Am in Taupo.
Down here to talk at a seminar to 40+ athletes who want to do an Ironman. Cam and I (name dropping here - Cameron Brown and I).
It's bloody cold. I am in an internet cafe trying to keep warm, Cam has gone for a run (bollocks to that!).
It is somewhere around 6 degrees celcius. To me I may as well be in Antartica. I have never liked the cold. I am one of those individuals who relishes summer then spends all of autumn dreading winter and having to drag out all those winter socks and jerseys and jackets and feel trussed up like a turkey every time I leave the house to go outdoors.
It makes me wonder how my Maori ancesters ever survived living in this country when all they wore was grass skirts and flax woven tops - maybe with the odd feather clock, if you were of some standing - thrown over the shoulders. There were no polypropolenes in their day. No sheep to sheer to make woollen jerseys or scarves. No heat pumps. No government subsidised insulation to their cold whares, electric blankets. Why oh why did they stay in this land of the long white and lately very black cloud!
They did that great journey all over the Pacific to find themselves a new home, rowing and navigating in their twelve big canoes by following the stars. Obviously they had not read their stars that week otherwise it would have said, "This week you can expect to meet a cold, wet land where the earth moves and mountains explode, so change your direction and sail north until next week's stars are published".
My ancesters clearly landed in Aotearoa in the middle of a summer's heat wave, like the lovely summer we had this past season. My chiefly (yes, of course I have come from high ranking chief descent) greatest grand ancesters must have disembarked from their canoes, unloaded all their gear, built their teatree huts, and decided this was a great, lovely, sunny, warm and abundant place so they would stay. But then winter would have come. Why didn't they jump back into their canoes and row north ? - to somewhere like Vanuatu, Fiji, Cook Islands, Noumea or better still, Hawaii? Then I wouldn't now be in cold, cold Taupo with a bitterly colder breeze, maybe I would have been on the Big Island or Tahiti or some other Pacific isle enjoying sunshine, surf, white sand and Malibu cocktails.
I had to rise reasonably early in the cold Auckland temperature this morning to catch my own waka. A flying waka with the koru painted on the tail. That was scary enough, it was the width of my own kayak waka at home in the garage - only one seat on each side of the isle. And the gusts at Auckland Airport were gusting gustily. Was not going to be the lovely, smooth flight of the concord that I had woken up this morning in the hope of having.
But it got here, without incident. Thank goodness for that. Why? Because to get to my flying waka I had to climb into my own grey wakavan at home and drive to the waka-port to catch the flying-waka.
It wasn't long after sunrise, only the sun did not rise this morning - well, if it did, there were too many grey or grey-black clouds in the sky that were intermittently throwing down heavy sheets of rain onto us. I had just driven my waka-van onto the south-western motorway when one of those torrential down pours began to make driving over 80 kilometres per hour very hazardous. There was little or no other traffic on this waka motorway at this time on such a wet morning but I still kept tidily into the left hand lane and kept my speed to 80kph or less. Headlights on as it was nigh impossible to see.
Then passing me in the right hand lane was a grey car, literally skidding through the inches of water on the roadway, sending great sheets of spray wildly to each side of it, spraying my windscreen even more, making my travelling that much riskier that before. This car zapped passed with such unnecessary speed that I shook my head at the stupidity. Well at least it had it's headlights on, I had thought. It continued to speed ahead of me and some 100 metres further on indicated to pull into the lane in front of me. What caused it, I don't know, but suddenly the car went into a total spin - such a spin that it reminded me of one of those fire cracker spinning wheels that sprays sparks into the air. This vehicle, with it's headlights flashing into me each time the car spun uncontrolably around in it's circle, was spraying water everywhere.
The adrenaline in me shot through my system and the body went into automatic mode - amazing how it does that - I immediately knew not to put my own brakes on hard as I knew I would end up spinning but before I could do anything the car in front came to a stop on the side of the road. It had not hit the concrete barrier, it stopped on the other side. It had not hit me, not another car, as there were no other cars.
Pulled my own car over just a few metres in front of this and ran to the car. As I did this two other vehicles came along and had obviously seen this display from further back.
Got to the car and opened the door and heard the screams of the two children in the back. Both were buckled in and were still sitting safely in their child seats. Mother was belted in on the front seat but was screaming. They were all screaming. They had all had a huge fright. One can sum up a situation very quickly and I noted everyone seemed safe, there was not bodies strewn within the car, all were still belted in, there was no broken glass, not broken panels - nothing seemed to be damaged - except for a frantic mother screaming at nothing and the two children in the back doing the same. Other people came up to the car. They opened the back doors and tried to settle the children whilst I tried to calm the mother down. She was of Indian descent, and a mental mess. Held a hand and tried to talk calmly to her. She settled. The children didn't.
It took a few minutes for us to have them all quiet and realise they were all OK. The car engine was still running, even it was unharmed. Fortunately the heavy shower had passed and other cars had stopped to help. After a few minutes of realising all was well and that the other people were doing very well at helping this family I returned to the safety of my own vehicle and gently pulled away. Funnily enough, I began shaking. I realised how lucky that mother and her children were. I realised how lucky I was not to have been hit. I realised how stupid she was to have driven so fast in such wet condition. Sure, she was not speeding, but she had not driven to the conditions. I bet she will in future.
My eyes dropped to the dashboard clock. Oh my god. I had spent longer there than I had thought. It was 7.45 am and my plane to Taupo was due to leave at 8.10 am. I had to get to the airport, park, walk to domestic and be checked in. Supposed to be checked in by 7.50 am.
Try driving to and airport, late for a plane, on a wet, wet road, in strong gusts, with your flight going in less than half an hours, after witnessing a near accident without your heart rate rising, blood pressure pumping and thoughts of a long and unwanted drive to Taupo coming up.
Got to the airport car park, ran to the terminal and sure enough, the check in machine told me I was too late. Went to a counter to try my best - after all, it was only two or three minutes after 8 o'clock (I had performed a miracle to get there by then) but was rejected by the poe-faced Air NZ employee, which I knew I would be. Went to another, same result. Told me I would have to pay and catch the next flight down. It wasn't until 3 pm. The seminar is at 1 pm. Texted Cam, and Janette & Maria from Ironman, to let them know I would have to drive down.
Bum, bum, bum. I wanted to get on that flying-waka. I did not wish to be encased in my own big waka-van for 7 hours today.
Then walked, literally, into Cam - he pointed out boarding had not yet been called, clearly the flight was a little late - so went with him to a nice, matronly looking Air NZ clerk at the boarding desk - gave her a quick precise of what had happened - she took my boarding card and booked me on. Could have hugged her.
That is, until I saw how narrow these little Taupo-flying-wakas were. Maybe 7 hours in my big waka-van may not have been a bad idea.
Too late. And now I am here. Filling in the time and wishing to stay in here in the warmth until I text for my pick up ride to take me to the Taupo Events Centre to organise the seminar.
Was supposed to be such a pleasant, easy way to pass a day. All the planning was done by the girls at Ironman, my scheduling done perfectly. I'll blame it back onto my Maori ancesters - had they packed up and found a warmer, drier place to live and procreate until my arrival on earth, I wouldn't have had to drive down that wet, dangerous piece of motorway - I wouldn't have had a near death accident - I wouldn't be sitting in here trying to keep warm. I'd be on the golden sands, ordering my next cocktail.
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