A heart-rending holiday

A HEART-RENDING HOLIDAY

The great out-doors has always fascinated me. I am always looking for an excuse to just tear myself away from this concrete jungle that I find myself in. So, whenever I take a travel, I would veer away from the cities towards the countryside where the hills and rolling plains beckons me. There my soul would float free.

One Saturday morning, after the usual Parkrun at the East Coast Park where international visitors of like mind gather for their weekly Saturday morning fix, I met this couple with their familiar New Zealand Parkrun tee. Visitors from foreign lands would wear their Parkrun tees to attract visitors to their country. And at Parkruns this is just the place to do this. They would expound the beauty of their event in the country where they come from, usually the more exotic, the better.

This lovely couple is from Tauranga, a near three hours’ drive from Auckland, and near to an impressive extinct volcano where good hiking trails and good fishing grounds can be found. I have a fear of volcanoes, extinct or not; a feeling that it may just blow up anytime I am up there. Not a pleasant thought.

Just the place I want to be for my next travel. Their interest was raised up a notch when I shared my experiences at the Outward Bound School in Anakiwa, right at the northern tip of South Island. Co-incidentally, Terry’s wife Connie had also attended the OBS Course when she was younger, right after they were married.

“So, she is more adventurous than you are”, I commented to Terry.

“Ah, but she was sponsored by her school then”, he said defensively.

I had visited the OBS school a few years after my training, was invited to breakfast with the trainees before they embark on their outdoor expeditions. I remembered the great breakfast, never had these at home. Cereals, oats with fresh milk, typical of New Zealand. Toasts spread with honey. Tasty yummy soup. The trainees deserve this spread for the day. All prepared by volunteer cooks in the kitchen!

Honey, Manuka honey.

“We have honey from a bee-hive in our farm”, Terry said. I went into further questions about how the honey is retrieved, do the bees sting?

“You can stay at our farm if you visit New Zealand again,” Terry invited. My interest was piqued. “You can draw out the honey for yourself!”

The fishing grounds and the hiking trails beckons me. And the cool windy climate which I had experienced.

At the earliest opportunity, I packed my haversack, my survival kit, booked an economy ticket. And left.

The Police Station

Landing at Auckland airport, I took a bus to town and walked around to soak in the cool kiwi atmosphere. At a hotel, I booked a popular city tour. At boarding time, the bus was full. The attractions were well patronized. A boat-ride across Lake Taupo, visited the famous geysers in the thermal district. At the city market, there were tempting colorful fruits peculiar to this country. You cannot get them any fresher anywhere else. The bus captain gave a business-toned running commentary. ‘Don’t call me bus-driver,’ he said. ‘I am bus-captain.’ It was after the city tour that I discovered my wallet missing, with my passport. It was a poor start to a holiday. I reported this at the Police station. Gave my particulars to the town Sheriff in the office and got a temporary identity document. Behind his desk on the wall was a photo of a wanted person, looking out of a car window. It must have been taken from a security camera at a public space.

“Wanted for assistance. Armed robbery at Town Central Plaza”.

 It was the get-away rented car. With fake number plate.

Terry’s home

I took a Grab to Tauranga.

Travelling without prep is always preferred because it is free and easy. Pre-planning every itinerary spoils the excitement. Therefore, I do not usually pre-book my accommodations. Guest-houses are always available. But on this occasion, the only guest house in the town was fully occupied for a week for a travel event. I had no choice but to call Terry. Terry was just delighted.

It was a lovely farm of some acres, fenced round the perimeter. Beyond was wide open grassland which extends to a valley in a wooded area, along which runs a clear flowing brook. A low stone embankment lined the side of the brook. It is an excellent camping place. The land rose gently up towards the beech forested hills in the distance. Just the sort of space I would want to wander.

In the vineyard, grapes, strawberries, blueberries, and kiwifruit grew in abundance. I have never seen anything fresher in my experience. No wonder the kiwis have such lovely complexion. They have the freshest fruits at their doorstep.

The apiary is behind the house. This is built into a wooden structure with many layers of shelves, where the bees made honey. But the honey bees had cast the honey into wax combs. You have to put on a long-sleeve gown, with a face-shield, to be comfortable with the hundreds of bees buzzing around you. When each shelf is pulled out, the waxy cell is scraped off manually and the liquid honey is slowly poured into containers. It requires patience, but a joyful experience. Every morning, I had the best toast with honey and mashed potatoes.

