Taichi (Michael) Playle with the four Ngati Rangitihi men who live and work on the mountain four day s a week.
Mt Tarawera is rich in history and stands tall with its volcanic peaks and domes. But for iwi Ngati Rangitihi, it's more than just a landmark, it represents who they are. The iwi is tackling a conservation project to preserve its legacy and in turn the wellbeing of its people. Reporter Dana Kinita takes the climb to find out more.
We can't say we weren't warned.
When Ken Raureti, chairman of the Ngati Rangitihi Ruawahia 2B Trust rang us up to tell us he'd like a photographer and myself to take a look at the work five young men had been doing on Mt Tarawera (Ruawahia), he let us know what to expect.
"It's a pretty big hikoi (walk), I hope you're fit," he said.
Image 1 of 6: AFTER: The progress madeby the Ngati Rangitihimen and the Department of Conservation.
PHOTO/SUPPLIED
For someone who hadn't formally exercised in years, it immediately rang alarm bells. But as this job quite often involves us being taken out of our comfort zone, we were there to meet him and the Department of Conservation (DoC) ranger, Paul Cashmore, bright-eyed and perhaps slightly reluctant, at 7.15am at Ash Pit Rd in Rerewhakaaitu.
With the four-wheel drives packed, Ken led us through a karakia (prayer) explaining we were about to set foot on their maunga tapu (sacred mountain). It was agreed we'd drive up to the crater before hiking up to see the men who live on their maunga, Tarawera four days a week as part of their work to control wilding pine conifers, a weed which has had a stranglehold over the mountain.
The project, now in its fifth year, is led by Ngati Rangitihi with the support of the DoC and Bay of Plenty Regional Council.
"Because we're the maunga kaitiaki [mountain guardians] we have a whakaaro [thought] - healthy mountain, healthy people," Ken said as we jolted uphill along the road.
"Around about August each year we start to recruit through word of mouth and employ our own. There's been no shortage of people who want to work up here, we interview 20-odd a year. It's indicative of the keeness and desire to work on their maunga but also reflective of the lack of work around. If the ones we recruit don't have the right bush skills, chainsaw skills they go through forestry industry training and don't set foot on the mountain until they have all the right modules."
He said the training had helped the men into other employment when the season, which runs from October through to March, ended.
"We've taken all our boys, mostly who were unemployed, from Ngati Rangitihi-Matata and it's benefiting not just the mountain but their whanau, their iwi and the community.
"They do this because they have their feet on their mountain every single day. They know that what they are doing is more then cutting. They know what they're doing isn't just a 9-to-5 job but are working towards the benefit of their mountain, iwi and and it's been driven by them," Ken said.
"We see a major transformation. Improvements in their physical wellbeing and health. There is a sense of pride, they stand taller because they are working and employed and are making a contribution to their iwi and how they are received at home." The men work for 10 hour days, often on extreme slopes, cutting down and hand pulling the wilding pine trees that grow haphazardly.
"Years ago we could see it slowly creep up the mountain, it was ailing. Wilding pine is an intrusion, it's like a cancer growth on your body, if you don't do anything it will take over and shut down," he said.
"If we did nothing it would strangle the oranga [health], the mana [prestige] and authority of the mountain.
"The improved health and wellness of our maunga goes hand-in-hand with the wellness and mana of our people."
Ngati Rangitihi Ruawahia 2B Trust had set aside $250,000 for the project and received a DoC biodiversity condition fund of $180,000 over three years. The local DoC office also contributed $20,000 per year and substancial staff time with financial support also coming from the Bay of Plenty Regional Council last year. DoC is project manager and provide expertise on directing the pines' control programme. HeliPro, which has exclusive landing rights on Mt Tarawera, is contracted to provide aerial assistance, but Ken said many times they went "above and beyond" to help.
As we parked at the crater, our photographer piled on his equipment and laden like a sherpa, we headed up the first major incline.
