Musings from Aotearoa: Ngā Panonitanga

9 August 2026

Maropea Forks

Robb and Pete

Late afternoon

It seems I have only blinked my eyes a few times since I was last here set upon the porch of the hut at Maropea Forks. Yet the truth is that it has been over two years that I have gazed out upon this lovely view.

The river flows by joined by the melodic sound of Pete slowly and methodically sawing logs. A task that will be much needed over the next seven days.

As always there is much changed in both river and self. Were this the first time my feet were here I would simply bask in the scene and river’s song. But after so many visits over thirty years the changes in both place and me are quite evident. Even the river’s song, though soothing and peaceful now, has changed during the periods when the anger within has risen and altered the scene forever. Again, much like my own self.

The little waterfall, a constant presence in my time, now buried in shingle and rock it now flows as a mere trickle of a stream joining the river. Yet working relentlessly quiet to uncover or reveal its former glory. At least I know it was there. The large grassy flat I so often roamed or camped upon now just a built-up rocky ledge the river flows beneath.

I look down towards the bend in the river where just beyond lies the forks of the two branches of the Maropea. A bend I have walked around countless times, a bend my son, lost overnight further down river, stagged around to be reunited with me, a bend where I have shared smiles with Pete and John knowing the day’s work is done and the cozy confines of this hut and place await. Today misty rain dots the view. Joined by the misty joy emitted from eyes just writing those words. We are here again.

We arrived by helicopter several hours ago. Once Leon, our pilot, lifted back off and within seconds was out of sight, everything just settled back in around us very quickly. The awa, ngahere, and surrounding nga maunga seeming to remember and accept our presence as quickly as the echo of the helicopter faded. At least it felt like that was so.

I feel no guilt or remorse in that. Perhaps some regret in that my hips are growing increasingly troublesome and needs to be addressed. But that is all.

Over the last thirty years, since my feet first carried my eyes to this place, this hallowed ground, they have done so repeated times.

My feet have earned their place on this porch.

10 August

7:30am

Hut porch

I enjoy my second strong coffee of the day and feel myself being absorbed into the aura of my surroundings. I can imagine so many others who feel what I feel here, many whom I now know, doing the same. As if this place is somehow unique, special, and even slightly secret to us in a way that offers solitude, yet that truth is shared with many others. The echoes are all around me. In this moment it is mine to relish.

Pete woke me in the still emerging morning light just after six as he heard whio calling in the river. When it was light enough, we crept out quietly and found the pair just below the hut. A delightful morning treat.

The rain now settles in steady. We are here. That is all that matters…

12:50pm

The sun flits in and out. Tawhirimatea reaches down frequent bursts of a chilly wind which blasts over rustling the grove of rākau tawai maunga, beech trees in front of the hut. I watch them sway as if to regain their balance and I sway with them trying to find my own.

Pete and I walked up the east fork of the Maropea river towards it’s headwaters below Sparrowhawk bivvy somewhere high above in the clouds.

We walked upriver a few hours, finding the going surprisingly easy on the wide shingle flats. It is obvious here too that some major weather events have altered the landscape. No grassy river flats here either. We continued until the river narrowed and closed in tighter and when it started to involve some tricky moves over more slippery piles of flood left logs, rocks, and gorges, we turned back. The true beauty of a Ruahine day walk.

The whio pair accompanied us for a while on the way back to the hut which made us both smile. Not having a large pack on and not having to move on to get to another hut certainly adds a leisurely feel. We are in no hurry. We are beholden to no particular plan or agenda, and I am starting to feel a wonderful freedom in that which I had not truly considered. My quiet peaceful voice is whispering to me it is exactly what I needed right now.

Inside the hut the fire glows softly and our wee whare is warm and toasty. Just had some lunch and I sense the pull of my down sleeping bag calling my name. A call I will heed.

First I just want to sit here for a bit and sway.

3:30pm

Sipping a cup of sweet tea after a refreshing nap nestled in my bunk. My hinengaro, mental wellbeing, needed this as much as my wairua, spiritual wellbeing, and the swiftness at which I drifted off to sleep reflects that. I feel peaceful, calm, and focused.

I have avoided writing of my hip issue and what that ultimately means, just as I have not written of a few other struggles I have been facing. One of which is also my connection and relationship to Maropea Forks. After 30 years I know my time here dwindles, and I know all too well the hip problem exacerbates that. Certainly flying in, and even out, alleviates some of that but even though I feel my feet have earned their place here it is not quite the same as arriving tired, cold or hot, wet and sweaty, and seeing that hut emerge arriving after two days and on foot.

I am also trying to purposely avoid any grand gestures or overly emotional attaching of significance to any particular moment of this day unfolding. Rather just acknowledging the awareness of my own fragility here. Instead, I am just content to be here and recharge myself to be better out there in a place I need to find a way to be much better. To pursue my feet and heart walking the same path they do here.

Reflections: That late afternoon Pete and I sat on the porch with an array of cheeses, olives, hard salami, macadamia nuts, and few wee drams.

