New Zealand

A Double-Edged Sword

Lindis Valley

Paper bags are skittering across the painted partitions of a derelict car park. Strewn around the place are red, yellow and black signs of warning; “Do Not Enter”, “No Access”, and simplest of all, “Danger”. There was a building here once, but now all that stands is a graffitied sign reading, “Gap Filler”. Fittingly, the weather is grim and cold. The grey of concrete blends into the grey of the clouds; a monotony broken only by a gently fluttering red and white tape that cleaves the land from the sky. It is known by locals as “the cordon”, and it marks where Christchurch city centre used to be.

Three weeks earlier, I left Christchurch on a bus with my bicycle heading south to Queenstown, and on the way I read about the cordon. Between 2010 and 2012, several large earthquakes brought Christchurch to its knees, destroying the skyline, homes and lives. Fear was widespread, and many residents lived constantly on edge. To tell the truth, I found it a little difficult to understand why anybody would stay in a place that was so volatile.

My thoughts were interrupted by the chatter of foreign voices. I picked out French, American and Japanese, as well as a few others I couldn’t discern. Eavesdropping on the American tourists as inconspicuously as I could, I heard them talk about hiking, mountain-biking and even skydiving in Queenstown. New Zealand’s tourism industry has done very well out of its topography.  Queenstown is known for being the “adventure capital of the world”, and I had heard New Zealand somewhat glamorously alluded to as “God’s playground”.  Two gorgeous valleys zipped passed the window as if to emphasise the point. Catchy taglines or not, it was hard not to get excited by what this country had to offer.

Aoraki/ Mount Cook

Two days after my arrival in Queenstown, I had begun the long cycle to the Northern tip of the South Island, roughly tracing the Southern Alps. During my failed search for hobbits, I noticed was the incredible amount of livestock that roamed the grassy slopes, and the never-ending stream of dairy trucks lumbering along the larger roads. This highlighted the fact that the landscapes aren’t just important for tourists. Industries like Agriculture, horticulture, fishing, and forestry are essential for the economic health of New Zealand, and mean that the fate of many the country’s inhabitants is inextricably linked to the earth on which they live.

Cycling onwards, and extravagant panoramas came at every turn; angular shapes forced skyward by the crumpling effect of tectonic movement. Every lake and river I passed was an impossible shade of turquoise, more like paint than water. Sandy, rocky colours diffused up the countless mountains, and climbing to their cloud bound passes revealed that these same peaks were capped with soft greys; greys that I came to associate with the warm buzz of lactic acid, and that roughly marked the snow-line of winters past. The sense of space was exhilarating too. Each mountain was so large that I sometimes spent hours winding between them in sweeping glacial valleys, taking time to get to know each colossus as though they were long lost friends. In a way, the Māori feel the same.

Christchurch - Near "the Cordon"

I camped one chilly evening in a bay of the majestic, glassy, blue-green Lake Pukaki. Miles away, at the other end of the lake, sat the great, snow-capped Aoraki, or Mount Cook; the tallest mountain in all of New Zealand, jutting nearly four kilometres into the sky. In Māori folklore, four brothers embarked on a journey around the world in a canoe. Running aground on a reef, the canoe is said to have flipped over, leaving the brothers no choice but to clamber atop the doomed boat. As they stood there, a bitter southerly wind froze them solid, and the brothers turned to stone. It is Māori legend that their frozen figures form the Southern Alps, and Aoraki, the tallest brother, became the peak that is now known as Mount Cook. It is a tale that bridges the realms of the natural and the supernatural, and captures the spiritual ambiance of the place.

Yesterday, I arrived back in Christchurch. The longer I stand in the car park next to the cordon, the more I understand Christchurch’s strength and acceptance in the face of natural disaster. While devastating, these events constitute part of the Jekyll and Hyde personality of New Zealand. As a nation that is an active part of the “Pacific Ring of Fire”, natural New Zealand can be furious, but this also means that it is an area of unparalleled natural beauty. Its people have been tied to the land and its magic for centuries, forging a sense of tight-knit community and respect for the earth. Like all good relationships, there are hiccups.

WORDS BY DANNY GORDON