Category: Waiheke tales

 

I’ve been invited on a day out on The Flying Carpet, a two mast catamaran around twelve metres long and owned by a Waihekean called Bernard. It took him seven years to build beginning with the felling of Macrocarpa trees. It’s had a few adventures in it’s time, including sailing to Japan. There are ten of us on the trip, mainly from Rocky Bay, plus the Skipper and his two apprentices. The boys are learning boat-building and having grown up on a local house-boat have the sea in their bones. They are learning their trade by restoring a boat called Kate, which is conveniently located near the houseboats, so not far for them to travel to work. Our donations for the day are contributing to this restoration.

Christine from down the road collects me in a car-share arrange-ment and we make our way to the end of Wharf Road where the Flying Door-mat, a catamaran dingy, collects us from the boat ramp. Unlike your conventional dingy, it’s extremely stable and ideal for those of us who are older and less agile that we used to be. Christine and I are the first aboard as she has nominated herself to be in charge of the Galley, thus earning the title Galley Slave for the day. The first task is to get the kettle on and make coffee and it’s all coming along nicely when there is a mobile phone call from Carola to say she’s just stopping off for takeaway Coffee and Christine can be heard shouting down the phone, ‘There’s Coffee on board.’

The mooring is slipped and I help to raise the mainsails, although the apprentice boys are completely capable, having been well trained by Bernard.  We motor out of Putiki Bay with the Te Whau Peninsular on our Port side.  We pass the old O’Brian homestead and the part-time Islands cut off only at high tide.  We’re heading west, towards Brown’s Island passing Motuihi Island on our Starboard side.

This route, the ferries take in rough weather and high seas rolling in down the Hauraki Gulf. Motuihe Island is, like others, in the process of being re-planted with natives. Motukorea (Browns Island) by contrast has been left in grass. Its small volcano is sexily curvaceous nestled on a large flat area to the West. It makes a lovely sight from the ferry to and from Auckland, so I’m very excited to be landing here.

One of our company, Bruce, is an ex-perienced skipper and volunteers to take the helm. We have to steer outside a marker to avoid the reef surrounding a sub-marine crater. This of course, brings us into Crater Bay and a short ride on the Flying Doormat takes us to the beach armed with togs and towels.

Carola decides to show off and swims ashore and as some of us climb the under-used steps up from the beach, we can hear other bathers telling each other, ‘It’s not too bad,’ with reference to the water temperature.

The two brothers, have scampered up the steps and by the time we get there, they can be seen running up the steep side of the volcano. We feel somewhat demoralised and not a little exhausted by the climb so far and I make regular stops which double as respite and viewing opportunities. From the summit we look down into the now extinct caldera only to see that the boys have gone down there and are now climbing up the other side. There was once a homestead on the island, and we can see the remains on the flat below.

They apparently farmed the place and there is also a story that a governor Brown, for safety, lived here at a time when local Maori tribes were not that friendly. There are great views for miles and the sun has come out to greet us.

Rangitoto and Motutapu Islands are to the North and we can get a clear view of Half-moon Bay and the mouth of the Tamaki River. Christine decides that it’s easier and much more fun to descend the volcano sliding on her bottom. Half-way down we meet Carola, who has abandoned her shoes and is making great progress up the slope on hands and knees.

Back on the beach, it’s my turn to swim. It is indeed ‘not too bad’, but a few degrees colder that Palm Beach a few days ago.  In case anyone is thinking that climbing a volcano might take all day, I should point out that the whole expedition, including looking time takes around half an hour, so we are all back aboard for lunch. Part of the deal is, in true Kiwi style to bring food and drink to share, so we have a feast with loads of food left over.

No wine or beer remains so it’s time to make way back to port leaving Motuihe to our Starboard side, motoring past Matiatia, Blackpool, Surfdale, rounding Kennedy Point to home.  The left over food is given to the boys and the empty bottles taken ashore to the recycling bin by the boat ramp.  A great day out for everyone, with a wish list of future trips including Tritri Matangi and Great

Barrier Islands.

Waiheke Island Garden Safari

 

The secret to running events on Waiheke Island is to associate them with a charity.  In this case the Jassy Dean Trust, looking after sick kids on the Island, is the beneficiary.  Now in its 15^th year, the Garden Safari is staffed by a host of volunteers, meeting, greeting and checking our clip on tickets. Waiheke is the volunteer capital of the world and with a sizeable population of retirees with time on their hands; you meet up with the same faces at different events, all helping to sustain the great cultural offer on the Island.

