Refreshed by the forest
Dr Tom Mulholland is an Emergency Department Doctor and GP with over 25 years’ experience in New Zealand. He’s currently a man on a mission, tackling health missions around the world.
Ican clearly remember one of the happiest days of my life. It was a Sunday during the summer of 1981, I was 19 years old and working for the New Zealand Forest Service, before it became DOC – and before I became a doctor. I was in the headwaters of the Rangitikei River, deep in the Kaimanawa Ranges and had been there for eight weeks, counting birds, plants, and deer droppings. It was a grey miserable day and we were rained in; living in a tent for two months with three other guys, I had tent fever. So, I decided to walk for 10 hours in the rain to our next helicopter food drop and collect our Christmas mail. No wifi (there was no internet in those days, and even today I am guessing there would be no coverage at the Mangamaire Junction) so it was just letters and stamps. I walked along the river, jumping from boulder to boulder with my rifle and a small pack, and waded through deep clear pools yet to become murky from the light rain falling on the forest canopy. Laced-up, cut-down gumboots, and a PVC parker was the uniform of the year, complemented by two sets of overalls designed to reduce the bush lawyer trauma of living in a wilderness area with no tracks. After five hours, I reached the drop point with dehydrated food and tins to supplement our venison and fish – our diet from the sika deer and rainbow trout we came across. Collecting our mail and some much-needed carbohydrates, I turned for home just as the sun broke through. At the next bend I came face to face with a huge, snorting sika stag, his nostrils flared in an act of defiance. Despite the easy shot, I watched the sun evaporate the mist around us, and burnt that moment into my consciousness forever. The stag trotted off and I headed down river, vowing to never forget that moment or how happy I was in that moment: no matter how tough life got, I felt like I had been touched by the gods.
Fast-forward 35 years and it’s a grey, miserable Sunday in Auckland and I suspect over much of the country. I still have a PVC parker and a pair of lace-up gumboots, so I decide to escape by taking a walk in a local forest for a few hours. There is plenty of evidence to show that connecting with nature improves our mental health, it’s called ecotherapy. And 20,000 steps, 225 floors, and 16.48 kilometres later, I do indeed feel ‘‘refreshed by the life force of the ancient forest’’, as the sign says. On that drizzly morning I encounter some interesting humans, too. Deep in the bush a boom box thuds as a family marches up the hill to a hip-hop beat while a few runners zip by, enjoying the fact they are getting some rapid eco-therapy.
It’s nice to see my old friends Tawa and Totara, a few umbrella ferns, and some magnificent kauri and rimu in the Waitakere Ranges; they make me smile and they bring back ancient memories of a botany degree ...
As I head back to the car, I am impressed by how many families are out walking on this grey Auckland day, all shapes and sizes getting their ecotherapy, undaunted by the mist and rain. Everyone smiles, everyone says hello, as the infectious charm of the forest works its magic, and we all leave happier and healthier.
There is plenty of evidence to show that connecting with nature improves our mental health ... 16.48 kilometres later, I do indeed feel "refreshed by the life force of the ancient forest".