The stories of our landscapes
A flight from Nelson to Christchurch inspired Tony Milne, from Rough and Milne, to wax lyrical about the beauty of Aotearoa from above and his dream to see greater biodiversity in our cities.
Recently I have been reading about designing the post-anthropocentric world, microbiological landscapes, and cities as super-organisms. Pretty heavy. My partner Rebecca has just finished reading Liane Moriarty’s The Husband’s Secret – seemingly more accessible. There is a lot to be said for a good story.
As I write this, the Bombardier Q300 feels as though it is making hard work of its climb away from Nelson airport. A long way from its cruising speed of 528 km/h. We seem to momentarily hover above Nelson’s Boulder Bank that separates the Nelson Haven mudflats from Tasman Bay.
From above, the Boulder Bank looks like a curving finger of land, with the odd promontory and recurved ridges, stretching to the city. Its tip severed to allow ships to enter the port. The geological formation is predominantly Cable Granodiorite boulders, and as the Maori story of the battle between Kupe and Te Wheke goes, the churned-up boulders were how the Boulder Bank was formed. As we head north, the Waitara River and its sinuous oxbow form demand attention. I am certainly not a New Zealand river expert; our Tuesday night Rowdy Kitchen pub quiz team will testify to this.
A few months ago, we had to list 10 of the top 15 longest rivers in New Zealand – in order. After reminding my team that I have a geography degree, I explained the complexity of the Waimakariri and Rakaia river systems; how they drain the Alps before braiding across the Canterbury Plains emptying into the Pacific. A long journey, I said, with more assertion than I needed. We must put them at least three and four in our list, behind the mighty Waikato and Clutha. Suffice to say they are not in the top 15, and we received two points for the list that night.
The view from above provides a chance to ponder the physical and cultural patterns, the narrative of the land below. From subtle movement resulting from longshore drift to episodic flooding exacerbated by land clearance and swamp draining, the Boulder Bank and Waitara River are well storied.
On the ground, we get to experience that story with all our senses. A couple of weeks back I stopped to watch a tui getting stuck into the nectar of a Phormium tenax flower in downtown Wellington. I was with a mate, MD Currie, a former Nelsonian who carries a bird identification book, not that we needed one for the tui.
A tui in the city is a great story. It is these narratives we increasingly need to craft. Imagine the richness of the tale if our cities were more biodiverse. Further to that, and beyond a city’s physical health, it is the physiological and psychological responses of humans in nature that provide a compelling argument for maximising the human experience of nature in our urban environments. Imagine the look on neighbour Derek’s face when I suggest to him that our respective front lawns should make way for a small patch of urban forest. I will possibly emphasise that this will make for a more liveable and enjoyable neighbourhood.
Probably a stretch too far to suggest we would be contributing to a much deeper and richer story of Otautahi Christchurch.
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