An End-of-Winter Affair: Whatipu

"What is the use of a house if you don’t have a decent planet to put it on? "

~Henry David Thoreau

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In the last few weeks, I went to Whatipu twice: The first time, I took the cave route, where skirting rough patches of swamp and mud was a constant threat to life and limb; the second time a few weeks later – taking the beach route in the opposite direction, where cold biting wind and whipping sand gave "chilling at the beach" a whole new meaning.

I hadn't been out in the wops for a proper hike in New Zealand since the end of the Indian summer in May – unearthing myself from a north facing warm kitchen being half the battle. But once I managed to get to Whatipu and began my trudge through sludge – in sneakers – my lethargy surprisingly dissipated.

There is nothing more invigorating than being alone in the vast expanse of nature, and trekking at Whatipu was no exception. Golden flecks of flowering gorse scattered, rolled far and wide into the distance toward the sea. Yellow completely pervaded the landscape, comparable to the dominance of heather in the Scottish moorlands. Unlike the beloved heather however, gorse is a disreputable, debauched pest plant in New Zealand costing millions per annum to control. They may be lovely to behold, but they're not so special to touch. Ouch.

Along the trail were other notable ornamentals: sparkling green Wiggy-wigs (Muehlenbeckias) with their vivacious little leaves of personality, lupins set to flower in a few months, and bleach-blond brooms of Toitoi standing like warriors guarding the land. Meanwhile, oiois and other coastal grass and sedge species completely blanketed the land all the way to the Tasman.

The further along the caves walk I went, the further away receded the landmarks Cutter Rock and Ninepin Rock with its lighthouse. The main tracks along the Whatipu loop walk with higher vantage points of these rocks were no longer an option, as Walker Ridge, Puriri, Omanawainui, and Gibbons tracks have all been closed due to the Rahui on the Waitakere Ranges to protect the diseased Kauri trees.

The walk ended abruptly when a sparkling blue lake reared up like an enchantress out of nowhere. In the midst of the silence and beauty, where time had perished momentarily, it seemed as if Excalibur would slowly emerge from the water.

Mesmerised by simplicity and purity of the moment, I was gratified by the watery conclusion of this hike and "kept the first for another day" as Frost would say.

Cutters and Ninepin rocks on the beach, in the opposite direction, were thus saved for the second expedition a couple of weeks later. Unfortunately, late August/ early September is simply not beach-going season. The harsh coastal wind would not allow us to make any headways towards the lighthouse – which appeared so close, yet so unattainable when pitted against flesh-lashing sand and Antarctic winds gusting up to 30 knots an hour.

On the bright side, while neither experience was a warm summer breeze, both awakened the body and soul from sluggish winter days spent indoors in half hibernation. These end-of-winter rendezvous outdoors jump-started my spirits and readied me for a new spring.

For more information on Whatipu and its rich history, please click here.