Stunning in Simplicity

Creating a project revolving around travel, I will admit I made an easy mistake to ever think that distance mattered. There has always felt like an unspoken expectation lingers over us: To push further, go deeper and reach into experiences that are wildly different to those you would experience at home. Whether it is otherworldly scenery or tapping into juxtaposing cultural experiences, somehow our standard is to measure that value by how far away we make it to discover them. I once read that travelling is a result of our cognitive development as humans, which evolved the idea that we should hunt for a sense of fulfilment and achievement. What was peculiar about the passage was the emphasis on how much we have now considered it a necessity. In reality, seeing what the world has to offer no doubt helps us grow and develop, yet there are a million other ways too. That had stayed with me for a long time. If this was just a mindset, then what is stopping us from learning new things and adding equally impactful stories to our lives exactly where we are?

From a young age, travelling has almost been a double-edged sword. I would often return from an overseas experience quite the opposite of feeling fulfilled, but instead that heavy combination of sadness and emptiness. Frankly, I could not fully handle the rapid transition of constant excitement back to normality. It took me years to realise that it bred a sense of vulnerability, because it trapped me into feeling as if what I had seen and done would be the last great thing I would do. That idea of having nothing immediate to look forward to really frightened me. With time, I began to appreciate that good experiences have to end at some point - if not so you could look back fondly on them, then to give the next best moment a chance to begin. But some feelings just do not dissolve away that easily. My recent return from Melbourne and the excitement from the beginning of this new year that had started so well caused me to feel like I needed to keep going. And my mind developed a mantra of its own in hopes of providing that needed distraction. Don’t stop. Won’t stop. Can’t stop.

As always, the cure is quite simple. Keep on moving. But unrealistically making grand travel plans is something that cannot be sustained to the level I needed. I made a conscious decision to ensure that at the very least, I made the most my weekends to explore. As it turns out, it may have been too harsh to criticise restlessness as a negative thing. It can easily be turned into energy and motivation when with the right people around to fuel it. There are only certain people in the world who would entertain an idea minutes past midnight of doing a challenging hike that same day. Not just a small one, but one that involved a five hour return drive and a four hour climb. Fortunate to have that kind of spirit present in my life, we set off on our drive to the Pinnacles as dawn broke that next morning, with a glorious promise of a stunning day.

By midmorning, the gentle scent of sunscreen mixed with the way the summer heat rolled through the air to pushed against our skin served as a familiar scene as we started our ascent. The lush forest which meandered gently and adorable little suspended bridges over riverbeds formed deceptive smoke and mirrors for what was to come. Because The Pinnacles can only be described as nature’s stairmaster: A forgiving start in the shades of the trees, building in intensity midway as exposed terrain paved a way to the peak. We could not be more grateful that bursts of wind provided much needed relief against the scorching sun. Yet by that point, the mind had already long been preoccupied with the scenery unfolding before us. There is nothing more satisfying that enjoying the journey all the way up to the ultimate reward of standing at the peak, gazing out into this vast stretch of shapes and layers. I still could not quite believe the level of spontaneity that had propelled us to that point. Thinking back, it was ironic that completing The Pinnacles was a desire we had for years, yet all the planning in the world could not make it line up. All it took was a decision made on a whim to actually do it.

To have that kind of experience only a few hours away provided a taster, which compelled me to explore even more with what was close by. To prove the point even further, Piha is only a mere hour drive away from home, yet you would be hard pressed to any other location that delivers a breath-taking sunset scene quite like it. In hindsight, I almost felt like I had cheated myself this whole time in neglecting and ignoring how much the West coast has to offer all these years. The afternoon walk on the Mercer Bay Loop led me to one of the most picturesque views of the rugged coastline. Deep blue waters with unrelenting waves frothed up beautiful marbling of white foam as they crashed against the base. It felt surreal to be on sitting on the edge of something so powerful and commanding, framed out by an unending stretch of blue dissolving into the horizon. While it was hard to tear our eyes away from such a formidable sight, it would not be a successful nature excursion without a hunt for a waterfall. The tiered layering formed from the wispy veil of water was uncharacteristically dainty and delicate from others I had seen. Its special features did not stop there as an ascent up got us to the top of the falls itself where deep waterholes and glass like pools reflected the light. It took a lot of self-restraint not to dip our toes in, but we could not risk missing the main event we had come here to see.

Spreading out on the iconic black sands of the beach with some dinner, drinks and good company makes it plain how simple fulfilment can be. The golden orb of light slipping down the sky towards the folds of the water sent the sand into a display of shimmer no matter where you looked. It was an impeccable backdrop for the evening walk, close to perfection for photography. Golden hour to pink hour to blue hour: The textures, silhouettes and reflections held a certain feel of intrigue that came together for create this stunning scene. As the light faded into night much too quickly as it always does, our salt sprayed cars reluctantly formed a single stream of headlights, weaving out of the darkness back into the city.

The little details here and there consolidate the point that there are special things I can find right here near me, unique and unparalleled to anything else in the world. What they have in common is that they are so effortless. Like the fact that you cannot have a southbound road trip without that classic tradition of getting a morning coffee off the state highway petrol station cafe. Or stopping at the local dairy late afternoon after a day in the sun, eager for that ice-cold popsicle to hit your lips. Or watching a beach sunset with piping hot fish and chips, a fresh ginger beer in hand and your feet buried in the warm sand.

The most mind-blowing part of all this is that there are no bounds to how many times we can have these types of experiences because of its proximity. The start of this first summer has definitely shown me how distance has nothing to do with finding that sense of wandering fulfilment. Why do adventures have to be embellished when every lesson in every context has taught us that sometimes simplicity is best? When we remove the bells and whistles, we are left with a greater appreciation for what we have. Sometimes it is that simple.