Through pine

With a light crust of dry dirt with equally dry joints, we headed south into the hills. It had been some time since we rode together, Horse and I.

In the beginning was Hunua and the climb up Moumoukai Road. Then the drop in a scramble of single track to Mangatawhiri, the Waterline and on into ‘the forbidden’.

It felt tamed, the forbidden. But that’s the thing about a plantation, there is order in unwilding pine. That and the suffocating silence that comes with it.


It was Reminiscent of another place, another time, where I climbed up out of Mexico City’s endless rivers of traffic in search of space – Desierto de los Leones high above the city in the Sierra de las Cruces to the west. Its ridges and gully’s of wild pine, fir and oak pierced by flickers of light within. Nature’s palisade from the inescapable fire and rumble of the city beyond.

“Nobody here, will ever find me, I’ll always be around, just like the songs I leave behind me, I’m going to live forever now…
…and when this old world has blown asunder, and all the stars fall from the sky, just remember, someone really loves you, we’ll live together, forever, both you and I,
I’m going to live forever, I’m going to cross that river, I’m going to live forever now.”

Onward we rode, eventually screaming down the gravel winding to Ness valley and Clevedon below. And so it is. Like Mexico of old, we were back in the world.


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