The Four Sisters portray remarkable sibling harmony. Photo
by Paul Rush and Footprints Waipoua.
It's been noted before that there's little as lovely
as a tree. Travel writer Paul Rush discovers the same on a
journey into the forests of ancient New Zealand.
Footprints Waipoua guide Joe Wynyard knows the enchanted
forest intimately but continues to harbour an inexplicable
fear of the children of the mist.
Many times he has traversed the winding trails at night and
felt a presence - a mystical spirit figure shadowing him.
"One night, on my possum-eradication run, I had this
unmistakable feeling that something was taunting me. I looked
up and saw a tiny human figure dart across the track.
"The vegetation parted, the unknown being passed through and
it closed up again. I spoke to it gently, assuring it that I
meant no harm.
"I grew up in Whirinaki, an isolated area of the Hokianga, so
I'm no stranger to turuhu people and patupaiarehe fairy
folk."
Joe and fellow guide Dan have a compelling desire to reveal
all the secrets of their beloved Waipoua Forest as part of
their new tourism venture.
Dan is a local too, coming as he says from the tiny
settlement of Taheke, "the pivotal centre around which the
universe revolves".
Tonight, they are guiding our small group of ecotourists on
the Footprints Twilight Encounter, a four-hour night tour of
the Waipoua kauri forest.
Our group includes Gerald and Anne from Sydney, who are
enjoying their fourth New Zealand visit.
Ben is on a six-week visit from Rugby, England and is a
descendant of William Webb Ellis, the first man to pick up a
ball and run with it, creating the sport of rugby.
Kylie comes from Queensland and Susan left Basel,
Switzerland, three months ago to explore thoroughly the land
of the kiwi.
Our guides start the tour by testing our knowledge of
birdcalls.
We recognise the melodious tones of the tui but mistake the
long shrill whistle of the male kiwi.
The more aggressive squeal of the female bird sounds as if
she is hen-pecking the mild-mannered male.
After a karakia (prayer), we enter the forest and examine
some of the 300 species of trees, plants and ferns.
Dan pulls out his "laptop", a plastic folder with
illustrations of the different species of kiwi found in the
forest.
We study this in the fading light as a lone native owl begins
his haunting repetitive call of "morepork, morepork".
"The kauri tree is a hermaphrodite, producing male and female
cones like these," Dan explains, passing me a healthy-looking
male specimen.
"The female blossoms open at a certain time, prompting the
male to pollinate and then ignominiously fall to the ground
and die."
I'm not too enamoured of the kauri sex life, but I admire its
mechanisms for shedding bark to rid the adze-shaped trunk of
mosses and parasites and generating flows of gum to heal
gaping wounds.
It is pleasing to hear that the Department of Conservation
collects seeds, propagates new plants in nurseries and makes
them available to Northland residents, thereby encouraging
regrowth of kauri.
As the light begins to fade, we penetrate deeper into the
forest, listening to the shrill, bell-like whistles and
guttural croaks of the tui, the last of the daytime birds.
We come upon a rare sight in Waipoua, the "Four Sisters".
These four kauri trees live in perfect sibling harmony only
1m or so apart.
Joe finds a rare carnivorous kauri snail, which has some
unusual habits such as whistling, eating worms and climbing
trees.
"Oh mighty Father of the Forest, you have stood for 2000
years, you stand tall today - may you continue to stand and
prosper. We bring you greetings from this whanau."
In the darkness, Dan's deep, disembodied voice rings out in a
mihi (greeting), which reverberates through the dense canopy.
We have reached the base of a giant tree. Te Matua Ngahere
has to be seen to be believed.
It is surely some unreal creation of Weta Workshops. A vast
wall of timber that reminds me more of a cliff face than a
tree.
Where a normal round trunk would taper as it reaches skywards
towards the life-giving light, this monster has spread
sideways with an obscenely wide waist.
The Father of the Forest is one of the largest living things
in the world.
A businessman recently took the Twilight Encounter Tour and
was moved to recite a Chinese poem.
"Tell me and I will forget, show me and I will remember, but
involve me and I will understand."
A name, residential address, and (preferably residential) telephone number is required from readers who comment on ODT Online. These details will not be visible to site visitors.