Matariki and Te Matau a Maui

Te Matau a Maui

By dint of being quick on the return button I sent off an email which secured me a spot on Te Matau a Maui, or Fish hook of Maui, a wonderful double hulled waka that was visiting Wellington It is normally based in Napier and has travelled around the world. It was in Wellington to help celebrate Matariki, the Maori New Year. Matariki is the name of the group of stars that appear at this time of year and is known also as the Seven Sisters, or Pleiades.

The weather was beautiful and there was enough wind for us to unfurl the sails and head into the harbour. My job was to help with the large sail at the front, unwinding and winding up ropes to hoist it up and change its position to catch the wind.

I chose to stay up at the front and soak up the experience. We managed to get as far as the Mirimar Peninsular before we had to turn and head for home.

What an amazing day!!

A perfect day for a sail in a double hulled waka

A modern waka has solar panels

Coming in to berth

A hand held rudder was at the back

Heading out into the harbour

The Tino Rangatiratanga flag was flying.

The 'crew' were all given jobs

Maori design on the sail

Heading back  into Wellington

The cooking cabin on top of the deck

Maori carving at the base of the mast

The sleeping quarters were in the hulls - eight bunks and storage per hull

Symbolic stones by the main mast. The one in the basket is pounamu or greenstone

Coming back in to berth at Te Papa Museum

Hidden Places

The Te Mahanga Stream meets the Kaiwharawhara

While there are lots of interesting places on the hills of Wellington, there are also fascinating places tucked down between the valleys. When the winds are creating havoc, down is often the best place to go and sometimes you can even go under.
I chose to go down into Ngaio Gorge, sheltered from the blustering southerly. I was joined by little silvereyes  who also know this is a good spot to be out of the wind. I wondered if they had been feeding on the bright round orange berries of of the supplejack vine which are very visible at present in bush not being browsed by                                                                            possums.

Berries of the supplejack vine, or kareao

I turned down the track to the fish ladder, placing my feet carefully as after rain the steep path down was quite greasy. I have never figured out exactly where the fish ladder is. I looked across the river to where the stream from Zealandia poured out of a tunnel to join the Kaiwharawhara. You would have to be a pretty agile fish or eel to leap up there to make your way back to the place of your parents. Ten or twenty metres above the tunnel I could see glimpses of where the Johnsonville train tracks were. Beside the stream was a little concrete footpath also heading into the tunnel.

The mouth of the tunnel

I carefully crossed the stream, keeping my boots dry. Looking back I saw the entrance to another tunnel which normally has a grille across it. Today it was open. I have ventured down the steps a little way in the past but no further as it seems to be a dead end.

Looking out of the mouth to the tunnel opposite

Not much down here

Scrambling up the other side of the bank and over a tree recently felled by the recent flood I got myself to the edge of the tunnel. It had not rained for the last week so the flow pouring out was of a normal volume.
I had brought a torch and turning it on I headed along the narrow path that ran above the stream.Quickly I lost sight of the entrance and was enshrouded by gloom, my little torch affording only a thin gleam. As the tunnel was oval shaped, the roof curved close above me and I had to walk on an angle and slightly crouched. Taller people would struggle I thought, as well as those who had balance issues. No bugs though, so no problem for people leery of things that go bump in the night. The sound of the water rushing below me was amplified as the river rushed its way to meet up with the waters from other catchments.
I made my way carefully so as not to catch my head. Finally after another following the gentle curve upwards I saw the gleam of light indicating the the end of the tunnel was close.

Head room was a lot less at the other end. Note fallen trees which could easily impede water flow.

Into the hidden valley

I popped out into bottom of a steep valley. This is a continuation I think, of the Wellington fault line. It was a little lost world down here. As I stared up I could see no signs of the houses and road I knew were up above me. Sewer pipes ran alongside the river, old and rusted. There was no path to follow here so keeping my boots dry was no longer an option. My way was often blocked by trees that had come down and I contemplated how easy it would be for the tunnel access to be blocked, causing a rapid rise of the river.
I poked about under stones but found no freshwater life.

Sewer pipe to the left, cliff to the right, so into the water I went.

Here the water moved slowly and I was surrounded by an intense but gratifying silence. No birds, no nothing down here. I followed the river towards its source crisscrossing to find the shallowest route. At times I had to scramble over tree branches partially blocking my way. Once there was no way through other than getting wet to my thighs. The winter waters were toe numbingly chill and no sun penetrated into the depths of the valley, but as I gradually climbed with the stream the vista slowly opened and widened.

