We Can Always Rebuild

By the end of October, 2022, I had returned to the freedom camping domain where I originally parked up in May prior to heavy rains closing the domain and I moving into a caravan for June and July while working before house- and animal-sitting for the couple whose property the caravan is on. The domain is a fantastic open space with two long-drops and 4 rubbish bins, and doubles as a night star-gazing location for any astronomy enthusiasts (though I have never seen any turn up).

When I originally returned a month ago, I walked down to the riverside that runs alongside the Great Taste Trail for cyclists (mainly) and found a perfect spot to build a campfire: two stones adjacent to each other (or one stone broken in half!) that created a gap in which I could drop sticks and twigs into that would boil my water in the morning. Here would be my new spot for a fresh cup of coffee every morning (weather permitting). And it was made so.

Annie's Park, 2018

When I first moved into my car in 2018 and pulled up at Annie's Park where I made my residence for the next six months, I did not have a gas cooker, and I did not think of getting one. My first attempts at cooking with fire were a perfect failure [fig. 1]. My second attempt was better [fig. 2] and I actually boiled some water, though it did take some time. Nevertheless, coffee was able to be had, and no doubt at some point I boiled up some eggs, kumara and/or broccoli.

A few more attempts were made before I made the final and best campfire of Annie's Park using found bricks up the road to compliment my stone structure, and I was happy with my place amongst sand, water, birds, and wind.

The riverside was a convenient spot due to my car being parked right on the upper bank, so it was only a few steps down from the bank and across some stones to where my fireplace was built - not far at all to carry my food and cooking materials. The picture below [fig. 4] shows a container I bought to collect my firewood in - lots of broken branches collected from up and down the riverside and along the road.

[fig. 1] 2x Candle, one paper cup, plastic box, one fry pan, Merrell slip-ons (2018, Annie's Park)

[fig. 2] A piece of piping bought for $5 from Think Water, and a new pot from the op-shop (2018, Annie's Park)

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[fig. 3] (2018, Annie's Park)

[fig. 4] 2018: Happy and content - finally content!

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(2018, Annie's Park)

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Wai-iti River, 2022

By the end of 2018, Annie's Park had changed: Rains had come and gone, the river had risen and swept my campfire away, someone had come and stolen my dish-washing liquid and similar items while I was in town (immortalised in my poem 'Liquid Dish-wash Thieves' from The Tasman Journey), a council member had driven 10km out to where I was and questioned me about living in my vehicle, despite the fact that the park had no official council designation and the 'no camping' sign had been put up by a man across the road who lived right next to the man who actually looked after and named the park in honour of his mother and whom I had approached when first arriving and told him what my plans were, of which he had no problems with, and neither did any of the other surrounding neighbours in the community who I met!

My life moved on as well, as I met a woman and we started our own adventures together, travelling south (forthcoming poetry & prose collection Two Left Feet), and then North to do house-sitting. When that relationship ended, I stayed in the North Island for some time working to gain funds for my distribution drive of The Tasman Journey, only to have that interrupted on my way back to Tasman by The Kapiti Coast last year (of which makes up the entire second half of what will be my third collection of poetry & prose, currently titled as A Crook in the Elbow).

I revisited Annie's Park and it still felt welcoming (apart from the sandflies), but it was time now to be somewhere new, and Wai-iti Domain was that place. The walk to the riverside, however, is, at least from where I park my car all the way over on the other side of the domain, about 120-200 metres away, and it seemed a bit of a distance to take all my cooking gear and food for one cook-up and then return. So my first two campfires served as morning coffee trips.

What happened to the first campfire?

Ahh, the first campfire. Nature happened to it [fig. 6].

But I did not fret! When the rain ceased, and the river lowered, I went back looking for anything that might remain. I did find one rock still showing the sooty burnt face, and so, I set about rebuilding.

And then the council interfered [fig. 7] and left a wake of destruction right where my campfire had been [fig. 8], and all for the sake of reinforcing the opposite side of the bank that time will eventually erode away regardless.

Disappointed as I was, I did not give up. And I built a third fireplace, even better than the first two, and even better than any of the ones I attempted at Annie's Park. Once I had spent a few mornings making coffee on the riverside, I took my grill down and set up a cooking spot, and now I pack a frying pan (first one that replaced the original fry pan from fig. 1) into the same bag that I store all my collected sticks and broken branches, hand axe, paper rubbish, and matches in, and make my way down for an evening meal watching the sun fade into clouds on the horizon....

[fig. 5] First campfire on Wai-iti River. The log of wood was carried down from further up on the Wai-iti Loop track, and the piece of metal that helped balance the kettle, a broken piece from a flat crow-bar, was found on the side of the road when walking back from Wakefield (2022)

[fig. 6] Flooding

[fig. 7]

[fig. 8] a dirty big mess of holes