Here’s a preposterous thought.
That we, homo sapiens, each and every one of us, are creating the disturbance in the weather pattern. Te Taiao (natural world that is and surrounds us) lives in balance and as with all life, in natural life cycles. We displace huge quantities of water at an unnatural rate from a balanced water cycle every second of every day. I’ve heard many a person say that we will never run out of water. That is true. Water never leaves the earth, nothing does. It all just goes ‘away’. Out of sight out of mind. The question then is, where is away? That can only mean that water then has to correct the imbalance we created. Therefore, water must rebalance the water table the only way it knows how. Where once the land was blanketed by trees and wetlands. The water must now fall on large tracts of barren land that no longer has the capacity to absorb the excess moisture. We are part of the water cycle. Water passes through our bodies. The water in you and I have known many people and places. The water in you may have previously been trapped in a glacier for thousands of years or the tears of a child, blood of a gorilla in another continent in another century. More romantically, elephant urine, Cleopatra’s tears, sweat of a runner or the spittle of a llama. The water in you has been recycling since time began. It has been many things and many places. In Te Ao Mᾱori (Mᾱori Worldview) it is said that all things have a mauri (life force) and all living things have wairua which means a spirit or a soul. Wairua also means ‘two waters’ or two waters of energy. Waiora which is pure divine energy from the source and Waituhi which is the memory water stores of everything we have done both good and bad. What we do to Papatῡᾱnuku we do to ourselves or should that be the other way round because there’s a saying that ‘hurt people, hurt people’. If you struggle to love yourself as so many of us do. Start by saying ‘I love you’ to the water you drink because you are largely a body of water. From one water being to another, arohanui e hoa. Water is life. Mauri Ora. Kō au te awa, kō te awa kō au. I am the river, the river is me.
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I’m typing this blog while sitting in isolation. So, an international virus finally tracked me down. Regardless of whether you believe in the virus or not. The reality is I am experiencing my first bout of a flu like chest cold for decades. Right now, I am grateful that I wasn’t found before now and my scars from heart surgery six months ago have had a chance to heal. I’m one of the fence sitters. Unsure whether to believe those who were prepared to give up a career for their beliefs or those who excelled in their careers for theirs. Without getting into a debate that helps no one to heal and move forward. I often ask myself, what can I do?
Coincidentally, I had started painting my home at the time this global pandemic started. I was just going to slap on some paint until a good friend Sandy showed up with the tools, knowledge, experience and patience. I didn’t get to put the first coat on for 3 weeks. My original naïve calculations were to have completed a whole four-bedroom home by now. Not be putting the first coat on in the laundry. Lockdown was announced just as we reached the hallway and I was on my own. For the next two months I pulled up carpet, plastered and painted. In that space I started to grow my appreciation for the home that had stood strong against a high energy family. Children who were dealing with a decision I made to separate as best they could. It took me exactly four months to the day to complete the job that I had estimated would take me a week or three. From the house I started on the garden. It was just what I needed to heal the stories. Later a beautiful wise wahine/woman would invite me to continue the restoration of the indigenous vegetation at her place. I have learnt so much during my time in this patch of ngahere which I am sure was her intention. Most weeds are quite clever in their competition with native species. The best way to remove any of them is to get your hands into the soil and extract the plants from their source. It reminds me of a quote I once read during my studies. “Alcohol is not the problem, it’s a solution to a problem, what’s the problem?”. Alcohol can be substituted by anything to food, drugs, worries, etc. It’s about getting to the root cause. That’s where the whenua and the kaitiaki of the land come in. There’s something healing about finding a plant trying to survive under an attack of weeds. I applied this recently. I left a place very angry several years ago. I can’t change the story but I had an opportunity to return. I decided to heal the stories by weeding the garden. It brought me peace and helped me to forgive not only others but also myself. I also see the irony that I am weeding foreign plants when I am originally foreign too. That’s all part of healing the stories. Not only your own but those of the land and the kaitiaki, etc. If all things contain ‘mauri’ or ‘life energy’ then restoring the mauri of the whenua/land helps you to restore your own. Mauri ora. I discovered washed up pieces of glass along the sea edge and couldn’t resist collecting them. Many of the pieces had clearly come from alcohol bottles such as beer and wine. We have a culture of drinking in this country, so it felt like they had washed up ‘healed’ with the edges no longer sharp or harmful. Hence why I affectionally started calling them ‘healed glass’.
