TASHY TRAVELS

Every Sunday, I am going to upload a post about the different countries I have visited and/or lived in since 2002.

I can assure you of some interesting stories.

NEW ZEALAND 8

In a similar way to yesterday’s blog about Auckland, we spent an awful lot of time in Northland, aside from as part of our New Zealand journey. What is more, it was in the north of the north island that the first permanent European settlers landed and also where a treaty was signed in 1840, which still causes so many problems in this country. It may also be the first landing-place of the Maori when they arrived but Maori, like our own Viking invaders, had no written language and all history was passed down by word of mouth. Funnily enough, in my view, there is quite a strong link between Vikings and Maoris, despite the obvious distance between them. The Viking long-house and Maori marae, the carved icons and ancestors, the great knowledge of navigation, all have a similarity that would point to some past meeting. Now, if my name was Thor Heyerdahl and I had my own Kon-Tiki, maybe I could prove something, but it’s not and I don’t, so let’s just leave it at that. I believe people are now wanting to DNA test Maori to prove something else but that sounds terribly scientific and not nearly so much fun.

Anyhow, the first European people who came to settle in New Zealand around 200 years ago were missionaries. Missionaries are people who come to spread the word about their religious beliefs. Religion or belief is a strange thing. Most of us seem to assume that our belief, our religion, is the only right one and so, these people, the missionaries would go to convert others to this “true” belief. It is this strictness of belief, this idea that I must be right, that can cause so much conflict in the world. The missionaries came to New Zealand because they had heard from the whalers and seal hunters about the Maori people. They wanted to show them Christianity and convert them to it. The Bay of Islands, rich in resources, attracted the missionaries and seemed a good place to start their work. In my humble opinion, religion, or at least the imposition of religious beliefs, has done more harm to mankind than anything else.

The first missionaries arrived in 1814. Obviously they needed somewhere to live and so they began to build houses. The wooden mission house at Kerikeri, which you can see in the picture, is actually also the oldest standing European-built building in New Zealand. It was started in 1819 to house the Rev. John Butler and his family but, after Butler was sacked by the Rev Samuel Marsden, the head of the Church Missionary Society in this part of the world, it was then occupied by the Clarke family. The house has changed little over the years and so is a good one to visit to see how things were in those earlier times.

A little later a stone storehouse was also built. The main settlement of the local Maori tribe, called a pa, was about 2 or 3 kilometres away and there would be quite a lot of interaction between the inhabitants of the house and the tribal village. It was situated near a river and so trading was easy. However the river has also been a threat to the house’s survival as flooding can and does occur. However when we were there, the river, running under a narrow bridge, was really quite calm. After a few years ordinary settlers began to arrive in New Zealand and the pioneering role of the missionaries began to decrease and the following may indicate why this wasn’t such a bad thing.

The Rev. Marsden had bought the land for these buildings, and another 13,000 acres, from the Ngai Tawake tribe and their chief Hongi Hika. Marsden paid Hongi Hika 48 felling axes and, so Hongi Hika thought, some rifles. The Maori had seen how powerful the rifle was against the spears they used and so they really wanted them. The early missionaries relied on the Maoris to help them and protect them. Another missionary from a different area, a man called Kendall, had also made friends with Hongi Hika and actually travelled to England with him and there they bought 1,000 muskets. This made Hongi’s tribe the most powerful on the island and he proceeded to travel south killing and indeed wiping out many other tribes. Missionaries 1 – Humanity 0.

This leads on to why this area of New Zealand is so important historically. With Maoris, missionaries, settlers and visiting trading ships, the whole area was becoming very mixed and also gaining a bad reputation. Once such place, Kororareka, also known as Russell, was considered the capital of New Zealand for a while, but was called the “hell-hole of the Pacific”. So, the British appointed a guy called James Busby as British Resident in New Zealand. An interesting title and what it meant was that he represented the British Crown in New Zealand. He was not, as they had in Australia, called the Governor General and in fact reported to the Governor General in New South Wales.

It is quite likely that the British, as happened in the 1820’s in Western Australia, were getting a bit worried about the French being in New Zealand and so, in 1840, Busby and Captain William Hobson made a treaty between the Maori chiefs on behalf on the British Government. Because everything at that time was happening in the north of the North Island, the treaty was signed at a place called Waitangi where Busby had built his residency. The house is still there. On 5 February 1840, hundreds of Maori, and quite a few Europeans, assembled on the grass in front of the Residency. The treaty was read to the Maori chiefs in English and Maori and then the chiefs went away to debate it.

