Robb on Maropea river. Photo by Pete.
My last post encompassed the first three days of a seven-day sojourn to the Ruahine. A quite different sort of trip as the emerging issues with my hips caused a re-think to my approach and coinciding with a period in my own life where I needed to be in the Ruahine. Thus, the decision was made to fly in, and out, by helicopter, leaving us free to do far less encumbered day walks and enjoy the ambiance of the mountains without worrying about my hips. I carried on in great pain and discomfort carrying heavy packs towards far off destinations in the Ruahine for two years prior to my first hip replacement. It made for very unpleasant travel and a steep price to pay for being in the Ruahine. I paid it. In full.
The great realization that revealed itself to me during
those seven days was that it was an exceptionally wise choice to make. I had
not considered how much my then dimmed sense of Wairua, Spirit, could have been
a real problem had long days of travel with a specific destination to attain
would be a real problem. My hip was one thing, my spirit very much another. A
blogging friend very in tune with these things once wrote to me, “that being in
any wilderness for extended periods requires of us to have all our ducks in a
row.” I have never forgotten that. And I realized very quickly on this trip
that my ducks were certainly not in a row. Or, perhaps in a row enough for me
to recognize that beforehand in a subliminal way and decide to chopper in for
what I thought were other reasons.
Pete has put a post on his wonderful place, “pohanginapete”
addressing our trip and I think offers a very in tune, yet different,
perspective of those seven days. His photographs of the Whio we encountered
alone are worth a visit. The link is here:
Ngā Panonitanga - The Changes Part II….
12-8-26
7:00am
Hut porch – Maropea Forks
Our fourth day here in the Ruahine at Maropea Forks comes
alive as the greyish veil of dawn lifts over the valley. A miromiro flits about
already busy with his rounds and seeming to admonish me to get busy. I respect
his message and tone but intend to first enjoy my coffee and a few moments on
the porch.
The sun shines in patches as it works its way above the
mountains high above, but it remains very cold and I am dressed accordingly.
Heeding the message of the miromiro our plan is to wander upriver
towards Top Maropea. A good test for my hip after a climb and descent yesterday,
which sitting here now feels okay. Though that quiet persistent voice whispers
in my ear the truth of it all.
Late Afternoon…
The post lunch afternoon wee nap has quickly become an
accepted and useful part of my daily routine. Lulled to sleep with the window open
and the river rolling by and letting myself drift into the warmth of my down
sleeping bag for a fitful rest. Now reviving myself with a rich cup of
afternoon sweet tea on the porch.
We did walk upriver on the southern branch of the Maropea intending
to get at least above the waterfall. However, shortly after leaving the forks
and heading up the southern branch we encountered the pair of whio who followed
us beyond the turnoff to Wakeling’s and the large slip falling into the river.
There they seemed to agree to settle into a long feeding session and were not
at all concerned about our presence. Pete had brought along his professional
mode camera gear and tripod and set up to photograph and film them.
Including our last
experience late last year on the Makaroro river on another hut day walk on the
river, I have never had as much time just observing the whio and their patterns
and behaviour. This pair in unison would feed at an obvious hot spot by diving
down and lifting their feathery bottoms in the air while munching away on their
fill of the aquatic invertebrates they relish.
I had crept to the river’s edge on the opposite side where
Pete was observing and when they had their fill they just ambled along the
river in their graceful dance with the water and passed within a metre or so of
me. It was delightful!
We decided to let the whio have the southern branch of the
river and not disturb them anymore and instead walk on the western branch of
the river flowing out of the forks towards Otukota hut.
This is the branch of the river Taylor had spent on his lost
night in the Ruahine fifteen years ago and so one that always invokes a
slightly haunting feeling that lingers and flows with the river itself. One I
can never quite catch up with. As if trying to grab a wisp of smoke from the
wood stove. In a way it adds to the allure as it is a lovely stretch of river
with elegant bends and deep green pools of clear chilly water then released
into fast flowing riffles and runs. It is a place to linger and enjoy despite
the ghosts that lurk for me there.
An hour or so up that branch I saw Pete suddenly assume a very stealth posture and motion me to take a wide berth as I approached the upcoming bend. There was
a small channel with a pool of clear water against a cliff face away from the
main river.
There Pete had spotted another pair of whio resting at the
base of the cliff rising from the river. They blended in so well against the
greywacke rock that had someone with less whio awareness than Pete been
wandering down river the whio would have remained unseen.
Once again Pete dug out his gear and observed the pair from a direct straight on
angle while I crept around to the pools edge where the two whio each sat on a
ledge above the river. Both with their bills tucked into the wing feathers for
warmth.
The male appeared more aware and focused on the presence of
Pete in front of them. Every now and then he would look up and give Pete the
once over, sing out, check on his mate, and then tuck his bill back into his
feathers. The female would then glance up, check to see her partner was calm
and then resume her position. They did this in such unison and comfort, so much
a part of the environment I found the movements they made ballet like. It was
quite moving for me to watch. Such a moment of peace and harmony on a river
that had once invoked such angst within me. I thought of Tara and how I wished
I could share what I was feeling with her then. To be the whio.
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| The pair of whio above Maropea Forks. The male peering towards Pete. Photo by Pete. |
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| Whio feeding on Maropea. Photo by Pete |
13 August
Morning
The pair of whio sing in the river just outside the hut.
