Fifty shades of Age

I know it’s just a number, but the day I reached my half century was pretty special.

Being weird means you might get weird presents on your birthday....

I have a happy, fulfilling and probably somewhat-sheltered life.  I’m quick to acknowledge those I owe my contentment to - fiercely-loving, brave, pioneering parents who came halfway across the world in search of a better existence, an incredible woman sharing my life who is probably the best thing about me, and a few, long-suffering friends who enrich my life in ways they’ll never know.

I turned fifty this week, an occurrence which both astonishes and pleases me at the same time - like reaching a far-off destination in good time and on less fuel and monetary expenditure than you expected.

But last year, I had a pretty wretched birthday - choosing to spend it at work and by sheer bad luck having a ‘lousy day at the office’.  On top of this my Facebook privacy settings somehow decided to conceal the fact that it was my birthday, and anyone who might have cared remained blissfully unaware that the day was significant to me.

I wasn’t about to repeat this mistake for my fiftieth and so took the day itself, and those either side, off (and re-checked my Facebook settings).

Rose began her schedule of ‘secret’ events by inviting nearby friends and neighbours for pre-birthday drinks on Sunday afternoon.  I think I’m a much more relaxed guest than host, but having so many familiar faces give their time to gather for my benefit is something you can’t help but enjoy.  Bringing them all together also gave many an opportunity to catch up, and it was heart-warming to see so many friends in animated conversation with each other, on our deck,  on a perfect summer’s afternoon.

My birth date itself dawned hot, with the traditional opening of cards in bed.  

Rose’s card came with the message : “This is a day full of clues which need to be solved…” and proved to be the case at each stage of an unforgettable birthday.

I steadfastly failed to decipher the clever and rhyming clues which came with a new gift at each destination, but was very happy to be led by the nose through the day.  

Clues and itinerary, one of the best organisers on the planet
made no exception on my birthday

Beginning with breakfast at our favourite Greytown cafe, we headed to Wellington for the next stage of the adventure.  Incredibly, we met with wind and rain on our journey, but this rapidly began to disappear as we reached the capital. Free-forming until the sun was shining fully again, we ducked into Te Papa to see the acclaimed Scale of our War ANZAC exhibition, but queues formed from the passengers of the two enormous cruise ships docked in the harbour sent us to the Dreamworks exhibition instead.  

A swooping, very wide-screen dragon flight through the world of How to train
your Dragon is an exhilarating highlight of the Dreamworks exhibition

It might have been second choice, but I’m so glad we saw the beautifully designed celebration of this studio’s art and creativity (including the actual greenhouse set from Curse of the Were-Rabbit!).  There’s nothing like a sharp reminder of how an illustrator might not have tried hard enough, and missed his calling, on his 50th birthday…

All too soon it was time to board the East by West Ferry fro our trip to Days Bay, on the far side of the harbour.  The day was hot and sunny by this time, and we sat up on the top deck, taking in views of the harbour we haven’t seen since living in this city.  We crossed the wake of the recently passed Interislander and picked up some of the larger vessel's ocean-going companions as they turned to follow us instead - yes, I even got dolphins on my birthday!

The original plan had been to paddle board at Days Bay, but being behind schedule and a northerly breeze made us quite happy to park this activity for another time - as long as I got into the sea at some point I’d be more than happy.

"We're on a boat!"

We had a wonderful lunch at the Cobar restaurant, looking out across the harbour from a shaded outside table, watching the local school take to the water on their ‘beach day’, the squeals of delight reminding me how I used to, and still feel about getting into water at any opportunity.

We swam out to an anchored raft straight after lunch, the sea surprising Rose with how much warmer it is than the Wairarapa rivers we’re used to.  I carried on to the Day’s Bay wharf, and then we thad time for a coffee at another cafe before catching the ferry back again.

Judging by that smile I’m not the only one who loves being in the sea on a hot afternoon.

At a couple of points during the afternoon it looked as if the sun might finally be disappearing behind hazy high cloud for good, but every time it seemed to blast out with full force again (as evidenced by Rose’s ruddy complexion when we got home ).

