By: Zofia
A Postcard From..., Adventures in Aotearoa, , , ,

Forest Escape

Hello! I’m in intense study mode over the next few weeks (- on top of full time work -) for an upcoming exam, so this is just a heads up that I probably won’t be posting any updates or reflective pieces of writing between now and then. I’ve got a few ideas lined up that I’m excited about though, so I’m looking forward to having time to write again properly once this is over. And for now, read on to hear about an adventure we had back in September – the link on my twitter account is a lil 360 of the forest. Zx

A postcard from Waiuku Forest, Wilson Road, Otaua, 2682.

Just ten minutes south on State Highway 1, before turning off and tracking westwards towards the Tasman Sea. It’s Saturday morning, traffic is light. The road stretches out in front of us, disappearing into the horizon. As we get closer to our destination, we notice the fields become flanked with thick high hedges of bamboo: an unusual sight out here, under the strong sun it makes us feel almost as though we have been transported to a different country. Distracted by this, suddenly we see rolling green hills rising up in front of us, moments later we are among them.

We pull up outside one of the entrances to the forest. A weatherbeaten sign confirms that we have reached our destination, another tells us that the risk of fires is currently low. We leave the car on the edge of the road and set off down a short gravel track, immediately struck by how much cooler the air is. It’s sunny and bright, but the sunlight seems to catch in the top of the trees, trickling through to pool at their feet. We study a faded map for a while, then choose a path to our right and set out. Usually we would have planned on walking a specific trail. But today we just showed up. Our only aim is to meander towards the sea.

We let Asterix off his leash and he trots happily in front of us, weaving to and forth across the path as he picks up different scents, occasionally pausing to look back over his shoulder and ensure we are still following. The trees rise tall above us, nestled in clumps of wild grasses that rustle gently in the breeze. The sun drifts through the leaves, casting dancing shadows all around.

For a while we follow wide paths. Then we see a small track running deep into the trees, heading in the direction we think we want to go. The ground underfoot becomes softer and more sandy, the incline more steep. Asterix struggles a little, keeping low underneath the grasses that overhang the path, unable to gain any traction, his belly grazing the floor. We are just remarking how quiet and peaceful it is when out of nowhere we hear a loud roar: we barely have time to stand back before a crescendo decrescendo of motorcross bikes whizzes by in fast succession.

The little path twists downwards until we hear the sea ahead of us. Then a strange thing, the treeline grows thin and bare, until eventually every tree left standing is stripped of its branches and silvered so brightly it shines. The living forest gives way to a mass of stakes, standing tall over black sand dunes, holding the land back from the loud crashing waves beyond.

We clamber down the dunes among tiny golden daisies, warm our feet in the soft glittering sand. Asterix roams delightedly among the driftwood, now and then distracted by the smell of campfires that fishermen have built alongside their pickup trucks, reluctant to return when called. The motorcrosses reappear, sweep around us in figures of eight and head straight for the steep dunes ahead. A small audience of fisherchildren watches and whoops in glee.

We walk as far as we can before realising we can go no further, then head back into the cover of the trees, opting for a different return route. Gorse blooms brightly along the edge of the pines, Asterix begins to pant and tire. Everything becomes peaceful once more.

On the way home we stop to pick up fish and chips. A perfect end to the perfect day.