On 6 February 1840, 43 chiefs signed the treaty. The pictures with this part of my text show the house and treaty ground as they are now and the flagstaff marks the actual site of the signing. You have to realise what an effort it was to get all these chiefs here, as there was no communication around the island except by travelling somewhere and verbally telling people.

Copies of the treaty were then carried all around the country and by September of 1840 over 500 chiefs had signed. Meanwhile Hobson had proclaimed British sovereignty over the whole country on May 21 1840.

The treaty was the beginning of New Zealand as a nation but also the beginning of arguments as to what it meant. Any treaty that is in two distinctive languages and where the translation is made, as this was, by two British missionaries, will have these problems. Many people will tell you that the Treaty is an agreement between two people to live and work together but one side will also tell you that they feel as though they have lost more than they have gained. February 6th is now celebrated, or otherwise depending on your views, each year at Waitangi and around the country.

Fancy paddling a Maori war canoe, called a waka. We did and we found a company in Paihia that allowed you to do so. Effectively, they took you back in time but, the modern world being what it is, they had to comply with the safety requirements. We were told that this canoe would never sink as it had an airtight container in the middle and that gives better balance. It would also never turn upside down thanks to the wide planks going across the boat so, in the case of an accident, we would just get wet. We were given a life jacket and I smiled.

Then you are given your paddle and the spiritual significance of this is explained to you. The blade, or head of the paddle, represents the head of your ancestors and so you must always hold the paddle blade upwards, as the ancestors are not happy with their heads in the sand. The leader of the our little band of warriors sounded his trumpet, or pukaea, to get us started and then we were off. I have to tell you that you are able to obtain a fair speed when there are 14 or so of you in the waka but this number fades into insignificance with some of the large Maori wakas, which could hold over 100 men. Despite Hone, our leader, insisting there was no danger, I have to disagree. I kept hitting my knuckles on the side of the waka as I paddled. Maybe I am too short.

Halfway across to our island destination, we stopped and Hone spoke to us. “This is our island, island of my ancestors. The ground is our carpet, the sky is our ceiling, the hills are the walls and the water is our closet”. Then, to prove his point, he dived over the edge of the canoe into the water and disappeared under the surface. A minute or so later he came back into view and swam over to the canoe. He opened up his hand and showed us a small collection of mussels or, as the Maori call them, pipi. Later, when we came to the shore, he opened one for us and demonstrated how they used to eat it. I have to say it tasted really good uncooked.

Once we reached the island, we were treated to a Maori powhiri, or challenge, similar to the ones that will have greeted the first Europeans to land here. It is a very frightening experience as the Maori challengers are so assertive in their behaviour although in most cases that is all it as. They were just showing off their strength.

An aboriginal tourist from the Torres Strait islands, who was there with us, played the role of our chief and Hone was the Maori chief. What we saw was the way the chief of a tribe would welcome the first Europeans who came here. Now imagine, as you may remember I believe learning history without an imagination is almost impossible, that you land on a new shore, uncertain of what is there. You are coming from 19th century England and you see a half-naked man, probably with his face tattooed in strange patterns, approaching. He moves in a strange way, sort of dancing, sort of fighting with an invisible enemy. He waves his spear-like weapon at you trying to challenge you and to see your response, which would allow him to recognise what are your intentions towards the tribe. One wrong movement and a tribe of hidden warriors will attack.

You don’t know what is being said. Your fingers play on your musket, one shot, you think, could solve it. The danger would be gone. You would show who has the most power. But would you? Maybe the rest of the tribe, not knowing fear, would avenge the death of their chief. You don’t know how to react. You don’t want blood, you want to talk and negotiate, but how to show that you came as a friend? A wooden stick is being stuck in the ground in front of you. Should you take it or maybe you shouldn’t touch it at all. You have to trust your intuition, so you slowly bend for the stick; the spear-like weapon cuts the air above you. You remain bent, unsure if your head won’t find itself in the way of next swirl of the spear.

