03.03.18 — Beach Day, Waitomo Caves
Our daylight hours today were spent at a black sand beach. The drive there was a pleasure — windows down, winding road, cool morning air, sunlight illuminating dewy grass and rolling vistas. We found a shady place to park the vans and climbed in bare feet over an already hot sand dune down to the cool shore. The ocean surf was gentle and the skies were blue. Wading into the water I took in the taste of the salt on my lips, the sensation of being lifted on the cresting waves and the sights of the surrounding hills popping up on the forested horizon. Next to me, a little crab nipped at a student’s toes — likely the most dangerous animal encounter to be had in this country.
The Norwegians were splashing around, volleying a soccer ball with their foreheads, sunbathing and making themselves perfectly at home on the beach — which either makes no sense or all the sense in the world considering the long, dark winters where they come from. These kids are in shape — not a surprise, as they are enrolled in a year-long outdoor adventure school. The frisbee was thrown, the rugby ball tossed, sunscreen reapplied and sandwiches eaten. Pop songs played in Norwegian over a bluetooth speaker. As the afternoon wore on some napped, others socialized.
Tom and I talked about our respective countries, and about our work in healthcare — him, transporting patients to and from the operating room in a hospital, and me, an aid at a transitional housing facility for those recovering from mental health crisis. We discussed our preference for “gig” work, and for patching together a living out of a variety of chosen activities. Tom has been perfecting his skills as a stage magician and pickpocket (for entertainment purposes only). He can often be found juggling found objects.
After returning from the beach, we set the students to making dinner and then Huia gave a presentation on the Māori. He described the history of Tokikapu marae — the traditional meeting grounds for his own family’s local tribe. It is named after a chief who lived here three centuries ago; toki being a gardening adze and kapu referring to a hole — in this case, a gully down the hill where a sandstone rock was used to sharpen their tools, and where a number of tribal members are now buried. He talked about the history of the Māori in New Zealand — or Aotearoa, as the Māori came to name the country for themselves in recent times (“land of the long, white cloud”). There is more to write on this history later.
Finally, we gathered up flashlights and headed out for a twilight hike. Huia said a prayer and we followed him down a stream, descending into a lush rainforest. We were introduced to the kaponga tree, with its unique ferns that grow green on top and silver on their undersides. The silver fern is native to the pacific islands and is a national symbol of New Zealand. The Māori would place them upside down to mark their trails for travelers at night. We passed a series of caves high above the trees in some cliffs, which was for years used as a sacred burial place for Māori elders.
Further down into the woods constellations of glowing, incandescent blue lights emerged through the trees, lining the cliff walls around us. These are glow-worms, evolved to produce a light in a manner similar to the firefly. The Māori regarded these as the first lights to emerge from the darkness at the dawn of creation. We followed the lights into tunnels through the rocks, and then into a cave where we overlooked an underground river below, and a “sky” made up of hundreds of glowing blue pin-pricks of light. Being an isolated island, the glow worm is one of a number of species that are only to be found in this country. Walking back in the darkness I imagined what it would be like to be among the first humans to inhabit these woods, and what dreams and stories sights like these might inspire. Maybe stories like… this one?