Pete and I have a long history in the Ruahine going back over twenty years. Aside from John Nash there is no one I have spent more time with in these ranges than Pete. That means something. certainly a common love of place, solitude, and all the gifts on offer in the Ruahine. Pete's love of the whio, his patient observations, photos, and filming of them have allowed me to also observe their behaviour and antics in a way I never did before. And certainly his background in entomology, birdlife, and the rich flora and fauna of the Ruahine has also been beneficial for my own growth.

And many evening he and I, sometimes with John, have shared such moments in the late afternoon repast where the talk is mostly of place and events of the day, mixed with an elixir of past trips and memories, discussion of current events, philosophy, religion, books, politics, and aspects of our own lives unfolding.

Prior to this trip I had been in a period of intense personal struggle. With myself, with Tara, with Noah's situation, both our son's, and all of it combined with turning 66 years old in late July had me reeling a bit. Assessing everything and what I wanted my life to be on these final laps ahead. A pursuit of personal integrity and accountability I needed to enact. To save myself, to be my self, and to decide what that all looks like. Tough ground to cover.

As comfortable and as safe as I felt talking to Pete some of the thoughts, particularly around Tara, I wasn't sure if I could share with him without feeling invasive of his own privacy. Yet when there arrived what I saw as an opening I put forth my feelings on a few things without hesitation. I think Pete sensed in a way that I needed to do so.

And I found, that much like traveling in the Ruahine, my friend offers the same style, grace, and patience in listening and discussing such matters, as he does waiting for me to lumber up behind him, huffing and puffing up a steep climb or a river bed, as he calmly points out the birdlife he has been observing, or a pool ahead with a whio I did not see. It was lovely to add that richness and depth to our friendship. To reinforce this path I have chosen for my own soul.

At one point I was reflecting to Pete some of the struggles Tara and I had been having. Looking at our own lives, and us a couple, over three plus decades and wondering at times about the choices and decisions we have made along the way. Again, as a couple, but mostly as individuals. All leading to the road ahead. Trying to avoid the tendency to interpret so many "What if's?" Something that this quiet persistent and negative voice has been whispering in my ear since I was a kid.

Pete looked at me, took a small sip of whiskey, then stated:

"What might have been is an abstraction / Remaining a perpetual possibility / Only in a world of speculation" ...

which is from T.S. Eliot's poem "Burnt Norton" (the first part of his Four Quartets).

Talk about hitting the nail on the head!

The chimney smoke curls lazily upwards

As if deciding to stay or meander on

into the skies beyond our refuge

far above the river's song

beneath the drifting plume

in the bosom of its warmth

where I shelter

for both sanity and peace

a quiet metamorphosis

both self and river

float with the brume

11 August

Maropea Forks

Afternoon

The sun is shining but a southerly seems to be moving through so it is quite cold here on the porch. I am dressed warmly and the though can feel the brisk air upon my cheeks feel quite comfortable.

We climbed up the steep track towards towards Puketaramea in the morning. When I caught up to Pete waiting for me at the overlook we decided that was far enough for the day. The wind was was strong and cold and it felt like rain. We enjoyed a morning tea and the views and headed back down. I was glad of that as my hip felt okay going up but not so good coming down. And it is relentlessly steep all the way to the river so I was glad to see the hut. And rather than focus upon the negativity of my hip I found being in the ngahere, forest, and to feel the energy pulsating within it was enough effort for today. The solutions lie far from here and I know what they are. One day at a time.

Early evening...

Pete wanders down by the river to check for any possible whio sightings. We had an exceptional day with two different pair yesterday and spent a few hours just watching them. Today they have not been around but we know they are here. That feels good.

Inside I have built a fire in the wood stove that only awaits the touch of a match, and with a well stocked wood supply we are all set. After our afternoon repast I will retire to the hut to make meatballs and sauce with pasta. All to go along with the camp oven bread Pete made this afternoon. It's a tough life eh!

I feel fully invested in making this the best possible experience I can. I never know. This slight ache in my hip reminding me of that reality. I have been trying to avoid writing that thought but there it is. That is also true in my life outside of this sanctuary.

My hip right now will not allow to interact with these mountains as I have done so in the past and would like to be able to continue to enjoy. Just as certain things in my life outside here will also not allow me to be the man, father, husband, and friend I aspire to be. Both need to be addressed.

This has been a place of refuge for me for over thirty years. Which I find an interesting sentence to write and reflect upon. What is difference between a place of refuge and a place of celebration? It is time that both of my whares, both places, feel the same to me. That is my goal.

And the bigger truth is that the biggest changes lie within me. It is my whare out there as well. I share it Tara and our whanau, but it is my wairua which flows through and filters what it becomes. I need to be better. Why? How? Who am I? You have work to do Robb...

The sun now fades over the valley. The cold grows heavy upon the mountain air. Pete has retired to the hut to light the fire and warm our whare. Dinner simmers quietly in the camp oven and I only need to boil up the water to cook our pasta.

It feels like home.