Michelle Langstone visits Tiritiri Matangi
The little island of Tiritiri Matangi is home to a flurry of Michelle Langstone’s favourite things
The Hauraki Gulf is a wonderland. Growing up on boats we experienced so much of Ta¯maki Makaurau’s coastlines from the sea-side of things, anchoring in bays off Waiheke and rowing ashore to explore, fishing around The Noises and off Motutapu Island, taking in the heart-shaped cone of Rangitoto as we sped by in our little Pelin Empress. But there are quite a few of our little islands I’ve never been ashore on, and — outside of lockdown restrictions — I’ve decided to make it my mission to visit as many of them as I can.
Tiritiri Matangi is a 75-minute ferry from Downtown Auckland, and it’s home to a flurry of my most favourite things — New Zealand native birds. It’s absurd to me that I’ve never taken this trip, and stranger still that we never brought our boat into the coves around the 220ha paradise, where the water is an exquisite blue.
The island has been a recreation reserve since 1970, and work began in the early 80s to replant much of the native trees and shrubs that had been decimated by farming, creating a lush forest sanctuary for our birds.
Within moments of alighting the ferry and heading off down one of the tracks, the haunting call of the ko¯kako found us through the trees.
I’ve never seen a ko¯kako in real life, I’ve never heard its call in the wild, and I got goosebumps. Though we didn’t spot one, its song followed us like a ghost companion across the morning.
Early on we became obsessed with a water trough on the Wattle trail. It’s very dry on the island at the moment and the trough was a popular stop-off for tı¯eke (saddlebacks), korimako (bellbird), tu¯ı¯, ka¯ka¯riki and hihi (stitchbird). The joy of watching korimako plunging in and out of the water and shaking their tail feathers is something that will stay with me for a long time. Seeing several threatened species lining up at the same time to bathe and drink was charming, and when you factor in the sandwiches we scoffed as we watched from a thoughtfully placed seat, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better way to spend an hour.
Unless you take the track up to the centre of the island, where you can refill your water bottle or buy something to eat at the cafe, because if you do that, there’s every chance you’ll trip over a small blue dinosaur. I’ve never seen such tame takahe¯ in my life — one was roaming the grass beside the cafe, for all the world like a serious little warden. There are some juveniles on the island at the moment and we got close enough to watch the parents ripping out grass by its roots and feeding the seeds to their offspring. The liquid crunch of the grass giving way and the murmuring noises of takahe¯ youngsters as they were fed rounded out a brilliant morning.
New Zealand’s oldest operating lighthouse is on Tiritiri Matangi, and if you like a lighthouse, this immaculate specimen is the one for you. The panoramic view of the gulf from atop the adjacent two-storey cottage is terrific. You can peer in the windows at the old telephones, Morse code machinery and radios too. The lighthouse went up in 1865, and in the 1960s, Auckland’s mayor paid for the wattage of its light to be increased from one million candlepower to 11 million. For a time it was the brightest light in the Southern Hemisphere. Still operational today but fully automated, its signal is a constant beacon for vessels at sea in the gulf.
The best swimming is to be had at Hobbs Beach, because of the sandy beach and quiet cove. It was crowded when we arrived; many visitors down to their togs in that azure water, and many boats pulled up to enjoy the afternoon sunshine.
It occurred to me that we must be one of the luckiest nations in the world to have these restored and protected islands a boat ride away.
So much care has gone into the reforestation and reintroduction of species, and as I listened to korimako serenading us from the trees, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for our conservation teams. On departure I saw people packing their rubbish away in their bags, leaving no trace of their visit, and it gave me real hope that such conscious care is possible in all parts of the country, not just on our marine islands.