Show Me a Huia!

by Chris Barfoot

  He almost knew what she was going to say next.

  “He moved his finger around until it stopped at one point. He was excited because he thought he’d found a valley where no one else had ever been.” She looked at him with a smile. “Mad, wasn’t it?”

  No, it was not “mad”. He could have told her virtually the same words. He was no longer in the vicarage, but back in the sitting room of the flat in Grafton which he had shared with Tane.

  “Are you sure there were six maps?”

  She looked startled. “Yes, that’s right.’

  “And was his finger on the lower right-hand corner of the middle map where the colour was totally green?”

  “Yes; you see I was a tramper too. Stan and I were both members of the University Tramping Club. I was always very interested in where he was going, and he took pride in showing me his method to find his ‘forgotten’ valley.” Then she looked at him again. “But how did you know?”

  “You may think it odd, but my colleague and your husband worked in similar ways. They were both explorers, wanting to go where no one else had been. Both chose the Raukumaras and then searched in the middle of those mountains for the valley of which there were fewest records of any exploration. But Stan looked for a valley that was inaccessible. Tane was more likely looking for the place where his brother had gone. Though Tane’s purpose was different, it looks as if the place they both looked for is likely to be the same. Before he left for his trip I saw the same six maps on our lounge floor.”

  She looked at him uncomprehendingly.

  “I’d come into the room without his noticing, and saw him looking at these maps with his finger quite likely on that same spot. I heard him say ‘It’s there!’ But then when he saw me, he suddenly folded up the maps. You see, he liked to keep things secret.”

  It was very quiet in the room. They had all stopped talking, and then Eleanor spoke unsteadily. “I don’t understand it. I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Then almost as if speaking to herself she added, “Surely there could be only one Stan.”

  “Yes there is only one Stan,” he said, “but it’s just possible there’s only one forgotten valley.”

  There was a long silence. “What’s this about his brother? Where’s your colleague now? Can’t we ask him?” said Leone eventually.

  “His brother is dead, and I don’t know where Tane is,” he said.

  So the whole story of Tane came out, or the story as far as David knew it. They listened to him attentively and in total silence. At the end he decided to share his feeling about the fleeing figure in the picture.

  “…and I got this idea of Cain and I’d like to know what he’s running away from,” he finished.

  This time the silence lasted a much longer time.

  Leone had drawn closer to Eleanor and was holding her hand. “It’s been an interesting evening,” she said in a flat voice.

  Eleanor’s face was pale. “Thank you, Dr Corbishley, for sharing this with us. We hope you find your colleague.”

  The vicar stood up. It was obvious that the evening was at an end. “We’re all very sorry to hear about your friend, David, and we’ll certainly pray for you. And please come again if you think we can help.” He took David’s elbow and together they walked out of the lounge into the vestibule.

  It was old-fashioned with little alcoves and crannies and rather dimly lit. He heard the sound of chiming. As he looked towards the grandfather clock, he was surprised to see a tall figure standing just inside the front door.

  “Oh, Randall, thank you so much for locking up.” David recognised the man who had taken his book at the church door. He was placing a key on the table by the front door.

  “Beautiful service tonight, Vicar.”

  “Have you met David Corbishley? Dr Randall Richardson, my warden.”

  It was the second shock about the membership of the congregation. Randall Richardson was the well-known psychiatrist who was the mental health consultant on the health talkback show on Radio Waitemata.

  The gloomy cadaverous face gave the semblance of a smile. “Welcome to St. Peter’s!”

  “David is searching for a colleague of his, a fellow geologist, who disappeared from the University about three years ago,” explained Harry Mountjoy. “There is just a possibility that both he and Stan may have been interested in the valley where the huia was discovered.”

  “A sad loss to the University,” came the familiar reassuring talkback voice. The eyes, however, probed deep. “I don’t expect your colleague would have agreed with closing the valley for the huia.”

  “Not entirely.”

  “He would have been interested in another kind of discovery?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Any leads?”

  Before he had time to answer, the vicar broke in unexpectedly. “David is concerned about his state of mind.”

  “Is he indeed?” The eyes seemed to be sizing him up again, then the gloomy face returned. “‘The mind has mountains, cliffs of fall, sheer, no man fathomed’ – Gerard Manley Hopkins you may recall. I am afraid you will not find many signposts there.”

  ***

  It was full moon and the dappled avenues of Epsom were full of the scents of midsummer blossoms. David strode out confidently towards Grafton whistling as he went. In his excitement he gave little thought to Eleanor’s white face and the evening which had been so politely but firmly terminated. At last he had a lead.

  Was the Waitoa the valley that Tane had visited on his last trip? If so, what had he found there? And what possible connection could he have with the huia?

  CHAPTER 11

  So, there it is!

