I Wanna Go Home

Winter seems to be finally putting her chilly hand upon us as the days get colder, shorter, and take on the shades of grey I remember well. We have been blessed by an unusually temperate and rainless autumn, which was extremely fortunate for my rehabilitation walks. Last weekend was the only time I was caught out in the rain on any of my walks in the last six weeks. The wood I laid into before my surgery to keep the family warm, lies still mostly untouched and stacked high in the garage. Waiting patiently.

Charlie has begun the rugby season for the Kia Toa Under 8's, his first year of tackle rugby, and the sound of him running outside in his new cleats on the driveway invokes powerful memories for me. That metallic clacking on the cement a sound I love. The cadence of cleats a powerful bonding preparation for battle as I advanced towards the field with my teammates before a game, or the weary dragging of them after the game or practice as tired boys and young men retreat to the locker room. I can smell the sweat, the earthy goodness of the mud and grass stains, the joyous ribald conversations in victory, or the quiet banter and tears of defeat. It is the autumn and this is what I remember.



It is my first week back at work and yesterday was six weeks since my hip replacement, the first milestone reached. Maybe it is just me, but it always seems that with the arrival of winters finger tips down here on the plains of New Zealand's North Island it all begins to take on a more grayish hue, the environment, the sky, the feel of damp bone chilling cold, and even the countenance of people appears dim and disconcerted, as if mulling over the prospects of the winter months ahead.

In terms of my hip things are going well. I will throw the crutches away after this weekend for good, and can resume going back to the gym as well. I obviously still have to be very careful bending down and to the sides, getting in and out of cars, and just being mindful of being patient. And that is hard. I look north to the Ruahines all the time. For six weeks as I walked they were within view almost constantly, beneath the blue skies day after day, now they are buried under billowing masses of blackish clouds. Still, they call strongly.


Thoughts of my rapidly approaching 50th birthday add to the sombreness I normally feel this time of year, added to no doubt by having a hip replaced six weeks ago. I can still hear the sound of those cleats! Yet in the mirror that boy is gone. Replaced by someone who vaguely looks like my own father. I think of my boys, maybe a bit selfish in the melancholic reality that as they grow strong and gain independence, I have a new hip and am turning 50.

Taylor, struggling to fit into a school system part of me can't fault for not wanting to, yet part of me with a foot planted in this adult world of responsibility and belonging worries for him. How do I balance that? I want to take him into the mountains again, but alas, cannot yet, and even that is probably more to make me feel better than to provide any answers for him. I think back on my own teen age years, and despite the balding pate, the new hip, and more weight than I care for, I feel more comfortable approaching 50 than I ever did at 17. I still seem to have just as many questions.
And Charlie, well his time to meet the real wilderness approaches as well. I hope I am up to the job. In the meantime I just want him to enjoy the sound of his new cleats.


Aroha,
Robb

The Healing Has Begun

"And we'll walk down the avenue again, and we'll sing all the songs from way back when. And we'll walk down the avenue in style, and we'll walk down the avenue and we'll smile, and we'll say baby ain't it all worthwhile. And we'll walk down the avenue again, when the healing has begun". - abridged. Words by Van Morrison, "The Healing Has Begun", from "Into the Music".

One of my friends and commenter's LPH, a man I have known for over 20 some odd years now, wrote in a comment that this song was very apt for my current status. Indeed it is LPH! What a song, a song of healing and opportunity and redemption. It has been one constant favourite Van tune of the ages, one that defines for me personally why I love the music. It leaped into my heart back in 1979 and has never left. Much like these mountains here in Aotearoa, the Ruahine, leaped into my heart when I was brought to them in 1993. So the words above, and the song stand true, and represent well my current journey, and how I am feeling about it. Get the song and LISTEN! (Get the whole cd, one of Van's best)

The photo above sees me emerging from the mist of the prior post. I am writing of course metaphorically, and the photos are from different trips, yet I have emerged from a lot of the doubt and fear, the unknowns of my last post. Above I am amongst the golden tussock tops, having done the hard yards and relentless steep climb from Makaroro valley and Upper Makaroro hut to the main Ruahine range. A lot of hard work and effort, rewarded by this expanse of wilderness, these mountains, the views, and whatever lies ahead. Take a close look at the photo and you will see I am actually battling to stand upright, poles and legs spread wide, and coat on in spite of the blue sky and sunshine. So you see, though I have done many hard yards, and emerged into the sunlight, it is now the wind that sets upon me. Another obstacle to be dealt with. Ride out the storm or carry on?

