In the weekend Claire and I met at Scarborough to go for a walk up Whitewash Head. This used to be a favourite walk with its magnificent views - the Peninsula, the Kaikouras, Pegasus Bay, Sumner, the estuary, Christchurch city backed by the plains and Alps. The views are still there but we knew that an unbelievable 30 metres had been shaved off the cliff face in the June 2011 aftershock.
As expected, all the access points to the cliff edge were cordoned off. Finally we found a spot where we could (just) squeeze through the joining point in a high fence. There was the old track and beyond it - nothing. At that moment I spotted this...
'This' was the ground under our feet. Claire was already making her way further up the hill with Stormy in tow.
Meanwhile I stood there and experienced something straight out of childhood, when I used to climb up on my Nana's garage roof. My feet tingled. My whole body, feet upwards, said this is a bad place to be. I don't think of myself as an easily frightened person, but I was plain scared. I was also worried that Stormy might easily pull Claire off balance.
It was only when I got home and googled Whitewash Head that I realised exactly why I felt so bad up there...
We were close to the point where the track disappears completely. And the apparently 'solid' ground is bisected by chasms (you can just see the diagonal lines in the photo). In another significant quake, or even after heavy winter rain, more of this cliff will go, for sure.
The houses are abandoned, it is eerily quiet up there. The thousands of birds that used to roost on the cliffs are - where?
I learnt something up there that I already knew, theoretically; that the Council doesn't cordon off areas like this just for fun. That we were foolish to venture where we did, knowing the danger. Most of all I discovered again just how powerful the instinctive warning system is. My body knew what my head was conveniently ignoring. Two silly women!
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That is an amazing photograph. Its a bit like viewing an iceberg .. serene from one perspective, dangerous from another. It is human nature to be inquisitive and another 'life' experience you can chalk up to your ever growing wisdom. People usually say trust your instincts .. good one :o)>
ReplyDeleteO---M---G!!!!!!! Don't go there again! My hands were sweating after the first two photos---the overhead perspective did me in. Beautiful but oh so frightening. Amen to trusting your instincts.
ReplyDeleteNo, won't go there again. But it was a good 'lesson'. You're right PG. As adults we can be so socialised into the rules and regulations of the world we live in that we fprget what it is to take risks, cross the line, learn from our mistakes... It raises that whole thorny issue of the much greater constraints around children these days... hmmmmm
ReplyDeleteAnd what is instinct?? For sure something very fundamental was operating here to act as a warning system.
Interesting discussion :-) Likely we all remember a childhood when we were on our own for long summer days---playing with friends all over the neighborhood---our mothers never knowing the risks we took. The worst one we did was to walk across the train track trestle---I shudder to remember it now, and we definitely knew it was a risk at the time, but we were willing to take it for the thrill. Mothers now, myself included, wouldn't let their children out of their awareness for that long, though our own mothers probably knew more than we thought they did. Still . . . . not sure which is the healthier way.
ReplyDeleteWe shuddered again today too Debs .. a 5.2 mag quake. ! ;o}<
ReplyDeleteThere was something on TV about the queue (dozens? hundreds? long - how sad is that!!!) to climb Mt Everest. It is close to the end of the season and climbers are taking undue risks to get to the summit. Imagine, being so close, knowing the risks, making that decision to go on or turn back. Life or death. I'm not condoning extreme risk taking, just curious about that drive to succeed and the (presumably) impaired judgement that can kick in at high altitude....
ReplyDeleteReally?! Another quake? I didn't hear a word of it in the media. You are getting so good at this, it doesn't even make the news anymore! Here's hoping all of you and yours are okay!
ReplyDeleteeek I remember the risks I used to take. I cringe to think of my kids doing the same.
ReplyDeleteI think my most exciting, terrifying moment was riding a friend's horse, Charlie, who was an ex-galloper. Too big for me to handle. We were on the way back from Spencerville beach. Charlie spooked and took off galloping towards home. No matter how much I pulled on the reins he wouldn't stop. The dreaded intersection at Marshlands Road was looming. I thought, this is it. I'm dead.
Just before we hit the intersection two cars from opposite directions passed. Charlie and I shot through straight after. How's that for timing? Gulp! I think even Charlie realised he'd had a near-death experience. He slowed to a comfortable canter and I balled all the way home.
Well THERE'S the making of a riveting children's book if I ever heard one. My knuckles are white just reading the blurb!
ReplyDeleteOooooh, Niki - gulp!! That total lack of control would be truly terrifying. I agree with Deb - great story there :-)
ReplyDeleteThey were talking on the radio this morning about walking over bodies to get to and from the summit ! And the fact that unexperienced trampers were holding up the experienced and risking all lives .. not my cup of tea thanks! and re horsing around .. I prefer horsepower in the form of motorbikes .. safer (believe it or not!)
ReplyDeleteMotorbikes safer?...um not when you put me on one! hehehe Out of control motorbike heading towards a barbed wire fence. I fly over the fence, motorbike tries to follow.
ReplyDeleteThe wire hooked the handlebars and the momentum sent the back-end of the bike straight up. Luckily it stayed suspended in mid-air. It was one of those old scooter type motorbikes that have the leg guards. haha so embarrassing. I was only eight or nine. My dad let me ride it!
And they say cats have 9 lives...!!
ReplyDeleteTalking of bikes, another scary experience for me was being a passenger on the front of my cousin's John's quad bike (on the farm). John was was definitely showing off - I was really nervous - like being on one of those fairground things that go round and round and up and down...
I think we're lucky to have you Niki :-O
Eek those quad bikes are dangerous. They tip over so easy.
ReplyDeleteI'm enjoying a cup of liquorice tea before I trot over the road for work. Don't feel like going :( Tis cold and frosty outside.
I haven't seen any tales of "daring do" from PG's corner, and I'd put money on a bet that he can top all of us. PG?
ReplyDeleteLove the sound of licorice tea on a frosty morning. But have to stretch my imagination to think of winter in May---
Re: Everest traffic jam and deaths---I will never understand the draw of mountain climbing. Except for that brief period of train trellis crossings in my youth, I'm a big chicken when it comes to risk. I don't like roller coasters, either. I don't even like ferris wheels! I do like Jerry Seinfeld's thoughts on the topic. He said he never participates in any sport whose only objective is not to die.
Yes, I agree DKM, PG needs to 'fess up. A good way to launch his blog ;-)
ReplyDeleteIt would be a FABulous theme for a blog. Stories of youthful risk-taking. You'd get tons of followers, methinks. Look how this post of Jane's has captivated us!
ReplyDeletelol He doesn't take risks. Well, apart from driving through the river when the ford is out.
ReplyDeleteLIFE IS A RISK !! ;o}=
ReplyDeleteWhat? He doesn't take risks? I had him pegged all wrong! But glad I did :-)
ReplyDeleteI will keep you all guessing ;o}>
ReplyDeleteI'd stopped checking the comments for this post - it's taken on a life of its own!
ReplyDelete"LIFE IS A RISK!!" PG you are a philosopher - and so right.