WITH the heat being what it is right now, it seemed like a good idea on Saturday to stop the car on Kokotau Rd in Ponatahi, just after crossing the Ruamahanga River, and give my two dogs a chance to cool off in the water.
However, it wasn't until I pulled up on to the shingle, and the smell of the river hit me, that I realised it might not be a good idea.
Having come from Wellington, I'm used to the Hutt River being a paradise for dogs and people, with water flowing largely unfettered by agricultural use.
I admit every so often the Hutt River in fact kills dogs, from toxic algae blooms, but generally it's a waterway that doesn't wear the weight of agriculture.
This is, once again, the difficulty in juxtaposing the niceties of urban values onto an agricultural setting. Any urbanite arrogance I might have for "picturesque" and "tranquil" picnicking comes up against blunt reality of farming in Wairarapa. Wellingtonians might come over the hill to take in the scenery in a generic sense, taste the wine and enthuse over the olive oil, and motorcyclists might consider Wairarapa to be one of the best weekend playgrounds around. But the influence of agriculture here is absolutely enormous. It's like realising how much of the earth is actually covered by water.
