The winter was wrapped around the country, wind rain and snow like an icy cloak to chill. Time passed slowly in the dark nights and grey days.
We longed for a clear sky and far of vistas, coastlines and sunsets.
The dreary trudge of 9 – 5 was caught in shade, somewhere on the fourth floor. But evermore the mind roamed to far off places, sunlit and breezy. The warmth of memory fueled by futility and dreams.
Makara – Sunset and Paua
The day arrived, Sunday. The weather speculators around the globe had predicted the truth and clouds dissolved as the day progressed. The time was right and so we set off over the hill towards Makara Beach.
The route was still plastered with the'Save Quartz Hill' plaques depicting a red wind turbine with a cross through it. I was happy to know that soon the hills will sprout 70 gigantic windmills capable to converting the motion of the wind into charged electrons, harnessed for use in the home.
I had never seen such a low and passive sea at Makara, the waves only lapping on the wet shingle. We skirted the shoreline, avoiding the huge piles of decaying seaweed, hoping from rock to rock and poking in the shallow water. Clambering over the rocks, watching the waterline and peering into the sloshing waters I soon found a family of paua just below the surface. Quickly I reached down and wrenched 2 of them from the rock.
We continued on round the coast and finally reached scrambled up to the cliff top, and looked out over the strait to the northern tip of the south island.
The sun sank through a thin layer of cloud then exploded in a brilliant burst of last minute gold before plunging behind the distant hills, it’s last light piercing through a narrow niche, a lone blinding point which soon faded.
