I was lucky enough to get a holiday with my daughters this school break.
Building up to it, I was excited to head out of town, spend time with family and get some rest and relaxation under the belt.
There was also an underlying sense of interest - andperhaps even nervousness - in what would be our first drive across the Napier-Taupō highway after the cyclone devastated that part of Hawke’s Bay so drastically. Loading the car up with snacks and bags, it was, for all intents and purposes, a completely normal Napier day, involving a quick trip to the supermarket to grab a pie at the bakery and get ready to go.
Turning on to State Highway 5, you are instantly greeted by silt. The small property to the right is the first indication of the sheer volume of water that must have moved through the once-pristine and beautiful valley.
The sheer magnitude of the task ahead of getting the region back to an even remotely normal state quickly becomes apparent, as traffic lights and one-way lanes start to appear, and the silt-filled orchards still sit neck-deep in damp, hard-packed soil as apple fall from the top branches of the trees, small pops of colour among what is now a brown and grey landscape.
Familiar landmarks that earlier in the year wouldn’t have even got a second glance now look unfamiliar and out of place, with debris, dirt and devastation surrounding them. The small church that once sat among pristine gardens now looked lonely and forlorn.
Tractors, off-road vehicles, cars and campervans still sit sideways, upside-down, or filled to the roof with muck, irreparable and still unmoved from the place the raging torrent took them.
And most striking were the homes. The houses where people raised their children, ate their meals, sat in front of the TV and lived their lives. Branches extend from windows and spray-paint adorns doors, some without walls, unrecognisable as they dot the barren landscape.
I thought of the people still coming to terms with such immeasurable loss as I started to make my way out of the valleys and into the hills that so callously directed the water in such a brutal way, and as I started to make my way toward good times with my family, I shed a tear for those who had that taken away so abruptly. I hope you’ve found some joy this school holidays, and you hug your loved ones tight. Kia Kaha!
