendour.



The last stop is the town of Russell which is not an island but is across the sea from Paihia but can be accessed through a roundabout road route. We disembark over here to check out the town. Russell used to be an old sea port. In the 19th century, it used to one of the first ports after a cross-Pacific sea trip and the sailors after such a long trip would go ashore looking for alcohol. It used to have many bars lining its waterfront and fights were frequent, as the result of which Russell had earned the reputation of being a place out of hell.

But Russell also has the oldest church in NZ built in 1836. A simple, wooden structure with a simple altar and windows that are fastened by ropes. The front courtyard is dotted with graves some of them of people who have died at the turn of the 20th century. A quiet peaceful air hangs around the place, and I think of the bones under the earth, now turned to earth also, and wonder why these tombstones are preserved. Why do we cling so obsessively to the past?

We walk around the Russell waterfront, strewn with cafes and shops and bustling with activity. Boats bob in the bay and people saunter on the sidewalks or lie on the beach soaking in the sun. The houses have a lovely, old-world charm to them, looking like they were built a hundred years ago. It’s a quaint, heartwarming little town with a wonderful ambience and heaps of character.

After sauntering around for a while, we catch the ferry back to Paihia. On the wharf, I spot a splendid looking building, red-tiled roof and looking like it came straight out a history book.



And then it’s back to our ‘family room’. Paihia for some reason has been special, maybe it was the dolphins, or the fascinating colour of the sea, or the whole experience of a perfect day spent out at sea or by the side of the sea. A great start to the new year :)))

P.S. I shall post the islands, Hole in the Rock and dolphins photos after I’ve downloaded them from the camcorder.

Day 5 - Thames to Whangarei

Today I have company :)))

After leaving Thames I head for Auckland without a single false turn all thanks to the lady in the GPS :))) She faithfully navigates me through the horrendously confusing traffic lanes and takes me to my friend B’s doorstep without a hitch. She is in her late sixties so she’s more like an elderly aunt than friend. She takes good care of me, like a mother hen. Has kept brunch ready so I feast on ‘appams’ and egg roast. What luxury to be fed and fussed upon!!! She will be my companion for the next 4 days of my trip.

We leave her home shortly and head for Whangarei which is 230 kms away. And shortly outside Auckland I encounter something I’ve not come across in NZ before, a traffic jam that stretched for miles. Traffic moving at 10km and ‘stop and go’ conditions. However, both of us are in no hurry to get anywhere so we spend the time chatting happily. Gossip mostly :))) She used to be in Wellington previously and we say nice things about all the nasty people over there. Well, actually, we wax philosophical about the fickleness of human nature and just quote examples. :)))) In the end we reach the wry conclusion that all is ‘maya’, and not worth agonising about.

Anyway, we got out of the jam and from then on it’s clear sailing to Whangarei over smooth almost-straight roads. We check into the motel and after unloading the bags, plonk into easy chairs and put our feet up. ‘Aaaaah! this is life!’ we both happily declare. No men to pick up after, no meals to cook, no rules, no expectations. just being ourselves. Yes, this is it.

After a short rest and a cuppa, we head out to take a look at local attractions. Just out of town is the Whangarei Falls. Quiet, sylvan surrounds, the water flowing over rocks formed by a lava flow and forming a large pool at the bottom. We just sit there and watch the river gurgling around the rocks and fall several hundred feet in a happy roar. Any residual tension melts and flows away with the water and we sit there until the sun gets too hot on our back.

Next stop - Tutukaka. Don’t ask me what that means, but it sure feels good on the tongue. The Tutukaka coast has several bays and beaches and is 26km away. We check out the marina and a couple of bays and finally settle for the Kowharewa Bay. It is sheltered from the sea and the water is almost as calm as a lake’s and is dotted with boats moored in the harbour. The whole bay has a Mediterranean look and feel to it. Time again to sit back on the rocks and relax and watch the waves gently lapping on the sands.


On the way back, we stop once more alongside a small town called Ngunguru that skirts a natural inlet of the sea and sit back and relax on a wooden bench, once again contemplating the pleasantness of life and feeling grateful for the Spirit that made it all possible. Seagulls come and check us out hoping to get food crumbs and the smell of cooking fills the air as dinners get cooked.




One thing I must say about B, she is game for anything. She has a zest for life that is sadly missing in most people her age.

