The Melting Billy
“A self that goes on changing is a self that goes on living.” -Virginia Woolf
Windy roads, Coromandel Peninsula. Te Ika-a-Maui / North Island New Zealand. Pentax MX, Portra 800. May 2024.
Rain brewing. Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, Portra 800. May 2024.
Old Kauri tree. Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, May 2024.
Tairua. Pointy topped hill and swamphen. Coromandel Peninsula. Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.
I thought I would be safe by not taking any mountaineering equipment on my bike trip to Aotearoa. My theory was, If I didn’t have my mountaineering kit, then I wouldn’t be able to get myself into the mountains to get into trouble.
Of course, I couldn’t resist climbing high onto one mountain, to experience New Zealand’s alpine terrain … I had to get above the clouds.
Taranaki, the frozen volcano called my name.
Mt Taranaki. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
I put my coffee down on the ground for one minute to take a photo, and when I picked up my cup, the surface of the coffee had frozen over. So I broke it up with a spoon and had myself some iced coffee.
The storm had passed. The wind had calmed from a raging fury to a benign but persistent breeze. I had planned to spend one night, but spent two at Syme Hut, while a ‘polar blast’ blew across Taranaki.
Window. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
I had checked the forecast, and it honestly didn’t seem so bad. It looked cold, and a tad windy, but what happened was a lot fiercer than what I could have anticipated. The issue was the wind. The wind was gusting well over a hundred kilometres an hour across the top of Fanthams peak, a subsidiary peak of Mt Taranaki where Syme hut is located about 2000m above sea level.
Mt Taranaki is centred on a peninsula that sticks out into the Tasman Sea, so these clouds carry a lot of moisture in them. When the clouds get slammed into the mountaintop, the moisture condenses onto solid surfaces as rime or hoarfrost, always growing towards the wind. Initially, the surface of this ice is quite textured, therefore somewhat grippy. However, as I found out, when the sun hits it in the morning, the surface texture melts quickly, revealing the slick and smooth ice beneath.
Hut and dunny on the second morning. Pentax MX, Ektar 100 May 2024
I spent a day at the hut, waiting while the storm blew. There was no one else there. It was cold, but at least it was safe. My stove hadn’t fit into my pack so I couldn’t heat water. I mostly just stayed in my sleeping bag. I didn’t take a book to read with me. There was a book at the hut called the “Bushman’s Bible’. In fact, there were three copies. None of them read any better. Mostly I just meditated and slept. I had just enough food to last the extra day.
The second morning dawned clear. I figured I had to descend the mountain, before the weather deteriorated again that evening as per the forecast. I had no rations left. The water tank at the hut was frozen. In fact, the entire side of the mountain was coated in about two feet of ice. There was about a five hundred metres of steep descent to the grass. Completely frozen. What I needed was a set of boots, crampons and an ice axe. What I had was a pair of trail runners. Mt Taranaki had caught me out.
Hoarfrost on hut. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
I thought I could see a way down, that was feasible. It involved descending the steepest part of the ridge about a 100m from the track, where there were more boulders sticking out of the ice slope. Those boulders would act as my catching features, if I went into a slide. They also acted as footholds that I could step on without slipping. I knew I had to crawl on all fours, and to move very slowly and carefully. I intuitively knew I was in a lot of danger, but the seriousness of the situation didn’t dawn on me until I had crawled and slid my way about halfway down the frozen slope.
My technique was working, but the gaps between the boulders were getting bigger and bigger. Then I dislodged a rock, and I watched it slide and tumble all the way down. I thought at some point, this rock would stop. It didn’t. It just kept tumbling and sliding for hundreds of metres, until it eventually faded into the slope of the mountain. That’s when it hit me. I could have been that rock. It was at that point I realised I had to stop moving.
