Haerenga (The Journey) Revisited
There’s a good deal of wisdom I think, in knowing where the beginning of a journey is, yet not the end. I feel sometimes if we knew the end then perhaps we wouldn’t even begin and that would be the greater shame of it all, no matter what the end held for us.
Degrees of Courage
Journeys to me require a degree of courage. Firstly to begin as I said, secondly to take the byway should it ever present itself and thirdly to continue on after that point we thought would be the end. As we twist and turn, making our way down from the Aramoana Hill Summit I feel the change. The coolness, a change in the air quality that comes with driving through native bush. The air seems so much fresher down in the valleys, have you ever noticed that?
It has a woody pungency that strikes you as somehow meaning life but infact it means the opposite. The woodiness is the aroma of decaying leaf matter, of dead wood. Its not lost on me actually, though the realisation is quite alarming. Could these maverick emotions be emblematic of dead wood in my life? Funnily enough one makes such discoveries down in the valleys. Why is that do you think? Why not in the heights? On the mountain tops? Why always in the valleys?
Craig is concentrating. He drives the car into the corners with a confidence and speed that sends my heart into my mouth. The river road is narrow and I’d hate us to meet a recalcitrant local who’s hardly likely to concede any amount of road let alone help save us, if god forbid, we fall over the edge trying to avoid them. Let’s just say, I had a few moments down in the valley. Don’t we all. It only feels that way because I’m not used to being the passenger! A useless worry! No cars came up the road.
Kaiwhaiki
Kaiwhaiki is something of a blur to me although I remember it’s the home of Ngā Paerangi. The story goes that the “legendary Polynesian navigator Kupe’s early exploration of New Zealand was commemorated in many ancient place names. Kupe landed at Whanganui, known as Te Kaihau-o-Kupe, or ‘Kupe’s wind-eating’, because of the constant winds there. He then took his canoe upriver in search of inhabitants, paddling as far as Kauarapāoa. This was named for one of his men, Arapāoa, who drowned swimming across the river in flood.
It is said that although Kupe heard the bird calls of kōkako and pīwakawaka (fantail), he did not find people. He returned to the river mouth and then made his way to Pātea in south Taranaki, where he planted karaka seed in its sweet soils.
On returning to Hawaiki in Polynesia, Kupe described his explorations to his people. Some time later, Turi, captain of the Aotea canoe, sailed to Pātea, where he made his home. According to tradition, his descendants who spread into the region discovered the original people of the land, Ngā Paerangi. The chief Paerangi, from whom they took their name, is said to have preceded Turi by five generations.
The collective name for the people of the river, Ngāti Hau, is in some versions said to have come from Haupipi. He sailed with Turi on the Aotea after his original canoe, the Kuruhaupō, was wrecked. In other versions the name is a contraction of Te Āti Haunui-a-Pāpārangi (the people of Haunui-a-Pāpārangi). He also arrived with Turi, and his descendants and settled among the people of Ngā Paerangi.”
Of Journeys
Journeys. We think we choose them. We don’t. We think we make our plans and to a greater or lesser extent perhaps we do. We think we choose our travelling companions but we don’t. The Journey chooses them for us.