Then it’s back to the motel again. A calm, pleasant day marked with cheerful chatter, the sound of water, the sense of peace and abandon. What a lovely way to finish a year and start a new one :)))

Just to finish off, we’re both armed with an ice-cream each, we decided to usher in the year with some sweet indulgence :))) Hope the new year is as lip-smackingly goooooood :)))

Day 4 - Whitianga to Thames

After I wake up I have a chat with Devpriya who is sitting in the dining room having breakfast with her daughter. It turns out that they used to live in Kalina a few metres from where we used to live and it’s quite possible that we might have bumped into each other on the road or bus or train. They migrated to NZ 6 years ago and 2 years ago she lost her husband in a fatal car accident. After which she packed her bags and daughter and went back to India because she had the notion that ‘a woman cannot survive in a foreign country without her husband’. Her words. I have put it in quotes because it is so significant especially for Indian women. How our conditioning limits our lives in so many ways.

Anyway, after she returned to India she found out that she didn’t get the parental support that she was expecting nor did she get any from her husband’s side of the family. So she packed up again and returned to NZ. She used to teach before but after coming back she got an office job and has changed her attitude to such an extent that she now goes on these solo trips with her daughter. Must say, that misfortune does wonders to people sometimes. It’s good to see that she rose to the challenge and decided to question the beliefs that had previously held her back. But her smile is not fully happy and she seems to have an air of sadness about her but maybe in time she’ll realise that she is whole and complete in herself without needing the crutch of man or marriage to make her happy. I fervently hope she finds happiness within her own self.

The conversation has made both of us late so I then pack frantically to meet the 10AM check-out time. And then I’m on the road again headed for Thames. On the way there is a Kauri grove that is highly recommended but for which I have to take a gravel road with sharp bends. I’m on an adventure and sharp bends cannot deter me, I tell myself, so off I go looking for the grove. The thing about sharp bends is that one has to be very vigilant while driving especially when there is a steep fall by the side of the road and when cars suddenly appear from the other side around a sharp bend. This is when I miss honking. My hands itch to honk so that I can warn the oncoming car of my presence and once I almost bumped into a car that was coming way too fast around the bend. Surprisingly, just before that happened a little voice in my head said ‘honk! honk!’ and while I desisted this white car suddenly burst into view and I had to swerve frantically to avoid it. The guardian angels must be working double-shifts :)))


Finally I reach a carpark where it says ‘Kauri grove - walk 10 mins’ So armed with camera and booted with walking shoes I take to the trail. The road thus far had been through bush country with trees growing on both sides, but on the little path that I’m walking on the foliage gets even denser. Trees, ferns, creepers, palms grow in thick abundance and even the undergrowth is abundantly alive. The road winds over little wooden bridges over surging streams and warbling brooks and birds call among the trees. I am transported into a green, vibrant world of bright sunlight and deep shade where stillness and silence reign and act as balm for the spirit, instantly soothing my frazzled nerves. The kauri grove finally comes into view.

The Kauri tree is a native of NZ and is one of the biggest tree of all, not tallest but big ins size. It is a slow grower but a long liver, some living for thousands of years. The oldest tree in the grove is 400 years old and has a thickness of 1.9 metres and a circumference of 30 metres. Gosh! The kauri used to grow in abundance until the English discovered it and started logging for export to England. It is valued for its honey colour and fine grain. Whole forests were wiped out until the government stepped in and put an end to logging. It is now a protected species.


The trees in front of me tower over the others in the forest and rise majestically above all the ratu, rimu, tree ferns and other trees. I spend a memorable hour wandering around drinking in the air, the silence and the profound sacredness of the grove.



Then, it’s back to the road again, some more sharp bends and gravel road until I finally hit the motorway. Instead of going to Thames which is lies to the south, I head north to a town called Coromandel. To check out a one-hour railway trip which takes one through native bush and maybe a bit of the peninsula. The train itself looks like a toy train with little bench seats and run on a tiny little track, one of those you see in a theme park. Unfortunately, the next few trips are full booked and so I turn back towards Thames. Coromandel itself is a sweet little town bustling with holiday-makes who come there for the sun and sand and great views of the peninsula.

The road to Thames takes me over some more hilly ground around some more sharp bends :( the only consolation being that it is tarred and wide enough to hold two vehicles but only just so. At times it is a tight squeeze and both cars have to really slow down to get past each other. All this nerve-wracking driving is rewarded, however, when I turn the crest of the hill and the sea comes into view. Gleaming softly below in the hazy sunlight like an aquamarine jewel, and it takes all my powers of concentration to keep my eyes on the road.