I went today on 70 minute walk along the river. In a fierce wind that kept most away, and I felt very much as if I had the place to myself. The wind was blowing hard through the trees and I let myself drift along to a Ruahine ridge on a stromy day and the wind blowing its song through the kaikawaka, tupare, and beeches. Not quite the same down here, and the wind held nothing of threat to me, even on my crutches. I have been where that song of wind means real danger. I relish the feel of it upon me.

The doctor's appointment I had thought was this Thursday, is actually next Thursday, so I am fighting the urge to get ahead of myself. In the three weeks since having the hip replaced I have progressed from standing up, to walks down the hospital corridor, 10 minute forays along the foot path outside, to yesterday doing the 70 minute walk down by the river. Most days I will do a 45 minute effort. I am also starting to get around the house without crutches and so am looking forward to seeing Dr. Brougham to get an idea of boosting my efforts with weights, the bike and so on. A bit of stretching would be wonderful but not advisable just yet, and if anyone has any advice or thoughts on beginning yoga I would greatly appreciate it. I am not quite ready yet, as these first crucial six weeks play out, but soon enough will be. And everything I do is pointing at mobility, flexibility, strength, and activity. The most wonderful feeling when I am walking is that pain I had is gone. So I dream of the mountains. Sitting here in the comfort of my chair, a warm house, and a cup of coffee, it is easy to write nostalgically, recalling all the wonderful trips and views, yet I know full well that with sweat dripping off my face climbing up hill, or straight down onto some creek bed, or battling a swollen river, or cloud obscured and wind blown tops, that most of the time the focus is simply on the next step, the next decision, to not stuff up. There will plenty of time at the hut or camp, or here in my chair, to let the day wash over me. So I sit here now and smile, and dream of steep climbs, and the golden tussock, clear streams and rivers, and the sight of the whio. Kia kaha!

Aroha - Robb

Convalescence

It has been 8 days since my surgery. I arrived home a few days ago and have begun the road to recovery. Sort of feels at times like wandering into a mountain day like above, vision murky, pack heavy, and lots of questions. My goal is more or less pictured above - a reunion with the mountains. But these past few days around home I have been reminded of so many other things I can hopefully look forward to doing pain free as well. Mowing the lawn, chopping wood and making a fire, playing with Charlie, going for a walk, or even just making a cup of tea. All without the constant companion of pain and grimace of discomfort that has been with me for over three years now. Tara reckons I look ten years younger without that grimace, and though I am sore and learning to walk again, there is a big difference between pain and soreness. It is almost too good to be true. I am on crutches, and will be for some time, but even in the few days home I can feel myself getting stronger, able to sit in a chair longer, or walk outside and simply breathe the air and dream of other places while increasing my distance and time. Today 10 minutes, but 10 minutes that has been the best part of my day.

Thank you all so much for your comments and thoughts. There was a point the other day I was in a lot of discomfort, and suddenly felt a wave wash through me and I felt no pain at all. Not long after I managed to get up and hobble here to the computer and check out the messages and thoughts and I really felt grateful for the time taken to visit and wish me well. It works. Kia kaha.
Aroha,
Robb

Parakawai

I came across some old photos today, and because they were of great significance I have to appear here and share this place one more time before the surgery in the morning. In the post prior to the last one I mention a place that this greedy and short sighted government and its corporate masters are slathering to get slippery hands upon, Parakawai in the Coromandel. These photos are of my first visit there in 1993 which I describe in that post. Coming across them today seemed a connected moment in many ways. Today it was announced the the Mokihinui river has been granted resource consent to be dammed, destroying forever 14 kilometres of pristine wilderness sheltering some of the most unique native flora and fauna and wild life left in Aotearoa. Just as Parakawai above does. I think no government should be allowed to wantonly destroy such places until the people who make those decisions have stayed there, at least one night. I realize the futility of writing those words as I write them. More's the pity.

That pool below was some 20 foot plus feet deep, at least at the time this photo was observed. A leap into the pool below took a bit of courage.

Gustav and I, directed here by my friend Nigel. Amazing place, amazing people.

In front of the pool above, an afternoon of swimming and exploring, building our stuff to actually jump off that fall above. "I'll do it if you'll do it!"

The pool. I have camped two nights of my life on the rim above to the left. I recall both vividly.


The common babble speak around places like this is always "no one ever goes there", this seems to be rapidly becoming the mantra of those whom do not go there. Parakawai, by definition, is not a remote place, it is easily accessible in the very well developed Coromandel. So it is now much often visited I suppose in comparison to my two stays seeing no one indeed. But how it moved me, took my breath away, opened up to me the emmense Natural Gifts of this land. To destroy it seeking gold is just obscene. Even though I have never been to the Mokihinui I feel the same about there as well. Who will remember such places when they are gone forever?


Man! Dig those red pants and purple high top Chuck Taylor's! What a spot, what a day. See ya'all later, just felt a real need to share these. Hopefully soon I will be back to actually being at places like this, rather than just dreaming about them. Kia kaha!

