The Downhill Run

In the early 1960s, the permanent population of Mount Maunganui exploded to over 12,000 people, with many more discovering the area as a holiday venue. Prior to that, the locals had ‘The Mount’, as it was always called then, to themselves. The mountain had more bumps on top then, and the tracks weren’t well developed.

From the age of about 10 to 15, climbing Mauao with friends was a regular activity. Sometimes we took older relatives, or visitors from out of town. On those days, we gave our guests the full tour which included a leisurely stroll around the long winding track circumnavigating the mountain. On the way we pointed out the local geography: Matakana Island, with its great surf beach; what was then known as Slipper Island, a wildlife sanctuary; Mayor Island in the distance, once a volcano; and the various places we used to fish, snorkel, and hunt for shellfish. Usually we’d have a picnic at the top and the view of a much less cluttered isthmus was superb.

When we weren’t entertaining guests, our favourite way to the top was straight up the steep Eastern slope. The main appeal of this route was ‘the chimney’, a vertical hole through hard clay with a vine-like root running through its centre. It was about two metres high and 1.5 to 1.8 metres wide. Climbing the chimney required pulling your body weight, hand over hand, up the vine while ‘walking’ up the clay walls of the chimney. Bare feet were best, especially after rain. My legs were only just long enough to touch the walls, so this part was always a challenge. 

On one occasion, climbing with a friend, we reached the top of Mauao quite late in the day. The realisation that we must get back to our bicycles and home before dark prompted a fast descent of the South-Eastern slope. Within a few hasty, slippery steps I had left my friend behind. I was moving too fast to stop on the steep grassy slope. The only way down was to keep running. Faster and faster I ran. With huge airborne strides I made terrified leaps over boulders and logs. My heart pounded, I gasped for breath. All of my focus was on getting safely over the obstacles in my path.

Miraculously, I was still running as the ground levelled out and I was able to slow myself with a detour on to a wide walking track near Pilot Bay. I don’t know how long it took to run down that slope – perhaps two minutes. It seemed like seconds, and it seemed like forever.

Perhaps the chimney is still there to excite the adventurous. It’s been many years since I’ve tried that route. And perhaps the brave or the foolhardy might still attempt to run down the trackless South-Eastern slope. If so, I suspect, like me, they’ll only do it once.