Studying In New Zealand: BUCKLANDS BEACH: THE EDGE OF THE EARTH

On Friday, two days after Christmas, I took a break from reading my academic books and opted for the biography of Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor, instead. I borrowed this book from the Botany Branch of the Auckland libraries because I was curious about how she wandered into the path of an English Royal, King Edward VIII, who was forced to abdicate the Crown because she was considered unfit to be Queen. Although I hadn’t advanced far into the book, I understand that she comes from a distant line of Royals, who arrived in New England. It got me thinking about the life trails down which our ancestors’ wander, which oftentimes push their scions off what would have been their normal paths, to venture into a new life over which we have no control. Our histories, indeed.

After several hours of reading about Wallis Simpson, I helped myself to two glasses of pinot gris, a light and airy variety from the Five Flax wine corporation, on sale at Pak N’ Save. Believing that the lightness of the flavor meant it was also light in alcohol content, I was soon proven to be wrong. I became sleepy halfway through the second glass, decided to take a snooze, and woke up with a touchy hangover. A headache that throbbed in the middle of my forehead informed me that I should have probably spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, but I ignored this warning and opted to go on one of my solitary long walks to reach the edge of the earth: Bucklands Beach. I was hung over in the middle of the afternoon, but I couldn’t ignore the sun, which blazed against the blue, blue sky, calling to me through my bedroom window to come out and play. I could hear the riroriro tweeting outside, but I couldn’t avert my eyes from the bright blue sky. I imagined this glorious display was a different scene from New England, where my family is boarded away indoors, safely tucked away from the grey, snowy days of December winter. Friday was the perfect day to walk.

Bucklands Beach is actually not very far from Burswood. It’s only about 9 km, which translates to almost 5 miles in the American metric system. It was the same distance from Sunderland, Massachusetts to Hadley, the next farming town over. On the map, Bucklands is a discreet peninsula that juts out into the ocean and, I soon discovered, is also part of a string of interconnected beaches (Eastern and Half Moon Bay) that can be walked if one stays along the coastline. Bucklands can also be reached by crossing the Bucklands Beach Road.

After walking the same linear road for about half an hour, Bucklands Beach Road eventually trailed gently to the left, where soon-after I came upon a sign for the Bucklands Beach Reserve. Believing this trail would take me directly to my destination, I followed the concrete footpath. Just beyond, I found the long staircase. In the distance, I sighted water. I had arrived, I thought. A short distance further, I was along the esplanade and could see people bobbing in the water or riding their speed boats. It was beautiful and I became even more entranced at the sight of the cascading cliff to the right.

A quick reading of the history of this 8 kilometer place by the ocean on Wikipedia reveals that Bucklands Beach shares a farm history with Sunderland, and was the site for European and Maori contact. The Maoris, the Ngaiti iwi, populated this area as early as the 1400s until 1790, and farmed ferns. Wikipedia also claims that the area bore evidence of hangi, underground ovens used by Maoris for cooking. Eventually, this area was bought by European settlers with a combination of needed goods, crops, and cash.

My visit to Eastern Beaches was prolonged by my usual flat white coffee break at Rattai Thai Restaurant. The dinner meal was entirely too luxurious for me, but the easy conversation with the staff at the restaurant and the ocean side view from the table by the door let me forget that I was on a student budget. I could see the Waiheke Ferry cruising by and I deduced after a brief exploration of the Bucklands Beach coastline that the Half Moon Bay Marina is just yonder, the two places connected by a raised ramp that hugs the side of a high cliff. From my vantage point, I could see the boats and the café, where I had enjoyed a pastry and coffee not too many months ago.

The walk back wasn’t as long, but the sun was slowly descending and the air recovering from the heat infusing the afternoon air only a few hours before had turned into a slight chill. Back in my room, I immediately hopped to it, again, meaning back to the grind and finished off the section of the Jeffrey Riedinger book that I was so desperate to complete. Alas. Success.