Sunrise after the storm. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
Besides, the boulders had well and truly run out. I was on an ice slope with no catching features directly beneath me. It looked like there may be a cliff about 200m below me. I turned to look above me and all I saw was a near vertical wall of ice. Where I had come down. Somehow. The conditions were deteriorating rapidly, the further down I got, the more slippery everything became. There was no way I could go back up, and I couldn’t go sideways and the only way down would have been the fast way down. I was well and truly stuck on the side of a frozen mountain, and the storm was coming in again later that day. The slope was raining tumbling bits of melting ice around me. Windchill was many degrees below and I had nowhere to go. I was in trouble.
That’s when I made a decision to call for help. My phone had been flat for over 24 hours, but I had a PLB so I dug it out of my pack. These days I don’t always carry a PLB, but I was bloody grateful I had it at that moment.
It is impossible to know what would have happened if I didn’t take the PLB with me up on that mountain. Perhaps I might have waited at the hut. Perhaps I would have checked the forecast more carefully. Or perhaps I would have been in exactly in the same situation, but without a means to call for help.
I pulled out the antenna. “Use only in grave and imminent danger.” I pushed and held the button. Nothing happened. Then I tried again, and again. Eventually, a red blinking light came on. I saw it flash green two or three times. I was in the lee of the mountain, reception was bad. And so I waited.
The trail at the top of Fanthams peak, before the descent. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
The sun was out, but soon I started shivering. I had all my layers on, including a puffy jacket, fleece pants and a hard shell jacket. So I got out my bivy bag and sleeping bag and got into it. Very carefully so I wouldn’t toboggan down the slope in my ultra slippery sil-nylon coffin. There was nothing to anchor to and nothing to hold onto. I had about a foot wide foot placement at the base of the boulder, that was the only contact with the ground that was stopping me sliding down the slope. So I moved very carefully and made sure I didn’t drop anything.
I don’t know how much time had passed. I had no way to measure the time. The PLB was flashing red, which I figured was bad, so I’d hold it up, move its position, until it flashed green, then back to red. I couldn’t get it to flash green continuously. Was this thing even working?
Rime detail, first light. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
About two hours after I had set off my device, the helicopter showed up. It simply popped out from behind the mountain, and there it was! I was wearing my orange hard-shell jacket, so very carefully I got out of my bivy bag and kneeled up onto my guardian angel boulder and waved my arms continuously. I knew they had to sight me. After doing a couple of loops, the heli went up to Fanthams Peak and landed two blokes in full mountaineering kit, who walked down the track, then across the slope towards me, while the heli circled overhead. They were wearing boots, crampons, had an axe, helmets and a pack each.
”How on Earth did you get here with that kind of footwear? It’s quite impressive you managed not to kill yourself.” - the volunteer SAR said to me.
”People die on this kind of terrain all the time”- the police SAR said.
“We are gonna winch you out of here.”
Which they did. I got winched off the side of Mt Taranaki with a helicopter. Alongside one of the SAR volunteers. Then the heli went back and got the police officer with the bags. They dropped me at the carpark, three kilometres from the visitor centre. The police officer said they wouldn’t charge me. I was grateful, shaken, humbled.
Truly, I underestimated New Zealand.
The Frozen Volcano. Pentax MX, Ektar 100, May 2024.
“You did the right thing.” -said the parks lady afterward at the visitor centre. Her and her husband had both volunteered for the mountain rescue for over thirty years. They weren’t my rescuers, but she had seen a lot of rescues on Taranaki. She said the shoulder season catches people out. In winter, people go prepared. In spring and autumn people don’t realise how bad the weather can get. How suddenly it can change.
“You know, sometimes I see the helicopter and wonder what’s happened…The main thing is you got down okay.”
Which I did. Thanks to the Taranaki Search and Rescue Team.
-A.S.
Lenah Valley, 27 June 2024
Are we being good custodians of the land if we attempt to restore balance through introducing poison to pristine environments?
Dominion. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400D, May 2024.