Passing Te Papa again on the way back to the car, we decided to try our luck with the Scale of our War exhibition again, and this time we got straight in.  Not only was the detail of the oversized human figures overwhelmingly impressive, from magnified stitching and shoelaces to skin pores and stubble, but the Gallipoli-themed installation was naturally very moving.  

Richard Taylor touches up one of the gigantic recreations of an Anzac combatant
in the Scale of Our War exhibition.

A beautiful home-cooked meal marked the end of a very full and indulgent day.  Relaxing with a movie, whisky in hand and skin pleasantly taut with an abundance of sun and sea spray is my favourite way to end any day.  Unwilling to let it all end, I stayed up late, watching a movie and responding to birthday wishes on Facebook (yes, the settings worked properly this time).

As I self-indulgently reflect on my rather selfish life so far I realise that it isn’t really about me.  What makes me smile now, and always, are the wonderful people I’ve met along the way. 

Coming 'round the Fountain

I’m just swimming on the top of the Bay...

I have a somewhat selfish life, able to enjoy freedoms and choices which many my age, with young families, might find more difficult.  No doubt they enjoy other benefits, and I can still enjoy time with their kids; so I assume it will all even out one day.

However, two and a half hours of my every working day are taken up by a commute which, although I’ve learned to make the most of, does equate to an awful lot of time spent sitting on one of the bodies’ most powerful muscles.

So I try to make the most of lunch-breaks when I can get them, and in the warmer months this means swimming. 
An hour allows me to get down to Oriental Bay, quickly swim out to one of the rafts anchored there, and then be back at my desk, generally feeling somewhat revitalised, if a little salt-encrusted.  As predicted by many, we are enjoying a very late summer and the weather since mid February, especially recently, has become settled and often hot.  But now that April has begun I felt that my swimming days must surely be coming to a close until next summer, and I was keen to end on a high note.

When I first lived in Wellington, I recall that swimming out to Carter’s Fountain was the thing to do (possibly the rafts didn’t exist then) and, although all these years later I felt daunted by the extra distance, this was to be my goal.

Choppy seas and maintenance on the fountain thwarted my first attempts, and the only opportunity left was going to be straight after an appointment for some major dental work - which was hardly ideal.

 

The Oriental Bay raft can be seen to the left of the fountain.

Numb-faced and invoice-shocked I turned up at the beach to discover impossibly perfect conditions. A complete lack of breeze and cloud left the entire harbour mirror smooth and sparkling, while a very low tide exposed more golden sand than usual.  It had to be a good omen and I wasted no time in wading into the surprisingly warm water, able to cover some distance on foot before submerging.

I should mention that although I love any kind of water, I am not a technically proficient swimmer.  I can sustain a reasonably strong and regular stroke, but never really learned the correct ‘head turning breathing’ and tend to swim comfortably with my head above the water.  With little body mass, I’m very buoyant and aren’t looking to break any records, so have never felt the need to do otherwise.

I also have a very active imagination, so sometimes when I feel far from shore with an unknown watery void beneath me… my mind creates pictures like this:

Eyeless, glistening black things with mouths like icicle ringed-cave entrances; slime draped lampreys writhing, fastening and burrowing into guts; the sudden, searing lash of  stingray tail; a shark punching a jagged, red hollow in your body before even being seen…

Obviously, it’s best not to conjure these images when you feel as if you’re in the middle of the harbour.  The water went suddenly cold and I realised that I’d reached the shadow of the plume straight jetting upwards from the fountain, completely vertical due to the lack of breeze.  Circling around its base and back into the sunlight I felt elated and confident, so instead of returning to the shore, I struck out towards the nearby raft.  This was one of those rare times when an intimidating physical challenge turns out to be far easier than expected.

The raft was reached and I continued towards the shore, my arms seemingly keeping rhythm of their own accord.  And it was at this height of my self-satisfaction that I glimpsed the large black shape moving underneath me, and all my nightmarish images came crashing back.  I halted suddenly, and so did it.

The day was so unusually still and the water so clear that my own shadow was cast perfectly onto the sandy bottom below me – I had literally terrified myself.

 

On my way back to shore, I was trailed by a sinister, dark shape in the water below.

A brief contended wallow in the shallows allowed me to sooth my jangled nerves, and then I was trotting back along the sand towards work. Oriental Bay had never looked so beautiful.