I’m trying to fit in most of the 13 gardens on the Saturday so I take a gamble that the plant sale at Rangihoua will be open before 10am.  It is, and I grab a couple of Carex grasses, ideal for arid conditions.  Starting on the north side of the island, I arrive at my first garden in Bay Road ten minutes before the 10am starting time.

This is a new garden which has been beautifully planted with predominately natives and appropriate exotics, under the shelter of a few giant specimen trees.  There’s a small lawn planted in the native ground cover selliera radicans which requires no mowing.  At the back, are sub-tropicals with fruit trees and raised vegetable beds.

 

I’m interested to look at the McKenzie Reserve in Great Barrier Road.  This land was home to a straggly forest of Pinus Radiata which was felled and left to decompose back into the earth.  A ten year programme of native planting is on-going.  The site is a challenge for any vegetation, which is probably why someone planted the pine trees.  Its north facing and baked by the summer sunshine, so Totora, Kanuka and Manuka have been planted.  In the valley there is a winter stream where flax and Kahikatea (white pine) grow in the damp.

There are several tracks down to the valley below where an excellent display of the project has been set up.  Already the Tuis are out feeding on nectar from the early flax flowers.

 

Literally next door is the Sacred Blessing Sanctuary . The first amazing sight is a Trachelospemum Jasminoides (Star Jasmine) covering the entrance wall.  It was one of those prized specimens in trendy gardens back in the 90’s, but this one has a variegated leaf, which I’ve never seen.  This garden just keeps on getting better and better the more you explore.

There’s fantastic herbaceous borders, herb garden parterres, roses, vegetables, orchids and sculpture.  The work of Paul Dibble features with dramatic effect.  There are lawns, ponds and quiet places of contemplation looking northwards into the Hauraki Gulf.  Three houses on the property accommodate motivational projects, a perfect place to be inspired.

Delamore Drive is one of those roads running across the top of a ridge which we associate as a place where the rich live in their mansions.  It’s a bit of a challenge finding where the turnoff is, but fortunately there are ‘Safari’ signs pointing the way.

There’s a volunteer directing parking then a steep concrete drive to walk down with an option of waiting for a shuttle van on loan from Waiheke High School.  The main attraction is the stunning view of Matiatia Bay.

Vistas emerge through the planting and the added bonus is a walk through regenerating native bush.  Hundreds of trees, grown from seed, have been planted amongst the sheltering Kanuka and Manuka.  It will be stunning in fifty years time.

Mudbrick Restaurant in Church Bay Road is the next stop to enjoy their fantastic lavender beds and edible parterre using Hebes instead of Box for low hedging.  The pictures say it all. My neighbour Sue, has been on volunteer duty here for the morning and we set off together for the rest of the day.

Further down this peninsular in Cable Bay lane are two adjoining properties.  Hei Matu lodge has a fantastic view west to Rangitoto Island and while the planting is minimal, sculpture is a strong feature.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We walk down to the sea and scramble across a couple of rocks to find a walk way to Uma Rapiti Farm. Bright red and orange fabrics wrap around the giant Kanuka trunks on the driveway and I feel that something special is in store.

This is not a commercial farm but an exercise in self sufficiency and low environmental impact methods.  WOOFFFers come and do 4 hours a day in return for board and food.  There’s a newly planted olive grove, a great range of vegetables and brightly coloured herbaceous borders, its organised chaos and delightful. The composting toilet can be found in an architecturally striking shed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weaving our way back across the Island, Sue and I squeeze in three more gardens before 4pm.  Hamilton Road, a low lying part of Surfdale has a tropical jungle theme which isolates the place from surrounding suburbia.  There’s a stream running through the garden, some impressive vegetable beds and a delightful shrine to lord Buddha.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jellico Parade is showing off the artist owner’s ceramic heads, but the real spectacle comes from a giant red Bromeliad.  The garden in Calais Terrace has fantastic views over ANZAC bay, a live artist painting, a jewellery stall and a pizza man.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s time to visit the Sundowner Gardens along Gordons Road, Whakanewha.

The Caretakers’s Cottage dates from 1928 and is densely planted in the English herbaceous style, complete with white picket fence and very high raised vegetable beds.

