An undying sense of brooding and a craving for attention. Tangible from afar.
I would usually begin many of my morning walks down Ocean Beach Road or heading up on top of that grand dame; my eyes would be drawn to her magnificent sight or out to sea, admiring her poise and dignity, relishing her in all her moods.
Since 9.30am on January 22, 2025, which happens to be our wedding anniversary. The moment things changed dramatically, drastically, fatally, not in our marriage; it was the big slip that managed to be so dramatic.
That event seems more poignant as we head into this year’s Matariki. Which is known as the Māori New Year in Te Ao Māori and a time to reflect on Mātauranga Māori (ancestral knowledge and wisdom), which is at the heart of Māori New Year celebrations.
One particular morning walk, she made herself more noticeable, a big effort; she had put on her best hat. It was a sassy, frothy little number of white, misty organza. Sea smog. Eerie, but she wore it well. It billowed cheekily from her waist, just below the bush line, and tumbled away into the tide below. Her upper reaches, a rich Linwood green bodice and crown, soared 232 metres into the skyline.
She looked magnificent.
Flouncing in finery
I’ve often seen her in a bonnet, a white smudge, a ‘cap cloud’ they call it, sitting stationary atop her peak. I’ve seen her obliterated by storm clouds, but I’ve never seen her flouncing in her finery, her party dress. “Do I have your attention again?” she seemed to be asking. “Do you like what you see?”
Well, yes, I do. Very much. She had inveigled her way back into my life with a bit of frippery. I liked that and promised I would drop by and say, Kia Ora. Because she loves attention, she’s a diva, a mountain amongst hills. She needs people crawling over her, around her, scrambling up her, abseiling down her, soaring off her, photographing her.
The party dress of sea smog had been burned off by a sun yawning awake on the eastern horizon. She is true to her Māori name – “caught by the light of the day”. The party dress is back in the closet, and Mauao, The Mount, is in her daywear.
From where I stand across from her on Ocean Beach Road, she reminds me that she is indeed a “symbol of empowerment”. There are many people she has assisted to regain their own sense of power by walking her many tracks. So, to me, Mauao is also a monument to women’s independence and strength. A mountain of many hats.
While she stands proudly, we wait patiently.
Well, some of us seem to find that impossible and indulge in being anonymous online warriors with comments not worth repeating. So we ignore them, gaze at her beauty from afar, and wish her a speedy recovery, as we really do miss her nurturing us in so many ways.
Life at No. 22 