Nikau caves

Roving past the ‘Bombay Hills’ was an indulgence in reminiscence; not only because it reminded me of my city’s name but because the farms smelled like Punjab. As we zoned into the Waikaretu region I clung to the window’s view. The realm of countryside and a less touristy attraction was a blessing.

Walking over Philip’s farm was interesting. I recalled a scene from the movie “Babe” because there was a dog who showed off its poise whilst being caught among a herd of sheep. It’s surprizing how nostalgia smacks you when you least expect it.

As I progressed to the cave, my instinct had pronounced caving as an underrated activity. Pleasantly, it was the gateway to life! Entry to the unmodified world of limestone formations convinced me that nature is a magician. Jumping from one rock to another and wetting my legs in raw water felt like an invasion into the eels and crayfish territory. I immersed myself in military training as I crawled for twelve metres like a two year old through running water, mud, stones and the narrowest passage of darkness. As I turned off my torch a purple sky was lit up by alluring glow-worms; the sole mesmerism struck my soul. It felt as if the Pohutukawa trees had already welcomed Christmas!

Yes, scuba diving was inspiring but that flash was a permanent tattoo for my memory.

Nikau caves questioned my sustainability; it demonstrated a world within the world – darkness of higher solitude that wears a mask to protect nature. Nature, which is tarnished by man. Nature, which, weeps tears of civilization. Nature, which pleads to be left in isolation yet shakes hands with man who has now, become its sworn enemy. “Is this what humans are made up of? Are we here to neglect nature or are we alive to prove our apparent superiority over Earth?” I thought.