Scorching bay

Since I'm sitting on a bus for 6 hours, I thought maybe I'd have a go at telling you about Wednesday and my visit to Scorching bay. This was the morning I had been wallowing in self pity, desperate loneliness and apathy. The morning I was so frantic about missing out on wellington, that I couldn't make up my mind where to start, so I just sat and waited, trying to process all the possible options I had and their outcomes. This was the morning I spoke to Rhyannon and she pressed my reset button and suddenly I knew where I needed to go, that I needed to go to Scorching bay. 

I took the bus to Miramar with the intention of walking across to the bay, only Wellington is made up of long hill ridges, like fingers of green spread between suburbs and I hadn't known that one of these hills ran along between Miramar and the coast. I do now. 

Google maps has given me an incredible resource, one quick glance and I can find my way anywhere, think I'm lost and the GPS will let me know if I took a wrong turning somewhere, but what it wasn't showing me was the topography of the land, and I'm really glad of that, because when I walked towards the outer point of the Miramar peninsular with the plan to take a right and make my way two streets across to where the coastline waited, I was met with an unexpected challenge and a pretty big hill to climb. 

I like hills, they are hard to climb, sometimes a great struggle but when you reach the top, the view and sense of satisfaction you feel are a worthy reward for perseverance and determination and you walk away with greater strength. I'm pretty sure that never happens when you take shortcuts, when you rush past or always follow the easiest path. They represent so clearly the choices we face in everday life when deciding which path to choose, who wouldn't pick a hill? 

This path was a pedestrian only footpath meandering to the top, trees pressing in from the sides, sheltering above. This path might be the most beautiful path I have ever walked if only for the natural beauty and the ever present voice in my head reminding me what I would have missed had I just stayed in my room, had I not made a decision. 

It was hot, I was aware that having convinced myself it was a cold day, I was somewhat overdressed. The cicadas were deafening, a beautiful reminder of how far I'd really come, and once or twice I heard a tui singing somewhere nearby. I reached the top of the hill alive, and not quite roasted, but exhausted and feeling more alive than I had for quite some time. I marvelled at the view, I felt as if no one would believe me when I told them this vast, blue beauty existed, I wanted desperately to bring it back with me. I followed vaguely held instructions in my head, walking along the top of the hil, parallel to the sea, before reaching another pedestrian footpath and the final steps down to Scorching bay. There was a fruit tree, I do not know what kind, I could not recognise the little fruits that littered the path but the sun had heated them making the air fragrant. As I made my way back and forth down the hillside, scorching bay came into view and I was enraptured. I had lunch at the cafe by the beach, famed for being the cafe of choice for the cast shooting lord of the rings, and laid by the beach just long enough to burn my forearms. Then I walked along the coast, becoming ever more delighted by the views before finally setting back over the hill by a different path and back to darlington road, where the buses stop. It was the best day of my trip although not the happiest, intensely bittersweet, overshadowed by a wistful feeling of having to leave something behind and experiencing perfection alone. 

A piece of the view

First glimse of scorching bay

Looking back from the coastal path

An actual photo of me

Along Karaka bay road

Speaks for itself.