Finally you stand up and look at the man in front of you. He comes closer and puts his hand on your shoulder, brings his head towards you. His movements are slow and steady and his calm manner puts you at ease. This wild man, whose gestures and language you can not understand, presses his nose against yours and his forehead against yours. You intuitively feel this is a sign of acceptance, you feel you are welcomed. We watched all this in silence, and, as I said, we couldn’t take photos during this part of the ceremony. Then we could follow our chosen “chief” and we were welcomed in exactly the same way. We were told we are now a part of their family.

The greeting is not just carried out at a powhiri. It is very much an every day occurrence in Maori culture. It appears that the touching of foreheads is even more important than the pressing noses. It symbolises opening your mind to someone. The gesture also symbolises breathing life into the other person. It is a very powerful gesture, you feel it really does mean much more than just kissing the air on the sides of someone’s cheeks. We were also told, maybe on a different occasions, the Maori warriors would have their life history, their CV, tattooed on to their faces so, by being so close, you could also read what your new friend, or enemy, had done.

And what else did I do in Northland? I went to the very top. I went on the Dune Rider. Dune Rider is a peculiar looking 4 by 4 which will take you from Pahia, or a couple of pick-up points on the way, to Cape Reinga, the farthest accessible point on the North Island, and then down 90-mile beach. We were picked up at Awanui and drove up the main road to the Cape. Here we saw the lighthouse and the point where the Pacific Ocean and the Tasman Sea crash into each other. The Cape is also very important for Maori people. They believe, I think, that, on death, the spirit leaves the land from a tree overlooking the cape.

We then left to head down 90 mile beach and first went sand boarding on the massive sand dunes that are around. We were handed a body board and young Bruce, our guide, pointed at a huge dune which we had to climb first in order to find ourselves back where we had started in a far shorter space of time only this time not standing and climbing, lying and descending. Do it a few times and you are exhausted. Fortunately, after this we had some time to recover when the bus drove on 90-mile beach. We actually discovered that 90 miles beach is really 64 miles beach and to our surprise it also turned out to be a designated road with a speed limit of 100 km per hour.

Apparently farmers would herd their cows along the beach and the ‘drive’ took 3 days. These farmers believed that they could cover 30 miles a day, hence 90 mile beach. We were told it has nothing to do with 80 mile beach existing in their friendly neighbouring country, Australia. We stopped for a while on the beach and dug for shellfish, finding enough for tea, and then completed our little trip with a visit to the Kauri Kingdom where we could look at some of the furniture and sculptures they make from the enormous Kauri trees they find lying buried in swamps all over the Far North.

We also stayed for four or five days at the Wagener Holiday Park at Houhara. Here, or just near, the west and east coast of New Zealand are just 10 miles apart. You can watch the sunrise one morning over the Pacific and then see it set over the Tasman Sea that same night, having taken a very slow stroll to get there.

There was also an old homestead on the site, which had belonged to the Subritzky family. They had been one of the first pioneers in this region. The whole area both in and around the site was incredibly restful and you could pop down to the beach and collect your dinner, providing you like mussels that is. This is an even better picture of me, showing my caring and more photographic side.

We also had a few nautical experiences. We went ‘On The Edge’, some would say I have been there for some time, the fastest commercial sailing catamaran in New Zealand. It is capable of speeds up to 30 knots. For those of you, like me, who measure their speed on tarmac or gravel rather than in the bath, this equates to about 50 kilometres an hour. Again my maximum speed depends on the weight of my right foot, the power of the engine and, at the top end, the ability to remember to put on my brown underwear. I have just been informed that I should also mention the words speed limit here too. However out on the ocean waves it is the wind, or the passing of it, that creates the speed. “On The Edge” is governed by the speed of the prevailing wind. During our trip we were blessed, yes I said blessed, with light to moderate winds so, although we could on occasions feel the power of this boat, we didn’t totally cruise on the edge.

‘On The Edge’ is run and operated by our old friends at SailNZ, where we sailed an America’s Cup Yacht, and they also run Dolphin NZ, where you can swim with dolphins. It didn’t prove too hard to find them, we eventually found two separate pods, a pod is a collection of dolphins, and it was so exciting to see them and they seemed excited too.

