Yesterday I did the Coast to Coast Walk so now I can say I have walked across New Zealand from the Tasman Sea to the Pacific Ocean. Of course Auckland is on an isthmus so that is a16 km walk. It's not quite the same as walking coast to coast in almost an other part of the country let alone any other country! However this is rated one of the top ten urban walks in the world.
I started by heading back to Onehunga with Pene and Atawhai. They were teaching again and I stopped for food and then walked off to find the beginning of the walk about 1 km away. I found out in the process that Onehunga voted in the first woman mayor in the British Empire in 1893 - another thing I like about Onehunga. My kind of place! The starting point was a bit disappointing. The shore line was actually an inlet rather than a beach, and there was a bridge from headland to headland so I couldn't even see the Tasman.
So off I went and of course the route immediately headed uphill. Curses.
I had no real idea of where I was going as I struggled to download the map at a useful size. Consequently I had a map but it was to small for me to be confident that it showed all the details. There is no current published map available either but I am determined and this is an urban walk with lots of people available to ask and my experience is that people always do want to help. Still the route is particularly well sign posted. There are little blue square signs with arrows pointing the way. More resonances with the Camino. In fact it is so signposted in some places there are three signs to make sure you cross the road at exactly the right spot. Truly - the sign says cross here! My Camino habit of scanning the environment for arrows unconsciously kicked in as I suddenly saw an arrow sign down a side street. I could hardly believe my eyes when the route had been so well sign-posted to this point. But I thought I would go check it out and, sure enough, that was the right way.
So now I was in Royal Oak. It occurred to me that once again I was travelling from the suburbs to the inner city, the outer to the inner, the edge to the heart. I had a chuckle to myself thinking of some of my friends and the comments they would make about symbolism and how this would fit with the conversation I had had with Pene about walking being meditation in action. I wondered if something special would happen today and then I thought, yes, I would get to do the walk and that is pretty special, so stay in the present and be mindful.
Then I came to One Tree Hill, and of course, I had to walk to the summit. Curses again. At this point it is inevitable that I start wondering why countries have to have hills and mountains and why they can't get some decent bulldozers?
One Tree Hill is in a domain; a green, grassy, treed space in the city. Pene told me that once there was a single tree but it was chopped down by a Maori activist protesting Pakeha (white European) oppression. That wasn't in the brochure. I bet there was a terrible furor. Even for me the name One Tree Hill resonates with Lone Pine from Gallipoli and ANZAC Cove, so it's hard not to sympathize with both sides. And the site is dominated by a hill topped by a spire that certainly looks like it will be a memorial.
Another thing that wasn't in the brochure was that they graze sheep on the land around the summit. I'm amazed. I can hear cows mooing as well. I wonder why they are here but I can't see any signs they might explain it, only the signs to the Observatory. Another mystery is a set of stones laid out so that it can be seen/read from the summit. Why do people do that? What kind of commitment does that take? And what do they want us to know? Whatever it is I obviously didn't get it.
Getting to the top there is a memorial but it is meant to be to the Maori people. According to the plaque, the site was donated by Sir John Logan Campbell who left instructions in his will for an acknowledgement of his respect and admiration for the Maori people. Instead the dominant culture turned it into a memorial to him and the British.
One Tree Hill is also Maungakieke, the largest volcanic cone fortress in the southern hemisphere. I'm spending a fair bit of time around volcanoes lately.
I leave the summit and have to approach a woman and check that I am going the right way. She said you're heading to Olive Way. I said I don't know about that and told her the name of the street on the map. She said"Oh you're going that far! " which is quite disconcerting when you know you are only about a third of the way along the walk. I wondered if I turned back could I get back to Pene before she left Onehunga and would anyone notice if I didn't finish. Then I started walking again, because that's what you do.
The road went through Cornwell Park. This too is part of the gift to the nation by Sir John during a tour by the then Duke and Duchess of Cornwall. It's a pretty park. I stopped in at the Information Centre to find out where the public toilets were along the way. Why does it not occur to walking tour map drawers that this is essential information, especially if you are not in favor of men urinating in public, which I, emphatically, am not.
