Stories that enrich us

A shining mountain lake, one of Auckland's beautiful regional parks, a historic peninsula and a secret cove - the final entries in our New Zealand Magic competition again demonstrate what a fantastic country this is.

The gloriously evocative description of Lake Rotopounamu has been judged the best of the dozens of entries - as announced on page D2 - in the face of extremely tough competition.

But, really, we've all been the winners through the opportunity to find out about so many magical places which we can now see for ourselves.

LAKE ROTOPOUNAMU, VOLCANIC PLATEAU

Lake Rotopounamu tops my list of special places in New Zealand. This small lake takes its name from the greenstone-like colour of its water.

An early explorer of New Zealand, Ernest Dieffenbach, visited the lake in May 1841 and observed that it "lies in a perfect funnel formed by the surrounding mountains". The peak that dominates is Pihanga, the wife of Mt Tongariro in Maori legend.

Dieffenbach also wrote that the lake "is surrounded by almost impenetrable underwood". Fortunately, there is now a good track around the lake, which takes under two hours to walk. It starts from State Highway 47 between Tokaanu and Lake Rotoaira. From the road the track rises to the junction with the round-the-lake track, from where there are superb views of the lake through the forest with Mt Pihanga as the backdrop.

The track descends to the southern end of the lake, where there are several sandy beaches inhabited by a population of ducks, and extensive reed beds from which dragonflies arise during summer.

The track moves into dense original forest, dominated by magnificent rimu and matai. Grey warblers, fantails and riflemen can be seen from the track. Tui and woodpigeon can be heard overhead.

The northern side of the lake features the crowning glory of this walk. Large areas of kidney ferns carpet the forest floor and sheath tree trunks and overhead branches. Their fronds look so fragile and, in the filtered sunlight that makes its way to the forest floor, they take on a subtle green, almost transparent, quality. Their simplicity adds to the distinctly ancient air of the forest here.

Heading back to the highway, we leave behind a quiet sanctuary of peace and seclusion. A small piece of New Zealand magic. Malcolm Glenny Otarawaiere Bay,

Whakatane There is always a feeling of anticipation and expectation approaching Otarawaiere Bay after high tide; leaving the first footprints, and wondering what treasures or flotsam the sea may have left stranded.

The sense of solitude, its pristine beauty, and the pure sweet tones of tui song are a peaceful call to linger and enjoy this magical place.

Looking down on the sweeping bay, the white beach stretches between bush-clad hills.

Wide expanses of flat rock invite nose-to-water contact to see small creatures living in pools left by the receding tide.

At the eastern end of the beach, high jagged rocks reach skywards and the sea heaves in huge crevasses, reminders of volcanic upheavals which formed these craggy layers in the distant past.

There is a sandy beach for swimming and lying about, and large old logs to sit on, or sit against while picnicking under gnarled pohutukawa. Children can create marvellous driftwood dwellings for the secret beings only they know about.

From West End Ohope, walk 20 minutes over the headland track to the bay. Alternatively, from Hillcrest in Whakatane, take the bush track high above the town. There are stunning views on this walk of about two hours. Check the tide because the sea comes up to the rock wall as you reach the bay, making it impassable for an hour or two at high tide.

Return the same way, or continue to West End, if you have a second car parked there.

Back at Otawairere Bay, as people leave and dusk settles into night, the secret inhabitants no one sees visit the children's driftwood dwellings, and the tide swishes away the day's footprints.

- Trish Silvester

DUDER'S REGIONAL PARK, AUCKLAND

My favourite place to visit and have time out is picturesque Duder's Regional Park on the coast near Maraetai.

There is a round walk which takes about an hour and a half depending on how long you wish to linger and drink in the wonderful views. The senses are heightened with the natural smells as you walk past sheep and cattle grazing peacefully and taking the odd look at passers-by.

The beauty of the landscape is breathtaking but wait, there's more to come. Near halfway you are on the coast and have a panoramic view out to Waiheke Island. What absolute bliss as you stand in awe, with absolute beauty all around you.

Pulling yourself away from the water view and returning to the carpark you pass a trig station which gives a commanding view of both country and water. A perfect spot to take a little light refreshment from your backpack. Because of the height there is usually a gentle breeze and the air smells so good.

Feeling completely rejuvenated, I return home with a gentle smile on my face.

- A. E. Russell

HIHI PENINSULA, NORTHLAND

The small Hihi Peninsula in the Far North invites all those who fish, love nature and wish to learn more of the area's colourful history.

The bay is named after William Butler, a versatile man who sailed, traded and represented the area in the young New Zealand Parliament more than 150 years ago.

About 12km from Mangonui, Hihi was really only discovered about the middle 1990s after the road was sealed from Highway 10 through to the 6km leading to Waiaua Bay, which is part of mighty Doubtless Bay. Since then many sections have been bought.

We spend about 70 days a year in Butler Bay, where we have happily fished off rocks and from the shore as well as small boats. Flounder, tarakihi, mullet and kahawai are caught. But one of the finest, the John Dory, especially in the middle of the year can be simply picked up from the shore with a net, even the hands.

Bird life is splendidly varied, ranging from hawks, several different seabirds and around the trees, tui, glamorous eastern rosella and fantails.