Their calls, joining the sound of the river, and patter of rain on the tin
roof. It has been raining most of the night and resumed as the whio arrived in
the grey dawn. A hut day may lie in store though the day’s potential has yet to
reveal itself as to how and what will unfold.
I take in the sounds and sights before me and deep breath of
the crisp, slightly musky mountain air. I exhale and remind myself, again, of
what I can control and what I cannot.
Thoughts of the many visits and times I have spent here come
to mind. There are no questions the sands in the hourglass of my presence are flowing near the conclusion . I can, of course, like this trip, helicopter in. Which brings issues
of its own as well. Financial, and more deeply my own comfort with the
practical and personal values attached. The danger of becoming one of “those”
people.
It all fits well. The changes and reflections upon my own
life outside of here and how that directly ties to what I feel here. The
wholeness of self. It writes quite easily on the page from my pen, but I
swallow a bit writing it as to do so truthfully means some challenging work ahead.
Getting those ducks all in a row.
Afternoon:
In the late morning, the rain finally stopped, and we
decided to once again walk up to the waterfall. And almost immediately
encountered the whio once again. They allowed us to get even closer today and
eventually we bypassed them and left them to it as we went upriver to the
waterfall.
The waterfall has been altered forever when in the series of cyclones
earlier this decade, the whole cliff face it ran off collapsed leaving exposed bedrock with a ten metre plus high pile of rubble that obliterated the idyllic
pool beneath it. The same pool where John Nash caught up to Jeff Kjos and I, and
where the presence of these huge friends in my life met for the first time. I just observed them together. The same pool I have swam in
with both my sons, the same pool that mark the final 30 minutes to Maropea Forks and
the relief stepping onto the porch comes into fruition. Gone.
Yet even here the river works to free itself and the
waterfall starts to take on a new lustre and quality. Beautiful in a more unique way
than before. Healing and emerging from such trauma in a new form. The lessons
and significance to my own self apparent. I will never see what this wonderful
waterfall will look like in another thirty years. All just a mere blink of an eye for the Ruahine.
That does not invoke sadness for me, this place has gifted
me far too much. Courage when I felt fear, filled my heart when I was full of
doubt. I have listened to the laughter of friends, felt tears I have shed upon
my cheeks, this has been truly the one place of balance in my life. A much
needed one. And it will always be with me.
I was very surprised to peruse the hut book and find it has been nearly two years since I have sat on this porch. It feels as if it has only been a few deep breaths or beat of my heart. I close my eyes wherever I am and feel part of this place. It lives within me.
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| Female whio after feeding. Photo by Pete. |
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| The waterfall August 2026 |
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| The Waterfall July 2005 |
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| Jeff Kjos and John Nash meeting for the first time. 1 January 2010 |
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| Evening in the hut. Camp oven with hopple popple simmering away. |
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| Pete on overlook on way up to Puketaramea |
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| Pete setting up tripod below slip on river |
14 August 7:10 am
Our final full day of this week slowly emerges out of the mist.
An occasional patch of blue sky appears above as the clouds roll over. The brisk
cold remains.
What do I seek to find in this final day here at Maropea
Forks? Perhaps I write that question more for what I seek inside my own heart
than what I gaze upon from this porch. To live each moment with integrity,
honesty and the truth of my presence here. To be here fully and focused on all
around me as if it were the last time I gaze upon any of it ever again.
The reality, of course, is that it is much harder for me to
do than write. Already thoughts of outside drift in slowly. Some of those
thoughts make me smile. Some do not.
Afternoon:
The smoke once again wisps up from the chimney absorbed by
the misty rain in an evanescing dance.
It wasn’t until well after we had walked up river a few hours
and just as we returned the the clouds bunched up and the rain came.
We stopped just before the start of the tight gorge that
leads onto Otukota. It is where Taylor finally realized he had made a mistake
and turned around. Only to be caught out by the darkness. And thus began both
our lonely nights in the Ruahine.
I felt no need to enter it and even felt a slight coldness
and chill run through me. I had come far enough. On a summers day with the sun
shining it would be a fun adventure, in the winter cold, as Taylor had found out,
it has a more menacing allure. An allure I felt little inclination to explore on this day.
Pete and I had discussed earlier in the morning climbing up
to Point 1450. I tried to be keen and work some excitement, but reflecting on
my own feeling that twinge in my hips and thinking of the climb back down, I
had to admit to myself, and Pete, it was a bridge too far for me this day. The
honesty of that decision felt like I had lived up to my own stated goal on this
day. A very small victory.
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| Pool below Maropea Forks. In summer a lovely swimming hole. |
My thoughts drift with the river and mist
The clarity of her pools
The mysterious rich depth of the green tinged waters
Lies beyond my grasp
Pondering questions I have left too long
In another place
Where the waters run slow and murky
Only because I have made them so
As the late afternoon begins the fade to night
It truly may be a moment of lasts
The river rolls past on the way to the sea
Raindrops and my tears
Fall as one
"Mā te kimi ka kite, mā te kite ka mōhio, mā te mōhio ka mārama."
“Through seeking comes discovery, through discovery
comes knowledge, through knowledge comes enlightenment.”
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| Pete and Robb. Evening in Maropea Forks hut. |
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