I'm walking here

As the weather settles and warms in seasonal fits and bursts,
here is my second ‘spring essay’.

 

With apologies to Solace in the wind

I’m convinced that the phrase “You can’t beat Wellington on a good day” was coined in summertime, at Oriental parade.  The Wellington sea front from Frank Kitts promenade, sweeping past Chaffer’s Marina to Oriental Bay and on to Point Jerningham beyond, is a golden mile (actually 3 km) of vibrancy and beauty rivalling any urban shore in the world.

The best part is that our waterfront isn’t just to be enjoyed on weekends, mental health days or by visiting tourists – for many of us it’s almost literally on our employer’s doorstep. Assuming you can get an hour for lunch (never certain these days) and the weather gods are smiling, the sea is within the easy reach of we drones from central business district. It’s a much healthier option than sitting at your desk, dropping bits of lunch into your keyboard – and cheaper than failing not to spend money on Lambton Quay.

A quick walk through Civic square – one of Wellington’s most successful sun (or wind) traps depending on the weather, over the Para Machitt land sea bridge, and the sparkling harbour is laid out before you.

Circling around the north bank of the lagoon – taking time to see if any stingrays have returned after last summer’s Orca banquet – leads you to the promenade running between Frank Kitts Park and the sea.  This sunny stretch of concrete can be a perilous place early in the morning, as cycling commuters in lycra nightmares seem to regard it as a velodrome, and anyone on foot as a hindrance to their personal time trial. But by lunchtime sanity is restored and the walker reigns supreme once more - not counting the inline skaters, of course. 

Alternatively, if you’re in it for the long haul, cut across to the far corner of Hikitea wharf, where 'jumpers' used to be seen launching themselves the beautifully designed spiral staircase tower and plummeting into narrow gap of water below.  This sculptural monument to exhilaration has sadly been closed since last summer, whether because of harbour bacteria as claimed, or deadlier nanny state-motivated back-tracking, remains unclear  

Once past this former spectacle you’re in crocodile bike territory.  These always make me smile and wonder if I’ll ever be able to find three willing people to hire one with me.  Very tame as a far as an item on anyone’s ‘bucket list’ is concerned, but it’s there all the same.  Also raising a smile is the Solace in the wind statue, always happy to have his hand held in a group photograph, although he never faces the camera.  I now put this down to failing eyesight, but at first glimpse I assumed he was one of those once-common street performers who used to paint themselves head-to-foot in a single colour and hold the same pose for amazing lengths of time – just like a statue, really.  It was the complete lack of clothing which dissuaded me from examining more closely. 

Eventually you pass some waterfront cafes and then catch sight of the forest of masts at the Chaffer’s marina. Dipping down below the Oriental parade footpath level to walk past the brightly coloured doors of the boat sheds, you can avoid the legions of sweaty lunchtime runners, bereft of their cell phones but still able to talk work via staccato gasps and grunts, and almost believe that you’re in a smaller, quieter seaside town.  The chlorine-scented monolith of Freyberg pool looms and it’s time to briefly rejoin the throng before dipping back down to my own regular destination in summer – Oriental Bay beach.  The whole point of this trip for me is to get into the water as quickly as possible, swim out to the floating raft and back again, get dried, changed and back to work within an hour.  I’ve tried to explain the ‘almost physical pull’ which the sea has for me, the urge to get into the water being so strong that even jellyfish infestations or forgetting my swimming shorts hasn’t prevented me on a couple of occasions.  The ‘togs, togs, undies’ rule was inverted without any widespread panic, it was just a shame that I had to run into a long term friend of my parents on my way back out of the water. Whatever awkwardness might befall, this lunchtime dip has always been well worth it for me.  

If you are a walker rather than a swimmer, the sensuously-curving Oriental Parade sea wall can lead you ever onwards, offering an ever shifting view of the city you’ve temporarily escaped, before you have to reluctantly turn around and head back to it.

The atmosphere of carefree happiness which pervades this magical edge of the harbour can sometimes lead you to believe that everyone else is still on holiday.  But for a precious hour you too can stretch your legs, fill your lungs and enjoy the best that the waterfront has to offer, free of charge and without even taking leave.