Between Two Minds

In a dense morning fog, causing nearby skyscrapers to seemingly puncture through the low-hanging clouds, I boarded. "So early for a Saturday," I thought as my exhaled breath quickly condensed and appropriately matched the haziness in my head. Yet I knew the fresh air, an amalgam of salty sea breeze and dewy mist, would quickly sweep out my drowsy cobwebs. The ferry pushed away from the wharf, sputtering and rumbling at first, yet nearly motionless while water churned beneath, unseen. Imperceptible and continual acceleration finally brought the boat up to cruising speed. Astern, the city center receded while its sprawl became apparent:  bridges teemed with the low thrum of traffic, cliffs crammed with million dollar homes rose along the shore, and volcanoes reached their green fists into the air, searching for the few patches of rising sunlight the fog would allow. Away from the hubbub, the journey soon became soothing as the boat dandled in mild harbor waves. The island called Rangitoto rose before me, dark and immense. Its thick tropical forest concealed the lava rock fields I knew covered the island, half a millennium old remnants of an eruption. The intrigue of exploring this deposed and desolate force of nature stirred my impatience. Moments later as the ferry approached its destination, dichotomous thoughts bounced around my now clearing mind. 

* * *

Man seems driven by inherent contradictions:  1) progress, the pursuit of a greater self brought on by conscious thought; and 2) instinct, a deeply woven base layer of human fabric. 

Progress is long term. On a personal level, it's careers, shiny new things signifying status (level up!), and striving toward leaving a mark on history. For humankind, it's improving life, building structures that touch the heavens and machines that can bend nature to our will; it's creating the best humankind there can be. 

Progress is thinking then doing. 

Instinct is short term. It's the next meal, best shelter, and survival. It's not about making history, it's about never being history. It's also a oneness with nature, hearkening back to when human settings were not something created, but merely dwelt in. 
Instinct is feeling then doing.

Progress gives us this,

Pluto from NASA's New Horizons mission. Note: this is not Auckland, could you tell? 

and this, 

Countless places to live and eat and be in comfort.

and these, 

#2 wins out in my personal beer-snob opinion.

and I guess even this?

I love this sign. You'd think common sense human brain developmental progress would prevent the need for this, but no.

But instinct draws me to the types of places/views that Rangitoto offers:

Green and looming clouds and heights.

Lava fields. A desolate reminder of the destructive force of nature.

Lava caves, cool and damp and only slightly treacherous. Cheers to Maggie for the great photos!

To sum, these two propulsive forces are contradictory, but also complement each other. The changes we humans have made to our surroundings are constantly taken for granted (look how I'm communicating with people everywhere just by clacking my fingers against some plastic, incredible!). Perhaps, then, progress is best appreciated from afar, or within the context of the nature that has molded and still stimulates our instincts.

Bustling and lost up close, beautiful at a distance.

Cheers!

This Flora seems different...

Finding inspiration to write about a place you live and work in can be somewhat difficult. Especially, as I've detailed, when you work and workout within 200 meters (218.7 yards) of where you live. Outrageously convenient, but not a lot to see and do in my triangle of everyday life. You can't squeeze water out of a brick. It's dry and inflexible, and while good for setting up foundations, it's just not very mobile or tractable. A sponge, on the other hand, seeks and soaks up liquid that surrounds it. Moist (some people really hate that word, though I quite enjoy its uniqueness). All I had to do, then, was be sponge worthy. Fortunately for me, I live in a country renowned for its grandeur and beauty, and for their relative ease of access. And from there I don't have to write much at all, just show you some pictures.

A few weekends ago I ventured out of Auckland, once again west, to an area called Huia (sharing a name with a now extinct bird). Rising and winding cliff-hugging roads brought me to a short walk, and what a path it was:

Amongst this thicket I was only slightly concerned that raptors would outsmart me at any moment.

The summit was easily scaled, providing some wonderful views:

Looking SE. 

And West to Northwest (the direction, not Kanye and Kim's child).

Pretty sure George R.R. Martin did not describe any place like this in ASoIaF.