There is something about the sea that bring up deep stirrings within me. Must be the fact that I was born in a house by the seaside and spent the first four years of life waking up to the sound of waves and watching the sun set over sparkling waters. It brings about a deep calm, an elemental connection that connects to something primordial within me.

But soon it is downhill again and by the time the road reaches sea level it skirts the seaside. The continental shelf on this side must be pretty high because the waves begin much further into the sea and crest upon crest comes rolling on to the rocks, like pretty white lace on a blue-green skirt.

Soon I’m in Thames and I check into the Sunkist Backpackers lodge. This used to formerly be the Lady Savon Hotel and was built in the 1860s so it’s really an old, old structure. The interior still retains its antique look with high ceilings, wood panelling and polished wooden floors. Even the washbasin stands are made of polished wood slabs and the lock on the door is really old-world with the long long key and the light through the wicker lampshade throws neat little patterns on the wall. On the whole it has a nice old-world charm to it. When I open the front door I half-expect a liveried butler to open the door for me but this is not to be. I’m a modern gal in a modern world and here one opens all one’s doors :)))

Thames is also a small town and I’m staying here primarily because I wanted to break journey before the long trip up north tomorrow and also because there is a butterfly and orchid garden in town that I want to see. So after a quick lunch, I head out for the garden.

The garden is again yet another world. A little slice of a tropical paradise. The air inside is deliciously warm and moist and fervid. There are butterflies everywhere, around 400 of them of various kinds. As soon as I enter I spot the little winged delicate beauties flying about amidst tropical plants. They are also hatched here and because their life span is short (around 2 weeks), if the numbers decline they have to be brought in from Asia and South America. There is a little glassed-in hatchery with chrysalis hanging on twigs and when the butterflies hatch they are let out which is usually in the morning.













I walk around the place drinking in the rich moistness which reminds me so much of Kerala with its orchids and banana plants. Then for a long while I just sit and watch the little beauties flit about from flower to flower. Some even do what I assume is a mating dance. Butterflies hovering over and doing a little flapping dance over a stationary butterfly sitting still on a leaf.



I watch fascinated as one black fellow goes from flower to flower and tries to push his proboscis into each. When he finds a bloom he pushes it deep into the flower, drinks for moment and flits off to the next one. Then he comes and perches on the end of my sleeve and tries his trick on the cloth, probably because I’m wearing a red top and he mistakes me for a flower. This brief interest by a butterfly has set my spirit soaring, my heart singing and has made my day and made all that driving around sharp bends to get here suddenly seem worthwhile.


I park the car at the motel and walk to the seashore close by. On the way I pass a beautiful pohutukawa grove with a little pagoda like structure in the centre. The Pohutukawa tree is also a NZ native and is considered a national emblem. At this time of the year it brings out beautiful red and vermillion coloured flowers which is actually a bunch of soft spikes. The trees themselves look gnarled and stately like grand old ladies with little red bonbons in their hair.






So that was the end of another memorable day. I’m going to tuck in early tonight and check out early tomorrow because the drive north is a long one. But I’m picking up a friend from Auckland, a lady in her mid sixties, who wanted to join me. So I’m going to have a companion for the next 3 days. That on a solo trip is going to be different sort of experience.

:))))))

Day 3 - Whitianga

This must be the only day in my whole trip on which I’m not going from place to place but staying put in Whitianga. I’ve decided to give myself a rest from driving and my car a rest from being driven. Dawn is early as usual because it’s summer here but much too early for my liking, so I just lie in bed and allow my body to rest. Finally, I rouse my self from bed and go outside and get introduced to my neighbouring room-mates. The mother and son duo are called Diana and Malcolm and they are from Scotland.

I strike up a conversation with Diana while I’m making my breakfast and she says that they are planning to drive around and see the local places. I express my reluctance to drive today and she offers a lift. Wow! That was providence. So off I go with them. It feels good to just sit in the back of the car and just watch the scenery :) after all the long driving I’ve been doing. It is a much relaxed pace and I’m finally beginning to settle down and relax into my holiday. I notice that a lot of people tend to rush around on their holidays making a list of things they want to do and going around at break-neck speed ticking off items from the list. They end up stressed out even from a holiday and tend to need a break from even from holidaying. Looks like modern man has lost the knack of just sitting by and watching the world go by :)



Our first stop is Hot Water Beach. So called because a fault line lies under it and the underground thermal activity causes the water in a small area on the beach to get warmed up. So people dig holes in the sand and lie in the warm water like in a spa. Because the area is so small and numbers are large, it is a bit crowded. I stand back and take pictures. Diana, however, tries her luck, she goes from hole to hole dipping her feet in them until she finds one that is warm. She soaks her feet in it for a while, decides it’s enough and so we get into the car and drive on.