Glass as I discovered is both naturally and human made. Glass begins its’ journey as sand which represents all that came before our unique births such as earth herself in the form of floods, ice ages, continental shift and changing life forms. Human beings helped shape the world through the migration of people, famines, wars, treaties, slavery, politics, technology, etc. The list is endless but it all shapes the world we enter. Like us, glass is transformed into many different forms. For example, reading glasses, alcohol vessels, windows, mirrors, ornaments, etc. When I was born, my father was only allowed to look at me through a window in a nursery. I’m not that old 😊. So, glass separated me from human contact with family members at birth. At some point in life, glass breaks and becomes sharp. I liken this to my youth when I’m still in a shiny ego state and I still have sharp edges which represent my tongue, thoughts and actions. Sadly, today broken glass is often used to harm and remove pain by creating pain. Eventually though, the glass gets washed into the rivers and streams where it all ends up in the ocean tumbling about for years. I believe this represents the turbulence or life experiences that shape us into the adults we become. The glass eventually washes up smoothed and opaque. No longer shiny. The ego is now humbled by life and wisdom. Harder to find on the beach because it no longer reflects the sun. The edges are no longer sharp with the potential to harm. When I am upstream, I will throw any worries or hopes into the waterway to be carried downstream. I always add aroha/love in with those thoughts to protect everything downstream. When next at the beach I stand in the water and receive the healed energy of those thoughts. Warning! Spoiler alert. Modern day Christmas is the celebration by many of the birth of a special child and celebrated with the death of a tree. The highways are clogged by the exodus of people, family and friends leaving the concrete jungle of the cities and heading for the bush, beach and rivers. Some camp out where the waters run free while back home all water is tightly controlled. Enjoying the simplicity of camping in keyless tents for a few days or weeks while our houses full of prized stuff are locked. And yet the keyless tent brings so much relief and relaxation that we deprive ourselves in our everyday lives as we fiercely hang onto our debt burdened lifestyle. Now, I’m not suggesting that we all rush out and start erecting tent cities …. although the idealist in me is not averse to the idea. However, we can bring the two worlds together so that our wellbeing can be nurtured everyday by a healthy connection to the whenua/land. Right now, many are fueled by emotional adrenaline, sugar highs and the numbing effects of alcohol. There will be a temporary lull as many settle into holiday mode. Soon the crash will come. By January reality will come flooding in when assessment of the financial aftermath can no longer be avoided. By February most of the gifts will be in the landfill. Have you ever thought about the languaging we use when referring to the whenua/land, etc. Legal documents mention natural hazards but never people hazard. Flood protection instead of river protection (kaitiakitanga of the awa). We have become so risk adverse that the amount of paperwork required of organistions wanting to take peopl into the outdoors is often at the cost of going at all. Yet the risks of walking down a busy street in the city are far greater. Not to mention the sensory overload. I just realized that in my children’s lifetime the world was supposed to have ended twice around the Christmas season. The first time it was predicted they were very young children and I decided that we would all sleep together and if it ended then we would die together. Years later in 2012 they were teenagers and when I suggested sleeping in the same room, they all just gave me a look that said ‘you are dying alone tonight Mum’ 😊. Now that I have raised your anxiety levels. May I recommend you take your shoes off to ground/earth yourself or as I like to call it. Having a kōrero with Papatῡᾱnuku through the soles of my feet. Take a deep breath and ask yourself, what can I do? Consider creating a natural sensory box to replace the popular sensory box that is filled with cheap plastic and rubber items with a short life span that is hard to repurpose. When no longer required, everything can be returned to the whenua/land. Include items such as feathers, stones, prickly seed balls and sand. I’ve had no fixed abode for one year today and in that time a lot has happened. One of the best decisions I have made. Nothing in life is perfect but I prefer this imperfect life. Instead of mowing lawns. I change the view out the back window if I don’t like it.
My children used to often tell me that ‘less is more’ but only because I would get carried away trying to hide lots of veggies under the blanket of cheese on the pizza. They are right. Less really is more. I have less expenses, use less water, carry less belongings and have less stress which equates to more freedom, more connection to Papatῡᾱnuku and more time for the things I care about. My advice. Listen to that niggle that feels like a small stone in your shoe that you can never find no matter how often you remove your shoes and give it a good shake. Better still take those shoes off! Listen to that inner wisdom! I hear mine when I’m in the ngahere/forest. That’s when they have my full attention. Okay so occasionally they whack me across the face with a small branch or spider web. It was the first place I wanted to go after six weeks in hospital. Recently I was at a venue that was particularly noisy. I suddenly craved the silence of the ngahere/forest. I realized that many of our greatest teachers are like the ngahere/forest. They quietly appear alongside us. They don’t wave a flag or demand our attention. In fact, they don’t do anything other than appear quietly beside us. Sometimes for a fleeting moment and they come in all forms and ages and appearances. Our sixth sense connects us to all life on this earth. We are water, our veins are waterways and our fingerprint resembles the rings of a tree. We are the only species on this earth that pays for the essentials to life. That’s food, shelter and water, yet we claim to be the intelligent ones. Not only do we pay for the right to exist on this earth but we never have enough. We want more and bigger. Even our children’s outdoor playgrounds are devoid of life with artificial play equipment that mimics the natural world. Only a few brave kaitiaki of the whenua are brave enough to set up home in this environment such as the odd spider.
