Days 125-128, Apr 1-4 2010
The day following my crossing of the Manakau Harbour entrance saw me feeling extremely fragile and despondent. Shattered, broken even. Whilst this was in part contributed to by a particularly bad night’s sleep, when after the exertions of the previous day the body was crying out for nothing but complete rest, it had more to do with the fright I’d just experienced, as well as the culmination of events at Raglan, and before that Mokau, Marokopa and Patea all in quick succession.
I’d begun to feel like I was dodging bullets in a game of Russian roulette. Whilst this may be an analogy, the consequences of my own actions were potentially just as deadly and the avoidance of such consequences had more to do with luck and good fortune than any resources I possessed apart from possibly from some stamina* and an ability not to panic.
* Discovering reserves of stamina is not altogether extraordinary when you feel you may be in peril.
In many respects, whilst I was able to escape the clutches of Manakau’s flow, which I have now read is the largest of any harbour in the world, it was the most worrying moment of the whole trip. In some respects the fact that I could see the potential for danger ahead of me, but was still unable to escape its grip, contributed to the sense of dread that I experienced. Having time to think about it, worried that my energy levels would expire or that a wave would swamp me leaving me to the mercy of the rip I was fighting, was an ill feeling.
It was apparent to me, even at the time, that the situation had been largely brought on by a lack of understanding and respect. This could have been avoidable with better preparation and research. Unfortunately as the journey has progressed the experience has been getting tougher. Tougher for a number of reasons including the time I have been at it, now over four months, the cooler weather, and the more tempestuous sea conditions of the west coast. These in turn may have brought on a certain impatience on my part and this is a dangerous ingredient to add to the mix.
Whilst I spent most of my second day at Piha pouring over my maps and planning how I would approach the next 320km, the distance to Cape Reinga at the tip of New Zealand’s North Island, it became very apparent that it poses far more risk than anything I have yet encountered. Essentially just two extraordinarily long exposed beaches that are pounded relentlessly by large swells generated in the southern oceans. Swells that have helped build sand dunes of up to ninety metres high and an environment that has attracted little in the way of settlements, and therefore shelter and assistance for me should I require it.
I was still digesting this when the front page story of New Zealand Herald’s Sunday paper drew my attention. A 15yo boy had been swept away here at Piha just a week before my arrival, though his body has not yet been found. I noted the helicopters still searching for his body whilst I myself was still making my way in from the sea. The same story also reported on the drowning of an 18yo youth only on Friday. It occurred at Murawai Beach only 15km north of here, at a place that was to be my next scheduled stop.
The day following my crossing of the Manakau Harbour entrance saw me feeling extremely fragile and despondent. Shattered, broken even. Whilst this was in part contributed to by a particularly bad night’s sleep, when after the exertions of the previous day the body was crying out for nothing but complete rest, it had more to do with the fright I’d just experienced, as well as the culmination of events at Raglan, and before that Mokau, Marokopa and Patea all in quick succession.
I’d begun to feel like I was dodging bullets in a game of Russian roulette. Whilst this may be an analogy, the consequences of my own actions were potentially just as deadly and the avoidance of such consequences had more to do with luck and good fortune than any resources I possessed apart from possibly from some stamina* and an ability not to panic.
* Discovering reserves of stamina is not altogether extraordinary when you feel you may be in peril.
In many respects, whilst I was able to escape the clutches of Manakau’s flow, which I have now read is the largest of any harbour in the world, it was the most worrying moment of the whole trip. In some respects the fact that I could see the potential for danger ahead of me, but was still unable to escape its grip, contributed to the sense of dread that I experienced. Having time to think about it, worried that my energy levels would expire or that a wave would swamp me leaving me to the mercy of the rip I was fighting, was an ill feeling.
It was apparent to me, even at the time, that the situation had been largely brought on by a lack of understanding and respect. This could have been avoidable with better preparation and research. Unfortunately as the journey has progressed the experience has been getting tougher. Tougher for a number of reasons including the time I have been at it, now over four months, the cooler weather, and the more tempestuous sea conditions of the west coast. These in turn may have brought on a certain impatience on my part and this is a dangerous ingredient to add to the mix.
Whilst I spent most of my second day at Piha pouring over my maps and planning how I would approach the next 320km, the distance to Cape Reinga at the tip of New Zealand’s North Island, it became very apparent that it poses far more risk than anything I have yet encountered. Essentially just two extraordinarily long exposed beaches that are pounded relentlessly by large swells generated in the southern oceans. Swells that have helped build sand dunes of up to ninety metres high and an environment that has attracted little in the way of settlements, and therefore shelter and assistance for me should I require it.
I was still digesting this when the front page story of New Zealand Herald’s Sunday paper drew my attention. A 15yo boy had been swept away here at Piha just a week before my arrival, though his body has not yet been found. I noted the helicopters still searching for his body whilst I myself was still making my way in from the sea. The same story also reported on the drowning of an 18yo youth only on Friday. It occurred at Murawai Beach only 15km north of here, at a place that was to be my next scheduled stop.
The helicopter is hardly visible but may be seen as a small spot beneath the green shrubs towards the centre of the cliff face. It looks extremely small and insignificant against the mass of rock ... similar to how I am beginning to feel when out on the ocean.
As if these tragedies were not enough, a separate story told of an experienced New Zealand kayaker who had gone missing off the coast of Scotland after heading out for a paddle. The search has been called off after all attempts to locate him had failed, and he is presumed drowned.
Frightening.
I am keenly aware of my own mortality and have no desire to put myself in positions of serious risk despite what some may believe. As a result I have decided that after over four months and two thousand kilometres, to conclude my adventure. There will yet however be a twist to the story, which I will report on very shortly… so stay tuned!