Aroha,

Robb

Mountain Dreams

30 July 2003, Maropea Forks - solo and my 43rd birthday.

I will settle upon this photo as my own personal favourite of myself in terms of the Ruahine. I was 43, certainly not a young man, but I was fit, there were no physical barriers holding me back.

A solo birthday celebration, a venture into solitude and a place I love in the middle of winter. No easy feat in the grasp of a long walk down an ice cold mountain river. Shit! It was cold. To arrive at this beautiful place, cold, wondering, exhilarated. To build a little fire in that wonderful stove just for me, but yet for everyone, was a distinct pleasure and honour, and very warming in all ways. The next day I just stayed put as the water I put in the billies inside the hut had a coat of ice upon them! Quite content I got the fire going just quietly and decided I would stay here another day. What I really love about this photo is not me, or the fully loaded already burning wood stove, but that kindling bucket in back of me , which states 28 Litres of Golden-Syrup. which is a lot of syrup, of any kind. It harkens us back to days long gone, days of yore. When people knew spots like this other than just once, other than just passing thru.


Snow fall at Maropea Forks. Such a magnificent moment!


Back yard at Maropea Forks.

John and Jeff, meeting for the first time at the beautiful waterfall about 30 minutes from Maropea Forks. A somewhat out of focus photo, but one I have come to love. Jeff, a great mate visiting from America, and I had walked in via Sunrise to Top Maropea the prior day, spent the night in that lovely spot, and then carried on late the next morning leisurely paced both due to my hip, but even more to the fact it was just such an incredible place to have such a fine reunion with one of my oldest friends. After all what's the hurry? John started early that morning from his car and caught up to us just a few moments before the photo above unfolded. We then spent the next three days in this amazing area, walking the rivers and ridges to the tops, Jeff doing a bit of trout hunting (successfully), and a lot of just lazing about doing not much at all. This area is my goal for returning to the mountains in July for my 50th birthday.


Maropea Forks in August. Another winter birthday celebration with a fine friend and brother, Gustav.

27 August 2007 Maropea Forks hut:

I shall always remember the exhilaration of standing outside the hut by the river under a full moon. After an afternoon when on a walk up river a huge snowstorm blew in, wild and furious, and I rushed back to the hut where Gustav had the fire stoked up and we stood out on the porch watching the trees sway and dance, the wind rushing and howling, building to loud crescendos, the snow swirling all around. Then it settled into a gentle snowfall, something like out of the movie "It's a Wonderful Life", where Jimmy Stewart runs about the town joyfully after discovering his own worth. I'm with ya Jimmy! And now the fresh snow covers all, the only man made footsteps to be seen for miles are ours! The entire scene is translucent, the snow has been lit into life by the light of this full moon. The water fall of the stream across the river unfurls in a cascade of glowing shimmering satin, the tall trees on the surrounding high ridges reveal their true character as the snow brings their souls to life in ways we have never before seen. The faces tell us their stories, each individual tree speaks to us. Some tell of laughter, many shed tears, and even seem to howl in despair of what will become of this scene. We are here for this brief second, but for just these few moments we have connected with the Timeless.



Moments like ones above are what I miss most right now, and thoughts of being amongst these mountains overwhelm me as I write these words. To know what roaming amongst them means to me, and to be unable to do so, cripples more within me than the physical pain of this hip will ever do. So roaming amongst them once again is my goal. To accomplish that I am having my hip replaced in a matter of days, then under taking my recovery, my rebuilding, and God Willing, my reunion with the Ruahine.
I am not sure when I will return here, how I will feel, the thoughts I will have. So I thank each and every one of you whom has made this under taking so special. I could write many words to so many people, but I will just write Kia ora for your time in coming here, for your time in your own special places, in your words and thoughts of encouragement, and support. For the aroha that I feel in my heart. Enjoy the Wild Places! Till I return with a tale of the mountains! Roam the wilderness and may the mountain breeze blow gently upon you. Don't Look Down. Kia kaha!