If someone special to you gives you a gift then wouldn’t you cherish it and look after it and have it in pride of place. Most people come from the understanding that their God or Gods created earth and everything you see including us. Why then, are we destroying ourselves and our whare/house. We extract taonga/treasures from Papatῡᾱnuku’s belly, turn them into toxic products and pour them back into her belly which is akin to the food we now eat. What we do to her we do to us. Covid lockdowns re-awakened the pace and connection with earth energy. Nature responded by visiting us in our spaces. We were finally living at nature’s (s)pace. Our essential workers were valued above all else. We realized that at some point we would all require an essential worker at least once in our lifetime. We couldn’t live without them just as we can’t live without the essentials to life. How quickly we forgot as we resumed our consumer paced life. It’s almost like we all got a glimpse into our indigenous souls, especially for those who had forgotten. We are all indigenous to somewhere and we all lived in relationship with the earth and not separate from her at some time in our ancestral line. If, like me, you descend from several indigenous peoples. How I honour my own indigenous people is by honouring the indigenous people of the land that I walk on. My patai/question? Who is looking after the carers? Including the greatest of them all. Our patient, giving, wise and forgiving mother Papatῡᾱnuku! How often are you visiting nature’s (s)pace? Without getting too scientific. Simply put, if trees breathe in (photosynthesis) what we breathe out and we breathe in what they breathe out then technically we are connecting through breath. The relationship is one of giving and receiving. In Te Ao Mᾱori the word ‘aroha’ means love. When broken down ‘aro’ means to face or turn towards and ha means to breathe, taste or essence. Now imagine facing the tree and sharing breath with the energy of aroha/love.
A couple of years ago on a very popular bush walk near suburbia. My daughter, granddaughter and I stumbled across a tree that had not long fallen. It lay resting across the river and parallel to the bridge with the branches embracing the bridge. A friend tells me that it was still standing when they went through five hours earlier. So, I’ve been thinking (only dangerous when thoughts roll off my tongue but here goes). Do trees know when to fall. Eg. How many human witnesses are there? This tree fell within five hours of two walkers that I know of on a popular walking track. Like an animal that goes somewhere quiet to die. We know that trees communicate. Has that tree been told by those ahead that the track is clear and it is safe to rest. Just saying and parking that thought here. When a tree falls it continues to nourish the forest just as I believe our ancestors do. Like trees our stories are hidden within. Only some of our scars are visible but only because they show as physical injury. The true story of the tree and any traumas experienced during its’ lifetime are told by the rings of the tree. It is not uncommon to find a tree that appears to have fallen in its’ younger years and been supported by a neighbouring tree until it was strong enough to carry on its’ journey skyward. Have you ever seen a photo of a tree and you know exactly where that tree is or if I ask you to remember a tree from your childhood. It could be one that you played in, fell from or picked fruit from. That is connection. We are still connected to those trees just as we are the people we remember, some more vividly than others through those invisible threads of connection. If you seek healing, then trees are non-judgmental and great listeners. When you enter a healthy ngahere the healing goes even deeper. Pay forward to Papatῡᾱnuku whenever you can. What if the ultimate reincarnation was a tree. Wow! Not the emotion I was expecting to experience post-surgery. However, it quietly seethed undetected for a few months with the occasional bout of depression brought on by the feelings of ‘Why me?’. Fortunately, I know how to handle depression when I feel it coming. Usually, I allow myself to wallow around in the self-pity for a day then eventually I will take myself outdoors to wherever I feel drawn to.
