Unearthing a Hidden Perspective

It's not often you can say you've faced death and conquered a centuries old giant, in an otherwise mundane Thursday. But on a sweltering day, with a Hawkes Bay hangover, I did just that.
High above the Heretaunga Plains of Havelock North, New Zealand, lies a giant.
Centuries ago, two warring tribes found peace when the leader of the Waimarama tribe – the giant, Te Mata - fell in love with the Pakipaki chiefs’ daughter. However, dissatisfied, the vengeful Pakipaki demanded a series of impossible challenges to prove his devotion.
Te Mata died on his final task, attempting to bite through the hills between the coast and the plains. His half-accomplished work is forever etched into the echoing cliffs of Pari Karangaranga. His body lies to rest as Te Mata Peak.
This tale of war, love and unfinished business intrigued me. I had to discover this sorrowful soul for myself, and see if I too could conquer the giant of the plains.
With a foggy head, and an excited impatience rivalling a dog who’s just heard “walkies”, I wanted to reach the summit instantly.
Ascending the road leading to the peak - swiftly passing hoards of hikers, huffing up the public paths - I giggled to myself. “So long losers, enjoy the trek!”
But moving steadily up the narrow track road - rising 400 metres above sea level – I realised the intrepid wanderers had taken the easy route!
Mexican stand offs and nail biting manoeuvres, against oncoming cars vying for the precarious space we both shared.
As I fought my instinct to lock the handbrake, and demand airlift rescue immediately, I realised I’d become Te Mata. Not the all-powerful giant. But round, red and squishy; imagining my own demise splattered across the ground below.
In the space of 10 minutes (or was it hours?) I’d transformed from cocky driver to a gibbering wreck; watching smiling faces approach from above the clouds.
An eternity later, I conquered the giant. From the summit, I realised Te Mata enjoyed the last laugh.
Panoramic views of the Kaweka Ranges and the toothed Cape Kidnapper coast welcomed me. In the distance, the icy Ruapehu volcano peeked out curiously, as if to see what all the fuss was about.
Two shell shocked cars sat beside me, marvelling at Te Mata’s handy work. It may have been unfinished, but love and devotion exuded from each rock he’d bitten.
Hours later, as I began the decent back to Earth, it was I who was smiling with assurance, as a terrified couple edged cautiously toward me, faces red as tomatoes.