For some years we have planted many native trees and have been rewarded watching four young kauri steadily rising, while some flowers of Australian and South African origins line our boundaries.

Mangonui, the premier town of the region before the emergence of Kaitaia early in the 20th century, still preserves its many old buildings, such as St Andrews Church (1860) and the 98-year-old Mangonui Hotel.

But history is much closer, for right by Butler Bay is Butler House, owned by Lindo and Laetita Ferguson, who arrange tours for visitors to see the old home, an intriguing little whaling museum, and walk around the grounds covered with imposing pohutukawa and flowers.

- Brian Humberstone

WHAKAARI, BAY OF PLENTY

Whakaari is White Island. We booked a trip on the purpose-built, luxury launch PeeJay IV for $130 each and had a fantastic experience in a nature reserve that we will never forget.

Because this island is New Zealand's only active marine volcano, risk is present, but these experienced operators really look after you.

After a cruise of about 90 minutes we anchored in White Island's Crater Bay. Now we could see what "purpose-built" meant. Out of the stern of the launch came an inflatable boat for our transfer to the wharf. A couple of steps up the steel grid and we were ashore.

Whakaari is another world, and we felt we could have been on the Moon. We were equipped with hard hats and gasmasks, required by the licence. The ground was not shaking but there was a lot of steam coming from many places. Streams ran hot and cold.

Recent heavy rains had made the ground soft, so we had to watch our footing. But there are tracks and we followed them towards the cliffs. We came to a sulphur fumerole which was bright yellow and a metre across, and saw more sulphur in the cliffs. The crater lake steamed ominously and we kept away from the edge.

An excellent commentary from our guides kept us aware of the human experience on the island, as well as the changes in its shape over the years. The island has a history of unsuccessful mining ventures.

Now visitors, arriving by boat or helicopter, point to a more successful future. It's a great experience. Don't miss it.

- Ian and Gerd Free


RIVERTON ROCKS, SOUTHLAND

The closer I get, the greater the anticipation. Driving from Invercargill, we go through the flat green pastures of Southland and towards the long bulk of the Longwood Range in the west, past the once-a-year racecourse with its grandstand lording it over the sheep grazing on the inside of the racing track and around a curve in the road to where the huge paua shell teeters by the roadside.

Then it's into the rustic main street of Riverton, always half expecting to see horses and buggies hitched to railings outside the few shops. Another curve in the road at the other end of the street takes us across the bridge straddling the Aparima River.

On the right-hand side the duck-shooting maimai stand oddly, like haystacks plopped in the water, while on the left is the broad sweep of the river as it glides to its destination with the ocean, with the tumbledown fishing berths clinging grimly to the earth by the roadside.

Add a few fishing boats moored to these rickety piers and the picture is idyllic as a sleepy little fishing village.

Along a couple of more little streets, named for some of my ancestors, then up the rise and there it is - The Rocks. A broad sweep of sand with the Aparima River estuary at the northern end, and the outcrop of rocks into the bay at the southern end, provide endless vistas.

Across the waters of the bay you can make out the line of Oreti Beach and, at night, the lights of Invercargill twinkle in the distance, competing with the stars in the southern skies. The bulk of Bluff Hill lurks to the south and to the north the Takitimu Mountains stretch their pinnacles into the sky.

I can linger here. The beach, and all the little rocky inlets which follow the road, entice me away from the comfort of a vehicle to fossick in the sand and among the stones and rocks. No two pebbles are alike in shape, form or colour. Each time I visit I come away with more treasures, memories of a magic place.

Continue around the coast until the road can go no further and is swallowed up by the wildness of the flax at Howells Point, and the crashing waves of Foveaux Strait. Here, where you can almost touch Stewart Island, and where the Southern Seas pound the shores angrily in the teeth of a southern gale, or when all is calm and golden in the light of a setting sun in midsummer, here, at the bottom of the middle island of New Zealand, here is my standing place.

- Vanda Cootes


GREENSTONE VALLEY, SOUTHERN ALPS

"Who are those guys?" said Jake, the Butch Cassidy fan. We stood high on a hillside as the four riders emerged from the bush on the other side of the valley and crossed the grassy flats towards the river below. We watched them splash through the clear water and climb the hill towards us, the first other people we had seen for two days.

They stopped to say hello, and we learned they were station hands riding across country, a journey of four days, to compete in the New Year races at Glenorchy. "We'll see you there," we said, and followed as they disappeared ahead of us back into the bush, leaving us gloriously alone, again, in the Greenstone Valley.

It has been many years since I followed the trail from the road near the Homer Tunnel, up over the Divide and gently down the Greenstone River valley till it opened onto Lake Wakatipu, but that walk has remained fixed in my memory as one of the golden moments of my life, one that lasted three perfect days.

The weather was ideal, my companions friendly and our guide knowledgeable. But it was the valley that was the star of the journey.

Remote yet accessible, demanding but not impossibly so, it was never less than stunningly beautiful, from the mountain beech forest where friendly robins perched on our boots when we rested, through damp ferny valleys, past still green lakes and roaring ravines of icy water, to the golden meadows where we lay in the tussock and watched hawks spiralling high above in the thermals, in a sky that at night was brilliant with stars.

Apart from the horsemen, it was ours for the whole journey and, ever since, the Greenstone Valley has been mine.

- Pamela Wade