AS we approached the top of the extinct volcano we couldn't understand where all the water was coming from.
Every raised surface was dripping into crystal clear ponds and exuberant waterfalls took up the plunge downward.
How could there be such abundance from a small summit area where there hadn't been any rain for days?
My son and I discussed this aqueous bounty as we sat near the top of Hauhungatahi, the fourth-highest and oldest volcano in Tongariro National Park. We were seeing the power of mosses, lichens and small alpine herbs to gather and store rainfall and then release it slowly, so we relaxed and enjoyed the water features along with the birds and busy insects.
E rere kau mai te Awa nui- mai I te Kāhui Maunga ... Each drip that joined the flow was about to take the journey well worn over the millennia along the ancestral river we choose to live by, the Whanganui Awa, the person/legal entity, the spiritual and physical reality, the river that defines a region.