Author’s Note

Pāpāmoa Hills have become a place of peace and observation for me - a landscape where people, history and nature meet. Each walk reveals something new: the chatter of morning walkers, the steady hum of the quarry below, the song of birds returning as the bush regenerates.

This poem is a portrait of an ordinary morning on the Hills, full of connection, renewal and quiet beauty.

I actually wrote it as I walked up Pāpāmoa Hills, recording everything I experienced on the climb to the summit and back to the carpark.

After I read it to my mother, who can no longer walk, said she felt as though she had climbed the Hills with me.

- Krisdjansen

Pāpāmoa Hills

On Pāpāmoa Hills
A man begins,  
Then disappears
Around the bend.

His footsteps fade
As another appears -
A woman on her phone, 
Deep in conversation.

Two ladies behind her,
Chattering loudly,
Their problems shared 
Solutions tidy.

An older man struggles 
Up timbered stairs 
Concern in his eyes -
He stops to repair.

“Good morning!” “Mōrena!” 
A subtle lift of the chin -
Everyone says hello 
On Pāpāmoa Hills.

This place has history -
It dates to the 1400s,
When Māori lived here,
Strong and resourceful.

At the summit stands
A trig point, metal-white,
Marker for navigation,
Surveying the light.

A boy climbs atop it,
His mother stops for breath;
A couple share the only seat -
They’ve well earned their rest.

In the distance - Two Trees,
And splitting sea from sky
The widest horizon
You’ll ever spy!

The view stretches far,
From Waihi to Whakatāne -
Quite lovely indeed,
The Bay of Plenty.

Careful steps descend
The steep path down,
Past the old man again
In his hi-vis gown.

The quarry hums,
Feeding roads below -
Te Puke orchards,
Where kiwifruit grow.

Native bush regenerating,
After 100 years of farming,
Fauna and flora restoring
What was lost so long ago.

Plague skinks on fence posts,
Yellowhammers in grass
Pīwakawaka in mānuka -
Flowering at last.

The lick of breeze
Cools salty skin;
Almost there now -
Knees tingling within.

Below, the carpark’s full
Coffee truck steaming, 
Kids kicking balls -
Laughter and screaming.

Everyone’s out -
Families and friends,
Connecting with faces,  
Hugs and embraces.

Pāpāmoa Hills -
Trail to the summit,
Where nature and people
Become one with it.