The homestead down near the sea is very grand indeed.  Built in 1865, this Kauri farmhouse with the cottage, guest accommodation and farm land is currently for sale for an undisclosed sum.  There are bronze sculptures on the lawns where we gather for drinks and platters of food. Below us is a swimming pool and even lower, a tennis court looking out to the west over Whakanewha Bay.  There’s a jazz band on the veranda and the late afternoon sun is shining benignly on its way the western horizon.

I have time on Sunday morning to visit the last garden on my way to swimming training.  It’s in Valley Road in Rocky Bay.  The entrance looks very overgrown with gigantic bamboo and palm trees.  Surprisingly the garden opens out to large lawn areas in front of and behind the house.  A mixture of large natives and exotic palms bearing fruit for the Kereru (Wood Pigeons) are the landscape into which a mass of Bromeliads nestle.  A helper is armed with a bottle brush on the end of a stick and is using it to remove cobwebs from these epiphytic plants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s been a great variety to look at over the weekend and Its pleasing to find that the Blessed Sanctuary has won the people’s choice.  My other favourites were the Uma Rapiti Farm (So Waiheke) and the fabulous lavender beds at Mudbrick.

 

Te Ara Hura (Path of Discovery) is a new walking promotional idea to attract visitors to the island.  It’s mostly an amalgamation of existing tracks, and there are many, linked by roads and some new tracks, to create a round-the-island walk.  Doing the whole lot might take 2-3 days, so I’m setting off with my British friend Ros, to dip into parts of Te Ara Hura before she meets up with her serious walking partner to take on more challenging parts of New Zealand.

 

 

We start off locally at Rocky Bay, walking down the hill to Kuakara Bay where there is a picnic area with a sculpture and a new children’s playground.  We climb up the steep stepped path around the cliffs and down into the deserted bays which make up the Te Whau peninsular.  There are still some late Pohutukawa trees in flower, adding some red to the ocean blues and forest greens.  We’ve taken advantage of the cool morning, but by the time we reach Te Whau Drive, which runs along the peninsular ridge, it’s blazing hot.

We dip down to Okoka, aka Dead Dog Bay where once many years ago a small boy reported a dead dog on the beach.  We then climb up to a little-used track which skirts around the houses nestled in the bush and emerge on Bella Vista, almost back where we started.  After an afternoon snooze, it’s time to cool off in the high tide at Rocky Bay.

I notice in the local papers that free guided twilight walks ending in a sausage sizzle, have been arranged on Tuesdays, so I set Ros down at Little Oneroa to join in a walk of northern beaches, while I take the ferry to swimming training in Auckland.  On Wednesday it’s Rotoroa Island so we drive along the island to Orapiu and catch the Auckland to Coromandel ferry.  Rotoroa is only twenty minutes away, barely enough time for a cup of tea.  Still, we manage to get to know Christine, another Rocky Bay resident.  She hasn’t seen me before, so is surprised to learn that I live just up the road from her.  Another connection is made.

Rotoroa is a small island once owned by the Salvation Army.  General Booth made several visits to New Zealand and chose this island as a drying out place.  Drunks were picked up on the streets of Auckland, brought over by boat where they sobered up to find themselves in a cell to dry out. There was little opportunity to escape as it is too far to swim and of course there was no alcohol to be had.  The accommodation catered for men and women and there is a well curated museum near the pier, telling the story of the almost self sufficient farm which used the inmates/patients as labour.  The island had been cleared of trees to graze stock, but now a trust has taken it over and thousands of native trees have been planted by volunteers.  We walk around the island along well made tracks and everywhere there are Wekas.

These are chicken-sized brown birds which are very tame and amusing. Being ground dwellers, they thrive in this predator free environment.  Recently Kiwis have been released here, so hopefully they will multiply, but as they are nocturnal, won’t be as evident as the Wekas.

We find ourselves at Men’s Bay, presumably so-named because the male inhabitants would swim here.  It’s very hot and we are grateful to cool off in the sea before continuing on around the island to North Tower where we can get a panoramic view of nearby islands, including Waiheke.

We descend to look at the island cemetery, perched on a promontory.  It contains staff and patients. We end up at Ladies Bay which is in fact just around from Men’s Bay and cut off at high tide.  We’ve brought lunch and sit on a grassy bank eating sandwiches and enjoying the beautiful and dramatic beach.