Walking through this Park was a man in a rain jacket. Even I was sleeveless so it was a pretty warm day and I was thinking lucky for him that the 9/11 scare was over or he'd be arrested (I was reading Salmon Rushdie). He was a stocky Asian man at least in his sixties who was motoring along and not raising a sweat that I could see. Depressing, when I was just starting to realize that I was developing a blister on the outside of my left heel, exactly where I had got my first blister on the Camino. Such an odd spot too - it must mean I have a problem either with that for our my gait. I'll have to investigate when I get home. At least all this area is flat. I'm loving it. Lots of beautiful trees too, some of which are starting to yellow with autumn in spite of the warm days.
I wonder through some more suburban streets to Melville Park and across the cricket fields to sit in the shade outside the University of Auckland and have a lunch break with my feet up. I get to read my book and people-watch uni students for a while. Nice. This is a no rush walk. Also the Information Centre woman told me that the uni is one of the two places people routinely get lost so I'm guiding my loins. Not that I'm particularly concerned - I can always find the library, have a browse, and get the librarian to help. They always do. And I'm a student too, even if in a different country.
As it happens I don't have any problems with either of the two tricky spots, finding them quite par for the course for urban walking trails and quite well sign-posted. I manage to get lost in entirely different spots.
Through the uni I go and then on to the domain at Mt Eden, another hill. At 196m, is the tallest volcano in Auckland. It doesn't feel that way walking it though. One Tree Hill was harder to climb. One thing I really noticed on the way up, as I had a quiet moment in the bush, was how little New Zealand birds are bothered by people. I had noticed on Rangitoto that the birds are the ground scavengers, and once again this was the case. I don't know what kind of bird it was but it let me within 2-3 feet (60-90cm) before it flew off. They must have been decimated by the introduction of predators.
On the way down from the summit and I met another Good Samaritan who saw that I was looking bewildered by the arrow that pointed back the way I came and he pointed me in the right direction. I also met a young guy, 30ish with a big backpack, who was walking it the other way but it turned out he started just down the road rather than at the other end. We wished each other well and off I went through increasing well off suburbs. I passed the Auckland Grammer School, which looked like the Empire replanted from Singapore, crossed over the motorway, wondering if I was going in the right direction, and saw signs for the Museum. I thought that if I was lost I could always go to the Museum instead, or maybe even come back when I'd finished the walk (how impractical was that? )
Just ahead was the Auckland Domain, exactly what I was looking for, and the sign that I had reached the CBD and was nearly finished. A very helpful women eating lunch in the cricket grandstand looked at my map, agreed it was no use at this point and told me if I followed the path to the right I'd find the kiosk (the one recognizable thing on the map and the place where the toilets are) just past the duck pond. Funny advice as it turned out because you can see the kiosk before the duck pond.
What neither the map or woman had mentioned is that the kiosk and toilets are accessories to the Auckland Wintergardens, a tourist attraction on the Hop on Hop off bus tour. I love gardens and happily spent an unknown period of time in the Victorian buildings which house the Cool house, the Hothouse and the Fernery all situated around a Roman style portico surrounding an atrium style formal pond with mosaic fountains at each end. The hothouse had an hypocaust to heat it too, which was a Roman central heating invention. Quite gorgeous.
Then I checked out the duck pond before leaving and getting lost. It wasn't until I saw the War Museum, sitting in isolated splendour on top of the hill, that I was sure I was going the wrong way. I did get a good picture of it though. Sadly I later realised it was from the back.
So then I had to trudge back and head into the city proper. Once again I passed Auckland Uni, but the city campus this time. They have a lovely Gaudi-esque clock tower. Once again I got lost but this time it took me outside a Northface shop with a 50% off sale on backpacks. Seeing mine was fraying that was great. Then I worked out where I was and headed down to the Wharf. I wandered along and was wondering how I would know when I'd got to the end when I came to a sign that said Coat to Coast Finish! I'd done it! I promptly took a picture of the sign. Later Atawhai asked if I'd got someone to take a picture of me with it and I confessed it had never occurred to me.
