Something like a Heartbeat

Each heavy step is placed carefully; desperately trying not to trip on the crusty path booby-trapped with roots of Kauri that tower above, and to miss the furious scuttles of the delicate geckos that dart jaggedly beneath my feet.

The plastic echo of the small clip that attaches my drink bottle to my hand rings out as I click it up and down like a metronome between my fingers, pacing out my steps. Its artificial beat seems out of place against the sweet, low hum of the Tui and the crumbling of leaves in the distance as forest inhabitants scramble around.

Looking up I can see foggy sunlight being dissected through woven branches and trickling out through spilling Kowhai leaves, indicating we're close to the summit. Ducking and squeezing, I push through the jagged branches out onto the small clearing. My eyes don't adjust well at first, accustomed to the dim covering I've been tramping through for hours.

I'm not sure if it's the bright sunlight, or just surprise, but I'm dazed by my sudden arrival at the summit. Suddenly I'm on top of the noise, isolated in pure serenity, harmonised by the melodic cacophony of leaves whirling and bending, matching the birdsong. It's hard to know where to look, out on to the seemingly boundless ocean, or up into the canopy of trees.

I chuckle quietly to myself finally realising why the roots and branches were so adamantly and frustratingly coiled together –they were protecting this humble secret. A small outlook that juts out on the perimeter on a peninsula shrouded in ancient, damp bush. Feet before mine have stamped out the uneven outlook, which has been wrapped with an old, rusty fence that hardly protects from the sheer drop below. My heart thuds and I can feel blood suddenly gush to my head as I peer over the wonky fence down on to the beach below.

Stepping back I’m dazed by the panoramic view; a mixture of colliding waves holding small boats that probably aren’t that small on the floating horizon, and lush forests that cover the peninsula in the distance. Hidden beaches are now exposed, speckled with small dots running into the crashing surf.

Guilt tingles at the back of my mind, only hours ago I had lazily rolled out of bed, not having anything much planned for the day and now I'm standing in a rare slice of perfection by pure serendipity.

I rummage around and pull out my camera, but a photograph doesn't seem to capture the beauty I want it to, though I doubt, anything much could.