Connie and Terry were excellent hosts. They had three beautiful children; three-year old Gaby, five-year old Giselle and a boy Pete, seven-year-old.

The children sing in a Choir at the church in town. Connie would play the piano to practice the children’s singing after dinner. She is an excellent cook as well. They are a very happy couple. They are active participants in the local parkrun scene; and volunteering at most Saturday mornings.

I like the children. They called me Uncle John. I challenged them in on-line games; they usually won.

But I had a weird feeling. Connie looked like I have seen her somewhere. Was she on screen, the TV, or in an ad? Something does not seem right. I couldn’t connect it at the time. She caught me gazing at her thoughtfully several times, and I could see that she felt uncomfortable.

I had arranged for the guest-house to call me when a room was available. A room was available on the third day. I thanked the hosts profusely, hugged the children, and left for the motel. But I would still be nearby to visit the farm, and the family and children. It was great experience plucking fruits and gathering honey from the hives into bottles. I hosted the family to the restaurant in town the next day. We had a great meal. We went to a theme park, where the children enjoyed themselves on a roller coaster ride. So, I had two accommodation options at my pleasure. I went out hiking and fishing for days at a time, and came back with fresh fish for the family, which Connie would whip up the fish into an excellent meal. Pilot Bay beach is great for fishing. The fish bite at the slightest excuse, very unlike my country, where waters are more polluted. The hike up the mountain was tough, but was compensated with the excellent view of the wide-open ocean and the Bay.

But on the third day, I had an unfortunate accident at the farm. I was up on a branch plucking some kiwifruits higher up when the branch I was sitting on broke. I fell on my weaker left arm and this caused me to be immobile for many days. Connie took excellent care of me, applying liniment to my shoulder and turn my arm around a few times a day. This speeded up the recovery process. At other times I had my arm on a sling. It was apparent that Connie had experience in nursing. How does a guest feel causing inconvenience to the hosts? Terrible.

Then I made the connection. She knew, and I knew. She was the person in the get-away car in the photo at the Police station, wanted by the police for investigation. I found myself in the uncomfortable position of an informant. Being a law-enforcer, I am obliged to give feedback of any crime past or present. If guilty, she could be held away for some time. Am I to be a party to divide the family?

It was a heart-rending call I had to make. I am a cop. Do I have an excuse that I am not on duty? A doctor cannot avoid a call at an emergency when he is off duty. Can a priest not attend to someone who needs him? And just like a fireman, a law-enforcer is on call twenty-four hours a day.

So, I told her husband, Terry, what I knew, with Connie present.

It was the most agonizing moment of my life. I had made intimate connection with a very good family; will I be the cause of their future misery?

“John, I’m afraid this will rest on your shoulders. You will have to decide what is right for you to do,” Terry said at last.

“If Connie is taken away, I will have to leave the children with my brother. I will tend to my estate alone, till the time.”

I took the problem to bed. But of course, I could not sleep.

The sky at night seem to take up the impasse.

The wind blew, then started howling. Windows were quickly bolted. Heavy clouds gathered. Flashes of lightning, lighting up the night sky. Without the rumble at first. After half an hour of blowing, all came at once. The flashes, the thunder, and the rain. This woke up the children. They were terrified. The constant booms sounded like the third World War.

After another half hour of torrential rain, the brook overflowed its dike. Water flooded the farm. The rain went up another notch. A big branch on a tree broke and fell heavily on the roof with a loud crash. The youngest child was alarmed, ran downstairs while we were checking that all doors and windows were closed tight. The child clasped my leg tightly.

“Uncle John, I am so scared”.

I held on to the nervous child.

“I feel safe with you here. You won’t let anything hurt us, would you?”

Terry and Connie were looking at me closely. I looked at the child, then at Connie and Terry.

“No, dear. I’ll do my best to protect this family. I’ll make sure of that.”

The decision was made at that moment. It was like a weight taken off. I felt at peace.

Outside, the storm still blew, but its sting was blunted. Inside, the relief was palpable. The happiness of the family shall be preserved.

I had made the right decision. And I realized,

Storms do not bring problems; they bring solutions.

It was an emotional farewell the day I left. It was the OBS motto that came to my mind. To serve, to strive and not to yield.

P/S: My wallet was found and returned intact. Good New Zealand.