Life at No.22, Snapshots of Tauranga

Snapshots of Tauranga #27

Suzanne

One way of coping at present is to look ahead at the possibilities of things I could achieve, obviously, many of you will guess that one of those goals will include long-distance walking, no, not a half marathon, which I have completed 12 and that is enough for me to retire on, in the future my walks will be a slowish amble through countryside or wherever I choose to keep moving. Though I haven’t written about my walking here recently, mainly due to doing repetitive walks, or some not-so-picturesque ones, most of which I’ve already written about.

Walks are for Noticing

Blue Mushroom is mostly common in the thicker bush areas of the Kaimai Ranges.

As a younger tramper (hiker), I always wanted to see what was around the corner. I took pride in bouncing ahead of others without my poles or proving my ability with fellow hikers. Later, I realised I didn’t have to do “fast.” Let’s be honest: my knees would protest loudly without poles to steady me, and I don’t do real mountains.

When I slowed down, I realised this is achievable when solo walking, and I need to be with my thoughts and nature more lately than ever. I’m noticing the possibility that a rock could be a fossil, a cloud, or a dragon breathing fire.

Viewing the rocky shore while walking around Mauao. Where it’s a “thing” for people to climb up, though, has much more cultural value than an exercise venue.
Driftwood and dried seaweed
McLaren Falls – 10 mins by car from our back door.

In Spain, while housesitting, I walked at the pace of the aged dogs and other farm animals on the windy rural roads, admiring the olive pickers in the valleys and almond trees in blossom scattered on the surrounding hill areas. I noticed everything that moved and things that did not, and I was hungry to absorb my new surrounding area.

On my latest walks around Summerhill, the Papamoa Hills, and various Tauranga estuaries, I take in sounds, sights and smells I would have missed in earlier years. A flock of birds over the still waters; the sound of heavy wings most certainly is a tui or, hopefully, a kererū, although too quick for me on most days to spot them flying metres away from the walking track.

Then there was that moment with my previously owned big camera, I snapped this kererū.

Slow hiking is not for everyone. Slow for me is still keeping a good pace, taking in my surroundings instead of rushing past.

The farm walks like the one I enjoyed this week are perfect for those who prefer silence to the sound of their heartbeat ringing in their ears and, of course, the strong westerly making it’s presence known.

Modern life is hardly possible without hurrying to do all that needs to be done. Slow hiking is a chance to clear one’s mind of the responsibilities of daily life and take in what surrounds us. 

"What is this life if, 
full of care
We have no time to stand and stare?"
 
Welsh poet WH Davies, who spent much of his life travelling on foot.

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Published by Suzanne

I'm a lover of creativity and movement, expressed through photography, words, travel and sports. . . . . . .

38 thoughts on “Snapshots of Tauranga #27”

    1. It has it’s good points as well as a few disagreeable ones. The positive outweigh the negative and we’re very fortunate to have so many trails to enjoy cycling or walking.

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  6. This made my eyes “sweat.” I learned slow walking from my dog, Bear. I wrote a post about it sometime, but I can’t find it. In short, I was a few months from my second hip replacement and I was in pain. Bear was a young dog, but Livestock Guardian dogs only hurry in emergencies. We went for a walk. I was frustrated with myself, at how slowly I walked. Bear stopped and wouldn’t move. I got irked, but I surrendere and looked where she was looking. There along the river about 1/2 km away, in the trees, were about thirty elk. That was it for me. I used to run trails. It was a difficult adjustment to the body that was worn out from that, but wow. The rewards are consistent and real. The poem at the end is beautiful. All walks heal, but slow walks heal softly, with tenderness.

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  7. You can be absorbed in nature and forget your cares for a little while, Suzanne. The blue mushroom is weird! I generally walk with a group so it’s not so easy to stop and stare, but I still do it. On Sunday we had a lovely walk- new to me- up in the hills. I walked and chatted for a while, then distanced myself from the others so that I could really enjoy and appreciate xx

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  10. You’re so right to draw attention to the benefits of taking your time and noticing your surroundings. I love the details you’ve photographed, especially that stunning blue mushroom. And the quote from WH Davies is spot-on, although I was also reminded of another saying: stop and smell the roses.

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  12. So many gorgeous photos, Suzanne! That blue mushroom is stunning. I can understand the need to get out in nature for slow walks. Now and always, really. The ending quote is so apt. How can really really notice our surroundings if we don’t stop and stare?

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    1. Exactly, Eilene. I even noticed something comical the other day, a young woman using a treadmill situated behind a shop counter. Yes, it was a beauty clinic 😉 Made me laugh.

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  14. A blue mushroom! That’s amazing, ours are drab brown. I adore the photo of the waterfall. It is something I never see, so it seems exotic to me. Thanks for sharing it here.

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  15. Your photos are beautiful, Suzanne. I’m a walker much like you – minus the skill with a camera – Lol. I like to take in the surroundings, to appreciate all the beauty, the fresh air, the animals and trees, all the wild things. Thanks for taking me along.

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    1. Thanks very much, Diane. I’m not so much a photographer now as I once was due to aging eyesight 😉 More so, I enjoy the quickness of a phone and not the bulkiness of a larger camera. Some of the images I took with my camera are my favourites. The more purist of photographers would disagree with that statement 😉

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  18. Pingback: Jo’s Monday walk : Italica | Still Restlessjo

  19. This is a beautiful post Suzanne. And I can absolutely relate. There’s something about slow walking that awakens the senses. When I broke my ankle last year I realised how much I took my well worn feet for granted. Now I’m fine again but I still prefer a slow meander. With Harry too before he passed I used to take him out and he’d enjoy a “sniff stroll”, there was nothing rushed about it. Dogs know how to walk mindfully!

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    1. Thanks, Miriam and I agree we all take things for granted until they’re not working. I laughed at this morning’s basketball game when one of the older players said, “I think I will stop playing when I’m 85”. We all laughed and told her she will tell us when she’s 85 that 90 is the cut-off time 🙂 At 83, 9 times out of 10, she still gets the ball into the hoop, unlike us youngsters 😉

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