I was completely unprepared for anger. I was told that surgery would be life changing. I had already made those changes and it didn’t need a heart attack to make it happen. Follow up courses talked about healthy food and reading labels. But I did and still had a heart attack. Those same courses suggested quitting smoking. Yes 12 years ago and still... alcohol? Rarely and exercise? Yes. Stress? Managed! I was told that surgery often brought about epiphanies. Nothing that I haven’t had already. In fact, the heart attack stopped progress. I had been slowly moving in the direction of my dreams, okay the key word there was slowly and laced with procrastination and visions with minimal action. I was told that I am no longer the same person I was before I had the heart attack. What?! No!! I liked who that person was becoming. Yeah sure, she was a dreamer, a procrastinator and a wanderer but she was creating her own meandering path. All the local Councils in Aotearoa were going through elections when I came out and the anger bubbled away because all I heard was more and bigger and more and bigger. The campaign promises contradicted all the key words they were also using such as ‘climate change’, ‘sustainability’ and ‘environment’. Suddenly, I felt for all the indigenous people of the world (and we are all indigenous to somewhere but for some the connection has been weakened by greed and nature deficit disorder) and those who have campaigned for Papatῡᾱnuku for decades and the frustrations they must have felt and still feel. In the meantime, my healing was progressing well. I was increasing my walks both distance and gradient, biking and had returned to the swimming pool and work. Gratefully picking up where I had left off because it was just a glitch on the journey of life after all. Until the pain in my foot sent me to the doctor to discover I had possible septicemia. I hadn’t addressed my anger. So, I started to question the emotional and spiritual causes. Louise Hay is one of many who believe that our physical illnesses are manifestations of what is going on internally. For example, she says that the heart is a lack of joy. Well, that triggered my anger response. I felt that I was a happy-go-lucky person. I realize that they were her words and it was my choice to accept them or not. They gave me cause to self-reflect on a deeper level and ask if my outward joy was masking the opposite. I had put on weight in the abdomen but put that down to genetics and menopause. I have heard that it represents protection which makes sense. Time to take that anger and be genuinely honest with myself. We are experts at putting ourselves down but being honest is different to put downs. We can fool ourselves, but our bodies will manifest the truth in the form of dis-ease as Louise Hay puts it. Ironically, what finally dissipated the anger came from the most unlikely source. I was told that someone from my past had heard that I had ‘Let myself go’. I laughed once I got over the initial shock response. YES! I HAVE! I have let myself go of worry, of doubt, of long work hours, excessive baggage both physical and emotional, and freed up more time to spend on my passion which is spending time outdoors. I write this parked up in the very place that I had my heart attack 6 months ago. Throughout this whole journey it was natures spaces that I visited for healing. Today I have been out of hospital for as long as I was in hospital, a total of 12 weeks. Feeling somewhat dazed and confused. Life wanted me alive but has me checked out and yet it is just a blip on the journey of life.
Outward Bound sent me my watch photo after surgery which was quite serendipitous because the full medical that was required revealed my high blood pressure and subsequently, high cholesterol. It was one of life’s pivotal moments. 10th of July 2011 (11 years ago) I finally made it to Outward Bound. What stopped me going before then was the power I gave to sticks of dried burning leaves (cigarettes) and the coffee that lubricated the throat. The opportunity to attend Outward Bound came six months after quitting and ironically, while I was completing an ‘Adventure Based Learning’ paper for my diploma. However, there is always a challenge one must face if we want something. I wanted to go to Outward Bound more than I hated running. The fear of being kicked off the course for lying about my ability to run 3km in under 25 mins had me up and semi running around the block in the dark cold winter morning. On the last day we had to run 12kms. (Now they have my permission to kick me off the course.) I call it resistance training. I am resisting the urge to run. Fastish walk it is. One of my teammates finished his run and ran back to support me to the finish line while others waited to fully submerge in the sea one last time together. I’m sure I was loved but it could have been because no one eats lunch until we are all finished. While waiting five weeks for surgery. I did consider running down the stairs screaming to try to bump myself up the list but feared after five weeks my legs would give out before my heart did. Bringing the outdoors indoors definitely helped. Many indigenous people believe that stones have energy or a life force. Mᾱori call this ‘mauri’. My son gave me a small rock which I used for grounding and connecting with the outdoors. Fortunately, I was also able to open the windows and inhale the outside air when needed. From the 6th floor I had a clear view of the valley and the hills. I received my rongoā (Mᾱori medicine) certificate while in a hospital. Life's ironies. It appears that it is a little-known fact that you shouldn't take kawakawa if you are on blood thinners. What is incredible is that 1 day after 3 hour surgery with my heart on the table (why they opened my chest when it sits on my sleeve I’ll never know). They had me get up from the bed and onto a chair for two hours. By day 3 I was walking to the toilet in the corridor unaided. Five days is the standard discharge time. My discharge form said it was an unremarkable recovery. They are so flattering. And now the physical, emotional and spiritual journey continues with a new scar that will soon become an invisible scar. The only thing I do know is that being amongst the trees feels like coming home. On one bush walk I took a breather on Katy’s seat. Her plague reads “Great things happen when women and mountains meet”. What Outward Bound and being in hospital both taught me. I still hate running lol. Life is full of ironies and serendipity. Power of love and good intentions. It really is the simple things in life that matter. Don’t ignore the warning signs. There are always two hungry wolves. Gratitude and lastly that feeling that others also want you to succeed/survive is truly humbling and motivating. Imagine if love was the energy we shared all the time. I'm going to heed the recovery advice. Walk don't run! 😂 Are you singing with me yet? I’m singing from the safe embrace of a hospital ward after experiencing just that. It’s been a month since my last blog which was typed while standing at the kitchen bench because I found some relief from the discomfort I was experiencing. It is now the date that I ended up in hospital following a series of heart attacks. My body had had enough of being ignored. She had been hinting for a while that something was amiss. I just put it down to being unfit despite spending a lot of time outdoors. The more I attempted to increase my fitness the more frequent the breathlessness occurred even on the flat a short distance from my home. Be careful what you wish for. I purchased a book recently and kept saying I was dying to read it. Mmmm, maybe not.
