Echoes

The above photo, courtesy of the New Zealand Deer Stalkers Association, is Top Maropea in 1959. I came across it and just sat staring at it. It seemed to speak to me, almost as if waiting for me to discover it. How many nights, or hut bound afternoons waiting out a storm, or even fine ones lazing about doing not much at all, have I wondered about this place, the men whom have spent time here culling deer, the storms this hut has withstood, the changes in the mountains it has been witness to observe. A few posts ago, Celebration, was in honour of my 25th night spent here, and in a very humble way I must believe no one person has interacted with this place more than I have in the last 15 years. So in a way I feel that I too have become part of the lore of Top Maropea, and the emotions this photo invoke in me are many.

The hut was only 3 years old when this photo above was taken. Though it has been refurbished, most of the structure today is the original hut seen above,the chimney, roof, guttering, interior lining, and fireplace all have been replaced, and the hut has been designated as an historical land mark, one of the original cullers huts in the north island, and certainly the Ruahine.
It was not, apparently, the most popular place amongst the cullers to pull duty in. It is relatively high at 1242 meters, burnable wood for a fire hard to come by for a night, much less to cook on and warm one's self morning and night day after day. Also observing the above photo and noticeable lack of a water tank to capture rain off the roof, getting a drink or boiling the billy would have been the best part of an hours journey to and from the stream far below the hut. In winter, after the fire dies, it is like sleeping in a refrigerator.

Still, this place calls to me and always will. I have seen it on the most sublime of days and nights, and got my stuff packed and dressed at 3:00a.m. when I thought the hut was going to be blown away. I have seen the snow glow translucent on the surrounding peaks on a full moon, and just sat in the hut contemplating, looking out the fly specked window, the rain beating down on the tin roof. Taylor has been here, Charlie's placenta buried here, I have howled at the full moon with Gustav, and alone, and with many other special people I have journeyed here with as well. I have had many wee drams in my tin cup, a candle illuminating from the hut window as I sit outside enjoying it's charms.

So this photo echoes strongly for me. As if I can sense those that perhaps even begrudgingly felt the beauty still have their spirits swirling about this place, these mountains.

The above photo was taken this past May, 2008. A photo of Adam sawing up some beech and leather wood on a plank dropped off by helicopter for the new loo - toilet. The old one had its roof blown off in a blizzard and storm I was witness to, and the rest of the disintegration was simply a matter of time. In any case, it can be seen not a lot has changed in the appearance of Top Maropea. The hut has retained its original appearance, the addition of the water tank a good one, as is the new chimney. The affects of deer control can be seen by the encroachment of the bush near the hut, and on the far off hill sides in comparison to the 1959 photo. The gouged out area in front of Adam is the helicopter pad, certainly not needed in 1959, and even now simply a nice place to pitch a tent if need be, on all but extremely rare occasions when a helicopter might land. There are times when I enter the hut, door creaking, the smell of old wood smoke filling my senses, I half expect an old culler to swing the billy over the temperamental fire and offer me a brew, and while a way the hours listening to stories and the history of these ranges.

Back in 2005 I did a 3 day solo trip into the Pohangina valley. It actually turned out to be 4 days as I was forced to spend an extra night at Ngamoko hut due to inclement weather on the tops, but that is another story. From the time I climbed down from the Ngamoko's to Leon Kinvig hut in the upper Pohangina valley, I was filled with the sense I was not alone on this journey. Not in a scary or threatening manner, just a gentle feeling of another presence there with me. I also knew that Leon Kinvig hut is named for a deer culler who drowned in this area back in the 1950's. Sitting outside the hut in the sun I began to read one of the more interesting hut books I have come across. What stood out to me was the number of entries in recent years from men who had spent much of their younger days living and working in the area as cullers, possum trappers, or for the New Zealand Forest Service in various capacities. Men who returned here now after so many years gone by perhaps to take a last look at a place that impacted them as younger men. They wrote with great clarity, perception, remembrance, humor, and dignity in their observations of then and now. It added to this feeling of not being alone, as if I should put the billy on for my fellow companions. The river rolls by still.

"Echoes"

My footsteps are left here for the first time

The solo journey always adds to the remoteness

Yet I know deep inside I am not alone here

That for various reasons

this rugged mountain river

has touched many

The voices echo off the steep valley walls

their succinct memories etched briefly

yet beautifully and poignantly

As they return here after far too many

years gone by

As if knowing time grows short

and thus return to the places

which meant the most

to their Youth

Listen to the River!

Listen to the Wind!

Their voices Dance with mine

And though I have seen no one for days

Only Ranted and Raved

and spoken the Truth to myself

I have never felt alone

How could I?

The echoes are all around

written on the Pohangina river Novemeber 2005

Photo of rapid was taken and loaned by Pohangina Pete. Pete's photos and writings can be better viewed and read at: http://pohanginapete.blogspot.com/

Arohanui