So I took myself off to Britomart and stepped straight into a train. I imagine it must have been unpleasant to sit next to me but everyone was polite. It was a busier peak hour too with about six people standing!
Friday 8 March 2013
Wednesday 6 March 2013
Rangitoto
Yesterday I spent the day climbing and walking on Rangitoto. Rangitoto is the youngest volcano in New Zealand being only 600 years old and is in the Auckland Harbour in the Hauraki Gulf. Rangitoto roughly means blood in the sky (it has a much longer translation than that) which you'd think would be appropriate for a volcano but, in fact, it commemorates the death of a Maori chieftain in a battle which reminds you once again that this was a warrior culture and this is not your (my) culture.
The trip started with an attempt to catch the train from Swanson to Britomart, the central Station in Auckland, which was delayed by my dash home for my reading glasses - I always forget something. Pene lives in West Auckland which is practically on the west coast and is quite rural, so the journey was from single story shopping centres, to double stories, to the famous Eden Park rugby Stadium and then suddenly into the modern CBD and the port. Britomart is the most futuristic train station I have ever been in but only has 5 platforms which was a big surprise to me.
The ferry was only a block and 25 minutes away and I got a bit of a guided tour of the broke thrown in as well, which was good because it cost more than $20 which was more than I expected. On the way we saw a Lighthouse which seemed tiny but the guide said the Lighthouse keeper lived there with his family and rowed his children to and from school every school day. I just could not imagine how much effort that lifestyle would take, nor living in such a small space with children. People really do love extraordinary lives!
We arrived about 11.00 and weren't being collected until 3.30 but that still meant that choices had to be made about what parts of the Island could be seen in the time available. I was a bit annoyed by the map which only gave times that it took to walk from spot to spot and no distances which made it quite hard to estimate. As it turned out the cartographer wasn't much chop anyway! I decided to go straight to the top and see the views of the Harbour and then see the Lighthouse and walk the Eastern coast back.
As usual on the way over on the ferry, everyone else was in shirt sleeves while I wore three layers of clothes, but as we arrived the sun came out so I zipped down to shorts and a sleeveless top and loved the sun. Everyone here complains about the heat but I can't say I've noticed it, even though they are in drought. But I was glad I'd lost weight first before heading up the hill. I hate going uphill. Mind you, taking my puffer at the bottom rather than the top might have been helpful!
Walking through the lava fields was quite extraordinary. They looked like someone had got a giant garden fork and forked over rich, black, moist, garden soil; that any gardener would be green with envy over. There were great hillocks of them and they stretched out like giant back yards from shrub line to shrub line. I couldn't help testing them out and I climbed in, but sadly they really were fields of black, clinking rocks, light as anything, easily disturbed and highly disturbing.
I kept on and puffed my way to the top to fabulous views covered in a bus load of school kids on excursion with panting parents and a long suffering group of teachers lead by an enthusiastic and megaphone-voiced head teacher. I took my photos hurriedly and a couple for two stunned young women and in my rush to leave accidentally took the wrong path and went back the way I came.
Lessons learnt in Spain stood me in good stead so I waited to see what good would come and found that I was on my way to the lava caves, which I had wanted to visit. Somehow, I was walking all by myself, having passed a group of school children who were coming back and I suddenly had this amazing sense of quietness and stopped. All I could hear was the breeze and my own breath. After a few minutes the birds started to sing and move around in the trees. Although there were many people on the island, for about ten minutes it was just me and the Bush until I moved on. Bliss.
I thought about mindfulness and gratitude. Some would want to be grateful to God or the Higher Power or Whatever for the moment and some would not. I think that any person can be mindful of the moment and grateful for their capacity to do so and that that can bring us great joy and be a huge antidote to many of the negative things in life.
