Small Glory #16 - Thank You New Zealand for Your Vastness and Grandeur
How escaping into the mountains opens you up and eases your restless spirit.
I woke to the sound of a kayak being pulled gently across stones. I turned over in my sleeping bag and peered out to see a young boy with a beanie on his head and a life jacket around his chest pushing gently away from the shore with his paddle. He took a careful few strokes towards the deeper water then let the momentum carry him for a bit. He gazed around at the towering, ancient mountains and I did too. Small ripples vibrated from the bow and dissipated into the inky water around him; a fish met the surface then ducked down again. A thin, water membrane separated the two. My shoulders pulled back and I looked towards the east waiting for the sun to lip over the mountains — waiting for the gold morning to greet me.
The day before, I had biked for three hours. My legs pedalled me where the gravel road wound and I stopped often to drink in the view, to listen to the chorus of birds, and to hear my breath enter and leave my nose. To take yourself deep into the mountains requires only an ounce of courage and an eagerness to feel astounded. I drove three hours from the city I live in, one hour on sealed roads and two on gravel. Those two hours had no cell service and neither did my campsite. Just the way I like it. I was uncontactable. My mind wanted only towering peaks, vast lakes, and birdsong in abundance. And that is what I received. So I must say… thank you New Zealand. Thank you for pristine waters and green bush, thank you to those who work tirelessly to keep it that way, thank you to those who have shown me how to love the land, thank you to the natural way of things that allowed these beautiful things to exist so near to each other — warm sun, mountains, lakes, birds, fish, people.
New Zealand has many names, The Shaky Isles being one of them. And, oh, the devastation the slipping of tectonic plates has caused, and if I could undo it I would. But to know that without the ground moving beneath our feet, mountains would not rise. And we have an affinity with these towering ranges, you can’t not, you can’t not feel drawn to monuments that have risen out of the restless body of the earth. They say the Southern Alps are the spine of Aotearoa New Zealand.
Being in the centre of Mother Nature herself, in the midst of vastness and grandeur you are opened up. I arrived eager to explore and rest, but soon found myself feeling slightly uneasy. I wrote in my journal:
When you find yourself at the beating heart of Eden itself, you feel bare. You feel as if you’re naked in the middle of a field. After finding yourself turning in circles trying to hide your breasts and bottom you realise no one is watching because no one is there. It’s just you and mountains and river valleys — untouched. So you take away your hands (you let your guard down) and you stretch your arms out and face the sun. Then you laugh. You twirl. You feel free. The bareness of returning to Mother Nature again feels a bit unnatural and uncomfortable, but after a while, after you let your guard down, it is freeing and heavenly.
Once you let yourself open up to the wisdom the land holds, the unease of the place that comes with the grandeur and vastness begins to feel second nature. You feel as if you are returning home. I finished my journal entry (out there in the mountains sitting by the lake) with a short poem:
At the beating heart of Eden, you are bare and free. You are alive with your ear to the chest of the original mother. Mother Nature.
New to Small Glories? Kia ora, hello!
I like to call life’s little moments small glories. You know what I mean; the first daffodil in spring, wild hair on a stormy walk at the beach, a hug in the airport, a cat asleep in the sun, tears listening to a song, tea, birthday cake, a group of old ladies on a sunrise sea swim, a shoulder to sleep on, a funny overheard conversation, a postcard, a 90-year-old with AirPods, a story from Grandad, and an ocean dip on the winter solstice.
I attempt to capture these moments in words and images. To me they are threads in the tapestry of life. Various emotions, various colours, all weave together to form a vivid picture of what it means to live.
I write an essay each week on something that has added to my tapestry of life. And I invite you too to share your small glories with this community.
Each month I write a longer form piece on how to open yourself up to seeing these small glories in their various layers of depth. It is called The Knack.
And scattered in amongst that, will appear other little thoughts and small glories - because really, these moments can’t keep themself to a schedule, that’s the glory of life.
Such beautiful photography and reflections, Kate! What a gift!
Beautiful, Kate! I so want to visit New Zealand someday. My older son went to the University of Otago in Dunedin in 2011 for his semester abroad, and my younger son and his wife spent a month camping on both islands in 2022 on their honeymoon. They all came home with great photos and a love for NZ.