Maunganui's Secret
It is a mid summer’s day and I am but one of countless day-trippers struggling in the heat who are lazily strolling along the base of the Mount. My orange Popsicle dribbles down my hand, dripping to the ground. My fair skin simmers; I should have brought my hat.
As I face the sea, spray flicks my face and boredom eventually besets me while watching waves continuously crash over the jagged rocks. Green and crimson pohutukawas rise up from the shoulders of the trail. Snail speed seems mandatory on the Mount; the trees sway in the sea breeze, and sheep find nothing better to do than lie in the shade and doze. In this landscape of green and blue I am an insignificant spectator hidden among others trafficking along the path, but one thing sets me apart from the rest. I am in the know: I have a secret. On Mauao things are not as they seem. Maunganui: this iconic landmark conceals a secret I never would have discovered had I not ventured there at night.
At the end of the day I return to Mauao. Night encroaches as the sun gives up his attempts to scour the earth for another day and falls like the ocean does over the horizon. Dusk fades into twilight. Darkness. I listen… there! The commotion begins as the Mount comes alive. Screeches, squawks and hoots slowly fills the black nothingness. I turn on my head torch and see a new world illuminated in front of me. I set off.
Up, up the slippery slopes, feet scrambling and my hands constantly searching for supports to aid my slow ascent. Crack! An object collides into the canopy above. The black shape tumbling through the branches confirms my search is over, swelling my excitement. The bird soon thuds into the brown leaf litter beside me and utters a cry, “Ouuu-wit!” I slowly extend my finger and scratch its neck; its oily feathers give off a fishy smell.
The wild bird remains still and merely stares at me in confusion. I firmly grasp the petrel, swiftly depositing it in a bag and returning my squabbling prize to my monitoring team. We check its health and identify it as 192488 as shown by its metal band on its leg. Weighing the bird proves difficult as its squirming puts the scales off. Removing the bird from the cloth bag, I notice its dark bill protruding from its grey face. Snap! It starts to bite my fingers so I decide to hold the bird further down its body to avoid the long sharp beak. These birds can be quite a handful despite that they are only the size of seagulls. Seeing that all is well, the wild seabird is released and with a cry of relief it shuffles off on webbed feet, disappearing in through a tangle of roots down an earthy burrow.
Later, as I walk along the track, I witness more of the Mount’s residents. Penguins that can glide underwater on land are reduced to crippled blue figures who slowly waddle to their nests. The cries of birds and the constant sound of crashing waves combine to a crescendo of chaotic noise, yet the peaceful monotone ‘hoot’ of a morepork soothes the atmosphere. A rustle of leaves prompts me to gaze upwards and my beam of light reveals a pied shag, its pale belly betraying its whereabouts. The smell of cod liver oil grows strong in my nostrils and the white stains on the walkway cause me to make a hasty retreat. Sighing with relief I slow down, the stench no longer detectable.
Continuing to amble along, my torchlight shining ahead, I forget that I am close to a bustling city; rather I feel nowhere near civilisation. Turning a bend I behold the blinding lights of Tauranga. Lights that transform the beautiful night sky into a dull yellow, blotching out the stars. I bid goodnight to the inhabitants of Mauao and trudge back to the human world.
The next day I return to the location of my trek the night before and cannot believe it is the same place. The noise is nothing compared to the din that was here last night. Apart from some chirping fantails that dip and dive through the silent trees the area is devoid of life. The joggers and sightseers who are here during the day cannot comprehend the shear beauty of Mauao. It is a forgotten past, a treasure hidden in the shadows.
I smile to myself as I contemplate my privileged perspective of this truly remarkable place, then stride down the path. Sweat trickles down my forehead, I should have brought my hat….