There is a big push in Aotearoa / New Zealand to create ‘predator free zones’ to help protect native birds. It has been shown that reducing the population of predators in certain areas, for example in and around New Zealand’s capital Wellington, has been successful in bringing back native bird populations that have previously been decimated. The target species are possums, rats and stoats. These species are either trapped and then killed, or they are poisoned using 1080. These programs are carried out widely in New Zealand’s national parks, reserves and urban areas.
Boundaries. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400D, May 2024.
I understand the biodiversity argument. Endemic species should be protected and potentially prioritised over species that are common in lots of other places. Diversity builds the resilience of an eco-system overall. Invasive species control can be an effective strategy in maintaining diversity and therefore resilience.
But can we please acknowledge that we like to decimate animals and plants that happen to inconvenience us? Or plants and animals that are useful for us to harvest? And can we acknowledge that the destruction of habitat of native species has primarily been caused by the actions of Homo sapiens rather than by brushtail possums? And can we acknowledge that Homo sapiens gets away free of charge while possums are hunted down and exterminated?
People would rather have native songbirds in their backyards than brushtail possums and rats. I don’t blame them. But I still find it confronting to see how eager New Zealanders are to kill possums. Those poor animals are innocent! They are following their instincts, and could do no different than what they do. Yes, they eat native vegetation. Yes they eat bird eggs. But they are possums, that’s all they know how to do!
A bird I found on the highway. Presumably hit by a car. I picked it up and placed it on the top of this fence post.
Pentax MX, Portra 800, May 2024.
People on the other hand know better. We understand that our actions result in the downfall of other species. Yet we keep doing the things that exasperate the balance of the world. Our entire civilization depends on our dominion over nature. And we seem powerless to stop our destruction of nature. Despite all the warning signs. Despite the Jane Goodalls and David Attenboroughs out there. The Trumps and the Putins dominate the world. We declare ourselves more mighty and important than any other living being and forget that our existence rests on all the other life forms that we are suppressing and harvesting.
Ephemeral light pattern. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400D, May 2024.
The native bird population in New Zealand is in strife because of people.
It was people who brought in animals that are harmful to those birds. It was people that have destroyed the bird’s habitat: cleared the land, cut down the forests. It was people that hunted the Moa to extinction, a flightless bird that stood 12 ft tall and weighed up to 200kg.
And now it is people that continue to poison millions of animals each year in the name of restoring the balance.
Tree-city. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400D, May 2024.
We like to play god, why? Because it suits us and because we can.
If only the god we played was a bit less clever and a bit more wise…
The ‘great task’ for the European settlers of New Zealand was ‘clearing the land’. Forests had to be felled, wetlands had to be drained to create agricultural land and pastures for cattle and sheep.
This tree is Poukani, considered the oldest Totara tree, estimated to be 1800 years old.
Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.
Totara podocarpus is an ancient and giant conifer that’s endemic to New Zealand. The Totara was thought of as a ‘chiefly tree’ by the Maori. It grows in just about any type of soil, and its timber is durable, being resistant to rot. Its massive trunks were carved out to create war canoes. The Europeans prized it for building and cut a lot of them down. They are now protected.
Fall in the forest. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.
There is not much flat ground in New Zealand. The cattle and sheep are generally grazed on hills. One result of this is that the hill sides develop contour trails from the feet of the hard hooved animals. These contouring trails appear as narrow terraces, allowing the animals easier access to foraging on the steeper slopes.
Contour trails on hill. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.
It is quiet
in the country;
the crescent moon,
the stars.
Cattle make
strange moans
in the night;
mournful cries.
-A.S. 13.5.24 -Ongarue
Grazing country. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024
Pastures and trees. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024
Sheep grazing on hillock. Pentax MX, Cinestill 400, May 2024.
The grass
The cattle
The wind
The sun
The stars
The river
The frost
The dew
The flies
The shade
The endless days
of freedom.
-A.S. Acheron River, Molesworth Station, NZ.
