Auckland Walk: A ramble on Anzac Day - Point England Walkway
northward track through bush following the tidal creek and broken back fences or cross the fields to the new cycle way on the Tamaki Estuary. Today we choose the latter.
We strike out across the vast acreage of playing fields, now silent in their viral neglect. “We need our space”, signs diplomatically inform us, on behalf of groundnesting dotterels. Our fence-line route takes us beside intimidating and creaking macrocarpas to a congested shared cycleway that now winds its way from Point England to Wai O Taki Nature Reserve.
“Ah the ocean”, thinks Bonnie, pointing her nose to the beach, and disappears to grab a lengthy piece of driftwood, which she hauls up the bank to show me. She trots down the middle of the cycle way, log firmly in mouth, creating a two metre bubble of her own. Cyclists skirt around her, pedestrians pause and wait, and children in pushchairs point. Bonnie drops it at the foot of the seabird pou at the end of the walkway, an offering to the mythical guardian of the coast.
Tamaki Estuary had once been the main route between the Waitemata Harbour and the Manukau Harbour. Many waka would have travelled up this body of water that I now pause to survey. I imagine canoes of Maori warriors paddling in rhythm, disappearing up under the Panmure Bridge, to the portage route of Otahuhu, New Zealand’s narrowest point.
In the old days, when no virus was around, I kayaked several times up the same route, past the waka ama jetty, waving to intense rowing crews from local colleges. “You have to touch the motorway bridge with your paddle” I tell my kayaking partners: “for the journey to count”.
Once a pod of dolphins emerged and then they were gone. I survey this sparkling body of water: it is eerily quiet. No movement. Boats sit lifeless in the still morning air, tied up in the channel over at Half Moon Bay.
The sandspit of Tahuna Torea draws me, a band of white sand, layered over with dark green pohutukawa separating ocean and sky. Teaming with birdlife, dogs aren’t allowed, so I turn up the hill amongst the houses. I walk now by intuition, searching for a gapin-the-fence back down to the coastal track.
I find a path off Vista Crescent, but No Dogs Allowed. “Your registration fees pay for those signs”, I inform Bonnie. We circle down to Roberta Reserve, to discover it is an “off leash” area. “I take it back”, I apologise, and Bonnie races for the water. I look longingly at the closed patisserie on Roberta Avenue: in better days this will be a good breakfast stop.
The tide is lapping the rock wall, and I ask a local if I could have come down the Vista Crescent walkway to the coastal track. “Oh yes, and there’s a nice little beach there for the dog”, he replies. His white Labrador greets my black Labrador. We keep two metres apart.
Bonnie and I stick to the coast and head around past the Glendowie Boat Club: the road becomes a pathway of concrete slabs pushed up at awkward angles by old pohutukawa roots. There are stairs down to secluded scraps of beach on my right.
Locals look after this track like it’s their own private yard. I emerge onto Clouston Street where people are milling around as if something
of pukekos lifts awkwardly into the air, their legs trailing behind them. We now have a choice: take the northward track through bush following the tidal creek and broken back fences or cross the fields to the new cycle way on the Tamaki Estuary. Today we choose the latter.
We strike out across the vast acreage of playing fields, now silent in their viral neglect. “We need our space”, signs diplomatically inform us, on behalf of groundnesting dotterels. Our fence-line route takes us beside intimidating and creaking macrocarpas to a congested shared cycleway way that now winds its way from Point England to Wai O Taki Nature Reserve.
“Ah the ocean”, thinks Bonnie, pointing her nose to the beach, and disappears to grab a lengthy piece of driftwood, which she hauls up the bank to show me. She trots down the middle of the cycle way, log firmly in mouth, creating a two metre bubble of her own. Cyclists skirt around her, pedestrians pause and wait, and children in pushchairs point. Bonnie drops it at the foot of the seabird pou at the end of the walkway, an offering to the mythical guardian of the coast.
Tamaki Estuary had once been the main route between the Waitemata Harbour and the Manukau Harbour. Many waka would have travelled up this body of water that I now pause to survey. I imagine canoes of Maori warriors paddling in rhythm, disappearing up under the Panmure Bridge, to the portage route of Otahuhu, New Zealand’s narrowest point.
In the old days, when no virus was around, I kayaked several
Fact File Estimated Walking time and distance: 19 or so kilometres, or around four hours.
Attractions: Urban and rural contrasts. Farmland and bush. Coastal walkway and views. Maori cultural history. Birdlife in abundance.
Where to start and leave the car: You can enter the circuit described above pretty much anywhere you decide. However, there is plenty of parking at Sunhill shops (Sunhill Garden Centre and Sunhill Fresh Market) by the beginning of the Apirana Reserve and Cycleway, near the Meadowbank Pony Club. Opposite Stone Direct.
The beginning of Point England Walk is clearly marked on a notice board. There is an unobstructed spectacular sunrise view from the beginning of the walk. For more information, visit the Auckland City Council website: https:// www.aucklandcouncil.govt.nz/ parks-recreation/get-outdoors/ find-a-walk/Pages/point-to-pointwalkway.aspx