Idyllic Great Barrier Island
By Jane Warwick
When Ray Twomey swung his wife-to-be around the ballroom floor, it was a dance that was to change their lives. The couple won a spot prize, airtime from a local flying club. That, combined with the services of a cousin recently qualified as a pilot, took them to Great Barrier Island; visited once by Pat on a boat and a place she was sure Ray would appreciate.
They flew down the wide sweep of Medlands Beach and landing at Claris spent a chilly night in the shed that doubled as the airport building. It was still and quiet and overhead were a thousand stars. It suited Ray just right. After that first triumphant flight in, Ray and Pat were reduced to making the dusty, winding trip along the Coromandel Peninsula to Port Charles; from whence they launched their little fizz boat and made the often choppy voyage across the petulant Coleville Channel to land at Okupu, on the western side of the island.
There they camped on the foreshore, cooking on a hotplate wedged amongst the boulders. They feasted on scallops, crayfish and other kai moana. They braved the rough Barrier roads on a tractor trailer, with begged bales of hay for cushions. They hiked through bush and swamp to the hot springs to ease the bumps from the tractor ride. When, on velvet nights, they saw the faint glow of Auckland from over the horizon; as they listened to the querulous kaka muttering grumpily in their sleep; were lulled by the soft slap of waves upon a nearly deserted beach; and smelt the fresh Barrier air; they looked at each other and grinned.
In 1974 they made the big move – packed up their city lives, fled to the Barrier and built a log cabin. They learned to live with solar and generator power and long drops and never looked back. Later a daughter made the transition herself and later still two of three grandsons were born there (The first was sent in utero to Auckland city to be bought forth, thus being saddled with the stigma “townie”, the ultimate insult when his younger island-born brothers have run out of all others).
Now half grown, the two older grandchildren have headed to the mainland for post-primary education, but they return like homing pigeons whenever they can. As another year arrives, the “pigeons” sit around a bonfire that burns brightly on the beach. In the quiet aftermath of the rowdy countdown to midnight, the cheers and the clutch of fireworks left over from that other night of bonfires, they gaze contentedly into the flames. From the driftwood pyre hot cinders float lazily skywards, dancing like fireflies before dying with a soft hiss on the wet sand. In the nearby rocks crab clatter and slither softly, tiny waves lap like a cat’s tongue along the shore; and overhead are still those thousands of stars. If you were being fanciful, from the corner of your eye where the flames smear into the darkness, you might see an arch of droplets flung like diamonds from the paddle of a waka and the fluorescence in the wake of a sailing ship. If you listened hard in the soft summer night you might hear the distant chant of a haka, the first words of English floating down from the crow’s nest, cries of the shipwrecked, the heavy swoosh of a carrier pigeon's wing, sense the thump of a miner’s pick and feel the earth shake when a mighty kauri fell.
Great Barrier Island HistoryWhen Great Barrier Island rose jaggedly up under the searching bows of HMS Endeavour one early summer’s day in 1769, the island had already been settled for nearly 700 years by Ngati Wai and Ngati Rehua, who had built pa and dug kumara pits on what they called Aotea. They dined on the ancestors of today's woodpigeons who now lurch happily and unafraid through the bush; and were berated by the forerunners of today's grumpy kaka in that same husky tone.
In Endeavour’s wake came European settlers who slashed and burnt their way through the acres of kauri that hadn’t already been destroyed by the first colonists. The largest ship built by tonnage in New Zealand was constructed here at Nagle Cove. The two-decked, three-masted, 409-ton barque was made from pohutukawa and kauri and launched in 1848. Many other ships were built on Great Barrier from local timber. The demand for them came mainly from the whalers who had arrived in New Zealand from all over the globe to harvest the mammals. It was whaling that lasted longer than any other industry on the Barrier, not ceasing until the early 1960s.
In the kauri forests the mighty trees paid dearly for their quality of timber and 90 million feet was extracted. It is a matter of sorrow these more enlightened days, that neither government nor private enterprise has ever felt the need to conserve or replenish. Kauri gum was also an important commodity and gum diggers travelled to and from Northland to the gum fields of the central Barrier and its soft gold. Mineral gold as well as silver and copper were mined up until 1920. Those not involved in the rape and pillage of the land grew vegetables, fished, nurtured hives and farmed sheep and cattle, both beef and dairy, for Auckland some 50 miles across the sea.
It was a rough sea, that between the Barrier and the mainland, with the Colville Channel seen as a devil of a crossing both in Maori and English (as well as the patois of the polyglot whaling fleet). And it was the angry waves that tumbled out of this maelstrom that collected the SS Wairarapa late one October night. It was a disaster (121 drowned) big enough to wipe press coverage of the eruption of Mt Tarawera off the front pages although it was 72 hours before those on the mainland heard of the tragedy. The islanders had been hectoring the government for some sort of communications link with the mainland and the Wairarapa disaster reinforced the call. However, it was four years before any such service came into effect and, despite the need, it wasn’t the government who stepped in but local entrepreneurs.
Contributing to the already established New Zealand trend of innovation and world firsts came Te Uira (Lightning) and Velocity. These two carrier pigeons, travelling up to 60 miles an hour, took messages written on fine rice paper from Great Barrier to other islands in the gulf, as well as mining camps on the Coromandel. Sending messages by pigeon wasn’t new but using them as an established postal service at the cost of an airmail stamp was. Ergo the world’s first airmail stamps were produced in New Zealand. Ironically one of the first pieces of mail carried was a story penned by a
New Zealand Herald journalist, who had travelled to the island to cover a memorial service for the victims of the Wairarapa.
As the population of Auckland grew, that of Great Barrier declined. With the opening up of the northern mainland, market gardens and farms were established and the island’s role as grocery store was no longer needed. Almost mined, logged and whaled out, only the hardy and fond remained. Over the years holiday homes sprang up for those who had their own transport or the services of local pioneer aviator and character, Capt Fred Ladd, whose amphibious aircraft feats are part of Auckland legend.
Great Barrier Island Today
Great Barrier’s history has had a great impact on its present and future. The surviving great kauri are now objects of awe and respect; the track through the bush to the hot pools has sections of boardwalk to protect the swamp ecosystem; other boardwalks also crisscross the island, shielding the dense bush; 60% of the island is under protection; endangered species such as the brown teal duck (the only salt-water duck in New Zealand) and chevron skink have found safe haven; whales once more track up the western coast and dolphins bring in their young.
The island is not only a refuge for wildlife but also for those escaping big city pressures. Artists, architects, writers, musicians; holiday-home owners from England, Australia, the USA and even Prague. There is a range of accommodation from luxury to campgrounds; possibly the country’s smallest vineyard overlooking beautiful Blind Bay and producing premium Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot; some of the best waves; some of the best fishing; and some of the most incredible views startling you on corners where you’d be better off
watching the road.
While those who don’t know better would cringe at the stiff sea breeze that moans up the canyons; find irritating the call of wood pigeons and tui at dawn; be pained at the muted roar of generators; complain about the rattling of kanuka and creak of kauri; and be driven to distraction by the banging of the longdrop door in the still of the night; to the residents of this outpost of the Hauraki Gulf, it is a heartsong.
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