The town of Hahei is where we go next which is a tiny little town now crowded with tourists. On the top of a hill there is a lookout point with wonderful views of the bay area with the rock formations in the sea and jutting out into the aquamarine sea. Jetboats crisscross the placid waters and occasional sailboat passes languidly by.



This point is also the starting point for a 45 min walk to Cathedral Cove. As we start walking we quickly realise that it’s hard work, as the bush path winds up and down through the bush. Tall trees and graceful ferns rise around us as birds call and cicadas chirp among the dense foliage. Finally all our efforts are rewarded when we reach Cathedral Cove. This is a tiny cove whose main attraction is a rock formation that has a naturally made tunnel in it maybe by years of erosion by wind and water. It has a domed feel inside it and arches at the entrances, giving it its name.



Having hung around a bit we head back up and pass a wide variety of people. Among them a pregnant woman who is brave enough to do the climb, elderly folks and very young kids. But the most amazing one I find are a family with a pair of twin infants in a buggy being pushed by their father. Gosh, I think, they’ve got a hard climb to do. I'm impressed by their never-say-die attitude. The path back seems less arduous than it was the way up and boy, am I glad to see the car park :)

When we reach the car, however, we find that there is a hitch. The car’s battery is flat. Hmmm, I’m having another one of those adventurous days. It is interesting to watch Diana at this point. She didn’t flag for an instant, just took it in her stride like as if the car battery going flat on top of a hill in a strange place in a different country was a normal occurrence. Her manner changed to brisk businesslike and I could see her brain working thinking out various options. What we needed was a pair of jump start leads that needed to attach to a battery of another car and thus jump start this one. I suggest that we ask the cars coming down, maybe one of them might have a lead.

The first car we flag down has two women in the front and they stop only to tell us that they don’t have the leads, but they are very helpful. They suggest the town petrol station as the most likely place to look and so Malcolm goes down the hill to have a look. Meanwhile, we keep trying to flag down cars. Some stop and some don’t and I find it interesting that the cars with woman drivers are more likely to stop as also cars with young people. Men drive away without stopping as also older couples and more well-to-do, snobbish looking types. Finally an old ute (half-car, half small truck ) which looks like it’s going to come apart anytime stops even without asking and asks if we are okay. Diana says no, we are not, we need a pair of leads. They do have one and they are most willing to help. The couple turn their car around, attach the leads and our car starts up. Halleiluiah! I can’t help thinking that that just goes to show that wealthy need not be the most helpful or giving.

We arrive next at Cooks Beach. Which is really just a beach so we don’t stop but head straight for the Ferry Landing to catch the ferry service which will take us back to Whitianga. I suggest we have lunch because the walk has made me hungry, so Diana and I find a little cafe while Malcolm heads back to Whitianga by road where he is to meet us at the other side of the ferry landing.

Over lunch Diana tells me about herself. She is a widow, her husband having passed away 5 years ago. She used to be an analyst-programmer 20 years ago but when her son was born she stayed at home for 2 years and changed her career. She became a photographer of newborn babies. So used to go the hospitals or homes of these babies and photograph them and their families. Before digital photography became prevalent there was a demand for this sort of thing. She’s taken photographs of 10,000 babies and has a photograph of each one of them. Wow! She’s retired now mainly because she got on in years and also with the advent of digital photography, the demand for her kind of job fell. Now she is into sport. Badminton, bowling and curling. Wow! Not bad for someone over 60. But she misses holding and cuddling babies. Awww! I just sit there and admire her spirit for life.


Malcolm is on a working holiday, ie he goes to places he likes to live in and gets a job there, then he visits nearby places. He’s graduated in Engineering but wanted to do this for two years before he got an actual job. He’s been to the US, Canada and Australia. Diana is visiting him here but plans to tour the South Island by herself later on this month. It was nice how I got adopted for an afternoon by this mother-son duo and it warms my heart how she had opened up like that.

They drop me off at the hostel and drive off to their next destination. And I find that I’ve got new neighbours. This time it a mother-daughter pair. Indians. From Wellington. And she knows some of the people I know. It’s a small world indeed. Well, Devpriya is also a widow and is touring North Island solo with her daughter. She tells me there is a glass-bottomed boat ride she’s going to so I quickly go and book my ticket. At 6PM we arrive at the Ferry Landing and board our boat. The skipper is a young lad and his first mate is younger still and he proceeds to tell us about the places they’ll take us too.