On I went to the caves, once again following painted poles with little yellow arrows to show me the way - NZ and the Camino have had many parallels. I climbed down into the lava cave and was still quite alone. I discovered that flash photography makes very dark caves look much brighter and less scary than in real life. But in my head I could hear these voices (which for some odd reason sounded like my kids as tiddly teens) saying "come on, you can do it! What are you, a wuss? Girly??" So I got my mobile phone torch app out and climbed in. As I climbed I thought now if I sprain my ankle I can climb out and call for help and someone will hear me. If I break my leg and can't climb out Pene will send someone to find me when I don't come home and I've got plenty of food and water. (Of course not long after I got out I realized I'd drunk way more water than I'd realised! ) How mortifying would that be? I got to a point where there was a break in the roof and light came in and the way forward looked even darker and decided that I had been quite have brave enough for long enough and it was time to go back. Of course that seemed to be harder and take longer - it was uphill and we all know I hate going uphill. As soon as I got out people arrived and my time alone was over, then another class arrived and it was over with a vengeance.
Looking at the map it seemed I had to head back to the summit to find the coast track so back uphill I trudged once again. Of course I couldn't find the track on the map and after asking several people, I realized that that part of it didn't exist, but another megaphone teacher, with another class informed me that that if I took the 4 wheel drive track I'd previously been told not to take, I'd find the track I was looking for.
I was now starting to worry about time. The last ferry left at 3.30 and we'd been specifically warned not to get left behind our we'd have to pay private fees (and be mortified). So, as it was downhill, I started jogging. And I was on my own again. This made me quite light hearted and silly, so I was going downhill, half skipping and half jogging and singing a bit in that jiggly way you do when you don't get your breath properly, with back pack noises as accompaniment, when I came around some s bends to find four young men of Indian accent sitting around the tourist tractor train starting at me open mouthed. I waved and said Hi guys and tried to walk off insouciantly. But one fellow said Miss, miss, how long? Once I worked out he meant how long had it taken me to come down I said 10 minutes although really I didn't know. I couldn't work out from their reactions whether they were amazed at how quick I was or horrified at how slow I was! Either way it was time to leave!
Just after that I came to a sign that said 30 minutes to the Lighthouse and Mckenzie's Beach. So off I went. I figured I had just enough time to do that and the 90 minute walk from there to the Wharf. In fact I thought I'd better jog part of the way because by 3.00 I'd have been going pretty well non stop for 4 hours and it was a long time since I'd done that and I needed to leave myself leeway for slow walking if I wore out. So I jogged and walked and jogged and walked and when there was no sign of the Lighthouse after 20 minutes I started to panic. At the 25 minute mark I finally saw the Lighthouse and boy, was I disillusioned! I'd expected a big white manned (well not any more but used to be manned) Lighthouse on the beach. Instead it was a cute red and white candy cane striped Lighthouse out in the Bay that you could see from the beach. I was robbed! Entirely by my own mind of course. On the other hand the water was the most gorgeous turquoise and aquamarine shades with gnarly black lava rocks sticking up in post modern fantasy sculptures. So beautiful. I did wonder then if I would miss the ferry through taking too many photos.
So I walked back to the ferry for my last surprise. The map showed little baches on the path near the ferry which I think must be short for Bachelor pads, although women lived there to. On the other hand it might be Gaelic for hut. Many of the huts are still there and still occupied. I was astonished as I thought they'd been pulled down. Those that are gone are commemorated by little plaques of information about when they were built, by whom and how. I was fascinated.
Just as I was nearly back to the ferry the clouds came over and it started to rain. I'd actually made it with 20 minutes to spare so I had time to put warm clothes on, eat and read before doing the trip back (in the very relaxed Auckland peak hour) to find that Pene had cooked me a steak dinner.
The trip started with an attempt to catch the train from Swanson to Britomart, the central Station in Auckland, which was delayed by my dash home for my reading glasses - I always forget something. Pene lives in West Auckland which is practically on the west coast and is quite rural, so the journey was from single story shopping centres, to double stories, to the famous Eden Park rugby Stadium and then suddenly into the modern CBD and the port. Britomart is the most futuristic train station I have ever been in but only has 5 platforms which was a big surprise to me.