I could see a scramble coming up ahead

Then, there ahead of me was the end. The river came forth out of a wider tunnel and above was the road blocking my access to Otari Wilton Bush on the other side. People had been clearing and planting  on the slope leading up to the road.
I clambered up and made my way home, leaving the rest of my exploration for another day.

A trip through this tunnel through to Otari Wilton beckons next

Not much head room, but the air is fresh and the valley on the other side is worth a look.

Round the Bays in the Winter Sun.

The South Coast of Wellington on a fine winter's day

The day dawned crisp and cold, but the sky was bright blue without a cloud in sight. If a cloud had been present, it would have hung decoratively in the sky as there was no wind to speak of to ruffle its edges and send it scudding. Clouds in Wellington normally are sprinters as they get bullied and harrassed by fierce northerlies and freezing southerlies.
I decided it was a day too good to waste and planned to 'Bike the Bays,' a pleasurable cycle around the harbour and south coast which is mainly flat. To finish off I would go up Happy Valley Road which is a long gradual climb, then up Raroa Road which is a stiff steep climb. To complete the circuit from there involved a few rolling hills through the suburbs.

A brisk descent down Ngaio Gorge made me grateful for my winter gloves and arm and leg warmers. I had noted my shoe clips were wearing thin so stopped at a handy cycle shop to have them replaced.  When I first started wearing them I  took a few tumbles as I practised the art of clipping and unclipping but now they are second nature. The bike shop boys always tut tut at the state of my clips and tell me not to walk on them - but how else am I supposed to get into coffee shops?

Once sorted I headed around the waterfront and Oriental Bay. Needing a comfort spot I went into one of the changing sheds frequented by bathers in the summer. To my surprise an elderly lady was in the process of changing after a swim. Air temperature was around ten degrees Celsius and the waters of Wellington Harbour are cold no matter the season.
'Did you have a good swim?' I asked.
'Yes,' she replied standing there in her altogether without a care in the world.
'Do you use a wet suit?' I asked.
'What would you want one of those for?' she replied.
I commented on the fact most people had stopped swimming for the winter, including myself. She commented on how soft people were these days, especially young people. I had to agree with her, and mentally decided to have a winter swim to test my softness out - but with a wet suit. I had swum in summer with a wet suit and a double layer of bathing caps but chose not to mention this!

Back on my bike I continued around the Bays till I reached The Chocolate Fish, a great cafe tucked in a sheltered spot at Shelly Bay. I had a lovely fish chowder while watching children play on the push-alongs, trikes and scooters that are made available to keep them occupied while their parents dine and chat. Today adults were in on the action as much as the kids.

Big kids and little kids enjoying the ride on toys at the Chocolate Fish

Once over the Passa Branda I was exposed to the South Coast and more wild seas. It was chopped up around the airport and once through the tunnel I stopped to watch the surfers trying their luck on big waves that were not holding up too well but giving some excitement. I observed they were all in wet suits and some had neoprene bonnets as well. Thinking of the lady I had recently talked to, I had a chuckle to myself as I watched the cosseted group in front of me.

                            
                                    Surfers togged up in their neoprene at Lyall Bay


The surf was definitely up and gave a great display as I pedalled on my way. White frothy spray climbed into the air as the waves crashed into rocks. Tapu te Ranga the island Island Bay is named after was copping the brunt of it. In its lee a little boat sheltered, reminding me of Rita Angus's well known painting.

Boats, Island Bay.     Rita Angus

Tapu te Ranga protecting Island Bay from the rigours of Cook Strait

Tapu te Ranga has  long history. In ancient times Kupe the great explorer is said to have climbed to the top of the island to spy Te Wheke- o -Muturangi, a giant octopus which he then chased across Cook Strait and finally slaughtered. He had chased it all the way to New Zealand from Hawaiki.

Kupe killing Te Wheke o Muturangi

In the 1820s it became a refuge for the last of the Ngati Ira as Te Atiawa and Ngati Toa came rampaging through having been displaced themselves from Taranaki and Kawhia by more Northern tribes who had obtained the musket causing a huge upset in the balance of power. Very few Ngati Ira remain as a result and Wellington is claimed mainly by Te Atiawa.

I took it slowly up Happy Valley Road, then whizzed down Brooklyn Road - always a pleasure as there is plenty of space and broad sweeping corners. The alternative - Ohiro Road by contrast is steep, winding and narrow, and traffic flows both ways. Actually, there isn't room for flow - cars proceed cautiously and have to manoeuvre around each other as there is little room to pass. Biking up it is a tough grind and biking down is done with caution and  brakes in good condition.

I took my time up Raroa Road, rolled over the rolling hills through Wilton and arrived home in good time having enjoyed the brilliant blue skies of a clear winter's day.