So I visit he places I visited today once again, this time by boat and seeing them from a different vantage point. First stop the Ferry Landing on the other side where Will the first mate points out a stone wharf, the oldest in Australasia. I think it’s a bit of a fib, but so what? He proceeds to inform us about the kauri trees that used to grow in these parts and how they were cut down and the logs floated to the bay where they stacked on ships to be ported over to England. Some few million feet of timber was cut down and sent across, in short whole forests were wiped out. Now I believe these forests are being replanted. Thank goodness for that. Ships would arrive at Australia bringing convicts, then come over to NZ, load the timber and go back to England. One such ship was called Buffalo, but it sank in the bay and is still buried in the sand, hence the bay is called Buffalo Beach Bay.

Then we head out into the sea. Along the way Will shows us various interesting landmarks. There’s a rock outgrowth in the sea which looks like an overturned champagne glass, hence the bay is called Champagne Bay. There is a cliff face that looks like a man’s face with a hooked nose and sailor’s cap which someone thought looked like Shakespeare hence the cliff is called Shakespeare’s Cliff. We approach Cathedral Cove from the sea which looks peaceful now with the crowds gone and imposing from out in the sea.



Then they take us to the marine reserve. Here the fish are protected, ie. no fishing is allowed. This is to let the fish numbers to grow and get replenished. They take the lid off the glass bottom of the boat and the ocean floor comes into view. Fish are seen gracefully gliding in the green-blue waters. Sea plants sway gracefully to the current while a deep blue cod sleeps peacefully on the ocean floor. A couple of my fellow passengers jump off the boat for some snorkelling.



Finally, after all the sights we head back for the ferry landing. All in all a good trip with some great views of the Coromandel from the sea. Not to mention seeing the fish in their natural habitat, watching the spray rise in the wake of the boat, the wind on my face and just the feel of the ocean. Awesome!

Day 2 - Taupo to Whitianga

The day dawns early but I laze in bed trying to get over the tiredness from yesterday’s drive. Finally after much pushing my reluctant body around, I check out of the hostel at around 10AM and head north. My next stop Whitianga is around 350km away and is at the northern tip of what is called the Coromandel Peninsula.

After I leave Taupo I glance at the fuel meter and find that the tank is low in petrol. Gosh, goshhhhhhh!!! But I keep going ahead and just miss a petrol station, ie. I see one too late and it’s hard to turn around on a 100K motorway. Anyway, a little distance away, I turn right into a road that says ‘Geothermal Station’. The whole area around Taupo and especially Rotorua has a lot of geothermal activity. The earth’s crust must be lighter over here because this area abounds in boiling mud pools, natural geysers and gaseous smoke that comes from deep under smelling heavily of sulphur.



I turn around and try to go back to the petrol station but the traffic is so heavy from both directions that I get tired of waiting and go ahead instead. Wrong decision!!! Because shortly the road enters a reserve forest. Tall pines tower on both sides of the road and the air is filled with the fragrance of freshly washed pine. After I’ve gone some 50 km, with no sign of a petrol pump I stop to take stock and consult the map. Which is a good thing, because I discover much to my chargin that I’ve taken the wrong route :((( So many litres of petrol wasted, each drop of which now seems precious to me. So I turn around this time and back track, getting more tense by the minute. What if I run out of petrol in the middle of that forest, with cars just whizzing by in high speed? To be honest I am more nervous with the thought of being stranded with an empty petrol tank than when I jumped from 15000 feet yesterday :) I’m feeling lost and confused. This happens with life too. Sometimes we lose track of where we are headed and lose our bearings, floundering in confusion. Then we have to refer to the grand map, take a global view of things and get back on track.