The ferry was only a block and 25 minutes away and I got a bit of a guided tour of the broke thrown in as well, which was good because it cost more than $20 which was more than I expected. On the way we saw a Lighthouse which seemed tiny but the guide said the Lighthouse keeper lived there with his family and rowed his children to and from school every school day. I just could not imagine how much effort that lifestyle would take, nor living in such a small space with children. People really do love extraordinary lives!
We arrived about 11.00 and weren't being collected until 3.30 but that still meant that choices had to be made about what parts of the Island could be seen in the time available. I was a bit annoyed by the map which only gave times that it took to walk from spot to spot and no distances which made it quite hard to estimate. As it turned out the cartographer wasn't much chop anyway! I decided to go straight to the top and see the views of the Harbour and then see the Lighthouse and walk the Eastern coast back.
As usual on the way over on the ferry, everyone else was in shirt sleeves while I wore three layers of clothes, but as we arrived the sun came out so I zipped down to shorts and a sleeveless top and loved the sun. Everyone here complains about the heat but I can't say I've noticed it, even though they are in drought. But I was glad I'd lost weight first before heading up the hill. I hate going uphill. Mind you, taking my puffer at the bottom rather than the top might have been helpful!
Walking through the lava fields was quite extraordinary. They looked like someone had got a giant garden fork and forked over rich, black, moist, garden soil; that any gardener would be green with envy over. There were great hillocks of them and they stretched out like giant back yards from shrub line to shrub line. I couldn't help testing them out and I climbed in, but sadly they really were fields of black, clinking rocks, light as anything, easily disturbed and highly disturbing.
I kept on and puffed my way to the top to fabulous views covered in a bus load of school kids on excursion with panting parents and a long suffering group of teachers lead by an enthusiastic and megaphone-voiced head teacher. I took my photos hurriedly and a couple for two stunned young women and in my rush to leave accidentally took the wrong path and went back the way I came.
Lessons learnt in Spain stood me in good stead so I waited to see what good would come and found that I was on my way to the lava caves, which I had wanted to visit. Somehow, I was walking all by myself, having passed a group of school children who were coming back and I suddenly had this amazing sense of quietness and stopped. All I could hear was the breeze and my own breath. After a few minutes the birds started to sing and move around in the trees. Although there were many people on the island, for about ten minutes it was just me and the Bush until I moved on. Bliss.
I thought about mindfulness and gratitude. Some would want to be grateful to God or the Higher Power or Whatever for the moment and some would not. I think that any person can be mindful of the moment and grateful for their capacity to do so and that that can bring us great joy and be a huge antidote to many of the negative things in life.
On I went to the caves, once again following painted poles with little yellow arrows to show me the way - NZ and the Camino have had many parallels. I climbed down into the lava cave and was still quite alone. I discovered that flash photography makes very dark caves look much brighter and less scary than in real life. But in my head I could hear these voices (which for some odd reason sounded like my kids as tiddly teens) saying "come on, you can do it! What are you, a wuss? Girly??" So I got my mobile phone torch app out and climbed in. As I climbed I thought now if I sprain my ankle I can climb out and call for help and someone will hear me. If I break my leg and can't climb out Pene will send someone to find me when I don't come home and I've got plenty of food and water. (Of course not long after I got out I realized I'd drunk way more water than I'd realised! ) How mortifying would that be? I got to a point where there was a break in the roof and light came in and the way forward looked even darker and decided that I had been quite have brave enough for long enough and it was time to go back. Of course that seemed to be harder and take longer - it was uphill and we all know I hate going uphill. As soon as I got out people arrived and my time alone was over, then another class arrived and it was over with a vengeance.
