1 February 2007

Marguerite Track

page 2

We reach the first of the two marked stream crossings.

We make our way across, up and out. I figure this presages a stiffish climb, and maybe it does, but this is not what I am aware of in the next half hour or so.

The track does however become a little more demanding

My problem in spots such as this is that I do not bend easily, and getting a knee up high enough to put a size 13 boot toe in a niche is not straightforward.

Even when I do get my knee up high enough, I often don't have the strength to then straighten my leg and lift me and the pack up to a standing position again, though sticks help immensely here. A handy tree or root is always useful if I can get a handhold, but they're not always there when you want them. Sometimes it's a case of just crawling up.

Descending is even more difficult. Supporting your weight on one slowly bending leg while the other one searches out a secure footing below is sometimes tricky. Again, sticks are invaluable.

Alice is puzzled by all of this. Just do it.

There are a number of huge old taraire (Belschmeida taraire) along this track, signalling their presence with abundant leaf litter and an occasional fat purple berry. As kids we used to eat the slightly sweet and sour surface pulp from these on the way home from school. In later years I found information that said these berries were poisonous, but none of us was ever affected.

The small plant nurseries afforded by old rotting logs are always fascinating.. And here's a small vine I have yet to set a name to. I meet it a number of times along the track, but never as an established, mature plant. More investigation needed.

Every available niche that can trap water and organic matter is hosting something:

Some interesting looking galls on a tree trunk open up another area of "I don't know". More to find out.

We carry on. We've been on this track now about 45 minutes or half the advertised time. Some of the carbohydrate high from lunch is starting to wear off. I swallow some water and grab a piece of biltong.

On the bank, my attention is caught by a glowing young frond of maidenhair (puhinui, Adiantum cunninghamii)

I wonder to myself why sometimes I instinctively use an English name, sometimes a Maori name, and sometimes a Latin one, and what factors influence choice.

Mangemange (Lygodium articulatum) is common around the Waitakeres, but this is the first time I have seen a fertile pinna.

We round a bluff and get a look out over the Tasman. By and large, there is enough vegetation growing close to the path so as not to trigger my fear of heights, and the occasional view out is welcome rather than giddy.

I notice that track shots are beginning to dominate somewhat.

I swallow some more water and start seeing things around me again instead of just walking through them.

Now this next bit may not look all that difficult, especially to Ed Hillary types who may be looking, but it's a prime example of what I was talking about earlier.

The gap between steps is too big for me to negotiate, and the niche partway up is slippery and worn and sloping. I get rid of my pack, sticks and camera bag. and Dan makes his way down first. I then lower myself over the edge on my tummy while Dan guides my feet down to a stable platform. Done it. I load up again, and about a minute and a half further on, what should we see but

Bugger. Off with all the gear again and through on hands and knees.

Beside the path is a rather lovely and symmetrical fern, one I haven't put a name to yet, or if I have, I've forgotten it.

The next fern is pretty much unmistakeable - Mouku, Asplenium bulbiferum, or most commonly, Hen and Chickens Fern, sporting the next generation on its sleeve. The small fronds grow directly from the upper surface of mature fronds, and when a frond eventually droops these small fellows havea chance to take root. According to Andrew Crowe, the name Mouku is from Nuie. There is a wonderfully large patch of this on the Auckland City walk from Falls Rd Carpark.