What I have learned is that a woman’s heart attack is very different from a mans and is often dismissed as stress or indigestion by both the professional and the sufferer. A toothache, tightness in the throat, ache across the shoulder have all been heart attacks experienced by women. I did not think I was having a heart attack but I knew something wasn’t right and was feeling very scared. Suddenly, that desolate campground at the base of the rainforest listening to the babbling river accompanied by the sound of pattering rain went from being heaven on earth to my potential (ar)resting place. I phoned my daughter who suggested I call an ambulance. How many of us have not done that? Dismissing the idea as extreme. Instead, while trying to make the pain go away by pacing, standing outside in the rain on the earth barefoot, inhaling as much oxygen as I could I packed down the home ready to drive despite the continual pain. My brain should have said “Call that ambulance” or “the ranger” but no. It said, “prepare to drive”. My brain had also learnt that what isn’t put away crashes to the ground when I drive so it told the body to pack down the home and drive to the doctors up over a steep hill into suburbia. That natural survival instinct to move to a safer place could have been the very death of me. Worse, others. By the time I arrived at the doctors my heart was happily pumping away so tests showed nothing wrong and I questioned my own sanity. Feeling relieved and wondering if I had worked myself into a panic I cooked my daughter, who had since joined me, lunch in my home in the carpark. All laughing and joking came to a halt as another wave of pain came over me. This time she drove me to hospital 20 mins away. Again, by the time I arrived the pain had subsided and I was assured it was probably just severe indigestion. Something I never suffer from generally and on the rare occasion when I did, it felt nothing like this. Waiting for hours in an emergency room surrounded by people who were visibly more unwell than I. The feeling of clogging up a health care system for a potential false alarm meant that the desire to head back to my home and back to the tranquility of the mountains was very strong. But for my student paramedic daughter’s insistence. I stayed. At one point I ducked into the toilet to wash my face with my tears. Never have I been more torn between wanting them to find something and not wanting them to find something. Nothing wrong would mean I had just inconvenienced an overworked emergency department. The bittersweet news is I am now waiting for a triple bypass. Who’d have guessed at my age and lifestyle that I would be here. Looking around the room at the woman who surround me of different ages, sizes and ethnicities. It just proves that sexy gorgeous women can have heart attacks too. I have also learnt that a bypass does not mean they go in around the side of the heart through a little hole. My guardian angels should have just said, “we need a break! It’s been years since we drank our cuppa hot!” In truth they were trying to tell me for months and now they can finally sit and indulge themselves while I wait contained. How many of you recall roaming the countryside barefoot, rain or shine. For those of you who were not allowed to. It is never too late.
Wrap up warm and put that raincoat on and feel the earth under your feet and between your toes. Call it a free massage or a form of reflexology Releasing your inner child Kōrero with Papatῡᾱnuku (Talking to mother earth) through the soles of your feet. Feel your worries and stresses fall away (assuming you aren't squeamish or cold). Reduces inflammation Improves sleep Improves blood flow and the list goes on. I can testify that it feels great and those who have joined me have all confirmed that. Sadly, the best time to walk on fields of grass is winter because in summer there is an abundance of prickles and that's a form of acupuncture lol. Having said that. There are still places we can go in summer immersed in native bush. The worried look on my face is not the feet in mud. Its my technical skills. We are not all gifted in all things. How long depends on you personally. Saying "I love you" to the water you drink is a good place to start the journey of healing for both ourselves and our environments.
Knowing that we are mainly water and that water is life. We are a part of our environment and not separate from. The moon has influence on water. Water can move mountains and carve rocks. Scientific research has found that water responds to the energy we give it. They say that water has memory and the water in you has a life time of memories of places and people and emotions. There are many indigenous beliefs that the harm we do to Papatuanuku represents the harm to ourselves and others. Wairua means ‘two waters’ . In Te Ao Maori (Maori worldview) all living things have wairua or two waters of energy. Waiora which is pure divine energy from the source and Waituhi which is the memory water stores of everything we have done both good and bad. We can cry rivers of joy and sadness. Start loving your water/yourself. Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au I am the river, the river is me. I fell in love with the West Coast on a family trip as a kid. Sullen photos in the family album might beg to differ 🙂 but it's so uncool hanging with family when you're 13. Ok so moody 13 year old lol. Coming back I can see why I did. Credit to my parents. Railings did not exist in places like Punakaiki. I was a nervous wreck just imagining us as kids running around the place.