The ferry returning from Coromandel, collects us after we’ve been counted out by the deputy conservation officer.  She had counted us all on to the island and given us an introductory talk.

We chat to Christine on the way back – she’s been in Coromandel to shop for the day and is loaded with bargains.  When we disembark and the ferry this just leaving, she exclaims ‘Where is my Daughter.’

‘How old is she?’ I ask.

‘Forty’ is her answer.

The ferry is hailed and stops just in time to let two women off.  They had been unaware that we had arrived.

On Thursday I decide to take Ros on the ‘Friends of Dorothy’ route from the November walking festival.  It’s another scorching day, lucky that we’ve set out early.  We start at Oneroa Beach where there is a very high tide and then up along the high coastal paths and beautiful bays, all the way around the headlands to the ferry port at Matiatia.

On the way we pass some dramatic and architecturally impressive houses, presumably owned by the super rich.  The following week we do the biennial Headland sculpture walk, beginning at Matiatia and ending at Church Bay.  Four years ago I was a volunteer, but arrived on the island too late this time to get involved.

This year everyone is bussed to Church Bay and pointed the other way, ending up in the massive marquee where you can look at and buy sculpture, listen to bands and taste Waiheke food and wine.  It’s a retail opportunity.  It suits us to start off at the Marquee and walk the other way – it’s less congested.  As usual there’s a range of exhibits for all tastes.  A trail of wooden Maori figures emerging from the sea and coming ashore to be buried in the sand represents the sculptor’s loss.  He had twin boys, one of whom died at birth and was scattered at sea.  Small brightly coloured bundles of plastic cable clips cover objects hung like litter in the trees.  Gigantic silver-like dandelions impose on a promontory.

There’s a dramatic mirror installation that reflects according to where you stand while the only traffic lights on the island (so far) are spaced throughout the walk and change colour. At night you notice them from the ferry and hopefully no one has confused them for nautical port and starboard lights.  James Bond takes a selfie while telegraph T bars and cables are arranged like string instruments with sound effects to match.

The winning sculpture has been attacked overnight so we are not able to judge it and there’s another one which has been destroyed by the wind.  Right at the end, which is really the beginning there’s a sound sculpture which requires my mobile to scan a bar-code.  I can never get these things to work and suddenly can’t be bothered.  The volunteer sitting under a gazebo tells us we’re walking ‘the wrong way’.  It was apparently designed to be enjoyed ‘the other way’.

‘No, it’s not the “wrong way”, just another way of looking at it,’ I respond.  I’m getting quite cross, particularly as we enjoyed ‘the wrong way’.

I’ve wanted to go to Rangitoto for some time, and this is the perfect opportunity.  The island is a dormant volcano, a mere 600 years old, with a classically shaped cone.  I pass it every time I take the Waiheke ferry.  Today we have to go all the way to downtown Auckland and then get another boat to Rangitoto.  There used to be quite a community here but new batches have not been permitted since the 40’s so only a few remain and the place is now a wildlife sanctuary.  You can take a tour in carriages pulled by a tractor, up to a walkway leading to the summit, but we opt to go by foot up the dark grey pumice track.

There are still great areas of lava which has only been colonised by lichens.  It’s a perfect example of ecological succession which should eventually end up as forest.  The closer we get to the top, the more established the bush.  Everywhere are mature Pohutukawas which must look amazing in December.  We take a detour to walk through lava tunnels. The map guide provided on the boat, recommends us to bring a torch.  Lucky that I’ve managed to find the light widget on my phone and that the battery is charged.

The Views of the mainland from the crater rim are fantastic, with the city of Auckland nestled away to the South West.  We descend onto the wooden walk-way and take a westerly track.  It takes an hour on a hard and hot pumice road to reach McKenzie Bay.

By this time we are melting and gratefully plunge into the sea.  A few others have gravitated to this beautiful beach.  There’s a yacht anchored in the bay and suddenly two old guys appear, get into a tender and row ashore.  They have a net and proceed to sort it our on the front of the tender.  One of them rows out and round in a semi-circle, returning further along the beach.  They have caught quite a few small fish which they tell me will be used for bait to catch snapper.  They offer some to me and other on the beach, but I have nothing to carry them in or any way of keeping them cool on the journey back to Waiheke.  It’s another hour or so to walk back to the pier past the historic batch sites and the few remaining ones in good repair.  It’s been a lot of hard walking, but worth it.

