I grew up in the definitely wild and sometimes wonderful mountains of Appalachia, mere miles from the West Virginia border. So as a child of God's Country, as they say, I can fairly claim to know a few things about mountains.
I know how a landscape without them just isn't the same, your eyes always looking for a place to rest in the empty space between sky and land. I know how they roll and crest, peak and crown in their own unique and marvelous ways. And I know that the benefits of mountain living -- natural beauty, outdoor adventures -- mostly make up for the challenges -- snow and ice, rock slides and floods, long drives to the grocery store.
So when we moved to Auckland, I was thrilled to see mountains on the horizon. In fact, the city is bordered by two mountain ranges, the Hunua Range to the south and the Waitakeres to the west. Though these hills don't reach nearly as high as the Allegheny peaks I grew up with, they're just as wild and wonderful to explore.
The Waitakere Ranges in particular are a favorite destination for us. The ranges stretch just 15 miles from north to south, and reach a maximum height of 1,555 feet -- so about half as high as the highest point in Maryland, USA. But they're marvelously scenic, rugged and lush, covered in that green native bush New Zealand is known for.
Our home in the village of Te Atatu South sits in the foothills of the mountains. A short drive of 10 to 15 minutes gets us high into the range and to the many treasures within. These are the mountains that house the world-famous Piha Beach and Lion Rock, the black-sand surf beaches of Bethells and Muriwai and a handful of amazing waterfalls.
The volcanic eruptions of millions of years ago left behind a Jurassic-esque topography. When driving through, we often say we wouldn't be surprised to see a pterosaur winging across the sky or a T-rex bursting through the trees. It looks like a place time forgot, where bugs are still the size of hawks and humans haven't yet left an indelible, incurable mark on the landscape.
Of course, looks are deceiving. The dinosaurs are long gone, and humans -- mostly tourists -- now rule these ranges. Hiking trails wind through 250 kilometers of the park, taking trampers to waterfall pools, cliffside views and those amazing beaches. In the busy summer months, Piha may host more than 2,000 seekers of sun and surf in one day. Thousands of people camp out in the park every year, and we often run into bright, young things living out of their campervans -- a life that would have looked appealing, oh, about 20 years ago.
All of these people exploring and enjoying NZ's version of God's Country take their toll. And the biggest tax is in the form of kauri dieback.
Kauri are among the most cherished trees in New Zealand. Maori consider them Kings of the Forest and an important connection to the spiritual world. The trees have served as canoes for Maori explorers and ships for European settlers, as timber sent to the Old World, as chewing gum, paint varnishes and more. Now, fewer than 20,000 acres of mature kauri trees remain in the North Island.
Though logging doesn't occur any more, disease is prevalent. The rate of kauri dieback in the Waitakere Ranges has gone from 8 percent five years ago to 19 percent today, and scientists warn the trees are headed for extinction. As there's no cure for disease, the goal is to slow or stop its spread -- and that's accomplished by limiting the number of people who come in contact with the trees.
Earlier this year, Maori leaders issued a rahui on the ranges, discouraging people from visiting. The local government has taken steps to close some areas of the forest to visitors. All hikers are encouraged to stay on the trails and clean their shoes with disinfectant when they enter and exit the forest -- something our family dutifully does each time we explore.
It's a complicated situation with lots of interests to balance, though everyone, at heart, has the same goal: to protect and appreciate the Waitakeres.
When the controversial rahui was issued, an environmentally minded resident told the local newspaper, "For most people kauri are a sacred representation of all that is good in our natural environment and who we are as New Zealanders. The idea that my grandchildren and great-grandchildren will not see standing kauri is heartbreaking."
And it is, absolutely. But if the only way to preserve that tree is to keep those children out of the mountains altogether, how will they appreciate its majesty after all?
It's interesting to see these questions come to light and to watch -- as an outsider -- a nation of environmentally aware people work to find a way to both appreciate and protect their natural wonders.
In the meantime, we do our best as a family to walk the line between preserving and embracing this wild and wonderful mountain range. That's what we mountain gals do, after all.
