Seeing with new eyes

Him Outdoors is injured - he has hurt his Achilles tendon and cannot run. Usually this would be a disaster; cue much grumpiness and incessant moaning. However, I have to say it is not actually that bad this time. We cycle when we can (wind permitting) and walk when we can't.

At the weekend we went out for a walk along the Eastern Walkway to Tarakena Bay. It's one of my regular runs, but this time it was more leisurely and I took the camera along.

There are a lot of steps, both up and down which gives you a good workout when running - step sessions as Him Outdoors calls them. My description is less polite. When walking, you can still get a sweat up, although the need to take photos means you can call a halt to the steady march - I have developed subterfuge in my 17 year relationship with a fitness facist.

I also decided this would be a good opportunity to study the flowers. Wild flowers are so beautiful, growing wherever they may in glorious profusion.

The pohutukawa trees are out in bloom. Him Outdoors used to struggle to capture the name (he called them Pocahontas trees) but now he is proud of his knowledge, and pronunciation, as he marvels that Seatoun is Pohutukawa Central. Indeed, these scarlet flowers (remarketed in the '90s as the Kiwi Christmas tree) add daubs of festive colour to the surrounding scenery.

The hills about this place are smothered with fennel. In spring it is fresh and feathery green scented with a subtle aniseed; in summer the green deepens to a vivd hue and the yellow flowers are buzzed by bees. It smells as though you are running through a curry bazaar. Later in the season the stems turn tough and woody. We always say we should bring a trowel and dig up some bulbs to take home, but we never do.

The bays themselves are quite simply beautiful. In their way they are as stunning as anything in Northland, Coromandel, Marlborough Sounds or the Bay of Islands. And they are fifteen minutes' drive from the capital city. We can't afford to go away this Christmas break (having used up all our finances on our recent trip to Itlay and America - and the America section of those travels is still to come on this blog!) so there is extra pleasure in having all these delights on our doorstep.

Even the names of these places are exotic. From the Pass of Branda - which we can't help but say in a deep cinema voiceover tone to Tarakena Bay. There is also Flax Bay, Eve Bay, Reef Bay, Breaker Bay, and Signallers' Cove.

At the end of this trail at Tarakena Bay the Ataturk memorial overlooks the entrance to Wellington harbour. Apparently the site was chose for its remarkable likeness to the landscape of the Gallipoli peninsula, and the monument contains Turkish soil from Anzac Cove.

Although this looks like a giant urinal, it is really quite a moving memorial to Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the commander of the Turkish forces at Gallipoli who went on to become the founder of modern Turkey. It may seem strange to have a monument to a man who was partly responsible for the deaths of many soldiers of that country, but according to the Ministry of Culture and Heritage website, the Memorial is an outcome of an agreement between the Turkish, Australian and New Zealand governments.

In 1984, Australia asked Turkey if the cove on the Gallipoli peninsula could be renamed Anzac Cove in memory of the Australian and New Zealand troops who died there in 1915 during the Gallipoli Campaign of World War One. The Turkish Government agreed to change the cove's name from Ari Burnu and also built a large monument to all those who died in the campaign. In return, the Australian and New Zealand governments agreed to build monuments in Canberra and Wellington to Mustafa Kemal Atatürk.

The inscription on the memorial was written by Ataturk in 1934 and is read every year by the Turkish Ambassador on Anzac Day at the National War Memorial in Wellington. (As with any of these photos, you can click on the image to make it bigger and read the words.)

So I saw an everyday sight with new eyes. This really is a beautiful place and although we often do, we can't really complain. Another positive is that, having walked the track, the next time I run it, it will seem that much faster. I'd better go before I turn into that ghastliest of characters, Pollyanna.