I got up early and watched the morning light play cloud tag with the ocean and sand dunes. A prettier place on earth than Opononi Beach would have been hard to find. I wish we could have stayed longer … like maybe a month.
Our drive north paralleled the coast along Hokianga Bay for a few miles, passing through the small beach town of Ōmāpere. Every place we would be passing through for the rest of the day would essentially be Māori territory, but Ōmāpere was mostly comprised of 500 laid-back beach bum Europeans and tourons, sort of like the American expat hippies who live in the volcanic jungle foothills and valleys above Hilo, Hawaii. Their carefree inertia mimics the easygoing lifestyle of the Māori almost seamlessly, like brothers and sisters from another mother.
It was an hour-long drive through lively but neglected Māori farmland to the Wairere Boulder Nature Park, a 350-acre native bush farm littered with many house-sized boulders that give Wairere Boulders its name. These very large basalt (volcanic) boulders are heavily fluted by the special conditions found at Wairere (volcanic acid rain). This geology is globally significant, and according to some experts, unique. While the Boulders are spread throughout the property, many are concentrated on the Wairere river floor.
We hiked the 2-mile Boulder Loop Trail over bridges, boardwalks, stairs, and boulders along the valley floor. It took us about two hours to follow the well-marked trail through a beautiful subtropical rainforest and cascading stream setting. And we never saw another soul … or hiker.
At the top of the loop, we took a short side trail that led to a secluded bush pool that was about the size of a large swimming pool and perhaps 5 feet deep. I, quite naturally, went swimming while Inna warned me to be careful. The water was comfortably chilly, and I did my best manatee imitation.
The stream terminates on the property at an estuary of the Hokianga Harbour, providing an idyllic setting for kayaking around the boulders and/or a 5km kayak trip to the Mangungu Mission. Kayaking is limited to high tide.
New Zealand industry began on this property with the very first water-powered sawmill in 1826, which supported the thriving Horeke shipbuilding company. Nearby Horeke was also the site of NZ’s first hotel and first post office. The Mangungu Mission is home to NZ’s oldest cemetery and was a place of great importance during the early pre-Treaty years.
The first honey beehives in New Zealand were established at the Mangunga Wesleyan Mission in 1839. Today, you can still get the world-famous Manuka honey from hives just west of the Wairere Boulders.
Once back on the pavement, we headed north on the Horeke Road, which followed the meandering Wairere River. The river soon widened into a shimmering lake. Small Māori villages with tongue-twisting names popped up every few miles—Maraeroa, Utakura, Ōkaihau, and Ōhaeawai. There were no services, and we didn’t see another human. It looked like this part of New Zealand had been abandoned.
The churches in the Māori bush country are tiny, nondescript buildings. Some look like plain old houses. They are few and far between. And that tells you all you need to know about how the Māori feel about Christianity. They tolerate the Jesus people in their midst, but they ain’t buying what the church is selling.
We did find one exception. At the junction of Highway 1 and 12, in the small, but surprisingly upscale town of Pakarake, we came upon the lovely Holy Trinity Anglican Church. This was no bush church erected to save the souls of the natives. It was classic European Christianity on display and would have been at home in Britain. The surrounding countryside was covered in fancy, tree-lined estates and was the fiefdom of the Marsdens, one of the most prominent Scottish landowners who had first colonized the area back in the 1800s. They still run the show, controlling most of the big businesses and farms.
Our next stop, at the Waitangi Treaty Grounds, was where the Māori mystique began to unravel.
In 1849, the Treaty of Waitangi was signed, with over 70 chiefs adding their mark of approval and several thousand people in attendance. This was essentially the New Zealand version of the selling of Manhattan from the Indians.
The Treaty Grounds are now a museum, and once a year (there had just been one two weeks before our visit), representatives of the New Zealand government and the Māori leaders get together there and exchange grievances, settle disputes, and sign an updated treaty that incorporates whatever they just agreed upon.
Sounds pretty broad-minded and democratic, right?
Well, the devil’s in the details.
The first modern Treaty of Waitangi settlement was signed between New Zealand’s government and the Waikato-Tainui “iwi” in 1995. The word “iwi” literally translates to “bone” in Māori, and is related to the concept of ancestry and kinship. The standard refrain at each treaty gathering is pretty much the same. The Māori argue that the original treaties are null and void because they were signed by tribal leaders who sold off land they didn’t own. The real owners hadn’t been invited. With so many different warring tribes, this is undoubtedly true. And so, the modern New Zealand government keeps getting hammered for the slippery deals perpetrated by the first European colonists and their Māori counterparts—thieves and bumpkins alike. At that first gathering, the Māori walked out with the largest cash sum ever awarded to the Māori nation: $170 million. The government formally acknowledged the wrongful confiscation of 1.2 million acres of Waikato land in the 1860s.
By 2023, the reparations totaled $2.6 billion. And there’s no end in sight because the Māori want their land back. All of it! The fish and all the natural resources, including the trees and the water, and even the oceans and seas surrounding New Zealand. And it should all be off limits to the whites.
As a result of this monetary system of reparations based on past sins, every Māori in New Zealand gets a piece of the money pie, like the Indians in Alaska, and their checks come like clockwork every October.
Hmmmm … I’m thinking this could get ugly.