Ros’ walking friend, Michael arrives and I drive them to Awaawaroa to walk over the hill to Te Mauku.  Later I collect them at the other end as there is no public transport on that part of the island.  The big walk is from Rocky Bay down to Whakanewha, past the endangered Dotterills on the beach and then up though the most amazing forest, much of it Nikau Palms.  This is the coast to coast walk I did in November in pouring rain.  Today is sunny and hot and I’m glad to be in the shade of the forest for most of the time.  We stop at Peackock Sky winery for coffee and then continue down though the Onetangi Reserve, looking at Kauri trees and then to the beach where we can have a late lunch.  Michael is impressed by the Waiheke walks, which is a bit of a relief.  He’s also quite impressed by the beer in New Zealand.  They go off to explore Northland the next day leaving me a couple of weeks to get ready for the next lot of visitors.

 

 

 

I’ve lost a friend, Warwick Broadhead, who met me off the ferry on my return to Waiheke and drove me plus luggage in his little red car to Rocky Bay.  He’d organised two Argentinean Guys to un-pack my store room, unroll the rugs and place the furniture. Warwick unpacked some kitchen boxes until the teapot and kettle came to light then made tea. He was famous for making tea. I’d been away – off Island – for the first performance on his new solo show, Monkey, which he planned to perform in 30 episodes on the first Saturday of every month.  It is now Friday and I am about to phone him to find our how it all went.  There’s a voicemail on my phone from mutual friend, Richard asking me to call, and an email from both Richard and my cousin Mary Taylor saying that Warwick had died.

I collect Richard from the ferry and drive him to the Warwick’s house, collecting victuals on the way.  His house is on top of a hill above Palm Beach, looking over native bush to the west towards Auckland and east over the Hauraki Gulf. Warwick’s friends and family, led by his younger sister, Anne are gathered – there are nephews, wives, partners and close friends.  The house is mostly one large bare room of specific and magical dimensions.  It has a curved ceiling meeting at a high point in the centre where a cupola entertains a small glass chandelier. At the kitchen end the wife of one nephew is preparing food – people sit on the built in banquettes talking, but the main activity is through the hall in Warwick’s small bedroom where he has been laid out. Strict instructions have been left for the procedures around his death, preparation and burial. There is to be no embalming or refrigeration and he is not to be cremated but buried on a bier (no coffin) at a depth of less than two metres.  There is to be no headstone, just a Kauri tree planted on top of him.  It’s a hot January and Richard is worried about the no refrigeration rule.  Warwick’s sister and family are washing the body and rubbing on fragrant oils and eventually we are invited into the bedroom where he is lying on his side wearing only a loincloth.  As predicted, the body is already starting to go black and we are all invited to place Kawakawa leaves on him.  These have great medicinal properties and were used by the Maori people, so it seems to make sense.  I place a few leaves on his feet, but there is a crowd all eager to help, so I pick the leaves off the branches and hand them to the other mourners.  He has to be turned and with guidance from Anne, everyone contributes.

The family want to use St Mathew’s in the city but are worried that a non religious ceremony may be unacceptable.  I’m able to offer reassurance as the service for Phillip three years ago was held there and they are known to be inclusive.  I make myself useful by driving a couple to catch a ferry, then go home and ring my cousin Marie, the celebrant for Phillip’s funeral. She confirms that St Matthews is inclusive and that there should be no problems and also there is an Auckland cemetery for natural burials.  I ring Warwick’s number and talk to Anne.  They are in the middle of discussing arrangements and so are glad to get the information.  Apparently the natural burial cemetery is full and he will have to go in Waikumete Cemetery in west Auckland at a depth of two metres.  He can’t have everything.  Richard phones, asking me to come and have something to eat and collect him but there’s not much left by the time I get there and we are just about to leave when there is another arrival.

‘Will we see you tomorrow?’ Anne asks.

‘Just to bring Richard up, I think you need the space and there are so many others to visit.’

Her face brightens in tired gratitude.

The funeral is on Tuesday, five days after the death and I’m worried how decayed the body will be in the summer heat.  It’s time to get the black suit on but wearing the jacket is just impossible in this heat.  I pack sandals and shorts and my swimming gear for training later.  There are others on the ferry obviously going to the same funeral. I’ve time for a coffee in town, but this means that when I get to the church it’s fairly full – standing room only or seats behind pillars in the nave.  I eventually find a good seat in the gallery at the back with a clear view of the proceedings.  Warwick is already in position on a bier which has low plywood sides with cut out handles.  He’s covered with white fabric, an ostrich feather fan and flowers.  Someone is swinging an incense burner around to reduce detectable odour of decay.