  Before David lay the six maps of the Raukumaras, and in the middle map he saw an unbroken green. On the lower right-hand corner of this map he was examining a knot of contours hideously contorted and so close together that they were indistinguishable. In his mind’s eye he imagined it and shuddered. The great force of water that was the Waitoa blasted its way through the primeval rock on its turbulent descent, foaming white against black, cutting, hissing, pummelling, pounding, prising great boulders loose and hurling them downwards like sledgehammers, cascading, swirling, tumbling, falling, black, brown, green, foaming, spume-topped, breathing spray as a dragon would breathe fire, roaring on like a monster with insatiable appetite, yet locked in never-ending battle with the million year fortress of rock which stood aside as yet only a crack to let the impetuous torrent through.

  No sane person would risk his life in that elemental battlefield between rock and water.

  Or would he? He remembered those deep-set, disconcerting eyes – both pairs of them – Stan’s and Tane’s. The same eyes that he had seen in pictures of those nineteenth century explorers who blazed the way through African jungles and Australian deserts or in New Zealand’s Edmund Hillary who conquered Everest. Men like Stan and Tane were born out of their time. The present generation could not imagine the relentless thrust which drove them, as it drove those early explorers, to go where no one else had dared to venture.

  Had one or both braved this terrible gorge?

  And if so, what would he have searched for?

  For Tane it would have been the rocks.

  The geological knowledge of the Raukumara interior was rudimentary. Igneous extrusions, sedimentary, sandstone – anything was likely. He followed the course of the Waitoa. From Devil’s Peak down to the Motu it was all gorge. No, not quite. There was a flat about five miles long about half way down. He began to examine this flat. Then he noticed a curious thing.

  There was a gap in the river’s course through the flat.

  Was it a typographical error? Had the printer run out of ink? The mappers would have worked from aerial photos and the position of the contours which they calculated from these photos. He took a magnifying glass and looked at the contours. He noticed a steep-sided, possibly cone-shaped mountain which appeared to be an outlier from the main range and stood near the centre of the f
lat. The contours showed that the river went to the foot of the mountain and then disappeared. He thought again and then cross-checked with the geological map. There was nothing there because Tane had left no survey and no one else had been in there. Then he remembered the Ruakituri wilderness in the Urewera on the east side of Mt. Maungapohatu and the strange phenomenon of the Kopuapounamu River.

  Of course! It’s a disappearing river.

  So probably it was limestone country too. If so, he wondered how far the limestone belt extended. He put the magnifying glass aside and looked at the whole course of the Waitoa River. He noticed that the flat was on a wide bend at which the river valley appeared to change direction from west to south. The Bay of Plenty coast at the point of the bend was not far away.

  It looked as if the river wanted to flow out westward direct to the Bay of Plenty, but changed its mind and turned south to flow into the Motu. It would have been a lot shorter and saved carving the lower part of that enormous gorge through the hard greywacke which was the base rock of the Raukumara Range.

  The possibility of an underground river system opened up some interesting geological and developmental considerations.

  Firstly, in a geological sense, the limestone caverns would be formed from ancient marine deposits. Assuming that these deposits were uplifted at some stage and used as nesting areas by seabirds, phosphate-rich guano deposits would overlay the calcium bearing limestone. Repeated processes of subduction and uplifting of the earth’s crustal plates would create the conditions for some interesting geological formations.

  Secondly, in a remote, inaccessible area such as this, access was the key factor. Tane’s whole approach made him aware that any minerals discovered would belong to the Maori landowners. If there were no access, it was possible that the discovery would remain in effect “undiscovered” or at least unexploited. If there were access, several options might emerge. One of these options would be to leave the area as it was. This would have appealed to him as a conservationist. However, if there was going to be a benefit to the tangata whenua he would have taken this into account as well.

  Whichever way, access was critical.

  David decided to explore further.

  ***

  The nearest point on the coast appeared to be a bay called Pataratara. He rang the Opotiki County Council. The county clerk was cheerful and chatty.

  “Pataratara? That’s where they used to quarry granite and ship it up to Tauranga and Auckland. There’s an old wharf there and it’s one of the few places on the coast where there’s a sheltered deep-water anchorage.”

  “Who owns it now?”

  “One of your Auckland big-shots, Sir Charles Hawthorne, QC. Bought the whole bay and built a house on the headland three years ago. Has a manager there most of the time. He’s also quite a conservationist. Set up the first private marine reserve in the eastern Bay of Plenty. But he’s also a bit of an entrepreneur. He’s got the granite quarry going again, though it’s probably only a hobby.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “Oh yes, he often calls in here for a chat. He’s the legal adviser to the Whanau Apanui, the people round the coast. I gather it’s all pro bono.”

  Sir Charles, David thought. What a stroke of luck! He was one of the most helpful and influential people on the University Council, and his extensive contacts had helped to generate funds for research from business and the professions. From his initial research contacts David had come across his name as a legal adviser on resource consents for multinational companies who were seeking exploration licences. His holiday house sounded like some mansion where he entertained his overseas and New Zealand business colleagues. He could be a good contact for the future.

