To Whangarei Falls: It was a day to walk, and there was a river to walk along: the Hatea River, Whangarei’s own. My river walk came with two bonuses. First, the promise of a waterfall (largest on North Island, or so they say) and, second, the gift of a sunny morning (or as sunny as it ever gets here). Whangarei Falls was probably about five miles away and there was a trail, though everyone I stopped to ask for directions or assurance that I was on the right track told me it was too far to walk. One resident at the foot of her driveway, seemed to never have heard of the falls. In fact, I saw only a few walkers and joggers and they may have been doing only a segment of the trail.
My walk began at the Town Basin on the Hatea. On the downstream side of the bridge was the marina and urban waterfront. On the upstream side, biogeography began. My first biome was a mangrove swamp, a fringe of mature and sapling mangroves in a thin band along the river’s shore. The trail left terra firma and carried me out into the mangroves where I could look directly down into the water. I could see the leaves of young trees under the surface doing the job of spreading from the shoreside, protecting the banks of the river, and building land in the process. I knew that as the relief increased, I would leave the mangroves behind. In fact, I very shortly passed into a completely different environment, what I will call a middle latitude rainforest. Ferns were everywhere backed up by New Zealand’s tawa (maybe it’s kaha) trees. Both have become symbols of the country and you can see their influence in Maori design. Plus, there’s lots of moss, plenty of fungus, spider webs everywhere, and thick organic mats under foot. In two or three areas, the trail actually led through or past residential neighborhoods, a good reminder that I was in the city. Suburbs spread all around me, but the folks here have made sure that they have preserved plenty of green space. It is really only an illusion that I am in the New Zealand wilderness. It is not an illusion that these North Islanders have made the wilderness part of the city.
It was a long but not exhausting walk. Some of my favorite moments: seeing Easter lilies growing in the wild, looking into the forest through perfect spider webs, walking across a suspension bridge that gave way with every step, looking up and seeing ferns silhouetted against the blue sky, wondering why I had to pass through two gates but then noticing the meadow muffins and finally the cattle. It was also a thrill to see the mist of Whangarei Falls before the falls themselves came into view. The only other visitor while I was there around the plunge pool was an Asian family whose little girl was coloring at the picnic table while the mist from the falls was getting everybody damp if not soaking wet. The only letdown was when I walked to the top of the falls and found a parking lot. Yes, you can drive here and do the Circular Walk to the bottom and up the other side. I am sure glad, though, that I approached against the current. Natural waterfalls should only be approached by walking along the stream that the falls feed.
Maybe a comment on the trail markers. The trail was identified by a wiggly snake, or so I thought. Should I be on the look-out for creatures I did not want to meet. Every time I came to the sunny edge of a clearing, my senses went on high alert. Later in the day, I started reading some of the pamphlets I picked up. That wasn’t a snake. It was an eel!
Mico-Museum Time: I also had a chance to squeeze in a visit to a small museum, but a unique one in New Zealand. It was Claphams Clock: The National Clock Museum in the Town Basin. The collection (now with 1400 clocks and watches) began with the private collection of Archibald Clapham, a New Zealander who began collecting while a young man. His collection grew and was finally sold to the city for a nominal sum. Now, Whangarei has a museum that must be one of the best in the world when it comes to time keeping. I have visited the Clock Museum in London. It was small, quiet, and stuffy (but did have the most historically significant stash of chronometers). By contrast, Claphams Clocks had more on display, and it was presented with such humor, something Mr. Clapham was known for. Plus, you could hear all the clocks tic-toking away with a chorus of coo coos and chimes now and then.
Geographically yours,
D.J.Z.
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