Hero or Villain?

This could be the most controversial blog I ever post. You see I’m in turmoil. Being brought up in Cleveland, or if you prefer North Yorkshire, Captain James Cook is a bit of a local hero. A rags to riches story as a farmer’s son overcomes his lowly status and eventually sets off to discover the world. And there’s the problem. The world didn’t need discovering because it was already there and, bad luck old chap, there were locals who inhabited this New World. Still, they weren’t British people, or even European so therefore it didn’t count. Carry on and plonk a flag and claim the land in the name of King and Country.

Visiting Ships Cove, at the start of our four day hike along the Queen Charlotte Sound, and the huge memorial to Captain Cook is a reminder to how his exploits really changed the face of Aotearoa. James Cook arrived here in 1770, lay anchor and set about ship repairs and traded with the locals for fresh supplies. Quite how he managed to find his way from a small island in the northern hemisphere, to an as yet uncharted island in the South Pacific one can only wonder. But like any story, there are two sides. Inconveniently, Polynesian sailers had already achieved such a feat some 300 years previously. If James Cook’s voyage is worthy of marvel, then spare a thought or two for the Polynesians who did the same without the might of the Royal Navy behind them. With just stars, clouds and ocean currents as a guide, these sailors navigated across the huge Southern Pacific discovering small islands and atolls before finally settling in Aotearoa. One of the last land masses on earth to be discovered.

Next year marks the 250th anniversary of Cook’s discovery and it is already building up to be a controversial milestone. Celebrations and protests are planned and this is where I begin to struggle. Why shouldn’t some be allowed to celebrate the anniversary of his arrival? It is, after all a significant part of New Zealand history and marked a turning point for the country. Similarly, James Cook is a local hero to me. He’s from where I’m from. I’ve visited the museum dedicated to his life and exploits during his three voyages around the world, have been to his home town and have bought an ice cream from the shop next door to where he was brought up. Incidentally, if you’re wondering where the actual house that he was raised in has gone to, it’s in Melbourne. In Australia in case you were wondering. It was sold and moved brick by brick and is now a visitors centre in a city park. It’s quite an odd feeling to step out of the scorching Melbourne sun and into the coolness and of a stone walled cottage, whilst a young student, no doubt earning some money to pay their way through university, tells you all about sash windows as if they were some exotic thing from a far-away land. Which I guess they are. 

But just as he’s my hero, I can also appreciate the destructive impact his arrival had on New Zealand. Whilst he might not have been a brutal colonialist, unlike some I could mention, his arrival nevertheless heralded the arrival of the Europeans whether the inhabitants liked it or not. And, as history will remind us again and again, you can’t trust us. 

So it was with those thoughts in my mind, we set off along the shoreline towards Furneaux Lodge, the first stop on our four day hike. Just as the European in me wants to celebrate the occasion and, I’m almost ashamed to admit, gives me a small sense of pride that a young lad from North Yorkshire circumnavigated the globe not once, but three times, I can also appreciate why others may not feel the same way. 

Best not to dwell on it too much, I can’t change it, and there’s four hours of walking ahead of me. So, with the deep blue of the Pacific ocean surrounding me, and the heat of the sun above, I press on through the New Zealand bush towards Endeavour Inlet. Blast, there’s always something there to remind me!

Sounds About Right

When you’re head down in work and so busy that you don’t find time to look up (hey stop sniggering you lot, I do work hard!) it’s easy to forget what lies on your doorstep.

That’s why for this long-weekend we hopped a plane....technically two planes, but the second might be more accurately described as a bus with wings....and headed to Picton in Marlborough.

Admittedly Marlborough is not exactly on the doorstep of Auckland but it’s a damn-sight closer than a lot of other places. And what’s the point of living in New Zealand if you don’t take advantage of living in the second most beautiful county in the world. I’m not going to name names, but there are people we know who had lived here for over ten years and have never been to the South Island. Stayed resolutely in the North, let alone walked/tramped across its stunning coastline, alongside its rivers or up its mountains. And just as there are those who never venture south, others never travel north to sit on its golden beaches or marvel at the volcanic craziness. Sheer lunacy. Not us though - we want to explore every nook and cranny of this land. Anyway, I digress.

For those who may not be aware, Marlborough is famous for two things; wine and the Sounds. “Ahh, so that’s why your there!” Indeed. Rather than head to foreign lands this weekend, we down in the South Island to enjoy some wine and walking. Or tramping if you prefer.

I’d imagine everyone is familiar with New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. If not - go and find out. But the Sounds is not a reference to popular music, but I can see how you could make that mistake.

Covering some 4,000 km2 of sounds, islands, and peninsulas, the Marlborough Sounds lie at the South Island's north-easternmost point, between Tasman Bay in the west and Cloudy Bay in the south-east. The almost fractal coastline has 1/5 of the length of New Zealand's coast.

The bags are packed, the maps have been consulted and the scroggin is at the ready, for tomorrow we catch a boat to Ship Cove where we’ll start the 70km hike along Marlborough Sounds to Anakiwa. It’s going to be an arduous task and a test of our physical and mental strength. Sure, our bags are being transported by boat to each of our overnight stops and of course we’re staying in lodges and hotels who will provide us with hot towels, a cooked breakfast and packed lunch. But besides that we’re out on our own. Just us, our keen sense of direction and our wits. I just hope we survive.

But that’s tomorrow. For now we’re Enjoying the last few rays of sunshine and tucking into fish and chips, all washed down with the local brew, Sauvignon Blanc. Well you need some comfort before four days out in the wilderness!