The View is Worth It

Tauranga is situated on a network of inlets and channels that snake in all directions: when you’re here, you’re near the ocean, no matter which side of town you’re on. Vast stretches of mud run underneath the bridges at low tide, and fishing boats huddle together in the deeper pools.

Mount Mangenui stands across the narrow water, dominating the view. It’s a volcano, and emerges from the flat surroundings, impossibly lush and green, like a child’s drawing of a mountain, with the snow part cut off. A thriving town known locally as The Mount clusters in its shadow.

Naturally, with a volcano on the horizon, I had no other impulse than to climb to its summit and look around.

After six weeks living in Tauranga, my opportunity finally came disguised as a shopping trip.

One afternoon, Bridgette, the sous chef, came over and sat down at the bar. She looked different with her hair down, without the white chef uniform. She’s quite a beautiful girl, to tell you the truth. I plunked a Cherry Coke down in front of her, and she and Alley began to make plans for their day off.

The conversation quickly turned to Alley’s recent discovery: the fact that, in New Zealand, I don’t own a hair dryer, curling iron, or make-up; don’t have high heels or stockings, nail polish or a cocktail dress – not even a bra with an underwire.

After expressing incredulity that I would voluntarily live without such necessities, Alley had a moment of inspiration.

Thus, the shopping trip officially came into being.

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Alley and I work closely together. She’s such an easygoing, positive person, full of energy and conversation, that it’s easy to pass a day at work with her. She has a bit of a femme fatal look about her, with her dark hair, dark eyeliner, and signature red lipstick – but she’s way too sweet to be dangerous.

As it turned out though, Alley wasn’t feeling well the next morning. Bridgette texted me and offered to pick me up anyway. We weren’t necessarily going to buy anything, but we wanted to look around, and maybe have lunch.

Waiting for Bridgette to arrive, I had a moment of nerves, worried about hanging out with someone new. What would we even talk about? Since Bridgette and I work in different spheres, I hadn’t had much opportunity to get to know her.

Of course, I had a blast. I felt at ease around her right away, and soon we were chatting and laughing like we’d done it a hundred times before.

The day was sunny and warm. Magnolia trees were opening their tulip flowers, and orange butterflies were dancing in the long grass. We drove toward The Mount, and I watched the volcano as it spun toward us, drawing us inward on bridges like the spokes of a wheel.

We ended up at a shopping center called Bayfair. (The exact marriage of Bay Center and Mayfair – at last!) We had Indian for lunch, and wandered from shop to shop, trying on clothes until we grew bored. Knowing I couldn’t actually afford a single stitch of clothing took some of the fun out of it for me, and I think Bridgette could tell that my head wasn’t really in the game.

“So what do you want to do now?” she asked, as we finished lunch.

“Um,” I said.

“Hey!” she said. “Want to go up the Mount?”

“Yes!” I said. “Yes I do!”

That I could afford.

So we jumped in her car and drove toward the hulk in the distance, along ocean-view boulevards, past tall apartment buildings and expensive-looking chalets, until we came upon a gorgeous stretch of beach and the foot of the mountain.

On our way to the top, we were stopped by a bug-eyed man wearing a bike helmet, who warned us about the imminent doom of humankind: the nuclear meltdown brewing in America.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I told him and we made our exit.

The trail leading to the top was virtually one immense staircase – a little like the Aztec pyramids, only taller and more intense. The stairs, although helpful, appeared to have been built for people with enormously long legs and tiny feet, and zigzagged to the top without remorse. We hoofed up, Bridgette leading the way easily.

“Come on,” she encouraged me. “The view is worth it.”

I stopped to take pictures of sheep grazing in terraced meadows, and impossibly cluttered boulders that seemed to boil up out of the tall grass, like tombstones. They cast long shadows in the winter sun.

Sometimes I took pictures just for an excuse to rest.

Finally, we crested the summit, the trees giving way to a stunning view. I felt triumphant (and winded) as we followed the trail from one lovely vista to the next. By the time the trail bent downhill again, I had regained my breath and felt ready to go up again.

Or, I at least felt ready for some water.

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The following week, I received another text from Bridgette, inviting me on another hike. She’d mentioned a waterfall on the outskirts of town, and I was keen (of course) to check it out.

The day was, if possible, even more pristine this time. It was so warm in the sun that I ended up stripping off layer after layer – gloves, jacket, sweater – until I felt comfortable, finally, in a T-shirt. We drove with the windows down.

This time, the trail led mostly downhill toward the river. (I knew I’d have to regain the altitude at some point, but I pushed those kinds of negative thoughts away.) We rushed down, through mud and down rough staircases, until we reached a trail that led us along the river’s edge.

There were several waterfalls, actually. And someone had (ingeniously) cut stairs out of the clay, making quite a spectacular sight. I even managed to snap a couple of photos before my camera battery died.

Eventually, the staircases led us back up to the car park. Bridgette drove me back to town in time for our weekly work meeting, at noon.

Since it was so sunny, everyone clustered outside, drinking coffee and waiting for a manager to show up and read us the sales figures for the week. It was a boring half-hour, but we all liked to see each other anyway.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in pleasant solitude, mentally preparing myself for the work week ahead.

I couldn't help but mull over the fact that, like a long and rewarding hike, sometimes it's the struggles in life that make happiness more worthwhile. Toiling up the side of the mountain is more sweet for the feeling of accomplishment and reward you get when you stand at the top and take in the view. For me, although my time here in New Zealand has not always been easy, the view has definitely been worth it.