Looking at the map it seemed I had to head back to the summit to find the coast track so back uphill I trudged once again. Of course I couldn't find the track on the map and after asking several people, I realized that that part of it didn't exist, but another megaphone teacher, with another class informed me that that if I took the 4 wheel drive track I'd previously been told not to take, I'd find the track I was looking for.
I was now starting to worry about time. The last ferry left at 3.30 and we'd been specifically warned not to get left behind our we'd have to pay private fees (and be mortified). So, as it was downhill, I started jogging. And I was on my own again. This made me quite light hearted and silly, so I was going downhill, half skipping and half jogging and singing a bit in that jiggly way you do when you don't get your breath properly, with back pack noises as accompaniment, when I came around some s bends to find four young men of Indian accent sitting around the tourist tractor train starting at me open mouthed. I waved and said Hi guys and tried to walk off insouciantly. But one fellow said Miss, miss, how long? Once I worked out he meant how long had it taken me to come down I said 10 minutes although really I didn't know. I couldn't work out from their reactions whether they were amazed at how quick I was or horrified at how slow I was! Either way it was time to leave!
Just after that I came to a sign that said 30 minutes to the Lighthouse and Mckenzie's Beach. So off I went. I figured I had just enough time to do that and the 90 minute walk from there to the Wharf. In fact I thought I'd better jog part of the way because by 3.00 I'd have been going pretty well non stop for 4 hours and it was a long time since I'd done that and I needed to leave myself leeway for slow walking if I wore out. So I jogged and walked and jogged and walked and when there was no sign of the Lighthouse after 20 minutes I started to panic. At the 25 minute mark I finally saw the Lighthouse and boy, was I disillusioned! I'd expected a big white manned (well not any more but used to be manned) Lighthouse on the beach. Instead it was a cute red and white candy cane striped Lighthouse out in the Bay that you could see from the beach. I was robbed! Entirely by my own mind of course. On the other hand the water was the most gorgeous turquoise and aquamarine shades with gnarly black lava rocks sticking up in post modern fantasy sculptures. So beautiful. I did wonder then if I would miss the ferry through taking too many photos.
So I walked back to the ferry for my last surprise. The map showed little baches on the path near the ferry which I think must be short for Bachelor pads, although women lived there to. On the other hand it might be Gaelic for hut. Many of the huts are still there and still occupied. I was astonished as I thought they'd been pulled down. Those that are gone are commemorated by little plaques of information about when they were built, by whom and how. I was fascinated.
Just as I was nearly back to the ferry the clouds came over and it started to rain. I'd actually made it with 20 minutes to spare so I had time to put warm clothes on, eat and read before doing the trip back (in the very relaxed Auckland peak hour) to find that Pene had cooked me a steak dinner.
Saturday 2 March 2013
Smaller travelling
It's a while since I blogged about travelling and I've been thinking about why that is.
I'm in New Zealand at the moment, visiting my friend Pene in Auckland, and of course that's a smaller trip than hiking across the north the Pyrenees and the North West of Spain. But there are all kinds of travelling and they are all important. I wonder why I've been tricked into thinking that only the big, expensive and long trips count?
Over the last few days, as I've spent time with Pene and Ataphai, I keep being reminded that I am in a different culture and a completely different land, and it's an adventure. At Te Henga, where the black and yellow sand is in separate stripes in some places (with completely different properties), and blended in others, I wondered if this was a metaphor for multiculturalism, or just for all human relationships. If so, what does that mean for how we should them better?
I'm in New Zealand at the moment, visiting my friend Pene in Auckland, and of course that's a smaller trip than hiking across the north the Pyrenees and the North West of Spain. But there are all kinds of travelling and they are all important. I wonder why I've been tricked into thinking that only the big, expensive and long trips count?
Over the last few days, as I've spent time with Pene and Ataphai, I keep being reminded that I am in a different culture and a completely different land, and it's an adventure. At Te Henga, where the black and yellow sand is in separate stripes in some places (with completely different properties), and blended in others, I wondered if this was a metaphor for multiculturalism, or just for all human relationships. If so, what does that mean for how we should them better?
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