A Clear and Winding Road

There's a tree across the road - thick as a boat, the leafy end veiled by vines and forest, the splintered trunk sprawled across the roadway. It's not uncommon for Northland storms to shake loose the odd koru (giant fern), but I've never seen a vast kauri laid low like this.

A line of campervans has accrued on the far side of this scrubby mudslide, feebly beeping through the rain (with no cell service, it seems the most helpful). There's no station or town for hours along this wild mountain road. My passenger and I are alone on this side of the tree. We're all that's here to help.

Knowing we must take action, we tug on slickers and attack the muddy log. We feebly scrape away muddy boulders from the site. Those stranded on the other side are beeping now to cheer us on, safe inside their campers. Another gust of wind knocks loose a young tea tree from uphill. It narrowly misses us- and bounces off our Jeep's nose, leaving a dent and a palm-sized gap in the forest canopy.

The two of us grimly carry on, pausing a moment to plan a second attack. There's so much rain. Perhaps we could dig under the trunk... wait, do those campers have any rope with them... maybe some dynamite?

Another motor putters up to the mud-strewn scene. Behind our car, a man cut like a curly-haired barrel pops out from his well-loved Citroen. He's carrying a chainsaw the size of a ten year old; he's wearing boots and shorts against this sheeting gale. A local!

With a grin he calls us to stand back, and he sets to, sawing and railing and rolling blocks of wood to me, to be kicked off the road and sent crashing through the bush. Within minutes our woodsman saviour clears the road (and deposits and good chunk of precious kauri wood in the Citroen), and he waves the line of tourists through in saw-dusted grandeur.

The drivers wave and cheer their thanks before toddling off to see Tane Mahuta - a slightly more famous arboreal giant just past the slide. They apparently did not experience big trees close enough in the last half hour.

Our woodsman turns his grin to us, and offers us a cup of tea "just up the road at mine". We sorrowfully have to decline, we're already very late. No matter - he shakes our hands furiously and departs as quickly as he came, his worn car spluttering and mewling its protest on piebald tyres.

We climb back in our car, showering water and muck everywhere - and burst out laughing. What a honeymoon this has been - and it's only the first day!