Vignette 11
Walking to the Crossroads
Most weekdays between 8:30 and 9:00 a.m. Rita and I head straight uphill towards the crossroads. Jessie often meets us at the top of the first hill by the row of mailboxes. We have arrived at the age that demands regular exercise in order to combat the effects of stiffness and gravity induced drooping. The round trip is about three miles and it is common in the wintertime to get caught in a rain shower or blown off your feet by strong gusts of wind. Up and down the hills we go chattering away. In one walking session we can easily cover any of our current problems, travel plans, TV shows, childhood memories, childrearing practices or plastic surgery in Thailand.
We walk right up the middle of the two lane rural road because the road curves downward on either side with the center most level. There are heavily forested areas growing right up close to the road and that means there is no place to make a quick escape if a car comes zooming around one of the many twists and turns and catches us unaware. With all the chatter a car can sneak up on us easily. New Zealander’s drive on the opposite side of the road as the U.S. and for the first two years that I lived here I had to repeat over and over in my mind; on my left, my left, my left, so that when I had to react I would know to; jump right, jump right, jump right. This is my crossroad’s survival mantra. Sometimes on a windy day the pine trees still fake me out and I duck and cover hysterically before realizing it is only a tree rustling. I have a good laugh at myself when I do this.
Rita’s reaction to an unexpected car emerging around the corner is something closer to trying to escape erratic gunfire. She opens her arms wide and jumps into a mission impossible type crouch and then runs helter skelter like she is dodging bullets. Today we both reacted when a car seemed to come out of nowhere. We grabbed each other by the arms of our sweatshirts, crashing and bumbling about never quite able to get past each other in order to get out of the way. The guy in the passing car laughed at our startled improvisation. Besides the blowing pine tree fake out, airplanes, passing boats and even low flying birds can set us off. This is just one of the funny little things that can happen on our walk.
Along the earthen embankments grow bright red mushrooms. They show up right after a good rain. The white dots on the tops of the mushrooms remind me that I might actually be in the Land of Oz. From the top of the ridge we can see east all the way over to the Coromandel Peninsula unless it is covered by rain clouds. Ponui Island is a straight across 2km swim. Rotorua and Pakatoa Islands are a bit further down the channel to the left. These nearby islands are floating green patchwork quilts of rolling hills, green water tanks, vineyards and livestock paddocks, all bordered by groves of ti tree and Pohutukawa. The Pohutukawa is a tree whose vivid red bottle brush flowers decorate the coastline cliffs and beaches during Christmas time. Christmas time in New Zealand is the beginning of summer and that is a whole other aspect of living down under.
The water moving through the Waiheke Channel has as many moods of blue and green as we three walking women. Rita leads us around the carved wooden bench when we reach our half way mark. I can’t help but stop and sit a spell on this bench when I do this walk alone. The view never disappoints and prompts me to say thank you for all my blessings.
Walking back I find that I study the Auckland side of the water. Way off in the distance you can see the recognizable shape of the Sky Tower in the central business center of Auckland. This doesn’t take you attention away from the big open shallows of Te Matuku Bay. This is a protected reserve with a most amazing sand spit that looks to be floating or lying high and dry depending on the stages of the tides. We sometimes take our kayak up into the mangroves of Te Matuku Bay at high tide. I love being able to not only look down upon this estuary but also be able to quietly paddle through its tidal cut mud flats. There are a couple of places along the walk that allow you to see down through the thick bush to the bay. An oyster farm is tucked into the western finger. I love watching the colors change based on how much water is covering the rich silt bottom. Stoney tells great stories about Te Matuku before it became a reserve. He used to set the flounder net at high tide, go sit in shallows of the mangroves and drink some home brew while waiting for the nets to fill. He said the trick is to be out before low tide traps you there for another six hours. Otherwise he says that you will have a hell of a hangover the next day.
I have painted the estuary and the sand spit for quite a few years. There seems to be an endless supply of perspectives for me to translate. I am drawn to its shape and texture, and how the high tide closes in around its perimeter. There is a long narrow line of native grasses that runs down the middle of the stark white sand spit. Water has cut a sexy curve across the bottom end of the spit separating it from a small oblong mound of sand and grass that looks as if it used to be attached. Brett and I have walked around the extending reefs at low tide from Orapiu Bay around to Otakawhe Bay, on around to Pearl Bay and finally reach the Te Matuku Bay sand spit. I am so glad that this area has been made into a reserve. I am not sure Stoney would agree with me on this.
When we see the bamboo grove at the top of our last big hill we know we will be home shortly. All of a sudden a disturbed male pheasant comes crashing and honking from out of the bush, flying towards us at eye level, trying to make it across the road. Can you picture what happened next?