Finally, since I’m now hungry also, I spot a place called ‘Lava Glass and Cafe’ and turn into it, for a bite and a cuppa to soothe my nerves. The counter lady informs me that Taupo is only 15 mins away, so now I can sit back and relax and enjoy my cuppa :)

So, over a piece of carrot cake, I browse the ‘Vogue’ magazine. There is an article in it which talks about the Lost Boys, or men in Western countries (and increasingly women also) who refuse to grow up and take responsibilities. Their activities are geared to make them believe that they live in the world of eternal youth. It has been men’s best kept secret and women’s worst fear come true. Hmmmmm... I know a few like that :)))

My mind tells me that I should be moving on, and getting to where I’m destined, but I counter that with the thought that each moment is to be savoured for itself, the destination can wait, but the moment cannot. Or should not. Live it to the full, a little voice tells me. The little joys are just as important as the major ones :))) So true, like finding a petrol station at last :))) I fill up and and this time find the correct route and I’m off again, carefree and singing to the music. :)))

Taking the wrong route was really such a stupid thing to do because I have a GPS in the car which I’d borrowed from a colleague just for this trip. So now I sheepishly take it out of the box and feed the destination into it :)) When it asks me if I have to reach by a particular time, I firmly press ‘NO’ :)) Time can wait. I’m living in the eternal now, am I not? From then on, I obediently follow the lady’s instructions, turning right and left when she say so :))) If I miss a turn, she firmly tells me to “turn around” :)) Little does she know that some people do not learn from mistakes, hehehe...

However, since I had chosen the shortest route, the GPS takes me through some backroads. Which is a good thing really because mostly mine is the only car on the road, so there is no car following trying to overtake and no car in front which I have to follow. This is farm country and there are corn and other crops growing in the fields. In some places the hills are dark with pine and the countryside stretches undulating on both sides. I pass little villages with quaint houses some looking like colonial bungalows with terraces and creepers trailing on the verandahs. Also, because the traffic is sparse, little birds sit and peck among the dust on the roads and when the car approaches they take off in a flutter. Some birds have a little white patch under their wings, so when they fly off, they glide and flutter, glide and flutter, doing a very pretty dance. I’m enjoying the side-shows immensely :)))

Finally, I reach the Coromandel and discover I’ve still got 82km to go before I reach Whitianga. The road get winding, rising and falling with sharp curves and treacherous bends, but the mountainous landscape is beautiful. It makes me feel small, going through these hills where nature reigns supreme and man has only carved a road around them. And such wonderfully kept roads they are. Except for a few bumps in the backroads, the roads here run smooth and even. Driving on them as such is pleasant, it’s only the heat and negotiating the curves that makes one tired. When Whitianga comes into view, I’m much relieved.

The YHA hostel is situated on the beach :) Well, almost :) It’s across the road from the beach. The room I’ve got here is much more self contained than yesterday’s. Four of us share a kitchen and bathroom and the other family are a mother and son with whom I’ve a nodding acquaintance. After a little rest, I set out for the beach and sit for a while watching the waves and the ferry boats sailing across the harbour. It is most calm and people with hardly any people on the beach.




Then a bath later, I set about to find the only Indian restaurant in town. It’s called ‘Sangam’ to celebrate the mixing of Indian cuisine with a NZ venue, it says on the menu. After filling up my fuel tank with missi roti, palak paneer and mango lassi, I go for a wander around the esplanade. The moored sailing boats make a pretty picture against the background of a setting sun. Maybe I should go and sit on the beach in the night, if the moon is out it will be most lovely .......

Stretching my boundaries :)

It’s that time of the year when the office is closed for 11 days and hubby has taken off for India and I’m at a loose end. So just because I haven’t stretched my boundaries for a while, I decide to go on a solo trip to the northern part of New Zealand’s North Island. (NZ is made up of two islands, North and South between which is that part of the sea called the Cook Strait). So having planned the trip and made all the bookings, I take off one rainy Sunday morning .........

I’m hoping to chronicle my journey as much as possible... So watch this space :)

Day 1 - Wellington to Taupo

27th December 2009

It’s a Sunday and having dropped hubby off at the airport, I pack my things into the car. For someone traveling solo there are a lot of things I seem to be carrying. I realise at this rate, I’m never gonna be a backpacker :) It’s a rainy day and windy as well, but that is not so bad because it keeps the temperatures down and driving is not so tiring. My first halt is Taupo, around 350 km away and after I leave the city, the landscape unfolds like a green dream. Grass covered hills dotted with cream-coloured sheep, head down in the grass. Pastures of cows grazing, the sea lazily caressing the sands with foamy fingers. Pine-covered hills sparkling dark green in the rain and wildflowers nodding merrily along the roadside. To add to the sensual feast Talat Mehmood voice flows smooth against my skin and serenades my heart.