Aroha,
Robb

"Surgical Mining"

"Gold Mining"

"Coal Mining"

"Mountaintop Removal Mining"


There does not appear to my eyes anything "surgical" about any of these types of mining. Indeed a search of mining technique websites does not reveal any reference at all to anything called "surgical mining". Yet it is fast becoming a media buzz word. Say it enough times and it becomes so. A phrase which rolls off our prime minister's tongue very smoothly, soothing the masses of any worries beyond tax cuts and g.s.t. rises. Yes, John Key has made it his own little Alfred E. Nueman catch phrase (What? Me Worry?). Don't buy it folks, it does not exist. If Key, Brownlee and National consider placing entire towns in peril from landslides and erosion caused floods due to gold mining hills in the Coromandel as acceptable collateral damage, then it should be of no surprise they also refuse to rule out the use of "other" types of "modern method" mining techniques. Modern method mining techniques are pictured above. All extremely brutal, all irrevocable scars upon the earth, our National Parks, our Wild Places. Mountain top removal is possibly the worst demonstration of man's disdain for the earth. It involves simply cutting away all the forest surrounding the victim, then dynamiting as much as 500 down into the mountain to get at the coal, or whatever might be down there, and dumping the removed earth into the surrounding valleys, choking and killing any water ways. This is one of the "newer" mining techniques. There doesn't seem to be anything in there relating to "surgical".

Polluted and ruined stream from mining extraction

A mine drainage tailing pipe.

The Coromandel Peninsula is under heavy attack, one of the areas targeted being the Parakawai Geological Reserve, a mere 70 hectare area coveted by the gold diggers, but also a treasure trove of native species of frogs, kokopu, insects, and native bird species. Within this area the volcanic landscape encloses indigenous forest and one of the last remaining water catchments in the Coromandel running from forest to sea. In New Zealand gold mining commonly results in 3 grams of gold per 1400 kilograms of rock dug up. I hardly think that will involve any "surgical" precision mining techniques. They will destroy it all.

I have been to Parakawai twice. In 1994 I picked up my friend Gustav in Auckland and we drove to the Coromandel, exhilarated by the sea at Waihi Beach then driving to a place my mate Nigel had provided a map to outside Whangamata. We shouldered our packs and headed to a campsite Nigel had described to me as beyond compare. We walked through the lush green and steamy forest climbing to a river we heard, then saw come into view and my heart leaped with joy. It was a stream below us with water so pure and clear it took my breath away. Above us we could hear the symphony of many different layers of water, and suddenly emerged out of the bush onto the stream to find ourselves looking at the beautiful depths of blues and greens under the pool of perhaps a 15 metre waterfall, and directly below us it fell in a series of perhaps another 4-5 significant pools and falls. It was ethereal. Gustav and I were absolutely speechless, yet the huge smiles upon our faces, and the lightness within our souls shouted the silent words of joy we did not need to speak. We set up a small camp on the opposite side of the main fall and spent the afternoon swimming in the depths of this wonderful paradise, climbing up the falls and exploring upstream, and finally getting up the nerve to jump off the cliff into the embrace of that lovely nectar below. We lit a small fire that evening and sat in the glow of it, our day, our friendships, and the comforting lullaby of this river on its way to the sea.

A few years later carrying a large pack I returned with Tara, who in in smaller carrier toted along little Taylor, then 1 0r 2. Once again we camped in solitude at this slice of heaven. I am told it has become a very popular local tramping spot and area in addition to its value as a heritage area.

To see this place destroyed, to think of that beautiful river with its graceful falls and elegant pools as a swill pit like pictured above, destroyed for GOLD! I feel the bile rise up in my throat.

The Makaroro in the Ruahine. A reminder of what this is really all about.

If our system has depleted itself, and the "time" has come to rip into the few wild and relatively pristine areas still left, perhaps we are really asking the wrong questions. These people are up to no good and must be confronted and stopped. Once again I present the words of Edward Abbey:

"The Rules will be dictated by the extractive industries - the coal, oil, and power companies. Not only do our state politicians fail to resist these alien forces, they bid against one another to invite them in. Our good old boys would sell their mother's graves if they could make a quick buck out of the deal; crooked as a dog's hind leg, tricky as a car dealer, greedy as a hog at the trough, these men will sell out the West to big industry as fast as they can, without the faintest stirrings of conscience. Governors, U.S. Senators, congressman, and our chamber of commerce presidents don't give a hoot about future losses; they figure, rightly, that they personally will all be dead by the time the future extent of the disaster becomes clear. So much for the canyonlands of Utah and Arizona: nothing but a barren wasteland, anyway, as any local Jaycee will tell you, nothing but sand and dust and heat and emptiness, red rock baking under the sun and hungry vultures soaring on the air. Quite so men, quite so: nothing but canyon and desert, mountain and mesa, all too good for the likes of us."

If we change a few nouns to those like New Zealand, prime ministers, mp's, mayors, councils, and businesses, and the desert and rock, to bush, rivers and mountains, and the year from the 1970's to the present once again we find the future upon us.

Kia kaha!

BEWARE!!

To John Key, Gerry (Lard Ass) Brownlee, all our current National rationalists, right wing talk back radio hosts and disconnected listeners, and each and every government, corporate technocratic organization in the world, and anyone in favour of invading Wild Places still there. Your fate awaits! Piss off the lot of you!