Once the family and close friends have entered, Anne begins by telling us how he died – on his bed reading a book about angels.  She then goes on to itemise Warwick’s demands for the post death process, which apparently pushed the limits of the Natural Funeral Company and some compromises had to be made on both sides.  Anne describes the fascination of watching the body decay, something that Warwick wanted her to experience.  She links this to the many dead, decaying in the heat, in war-torn parts of the Middle East. Family difficulties are acknowledged and his nephews speak about the life of their gay uncle, who they clearly adore.  They are proud of his achievements and particularly grateful to him for showing them how to be sensitive men – not always easy in this country.  Two of the nephews have been brought up speaking Te Reo Maori so there are speeches and waiata (song) in the language.  The wife of one of the nephews is Maori and sings beautifully as does one of the choristers from his choir.  There is a woman from the Waiheke Spinners and Weavers who speaks. They were very much a part of his life in later years.

Some weeks ago I happened to be on the same ferry and sat chatting with him as he spun his wool using a spindle – amazing. Three years ago I’d collected lichen and used it to dye wool for him to spin.

There are tributes from friends, many of whom performed in his astonishingly creative productions.  They speak of the inspiration and the frustration and of Warwick’s playfulness, bordering on wickedness at times.  His search for spirituality was a life-time journey to escape his Catholic background. This search took him around the world.  He studied the tea ceremony in Japan and brought it back to New Zealand, adapting it to his own design. One friend tells the story of waiting for a train in Turkey and Warwick engaging with a group of very handsome guards in uniform.  With no common language, friends were temporarily made, creating an impromptu play. Photographs were taken in every combination with the eventual discovery that the train had been cancelled.

And so the stories continue for two hours. My friend Richard speaks last – about his relationship with Warwick, describing them as ‘Play Mates’. Richard wants to explore the darker sides and, using the quote form Monty Python’s ‘The Live Of Brian’ explains that Warwick ‘was not the Messiah, he was a very naughty boy.’  He had a need to be the centre of attention and his crimes are listed, including ‘attempted murder’.  This reference goes back to the time Warwick was staying with me and Phillip in London during his ‘Hunting of the Snark’ tour – a one man show he performed in people’s living rooms, using little figurines and props.  Phillip and Warwick took to each other and became firm friends.  Phillip however was a wind up, teasing person and one evening at dinner the play became too much for Warwick who threw the cutlery down the other end of the table.  A deathly silence ensued and Warwick was mortified.  Friendship cooled and forever after, Phillip would always remind him of his attempted murder.  I guess Warwick had some vestiges of Catholic guilt but they eventually patched things up and three years ago on Waiheke, Warwick was a great support when Phillip died.

Richard also recounts his own Father’s funeral only a few weeks ago when Warwick, feeling a lack of attention, began hitting him on the head – hard.  It is all delivered to us so comically that we are roaring with laughter.  Throughout the service there is sadness, silence and great laughter.  One woman gets us all to stand and clap – it goes on for ages.  Warwick liked applause.  He is carried out by his nephews and nieces leaving us to tea, savouries and cakes.

 

Four of us eventually pile into Richard’s Rav4 and speed out to West Auckland and the grave-side.  We are the last to arrive and screech to a halt just in time for the last ceremony. Some of the children have questions, like ‘Do the eyes rot first’ and ‘how will he get down the hole?’  A girl offers a polished stone to be buried with him and one of the nephews had been wearing their father’s silver tie pin all day.  Should this go in as well?  No, some of the other nephews haven’t got to wear it yet.  Finally they are ready to lower the bier with the straps, when Anne cries out that there is plastic.  An artificial rose is recovered – he didn’t’ want to be buried with any plastic.  Someone points out that the clasp on the Ostrich feather fan is plastic.  She makes a gesture of resignation and defiance as if to say that if he wants his Ostrich feathers, he will have to put up with some plastic.  Shovels have been provided and everyone takes a turn to fill the grave while a Maori chap plays a guitar and we join in the singing.  A man with a digger waits quietly to one side, in case.  But the family are determined to complete the job and eventually the digger man, un-needed, trundles his machine up the hillside and away.