After the first few steps, I knew I was going to struggle. I was tempted to joke, "Are we there yet?" but decided not to squander my oxygen with the foreboding sense it would be a luxury later on. And it was. We traversed over boulders, through narrow rocky trails, downward slopes and waded thigh-high through fallen pines. As I gasped for breath, I realised at times we were walking in a zig-zag pattern as both our guides stopped to uproot wilding pine saplings.
Their fitness level along with their intricate knowledge of each dome, slope and foothold was impressive. Ranger Paul was able to keep a steady conversation going as we hiked and explained how huge the project had been. Wilding pine control work to date had covered more than 700ha.
"The problem will never go away, being a mountain in the middle of a huge pine plantation. If we didn't do anything, over time it would turn into a huge pine forest so we need to protect the land and the alpine vegetation.
"It's not just a matter of cutting them down and pulling them out, we have the work areas on a GPS grid and the crews work needs to meet certain standards. I monitor regularly to make sure there isn't any foliage left on th stumps or missed seedlings. If there is any hint of that the tree is classified as a fail."
The sound of chainsaws spurred us ahead as we knew it was only a few more hilltops to climb before we met Taichi (Michael) Playle, Laurie Hyde, Wiremu Redmond, Tawhiri Redmond and Louis Playle, the men who'd made the mountain their home for the past six months. After nearly an hour of hiking we were there and they promptly called a smoko break and descended to meet us.
There is an old saying of our people, 'You never return from Wahanga [a dome on Tarawera]' and that's the sacredness of the place, you see people connect with that wairua [spirit] and they want to share that experience.
The spectacular view of Lake Tarawera was one that few get a chance to see from so high up and you realise why this landscape needs preserving.
"This is my third season up here," said Wiremu, who worked alongside his younger brother.
It was far from easy work as the men often struggled with the diverse weather conditions. "The heat can be hard and the slopes ... the ground is soft so you struggle to find your footing. Some days it's like a hangi because of the heat and the rocks," he said.
"I enjoy it because it's about getting rid of these trees off our mountain. I also like coming out here and getting away from civilisation."
They stay in a purpose built base-camp which has a generator to run their fridge and comes in handy to charge their mobile phones. They take turns on cooking duties each night. "At night we play a lot of cards or just go on our phones on the internet," Wiremu said.
Tai was not working before he started with the project and has returned to the mountain for the last five years. Ken said he would now have probably crossed every inch of the mountain and knows it better than "anyone in Aotearoa".
"I had never set foot on the maunga before but it's our roots, it's part of who we are," he said.
"I went through a lot of training, I think about six weeks of courses learning about the work and first aid.
Tai said despite working and living together for four days a week, they still socialise with each other off the mountain.
"We hang out together after work, we'll play rugby together and stuff like that. It's just like having brothers really.
"It's been mean seeing the progress we've done over the years and I hope one day to hand down this knowledge to my kids and others," he said.
The walk back was equally challenging and I'm not ashamed to say I trailed behind Ken who was usually 20m ahead and is more than a few years my senior. To his credit, he was patient with me and his passion for the mountain was contagious as I joined him scanning the ground to rip up rogue pining saplings.
On the drive back down he told me how those of Ngati Rangitihi react when they step on to Mt Tarawera for the first time.
"They are absolutely overwhelmed with emotion, I have seen people up there weeping with joy and reflective sadness" he said.
"They've known about it, they've seen it but have never been up there before. There is an old saying of our people, 'You never return from Wahanga [a dome on Tarawera]' and that's the sacredness of the place, you see people connect with that wairua [spirit] and they want to share that experience."
When I was on top of the mountain I could feel the importance of its history, its solidness and the role it plays in the life of its people. It was a privilege to be on it and I am humbled to have been given the opportunity.
The work spearheaded by Ngati Rangitihi is needed not only for their own wellbeing but to retain a heritage that has stood the test of time. The health of the mountain is in good hands and with it a strong generation that will continually watch over it, as it does them.