Mount Raupehu rises majestically on my left, head among the clouds and sides still streaked white with snow. There are photo opportunities everywhere but I can’t take any without stopping but the snow-streaked mountain is so breathtakingly beautiful I stop to take pictures. I stop for a short lunch break which involves having my lunch in the back seat of the car. After that it’s back to the undulating road which curves ever so often and winds up and down hills, over little brooks and streams, and beckons, always beckons, to take the next turn, to find out what lies hidden beyond sight.



Finally she comes into sight, the lake that looks like a blue jewel in NZ’s topography. Lake Taupo is one of the largest fresh-water land-locked bodies and is actually a crater of a dormant volcano that is filled up with water fed by various streams. It is so huge that the other side of the lake is not visible and it can be mistaken for the sea, for waves lap against it’s shores and it’s far shores disappear into the mist. It’s a bright sunny day with little patches of cloud and so the blue sky is reflected perfectly in the waters gleaming aqua in the sunshine.

I reach the Taupo township by around 2 in the afternoon and check into the hostel. This time instead of staying in a motel I’ve decided to try out hosteling. Youth Hosteling Association is an international body which provides backpacker accommodation at cheap rates. The room is clean but the toilet and kitchen are shared which is a new experience for me. The kitchen is a large room with crockery, cutlery, pots and pans, stove, microwave and fridge. So basically you get your own materials and use the kitchen to cook and clean up later. There is an attached dining area. It’s almost like the UN there because I hear very little English being spoken, most people are speaking in foreign tongues. Everyone cleans up after himself and food left in the fridge is labelled with the owner’s name. All very clean and hassle-free. However, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to cook Indian food :)

Then I come to what might be the most exciting part of the trip, or even one of the most exciting moments in my life.

To fly like a bird :)

In the list of things I would like to do in this lifetime, parachuting has always been right up there near the top :) To be almost weightless, to glide like a bird, to defy gravity, to feel the wind on my face, to be suspended in thin air high above the earth, it has an almost dream-like quality. Well, I finally got my chance :) Sky-diving. Or to be more precise, tandem sky-diving where you are hooked onto an experienced skilled diver who operates the lines and other stuff and you are left to just enjoy the experience. So as soon as I arrive I sign up for the sky-dive.

Their bus comes and picks me up and drops us all at the airport which is quite tiny really. There we are fitted with overalls and strapped up and given instructions. Then a tall bald guy comes and introduces himself “I’m Freddy” he says, “I’m going to be your best friend for the next hour or so.” Grin, grin, grin :) I feel safe already. The aircraft arrives which looks nothing bigger than a model plane really and looks almost as flimsy but I’m not put off by such minor details. We all get aboard this model plane which has no seats but just a twin row of benches. Each instructor for our batch of six gets behind each ‘adventurous’ person and the fellows who are going to video shoot us get into the front of the plane. The plane takes off and climbs steadily. Freddy turns out to be quite a character. He tells me he’s been doing this for 27 years, has done 17000 jumps, 15000 with other people. So he’s an old pro. I ask him why the life jacket is inside a pouch all zipped up, how are we going to retrieve it in a hurry? He replies not to worry, we’re not going to need it. Such confidence :)))

The landscape from up there is mindblowing. A little river snakes its way to the lake, fields appear as checkered patterns and the highway with its gleaming metal appears tiny and far far away. Freddy gets philosophical, he comes up with such gems as “this will not give you an adrenalin rush like bungee-jumping does, this will give you a serotonin high.” “This will open doors into your soul, doors that have not opened before.”

At 12,000 feet, the first couple of people jump off. Before they jump, he tells them, you’re going to heaven, we are going to space because we’re going to jump from 15,000 feet. It gives you about 90 secs of free-fall before the parachute opens.

Then suddenly it’s my turn. Freddy inches me closer to the door. Strangely enough, I feel no fear, only excitement to really experience what I’ve dreamt about and a great curiosity to find out what it’s like. I had always imagined myself being stricken with fear and chickening out of the jump but now I find myself actually looking forward to jumping. He had told me to kneel at the door and not jump but that he would slowly ease me out. So I kneel at the door and look down. In awe... and perfect calmness ...

The videographer jumps first, then Freddy eases me out and we are out of the door and in thin air. It was just like walking out of any ordinary door. We gets turned upside down at first but a little chute opens and we are face down again. Freddy signals me to spread my arms and I am flying like a bird.