And this past weekend I did a quick day trip to Piha with my friend Rhiannon, which is as delightfully sunny and beach-y as it sounds. First a short half hour walk to Kitekite Falls (pronounced Kee-tay-kee-tay, not kite kite):

The occasional sun rays shooting through gave this stream a milky hue.

Sun-kissed hair and  garbed in green amid the green, the perfect camouflage.

Photos are great, but they are also stagnant. A waterfall is best perceived with splashing sounds and the light tingle of its mist on your skin.

Then down to Piha beach, which is known for its black sand, a TV show detailing necessary rescues from the frothy and swirling ocean eddies, and this very large rock:

Called Lion Rock, and somehow I accidentally captured the one angle from which you might be able to convince yourself of its resemblance to a lion.

A short climb up Lion Rock and the beach in all its low-tide glory.

So don't be a brick, be a sponge.

Cheers!

Rumblings in the Deep and the Psychology of Risk

(In old-timey radio announcer voice, or this kid on a busy 1920s New York corner):

Extra! Extra! Read all about it - AUCKLAND IS A TICKING TIME-BOMB

That's right, Auckland is neatly situated upon a monogenetic volcanic field comprised of 53 volcanoes. 

I'm no cartographer, but red probably isn't a good thing.

Until reading that Wikipedia page, I had thought all of these volcanoes were extinct, like the terrifying moa, 

Moas could grow over 12 feet, 500 lbs, and had no wings! This type of chart is how all sizes should be compared.

or the Haast's eagle.

The eagles are coming! Someone invent a time machine and film "Planet Earth" a million years ago, thanks. Yeah that's the only use of a time machine I would have.

Instead, I have found (more terrifyingly) that these volcanoes are still capable of erupting and are likely to erupt within the next "hundreds to thousands of years." A random certainty? An uncertain definitive? I say a time-bomb indeed. 

As seen in many other parts of the world, the threat of natural disaster does not really dissuade anyone from moving to Auckland. In fact, Auckland is expected to grow by about a million people in the next thirty years. This isn't a surprising number, as population within cities worldwide is increasing rapidly. But it does bring up the question of coping with living in an inevitable natural disaster zone. I've been thinking about this a lot since a recent trip to Portland, OR, just days after this New Yorker article scared the bejeezus out of everyone there.

Being from the Midwest, where the worst natural disasters are school closing (hurray!) / flight delaying (not hurray) heavy snows, it's a bit difficult to wrap my head around. The same question just keeps popping into my head, "Why would someone choose to live somewhere in such potentially imminent peril?" Moreover, the solution is distinctly simple - just leave. Of course there are a plethora of answers to my question:  family, familiarity and careers being most prominent.

I suppose some aspects of natural disaster risk, as with many other things in life, are relative. It's much easier to rationalize moving to a city with an inherent risk of natural disaster by comparing it to place with an even higher risk. "At least we aren't moving to the Pacific Northwest, or Santiago, or most places in Japan." And that's fair, because a lot of places are at a much higher risk than New Zealand Kiwis, which have little else to worry about (except housing prices and sandfly bites, I guess). The relative safety argument is mostly just hiding behind a false veil. Risk rationalization ultimately comes from peoples' comfortableness and terrors regarding change. 

But this is all rather dour of me. "Where are the pictures of cool things, Eric?" I'm getting there...

Perhaps the place in which these delusional people live have so much to offer that the immediate benefits outweigh the 'sometime-in-the-future-but-an-inevitability' risks. Auckland's volcanoes supply a physical example of this dichotomy of thought. Yes they will erupt again someday, but now they provide beautiful hikable and climbable green space locales with wonderful city vistas. I've taken it upon myself to showcase a few here:

Mt. Hobson looking north as dusk and a storm roll in.

Mt. Eden - a mere ten minute run from my flat, providing towering views of nearby volcanoes...

...and the occasional double rainbow.

From atop One Tree Hill looking north, which in addition to being a U2 song and teen drama, has a pretty interesting history. Mt. St. John middle and Mt. Eden right.

One Tree Hill north-northeast.

Looking up at the One Tree Hill obelisk. Sheep in their native habitat. So. Much. Green

So. Much. Cute.

Cheers!