Losing it

When I was little I got lost up Mount Maunganui.

Our family had gone, with our grandparents, aunt, uncle, and cousins. We’d walked up to the top, and stopped for a rest. While we were up there, my cousin David and I did some exploring around the summit. When we returned, everyone had disappeared.

David and I shot down the mountain again, thinking that we’d catch up with the others on the path. We didn’t. In fact, to this day, I’m really not sure how we didn’t catch up to them.

So David and I reached the bottom of the Mount and sat down, thinking that our family must have gone the other way down, and would come out the bottom any moment. We waited and waited, and eventually David suggested we go back up to look for them.

Now, I’m a lazy, unfit person. I have been that way for a long time. I was probably around seven at the time, and I was lazy even then. So I most certainly did not want to walk back up the mountain in the middle of a hot summer’s day. We played paper scissors rock to see if we should stay put, or go back up. I won, and being the cocky little kid I was, I said to David “I still would have stayed here even if you won.”

David was a fair bit older than me, and looking back, what he did at that point was inexcusable, considering that he should have known better. The moment I said that I would have stayed anyway, he ran back off up the mountain, abandoning me at the bottom.

What seemed like an hour passed while I waited for him to come back. I thought that surely he’d have made it to the top and would be coming back out the bottom any minute now. But he didn’t, and eventually I decided to head back up and look for everyone.

By this point I was becoming reasonably distressed, and by the time I was halfway up the mountain and hadn’t seen any of my family members, I was in hysterics. I have a vivid memory of walking along under the hot sun, thirsty, exhausted, and frightened, with tears streaming down my face. Every now and then I’d scream out “MUM!” in desperation. The worst thing was that I was walking at a distance behind another family, and they never even turned back to ask if I, a solitary little girl, was alright.

In fact, even though I passed a number of people, nobody asked if I was okay until I was on my way back down again. A woman took me under her wing, gave me a drink of water, and walked me back down to the bottom towards Pilot Bay. With perfect timing, Mum appeared, and she was furious with me. I hadn’t known, but apparently another young girl had been murdered up there not long ago.

The saddest part of all was that the family had their picnic without me.

In the dead of the night

I woke up at three o’clock this morning to get ready for TV3. I’m pleased to say that for the first day this week I managed to successfully beat the Auckland traffic. However, there hasn’t been one day this week that I haven’t gotten lost. Today was no exception.

Dad had told me to take a different road into town, because he was worried there could be ice on the road, and it would be better for me to get on the main road sooner. As I should have expected, I got hopelessly lost and ended up somewhere out by Muriwai beach, slowly driving down a dark, winding road while the trees on either side swayed ominously in the stormy weather.

‘This is it,’ I thought to myself. ‘I’m entering the plot of a horror movie.’

If my car had broken down and hillbilly mutants had appeared out of the shadows, I wouldn’t have been overly surprised.

I somehow found my way back, saw the road sign that I’d missed earlier that pointed me towards Auckland city, and I was off on my merry way again, happy that the feeling of impending doom was diminishing.

There’s something particularly eerie about driving a country road at nighttime, when the moon is peeking at you from behind a cluster of heavy looking clouds. There’s not another soul in sight – but occasionally you’ll spot the taillights of another car and wonder what they’re doing roaming the back roads of Waimauku at half past three in the morning. Maybe it’s that feeling of being completely alone that got me.

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful, and I had a chocolate biscuit. I’m now back in Hamilton, feeling happy to be back home, despite all the fun I had this week.

Boy, am I looking forward to a sleep in tomorrow.