  ***

  Sir Charles could see him straight away. It was 11 o’clock on Monday, the day after his visit to St Peter’s Church, when he waited under the ornate domed ceiling of the reception area of the legal rooms in the restored Victorian Gothic heritage building in Customs Street.

  “Welcome, welcome, Dr Corbishley.”

  A very large man with a beaming smile and a deep resonant voice rose ponderously from his desk. “Do you mind if I call you David? You were enquiring about Pataratara. It’s my little retreat. A place where I can be on my own. My life here is so public, as you know.”

  David was surprised and pleased at the warmth of the welcome from the great man. Glancing around the large oak-panelled office with the heavy leather-bound chairs and the bookcases around the walls filled with massive law volumes, he was interested to see framed above the desk a large topographical map of part of the Raukumaras with the area of the huia sanctuary outlined.

  “One of my reasons for buying there was my interest in the local Maori history. Because I have worked closely with Whanau Apanui in cultural projects they asked my advice when the Director-General contacted them about the huia. I fully supported them in the sanctuary proposal and they made me a kind of patron or honorary kaumatua and gave me this map. The whanau and I are both very proud of the royal bird.” He acknowledged David’s congratulations in a warm, resonant voice. “Thank you. Now would you like some coffee? This is not a professional consultation, you know, but I’m sorry I can’t offer you something stronger. Working hours, you see.” He smiled broadly and David noticed a dimple on his ample cheek. “What do you like?” He motioned towards a side table where a tray was already prepared with delicate bone china jug, cups, saucers and sugar bowl. “Cream? Sugar? I am also interested in geology. That’s why I was so pleased to have the opportunity to talk to you.”

  David rather hesitantly put forward his idea about the limestone. “You see if the belt was continuous, the river might have run out that way once. And if it did, there is just a remote chance that it could have come out near your property.”

  “A most interesting hypothesis. Actually, I have studied the geological map myself, and strangely enough the same idea occurred to me. So when I built, I examined the whole neighbourhood most thoroughly. However, I found no sign of an outlet.”

  David was disappointed. “Well, that’s that, I suppose. It was only a long shot.”

  “Just as well,” said Sir Charles. “We might have had to seal it off in case we had trespassers in the huia sanctuary.”

  David laughed as he sipped the excellent coffee. In spite of his shyness he managed to get on well with business people.

  “Actually, policing the sanctuary is one of our big worries right now,” continued Sir Charles. “Some of my fellow patrons are concerned about the continuation of the search in the area adjoining the sanctuary. They’ve been out almost a week now.”

  “Do you think there is some danger to the sanctuary?”

  “It’s difficult country and even experienced trampers can get off course. Once the search is over, I think we’ll try to get the Government to gazette the whole of the Raukumara as a sanctuary.”

  “Not so good for geologists,” David quipped.

  “How right you are.” The barrister smiled. “I suppose I’m an environmentalist at heart, though I have business interests. You mentioned that you’ve decided to undertake a search for your colleague who went missing three years ago.”

  “Dr Tane Ngata.”

  “I’m so glad you’re doing that. He was a brilliant man. There was always a mystery about why he disappeared, and I wondered why more investigation was not done at the time. As you know I have been on the University Council for the last five years.”

  The sympathy was welcome. “I didn’t realise you knew him.”

  “I make a point of getting to know staff and what research they’re doing. From my business and professional contacts I am then able to make suggestions about what firms to approach for sponsorships. Come to think of it, I don’t think Tane approached me.”

  “He preferred to keep his research to himself.”

  “Yes, I believe he had a name for being something of a recluse.”

  “Do you know he refused to work for the Geolog
ical Survey because he thought the minerals of the world belonged to mankind as a whole?”

  “So he was a geologist with a conscience. Such people are to be respected”.

  “I thought he wasn’t very realistic. I mean you have to work within the system.”

  “Of course, and I expect that is how you carry on your research.”

  The thought came to him that Sir Charles would be interested to know more about his research on mineral exploration in Forest Parks.

  But his host changed the subject. “May I ask why you enquired about the underground outlet?”

  “It’s just a hunch, but my colleague may have visited the Waitoa on his last trip.”

  His host put his fingers together and smiled over the top of them. “Really! How interesting!”

  “If he’d discovered something and if there was an old underground outlet to the Waitoa, it might have opened up the option of commercial development, probably in conjunction with Whanau Apanui.”

  Sir Charles held up his hands deprecatingly. “Oh dear, what a thought! Fortunately, Whanau Apanui is quite satisfied with the huia.” He looked at David reflectively. “However, I do have some interest in mineral exploration in other areas. What do you think he was looking for there?”

  “It could be any of a range of minerals. The guano overlaying the calcium could give some interesting possibilities.”

  Sir Charles smiled. “Why, you would almost tempt me to give up my huia sanctuary. But seriously though, why did he choose the Waitoa?”

  “Because it was so remote.”

  “I expect that’s why the huia chose it. But when you enquired about the outlet, you evidently believed that he did discover something.”