What follows thereafter cannot be described. It doesn’t feel like falling, just a glide at great velocity, the wind whipping against my face and clothes. The lake is spread out below in all its splendour, gleaming in the sunlight. We pass clouds like one would pass trees on the road and Freddy says poetically, “now you know why birds sing...” I have to say, I agree. My happiness is so huge and overwhelming that a huge smile spreads across my face and sits there. The video guy tries to get me to look at the camera but I’m so intent in what lies spread out below me that I ignore him and his camera, even though I’m paying extra to get him in the air too :))) It is such an other-worldly experience that I don’t even have memories maybe because my mind had shut down and was not recording anything.



Finally, Freddie gives his parachute a tug and we go from vertical to horizontal with a big tug. The fall is arrested somewhat and we are now gliding serenely above Lake Taupo. The sun glints off clouds and sparkles on the waters and the world looks so much at peace. I wonder if this is the view that God gets. After all his universe is perfect in all respects, it’s only our mind that messes it up. Freddy does some swings with his parachute, so we veer to the left and right in graceful arches like two huge birds. Finally, it’s time to get down to earth and we land on the grassy landing area.

To fly like a bird, that dream of mine has finally come true ........

:)))

P.S. The rest of the photos and the video I shall post later ......

An afternoon snapshot

stretched out on the bed
rain tapping on the roof in waves
melody of troughs and crests
my mind stops to listen

cake baking in the oven
filling the house with aroma
sweet spicy maternal
like loving mother hands

stretched out on the bed
‘tween spaces in the rainsong
in the warm embrace of smells
my body stops to unwind

little vignettes of life
captured by memory
stored away somewhere
for another rainy day

in the wonb of this poem
suspended in time, i float
on the edges of reality
stretched out on the bed

My love, can you?

My love, my love, can you hear
the call of my heart
the stirrings of my soul?
When the wind runs its fingers
through the leaves of the trembling trees,
and the rain caresses the tree-trunks
then becomes one with the earth.
When through the night my soul
fights off the demons of the dark.
and the morning sun comes to kiss
my face, in repose at last.

My love, my love, can you feel
the love that bursts forth and spills
and makes me melt and flow.
A love gentle, yet relentless
that brings out all my fears
and destroys them one by one.
That humbles and purifies me
by destroying the dross and the vile,
even as it lifts me up and exalts me
and reveals to me my divinity
and makes me a worthy child of God.

Haiku

Do I write,
or does God write
using my hand?

Arcs of lightening,
claps of thunder,
God's pleased with Herself.

I take your hand,
you touch my soul,
instantly I'm free.

Labels and names
I seem to forget,
can I call you Soul?

Rich man in mansion,
poor man in hovel,
both prisoners of the mind.

Once you're free,
mansion or hovel,
it doesn't really matter.

A moment of grace

I have come home early today and after walking the 4km from the station, I’m a bit hungry. So I make myself a fried egg and a cup of tea and eat it in solitude and silence, savouring every bite. Outside the sky is blue with white cottony clouds floating by languidly. The sun peeps in and out of clouds and when it is out, the light falls full upon everything, the garage roof next door, the leaves, the petals of flowers, the grass, brightening them up to a golden sparkle. It falls through the french windows and lace curtains onto the floor in filigreed patterns. A light breeze caresses the tree-tops making the leaves scatter the sunlight here and there in a merry dance. As I sit there doing nothing but taking in the scene, I think ‘This is it! This is just it!’. A moment of grace. When nothing is done and nothing accomplished and yet is full of beauty and peace and strangely enough, eternity.

Accomplishment. It seems only man is capable of such a thing. But, our intellect, our achievements, are to what avail, I wonder.When I look at all the non-human living beings on this planet I somehow get the feeling that they are living close to their core or source. Man is the only animal who even though endowed with great intellect has moved away from his core. We have accomplished so much, built cities, warheads, machines, yet we struggle to build relationships. We have amassed hordes and hordes of knowledge in our brains, computers, storage systems but know so little about our own selves, let alone the next person. We have split the atom and found quasars but have still not found a way to live without war and in peace. We have sent man to the moon and space craft into inter galactic space, but cannot seem able to take a small step towards our inner self.

It is twilight now and that magical time of the day when light retreats and shadows take its place. The air is hushed and full of mystery as night walks in following the footsteps of the departing day. Our activities, our bodies, our minds wind down. Nature has so cleverly built into us the rhythms of day and night, of activity and rest. A time to work and a time to put our tools down, including our mind. Especially our mind. Time to turn off the lights and listen to the music of the stars, the soft breathing of beings asleep, the stirrings of the soul and realise that we all interconnected. That beyond the veil of illusion of the material world, we are all one.