LIVING THE COAST LIFE - PART TWO
Tora sits 15km, as the crow flies, north of Ngāpōtiki. Its ‘then’ 10‘ish’ homes scattered along the coast; mainly farm homesteads , was a town in comparison to where we previously lived. The strange octagon shaped house and even stranger inheritance of the previous owner’s older brother, along with his caravan, really didn’t seem too odd at the time.
Maxwell Smith was in his 70’s when we moved in and this turned out to be the inheritance of a friendship that I will never forget. He would venture to the coast from his city life once a month. We would spend days throwing cray pots off the rocks, foraging for paua in rock pools and white baiting. As years went by Max found it easier to let his little companion do the heavy lifting whilst he made sure the pots were in the right place.
These were my first real crayfishing experiences. Fitting this in-between schooling at Tutumururi school, which at its peak was around 32 children; made up of farming and shearing kids, and us the fishing family, along with those just wanting to live the rural life.
Harvesting kaimoana was a lifestyle. My bedroom sat 15m from the rugged coastline. On the big southerly storms it was like falling asleep with a 747 parked on your back lawn. With this and Dad’s bulldozer roaring up at 5am each fishable day, it was a life that meant early starts for the whole family. No wonder I could never see myself in a 9 to 5 job.
There were only a few activities that you could take up living at the coast and that’s when surfing caught my eye. The main spots were 10mins down the road, which meant grabbing the parents car and heading down to the break with one of the kids down the road.
High School meant the next change in my life and the only real option was boarding. From a life where you spent the majority of your time within your family bubble, it was to be a big change for us all. Teenagers seem to be embarrassed by their parents, yet parents also know how to deal with this embarrassment. I will never forget Mum dropping me off in their dusty red Renault.
So there I was outside the boarding house, trying to be cool and adjust to my new world and my Mother decided in (all her wisdom) to pop her head out of the car window as she drives off and begin her favourite monkey call all the way down the drive. You can take coasties away from the coast but they will always be coasties! Thanks, Mum.
Coast time for the next few years was intermittent; generally involving parking one of the mate’s cars outside of the school grounds; sneaking through the bush, and heading to the coast whenever there were waves. Its soul was embedded into mine and the attraction was possibly going to be too strong in the years to come.