East Cape: First light

East Cape seen from the beach at Te Araroa. Photo / Bay of Plenty Times

The day's first rays of sunlight come through the window of my camper. It's a soft light at first, not yet infused with warmth, but somehow the light is different here on the East Cape and not because it is the first place in the world to see the sun.

There is a mystical quality to these eastern lands - as author Witi Ihimaera, who grew up on this remote coast, said: "If you want to feel truly alive, try Highway 35."

I nose my camper on to the highway from the nicely secluded Te Araroa Holiday Park and pay a visit to the Manuka Oil Shop. Here the valuable oil has been extracted from plant leaves by steam distillation and sold as an antimicrobial cream, essential oil, soap and toothpaste.

Further down the road the salty tang of the sea spray on nearby Kawakawa Beach keeps my "feel alive" spirit intact. Driftwood has accumulated on this pebble beach for centuries, watched over by the oldest and largest pohutukawa tree in the country, in this last outpost of civilisation before East Cape.

The world's most easterly lighthouse at the cape itself is my next port of call. I scramble up 700 steps to a rusty, white tower that looks out toward its original home on East Island. The green, cloud-speckled sea is angry today, assaulting the steep cliffs with malevolent energy. It feels like I'm standing on the edge of the world.

It's a short run down Highway 35 to Tikitiki and the ornate wooden carvings and tukutuku woven panels of St Mary's Church, a tribute to local craftsmen and the cultural initiatives of a beloved Maori leader, Sir Apirana Ngata, who died in 1950.

This is one of about 30 richly carved churches and marae on this route, each surrounded by a small cluster of houses.

At Ruatoria I meet Paora Brooking and learn about his tours to the nine whakairo (carved poles) on the shoulder of Hikurangi, the sacred mountain, whose jagged peaks are ignited each dawn with the world's first light. The poles tell the story of Maui, the ancestral demi-God who pulled up the great fish that is the North Island.

But my next stop is the gentle white curve of deserted beach backed by green hills at Anaura Bay. This was Captain Cook's second landing place in New Zealand after his less than friendly reception in Poverty Bay.

I overnight at the north end of Anaura Bay and wake to see the sun rise above the horizon, creating a gold pathway across the water into the bay. I have this beautiful scene, the entire bay and a deserted beach, all to myself.

Later I meet the descendants of goats liberated by Captain Cook, now bringing business to Tolaga Bay by way of their lustrous coats being woven into cashmere clothing and sold at a nearby retail outlet.

Here too the longest jetty in the Southern Hemisphere still proudly thrusts into the bay, having been given a cash reprieve to replace its aging piles.

I take the side road to Whangara, the landing place of Paikea, an early ancestral voyager. This small community was the setting for the acclaimed film Whale Rider but today it seems deserted and the long sandy beach is baking in the sun. Paikea clings tenaciously to the back of a wooden whale atop the Whitireia Meeting House.

I roll into Gisborne and turn up Kaiti Hill to pay my respects to the man who charted New Zealand.

Captain Cook's stern bronze visage looks across Poverty Bay to the stark white cliffs of Young Nick's Head. To the right are the broad fertile plains and vineyards, market gardens and orchards that belie the name Cook endowed on the region.

Eastland has a palpable air of remoteness and detachment from the rest of the North Island. The coast road is a back-to-nature, winding drive through straggling manuka, patches of bush and pasture, with glimpses of deep blue ocean. It's isolated, with few people and a wonderfully fresh quality to the scenery. And nothing happens in a hurry here - that's the Eastland way.