Enroute, I spent a weekend in Duntroon with others living in a 'Kea' motorhome. Interesting observation. Automatically, everyone formed a horseshoe as a response to coming together as a community. The circle is timeless with a neutral shared space in the middle. Normally parking is done in rows like a carpark. I confess to driving a bit fast on a self-imposed time limit and motivated by the borders opening soon and rising fuel costs. Decision making can be hard enough at the best of times with no one to bounce ideas off. I'd ask my ancestors but they have a wicked sense of humor with a dash of sarcasm so I'm very careful what I ask for. Therefore, I frequently consult the magic 8 ball and get a second opinion from the coin 😁. Poor Nala. On those occasions when she can't come with me I leave 2 fans going, bowl of water, vents open, a cooling pad and something to chew. Imagine if I loved her. Highlights. Guided tour in the Limestone Caves at Oparara. The guide started the tour by saying that all birds are Robins and all plants are Coprosma but then proceeded to name all the plants by their Mᾱori name, common name and Latin name including the whakapapa/genealogy. The challenge is to try to retain as much of that as I can or at least exceed 10% retention. Magical. Watching approximately 100 blue penguins coming ashore in Oamaru. No photos permitted so as not to disturb their natural behaviours. Some words to ponder that were shared with me. “I like walking along the edge of the waves because I feel like I'm walking in two worlds at the same time" Revisited some childhood places thanks to the affordability of railway cottages and a time before they were tourism hot spots. On a walk up Conical Hill in Hanmer I gratefully accepted a stick from the barrel gifted by the Men's Shed. I passed lots of local people on their phone up and down the hill. I wanted to play Rafiki from the Lion King but I resisted 😁. The friends and people I have met. Seeing the conservation efforts being made to preserve the indigenous flora and fauna. Ended my journey with whanau. Spent a few days offline in Kaikoura by the coast in a remote spot. The path to the beach was twisted and bumpy and overgrown with grass. After a night of rain Mum said it would be too wet and challenging. I accepted that but without a word my brother was seen clearing the track of the grass (not natives). Parked up at Waiharekeke/Blenheim racecourse. I once got paid to get the race results from the two commentators in the grandstand after each horse race where I then biked like crazy through the golf course and across town to deliver to the post office so it could be wired out to all the TABs. IM NOT THAT OLD. I went to cut through the same golf course but didn't fancy dodging abuse or balls. Saw a couple heading towards me wheeling golf bags. They kindly escorted me across the green in exchange for my riveting conversation 😁😁😇. After two and a half months I returned home to Te Ika a Mᾱui/North Island. Ironically, a week after I return there is a meeting of motorhomes in the suburb I left in Dec Nala and I no longer collect rocks. Instead grains of potential rocks... sand I mean sand. Bittersweet posting stories when there's unrest abroad (Ukraine/Russia). Blissfully unaware of most things in the news but that gets through.
To share some highlights and hopefully inspire one person to hold the vision of their dreams as others have done me. This is one of those bigger ones that supersede the day to day goals but know they can happen. I'm glad I couldn't go before now because on one tour there were typically 800 visitors to the glowworm caves PER DAY. Only 20 on my trip and two trips a day scheduled. A double fuel tanker used to travel to Piopiotahi/Milford Sound twice a day and now does the trip once A MONTH. While I feel for the economy, it's got to be good for the environment and locals like me and you. The tour guide said it had got to the point where tourists from overseas flew in to Queenstown and did Fiordland Tours, often asleep on bus and boat. In Tuatapere a woman at a local café kindly gave me a dollop of 15+ Manuka honey for my foot. Glad she said foot because you normally get sauce with a sausage roll. Combine an indecisive person and Doubtful Sound and you get clarity. I'm sure there's some basic science in there. Doubtful Sound.. I've heard is magical in the rain but Tāwhirimātea chose wind and I was not going inside. The rules around Covid in the current climate with Omricon starting to creep its way down the country meant that wearing a mask outside the boat as well as inside was compulsory. The downside was that many masks ended up in the water due to the wind hence the hood of the raincoat to prevent mine from escaping my face. I visited the takahē and Kākāriki in Te Anau. A Kākāriki sat listening attentively while I said a couple of karakia to it. When I had finished they picked up a leaf and put it on the the ledge on my side. Three possible reasons 1. I'm paying you to stop, 2. Thank you or 3. The sign said don't feed the birds and they were trying to show me how it's done. YES I have kept that leaf. It takes a whole village to raise a Heather and I just revisited a special village Aunt from my childhood. We don't need more therapists in our village. We already have lots living amongst us. Spent a healing magical week there. Was also nursing a wound on the fleshy part of foot for a month. I dislike wearing shoes and so I hadn't been giving it time to heal.