At 1800 square kilometres, Molesworth Station is the largest farm in NZ and is located in the North-East highlands. The private road that travels through this property is open from Christmas to Easter, outside of these times the landowner’s permission is required to pass through the locked gates. Pentax MX, 50mm, Ektar 100, April 2024.
Molesworth is one of the coldest and driest places in NZ. It receives an annual rainfall of about 750mm and there is a frost 255 nights of the year. Pentax MX, 50mm, Ektar 100, April 2024.
Awatere River. A lot of the country around Molesworth has been overgrazed, and there is huge erosion on the mountainsides. Apparently it used to be worse than it is now, but some hills have no vegetation at all. Just dirt. Pentax MX, 50mm, Ektar 100, April 2024.
Molesworth station is a remote and beautiful part of the country! Pentax MX, 50mm, Ektar 100, April 2024.
Is it possible to think nothing at all?
Grey ocean around Greymouth. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, Apr 2024.
Even on a bike touring trip, where I have all day in the saddle to not think about everything, I find myself thinking about everything, or rather, a small number of things, over and over again. Things I have said and done wrong, things that are yet to be done, or need doing, things that have no consequence at all, worrying about things I have no control over. To think nothing at all appears to be a rather difficult exercise indeed.
Sea bluffs around Cape Foulwind. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
It’s our de facto state, to be in thought land.
Imagining a world without thought is to discard Descartes' ‘I think therefore I am’.
But what if Descartes had said, ‘ I am, therefore I am.”?
What if thoughts are just there to distract us from being? Our busy mental babble is eternally occupying our consciousness. What are we missing on observing in the here and now, when we are trying to remember the third item on our shopping list? Was it eggs? No there are still some left in the fridge. How about bread? No, there is still half a loaf. Oh, how about, nothing? Yes, that’s right, the third item on the list was nothing at all.
West Coast haze. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
I met this fella at a holiday park in Foxton Beach, North Island. He wore round glasses, had some hair left on the top of his head, and he was a man of philosophy and a practitioner of meditation. After some careful questioning he revealed that the current philosophy that he follows is by an Indian fella who teaches that no mantra, no master, no technique, no religion, no god will ever lead to enlightenment. The only thing that can possibly work is nothing at all. Big fat zero. Clearing out the mind from thought altogether, abandoning the old habit of thinking and thought; that’s what needs to be done.
And it was to this cause that my friend at Foxton Beach was set on devoting the rest of his life. To absolutely nothing at all. But while he was at it he bought me a cup of coffee and we sat on the verandah of the Little White Rabbit’ in Foxon and we talked about life.
Cape Foulwind. Te Weipounamu, Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
Those on the highway do not want to be on the highway. They want to be on the other end, at their destination. The highway is the thing that stands in the way.
Leaning shed. Te Waipounamu. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
First Law
Speed is the first law of the highway. Vehicles with greater speed have right of way.
Shining paddocks. Te Waipounamu. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
Second Law
Mass is the second law of the highway. Vehicles with greater mass have right of way.
Magenta evening on the pastures. Te Waipounamu. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
Third Law
Survival is the third law of the highway. Applies to those who obey the first and the second laws.
Country road with broken lines. Te Waipounamu. Pentax MX, Cinestill 50, April 2024.
There is always time
for a cup of tea,
to sit still in the sun
and forget our chores.
Slow down
all you people
in a mad rush
to your destruction.
Slow down,
and have
a cup of tea.
-A.S. 22/4/24. Inangahua, NZ
Rimu stand. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
Cabbage Tree. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
Rimu trees and cabbage trees. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
More cabbage trees. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
Rimu tree. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
To be open to adventure, we have to be willing to keep our mind open to possibilities we did not expect.
-A.S, 18/4/24, Harihari, NZ
Falling water through the trees. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
River valley. West Coast, NZ. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
Fresh rain, more waterfalls! West Coast NZ. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
Does it ever stop raining around here? Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
Clearing raing in the West Coast hills, NZ. Pentax MX, Cinestill BWXX, April 2024.
