The battle of the mountains: The love story that shaped our lands

He hononga maunga, he hononga whakapapa.

A connection to my mountains is a connection to my genealogy.

Such is the reverence maunga (mountains) are held by Māori.

Today, nzherald.co.nz presents a special animated video that tells the story of a clan of mountain lords in the central North Island who went to war to win the heart of the beautiful Pihanga Tīpare Uēnuku (woman sheltered by a rainbow halo).

Ngāti Tūwharetoa journalism cadet Te Kakenga Kawiti-Bishari retells this tale through stunning animation created by Herald graphics designer Ben Cummins (Ngāti Raukawa).

This is Tūwharetoa's version of that love story.

Te Pakanga o te Kāhui Maunga - The Battle of the Mountains

If you thought the mountains always sat so still, you would be mistaken.

For in the days when ground-hugging clouds still cloaked the Great-Fish-Of-Māui
there stood in the centre of the North Island an assembly of chiefs.

These are the ancient mountain lords.

The Battle of the Mountains.

Their chief was the sacred Tongariro whose body included the cloud-piercing peaks of Ngāurahoe and Ruapehu. The mere sight of him inspired awe.

To the west of Tongariro stood Taranaki. His shadow cast long upon the land.

To the south-west stood Pūtuaki and Tauhara, smaller maunga but still strong and powerful.

This was the mountain clan - proud males from a long line of chiefs.

There was only one female mountain among them, who stood to the north. Her name was Pīhanga.

Her beauty was unmatched – a rainbow of mists would rise and hang in the air like a veil - but Pīhanga was coy and shy.

All of the chiefs loved her, and each believed only they were worthy of Pīhanga's hand in marriage. But she could not decide, for she loved all of the chiefs equally.

Time passed, nights grew longer ... the cold breath of winter came and went. The summer heat thawed the snows.

And still Pīhanga would not choose.

The warriors became fed up. Jealousy and spite bubbled under the surface.

Eventually, the web of love became too much. The air itself seemed to boil.

And then… Tongariro erupted.

An awful stillness hung in the thick, dark clouds. They covered everything.

Land and sky hid in their grief.

But somewhere in that thick blanket of darkness, the bellies of the chiefs were furnaces filled with fire.

And suddenly the land itself seemed to cry out.

The war

The war began. A fearful war. Fuelled by passion, it raged for what seemed like forever.

Great clouds covered the horizon. Day and night were forgotten, and darkness ruled in the world of light.

After an eternity, the volcanoes subsided. Lava flowed, and skies cleared.

Only one mountain stood supreme: the mighty Tongariro.

Delighted, Pihanga kept him close and they became married.

The aftermath

Taranaki acknowledged Tongariro's ownership of the land, and did not wish to remain beneath his authority.

He turned to look west, to the setting sun. Taranaki decided to follow the path of the Fire-That-Eats-The-Dusk. He would be the last each day to feel the warmth of its life-giving rays.

As he journeyed west, the path he carved into the whenua is seen today as the gulleys of Manganui-o-te-ao and Wanganui River.

Eventually, he reached the coast and rested for the night among the Poukai mountain range. But when he awoke, he found that land had formed around him and he was frozen to the spot.

This is Taranaki's final resting place.

Pūtauaki moved east instead, to the Fire-That-Eats-The-Dawn.

He made it as far as Kawerau before he too became frozen.

It is here that he found his final resting place.

Tauhara was the most reluctant to leave. His mind remained consumed with passion for Pīhanga, and his heart overflowed.

He moved slowly, constantly stopping and looking back as he crossed Taupō lake. Tauhara barely made it to the north of the lake before he too found that he had become stuck to the land.

And so is the story of the giants, who once stood together to the south of Lake Taupō.

Tongariro still reigns supreme over this volcanic plateau.

Next time you pass by our mountains, don't forget that they once went to war.

And who knows, they may one day get up and do it all over again.