Turns out I didn't need a tetanus shot, antibiotics or professional help (subjective I know). Just a couple of caring village Aunts. A friend of theirs dropped some cream off which was very poignant (pic attached). Once foot felt better we went back into the Catlins for the day. I don't think I can stand on the Petrified Forest often enough. I decided to go for a drive solo one day with no Google maps and ended up in Bluff. On a sunny day I sat and chatted to an 83 year old woman called Noelene for an hour. A young man asked if we knew where the famous signpost was. Typical, I didn't even know it was metres from me and I was parked facing it. Enroute to Fiordland I parked up at Monkey Island Beach and finally caught up with a seasoned traveler who has been living on the road for four years now. What saddens me the most is the vast amount of farmland everywhere I go and lack of Native forests. Omgosh there's no wifi 😟... sharp inhale and plan to move on... Omgosh there's no wifi... slow relieved exhale and stays longer 🙂
Arrived in the Catlins where wifi is sketchy. Really really do need to buy that plb.(personal locator beacon). No cell and its very humbling to think that if something happened to me. No one knows where I am. If you see a middle aged woman appearing to cackle to herself on the road. That's me listening to Google maps. Definitely needs a lesson in Te Reo. I think she has a wicked sense of humor. Instead of going around the mountain she takes me straight up and over. Tight steep 85° angled roads that are windy and about 1000m above sea level. The last one had signs telling trucks to use air brakes. What's for dinner tonight.. tossed salad again 🙂. My whanau/family in the north who know I don't listen to the news warned me of forecast wind and rain so I hunkered down in a DOC (Department of Conservation) campground in Papatowai. Heard a few strong gusts in the night but felt nothing. A fellow camper offered some biscuits she had made. She couldn't believe it when I knew they were called snickerdoodles. Mum made them all the time. Highlights. Visiting the Albatross Colony and the Dunedin peninsula in general. Although driving up and over the hill into Dunedin with poor visibility in the dark was challenging. I couldn’t pull over because I couldn’t see to get back onto the road so the traffic had to crawl behind this otherwise courteous camper for a few kilometres. Finally reaching the Petrified forests in the Catlins and standing barefoot. Those catchups with people that really shouldn't be as long as they are between visits. The people I've met who have become friends. Got a hug on the street in Kaikoura. I used to collect rocks everywhere I went and like my companion, so too does my dog. Through my studies I learnt that rocks have 'mauri' which means life force or essence in Mᾱori to put it simply. This belief is common to all indigenous people of the world despite the terminology being different the essence is the same. Now I pick up a stone or rock, have a thought (I'm an overthinker so unlikely I will have just one) or ask a question and before I leave thank the stone or rock and leave it behind. I give myself the same instruction as I do my dog. 'Drop it" and 'Walk on" lol. My precious dog kept everyone awake at night except for me while our home was being repaired.
She ran around the house whenever I moved so she could see me (in photo she has found steps so I can be watched from kitchen window). At night she whined because she couldn't see me so I decided to sleep on the deck the following night. Enjoyed it so much I spent the next three nights on the deck. Once repaired my adventures recommenced as I headed once more down the East Coast of Te Waipounamu/South Island only this time I now have my copilot and all my belongings. My first night back on the road was in a park that can accommodate 100 motorhomes 😬 and here's me avoiding crowds. I have no doubt that there is a solution to the housing crisis and the opportunity to make living with limited resources a part of education. I confess... I talk shit!!
Parked up with my rear facing the coast and the road. I observed many fellow campers walking past regularly throughout the day and evening.... I ass-umed there must be a Cafe, restaurant, fish n chip place or walk up the road worth a visit. In the morning I asked a neighbour. Where is everyone going? .. .. A PUBLIC TOILET ! was the point of interest. All my networking so far has been at the dump stations and apart from Where did you come from, where are you going ( are you singing). You guessed it, we talk about ..... My favourite dump station is at Tahunanui Beach and is situated right next to the McDonald's drive through literally. I arrived right on lunchtime in the height of summer. I must confess I did stand there for far too long deciding whether I should put them off their lunch . I have 95litre of water to use. Couldn't figure out why I was needing to refill it regularly but no waste water coming out... then I clicked... I'm regularly emptying toilet cassette.. I'm filtering my own water. To all those of you I've caught up with... my talking shit is the opinion of the listener . I am prone to embellishing stories a wee (pun intended) bit. I'll see you at a dump station near you . Beachfront property!! Woohoo. Feeling taukumekume this week. A little lost despite the freedom. Traveling with a dog has its blessings and challenges. I don't enjoy crowded places so found I kept wanting to move on from the summer hotspots. Hanging about the top of Te Waipounamu/South Island while waiting to book my motorhome in for repair and knowing that I need a place to kip for me and the dog. Life's ironies. A place called Ngahere meaning bush or forests is a sawmill yard. Just one of many. Highlights: Hands up the driveways I visited with lots of love, hugs and laughter. Catching up on too many years that had elapsed. Making it the year I don't just say "let's catch up for coffee sometime". Traveling from Middle Earth (Lord of The Rings, Rivendell, Kaitoke) to the centre of Aotearoa. Waiting for insurance to contact me while they were waiting for me 🤔🙃. Needing to just stop and ground myself I pulled up at Kina Beach. While I was pulled over on roadside checking the map another motorhome must have past me and got the last park on the beach front. Fortune favors the indecisive. It turns out that my spot got TV reception apparently but the beach front park didn't. Woohoo. Swap. My journey began in Rangiora in Te Waipounamu/South Island of Aotearoa in the height of summer with only a small backpack full of clothes. The country was preparing for an Omicron wave when I took off and the Roads were unusually quiet since the international borders had closed a couple of years ago. The only travellers on the road were locals or trapped foreigners.