They were very playful and kept jumping out of the water and they seemed to like to play around in front of our boat and then disappear underneath. I didn’t swim with them as I can’t really swim with myself but my girlfriend did. I know dolphins are intelligent but all those who thought they were swimming with dolphins should possibly re-think. They would swim up to a group and, as they as they got there, the group would swim off a while and wait until the swimmers arrived again. I stayed on boat and took the photos you can see.

We also dived at the Poor Knights reserve. Poor Knights Island and the marine reserve off the Tututaka Coast near Whangarei, with the abundance of sea life, was considered by the late Jacques Cousteau to be one of the world’s top five diving locations. If it was good enough for Jacques Cousteau, it was good enough for us. We had an enjoyable trip across the ocean. We didn’t dive, we only snorkelled. Well actually I only looked under the water and decided I not only had a fear of heights but also a fear of depths.

Finally, nautically speaking, we went on The Excitor. The Excitor, or at least the one I am going to tell you about, is a 1600hp speedboat that can be found in the Bay of Islands. Neither of us are brilliant travellers on the water so it was with a little apprehension that we took our seats at the front because this, we were told, was the best place to sit for excitement. This increased, in my case, when the driver, pilot, skipper, whatever he was, came down to talk to us all. “Anyone under 18”, he asked and the mature idiots, ten of us, sitting at the front, all said no. “Good”, he continued, “because our insurance does not cover under 18’s or over 35’s in these seats. He explained that we would leave the ground, sorry water, and smash down again and apparently only the 18-35 age group can cope with this. I stayed where I was and proved him wrong and, had I been able to walk off the boat at the end, I would have gone and told him. It was a fantastic thrill to feel the speed and the exhilaration of flying for a few seconds as we crested wave after wave. There were occasional moments when my stomach made contact with my tongue, internally, I can’t do it externally, but we were all strapped in and in no danger, so we were told by our driver and I, for one, believed him. The problem with these rides is I would find it just one notch more exciting if they would let me take the controls. The rest of the passengers I’m sure would probably be even more thrilled, if that is the correct word, so everyone would be happier. I learn that in 2011, after some injuries suffered by the public while riding The Excitor, Maritime New Zealand withdrew permssion for the boat to operate. I'm so glad I didn't miss it.

Just two final points from the far north while you look at a two sunsets. The first photo is over the sea near Whangarei, the capital of Northland. The first story concerns are accommodation in Kerikeri. There are some things in our world that you know you shouldn’t have missed seeing. The Hanging gardens of Babylon, the building of the Suez Canal, the eruption of Vesuvius at Pompeii. You missed them only because they happened too long ago. So, don’t miss out on another wonder of our world, the Friday night barbecues at Aranga Backpackers and in particular the sight of the owner dancing on the tables. Yes in the heat, while you eat, there’s the sweet little treat when you can watch Pete’s neat feet, compete with the beat and make the evening complete. I have to point out that I use the word compete in its truest sense; i.e. to be against. Pete, the owner, is obviously very faithful to his wife and he and the beat didn’t spend too much time together. If I had to be very honest, then he’s not really in the best 4 million dancers in New Zealand, population 4.1 million and the 0.1 can’t walk yet, but he does create a superb atmosphere at the Barbecue. The whole campsite and backpackers come together. Generations mix so you cannot tell how old anyone is. The sexes mix and sometimes you can’t tell there either.

The second sunset is over 90 mile beach and the story about the time we spent on a retreat At the time it was the furthest north we had been in New Zealand and secondly you get there down a gravel road. Repeat twenty times I must not drive a hire car like a rally car. Then, throw it left into a right hander, use the hand brake while keeping the revs high and press on. The owner of The Retreat was the great, great, great-granddaughter of Sir Walter Raleigh, well she may be even greater I don’t know. Having realised she could not discover the potato, tobacco or throw her clothes in front of a reigning monarch, she bought a piece of land in New Zealand. Quite a big piece of land actually. And there she decided to open a healing retreat. There was a wood fired hot tub, hidden deep in the bush. Emma very kindly let us use this one dark, starlight night. She also kindly gave us a torch so we could find our way back after the most relaxing hot tub I have ever had. Less kindly she gave us a torch with a battery life of two minutes. On the way back, I fell down two ditches, one small and one large, and felt it would have been nice if some of Sir Walter’s gallantry could have rubbed off on his descendants, instead of allowing me to become a descendant all on my own.

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