Rikki Reed continues to help his struggling Esk Valley community after a harrowing escape. Photo / Paul Taylor
Rikki Reed continues to help his struggling Esk Valley community after a harrowing escape. Photo / Paul Taylor
Esk Valley resident Rikki Reed clung to the branches of a set of small trees for hours as powerful floodwaters buffeted him. One hundred days on, the bond he’s built with the rescued and rescuers of that day is now akin to family.
Rikki Reed’s back out there with ashovel again, cleaning up the silt that the February 14 cyclone deposited.
He’s been told off so many times for coming. Let someone else do it, you’ve gone through enough.
Because the torrent of water in the Esk Valley in the early hours of that morning wasn’t just depositing the silt he’s cleaning up - it was trying to sweep him away.
For roughly six hours, mud and debris rushed around him, as he listened to the screams of people needing help long into the dawn.
“I was thinking ‘you can’t die and let him not have a dad’.”
Hours earlier, Reed, a tradesman and business owner, was working the roads at the Esk Valley highway barrier, helping out a mate and preventing people from entering what would soon be described as a “warzone”.
As flood waters rose on Monday night, he made his way around the surrounding area, trying to warn the community before being forced to leave his truck and climb on to the tangled branches.
The first tree he went to snapped under the weight of the debris, forcing him to jump to another.
“I jumped off and spent the whole night clearing debris off the trees, I was actually having to go underwater to get things off the trees.
“I don’t know how the tree held.”
If the trees weren’t there, Reed said he probably wouldn’t be here today.
Now, three months on from his harrowing ordeal, he wants to share his story, because he wants to thank the “forgotten” community that’s helped him, not just on that day, but in the months since.
In many ways, Reed is still paying them back, every day, by returning to the scene that has so many raw memories for him, to shovel.
“It’s all about community.”
Reed’s first thank you is to, remarkably, another Rikki.
Cousins Mikey and Rikki Kihi joined friend Morehu Maxwell as they took Maxwell’s inflatable boat out to rescue people from the carnage, including Reed.
“I’d literally be dead if it wasn’t for them.”
The boys managed to transport him and others across the flooded Linden Estate winery to Valley D’ Vine restaurant, a high point that has since become a vital community hub and is managed by Greg Miller.
“Nine of us got rescued and they’re like family to me now,” Reed says.
Rikki Reed stands by the tree and bank that ultimately helped save his life. Photo / Paul Taylor
Talks the next day at the restaurant have revealed countless other stories from that day.
He shows a photo with the faces of people who had experienced tremendous loss, but also incredible hope and tremendous courage.
“This is Viv and Craig,” he said, pointing to a young pregnant woman and her partner.
“They tried to drive, and the car got swept down.”
Craig carried his pregnant wife and daughter upstream to try and get back to the house, making the heartbreaking decision to let go of the family dog.
“We’re all sitting at Valley D’Vine the next day (it was a pretty good day considering everything) and one of the rescuers that finally got to us said ‘we’ve found a dog at the end of the road’.”
Reed pointed to two caravan owners who had sat on the roof waiting to be rescued, their caravans still sitting in the vines.
All the people in that photo keep in touch today, he says, helping each other in any way they can. They aren’t the only ones; Reed lists countless people who have helped him and the community since the floods.
Reed himself continues to volunteer, going to properties around the valley and beyond to offer his mahi. He wants to help the community that helped him.
He has since played a large role in the recovery of the Eskdale War Memorial Church, a place he watched become engulfed in flood waters on that fateful night.
“I did promise this church when I was hanging on to the tree that I would come to help clean it up, and I got to do that.”
Warwick Marshall (left), deputy chairman Eskdale Church board of trustees, stands with volunteers and Esk residents Gavin Lilley, Linda Paterson, Mike Stuart and Rikki Reed. Photo / Warren Buckland
In another full circle moment, Reed also managed to get to Rikki Kihi’s dad’s damaged house to help clean up.
“We grew up together as kids, our parents went to the same parties.”
Similar to many other cyclone-ravaged places in Hawke’s Bay, Reed said there is still a lot of frustration and confusion around what happens next.
“We definitely feel like the forgotten valley.”
Mental health remains a huge priority among the community, and Reed said lots of the physical work has, in reality, been mental health work.
“A lot of people don’t understand that we know the houses are probably going to get bowled, but we’ve been going in there and just digging things out for people.
“One lady just wanted to see if we could find her granddad’s knives and a couple of watches.”
Reed said he understood funding was needed at a high level for mental health support, but believes it is the grassroots community things that really make the most difference.
A chat with a mate or a retrieved possession go a long way, he said.
“This is what we’ve forgotten. I grew up with a grandfather that fought in the Second World War who was all about community,” he said.
“You’d probably see a deep decline in community togetherness and a rise in mental health [concerns]. If you did some more community stuff together the mental health issues would come down, that’s just my guess.”
Not knowing about the fate of houses and businesses is taking a toll on people in the valley, Reed said.
But it’s the hugs, smiles, laughs and happy tears that have kept him and many others going.
“That’s been the nice thing, I’ve been getting hugs from people, that’s actually quite cool.”
An emotional hug from Parker came the day after Reed was rescued. It was a special moment.
As the silt continues to dry in Esk Valley, Reed and his community whānau will be out there helping, day in and day out without asking for anything in return.
“I won’t stop helping people, I’ve been told off so much,” he said.