Feeling excitedly overwhelmed I headed South with my head buzzing with all the new information I needed to absorb such as driving the vehicle itself, the overnight parks permitted and the exterior and interior workings of my new home and the new codes of conduct and etiquette. If you ever see a motorhome on the side of the road with a yellow cloth on the wing mirror that’s an indication they are needing assistance. Green on the dashboard means they are single. Truckers call us the white maggots and it takes four months to get from Kaikoura to Christchurch not two hours. I learned very quickly that small towns welcomed motorhomers because the money they don’t spend in accommodation they spend in small town economies. While driving through the Haast Pass I heard a crash. Eventually I was able to pull over. The coffee grinds had spilt so I moped the floor with my tears... yeah right. It was moccona... 30 minute rule applies. I found a freedom camp and looked dubiously down the steep gravel entrance knowing I have a front wheel drive. A man and his dogs emerged and assured me it would be fine. I got to the bottom and there were few homes down there and no cell reception, so I decided to leave. That gut feeling I had, proved to be right as I skidded twice in my attempt to exit. Reversing to the bottom for the second time I changed gears to manual and despite some wheel spins I made it out with heart pounding. I confess though that as I drove through the Haast Pass on the West Coast side I burst into tears at the untouched beauty of the place that I remembered as a child. There is no cell coverage in much of the West Coast and it is quite an experience to think that no one knows where you are. I went for a small bush walk and realized that I could vanish and not a soul knew I was here. There are a few driveways on my bucket list to pull up in. I managed to visit a friend in Hokitika twice. I've since heard she's moving but she won't say where :) I had plans to make my home stand out. However, a deep gash was not one of the designs on the drawing board. It was the corner of my brother's house that beat me. I'm gutted I gutted his gutter. I have no idea what the planets were doing at the precise moment I was born but they were probably all racing round until 'time's up!'. We have an indecisive one here. They probably shouldn't have asked me where I wanted them to be. There's a global shift towards a simpler life and my indigenous soul wanted to join them. When that first spark of desire burned it seemed an impossible dream but as the children left home the spark burst into a small flame. I tried to ignore it and my practical self tried for years to make sense of a single person living in a 4-bedroom home and no matter how many plans I came up with I could never get passionate about it. My heart yearned for a home that would be smaller than the lounge I was sitting in and I wondered if the reality would match the fantasy. Sometimes we are held back by the fear of what we don't know what we don't know (love Johari window). Stepping off the property ladder during a housing shortage and Covid economy was like stepping into an abyss. When I closed the door for the last time it was pouring with rain and my entire life fit in my little yellow Honda Fit. Finding a motorhome wasn't as easy as I thought. All those people who used to head overseas for their holidays had bought up large. Covid meant imports were down, so they were all holding their value and getting snaffled up. Three weeks later I found the motorhome that would be my home with a total length of 6.4m I can honestly say that I have not had a single regret since making the transition 4 months ago. That doesn't mean to say that all is 100% perfect. I myself am perfectly imperfect and imperfectly perfect just as you are. There is yin yang in everything. I now live in a 6.4m long home on wheels Introducing Outdoor Bliss on wheels I was sitting on the couch the other day looking at the photos of my ancestors that I've never met not far removed. They were once me (sure I can hear some mumbled denials - she's your family - no she is yours). They had hopes and dreams just like me and now they are a photo on my wall. One day I will be a photo on someone's wall.. I want to have a reputation for something, anything... I'll take mad, crazy, eccentric My mother said she read somewhere that cemeteries have strong energies (exact wording?) . It's a place many people take inventions, ideas and dreams they never brought to light. This is a photo of my grandmother as a teenager. |
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