Camping at Muriwai
My sister had harangued me about going camping long enough; it was time for the first family camping trip of the summer.
My sister had a hankering she told me. A hankering for a night under the stars. And who was I to say no to a new adventure. We decided on Muriwai, a small coastal town in the Auckland Region of New Zealand. A favourite of mine. There was a very specific reason for this favouritism, the gannets. Beautiful gannets nested at Muriwai annually and with me being a huge bird nerd, this was like a siren’s call to a sailor.
On the Saturday we haphazardly threw the tent, sleeping bag, and suncream in the boot of my sister’s car, and started our journey West towards Muriwai. And because we have the luck of the Irish running through our families veins, the heavens opened up and torrential rain entered our weekend camping story. The wind screamed and the rain hollered trying to compete with my sister’s tunes blasting from her speaker. It made for quite the cacophony of noise.
We arrived at Muriwai campgrounds with the rain still beating down. The reception was only around five metres away, but for us it seemed at least 50kms. Getting wet is never fun. We all counted to three and made a mad dash for the door. All of us hurtling through the door resembling wet cats, we panted that we had arrived and we here to check in. The also wet campground manager gave us a smile, and assured us that the rain would pass. I would have believed her, if the other manager wasn’t shaking her head at that statement. She suggested we hang in the kitchen with the free Wi-Fi until the rain passed before setting up our tents. We agreed as there is nothing quite as terrible than trying to put up a tent in the rain.
After a few rounds of cards, the rain did make an exit and we all exchanged relieved smiles. It was time to set up our home for the night. What proceeded was an hour of hammering in metal poles, arguing on whether or not we had the cover the right way, and sweating profusely under the now boiling hot sun. But, we eventually managed to get the tents up.
After having a much needed rest and eating a whole punnet of strawberries, we decided to meander down to the beach. Black sand glittered and the horizon was speckled with surfers dancing with their waves. I hurriedly kicked off my jandals and ran into the surf. The cool water lapping at my legs felt good. Letting go of the week, I felt my shoulders loose tension and my brow unfurl. I was at peace here with the ocean singing. Deciding to return at sunset, we made our way back to our tents to cook up dinner. A hearty meal of noodles.
After dinner, we returned to the beach as the sun was sinking and the sky was turning golden. The perfect time to take photos. We decided to first see the thing that enchanted me, the nesting gannets. We made our way up a rather steep hill lugging our photography gear with us. I huffed and puffed and sweated some more.
But heres the thing. The hill is worth it, because there is gold at the end. The smell is what will hit you first. It smells like fish and bird poo. I will not lie, it is potent and will properly singe the hairs from your nose. But again, the smell, the walk, it is all worth it. When you come up above the horizon and look down, and all you can see is hundreds upon hundreds of gannets, it’s a magnificent site. The sky is filled with chaos with gannets swooping above your head, crisscrossing over each other like skilled fighter jet pilots. Some are below nesting with their fluffy grey chicks, and others are lovers greeting each other with a dance choreography only they know. A love dance. I think I romanticise them a lot more than I should. But there is something special about watching a pair of gannets greet each other, with a rubbing of their necks, and a delicate shake of their heads. Or maybe I should stop projecting my romantic heart onto birds… nah.
I take out my camera and got snapping. Trying to capture them in flight is hard. Even at eleven photos per second, I seemed to only get them on the edge of the screen or none at all. I changed tactics and crouched down to use my zoom and get up close and personal with them. One particular gannet caught my eye. The sun was falling on her just right as she closed her eyes enjoying the warmth of the fading sun. She looked beautiful. I was transfixed and crouched down until I lost feeling in my legs and my back was sore. I couldn’t look away. She adjusted herself and I saw a flash of grey. She or he was sitting on a chick. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but eventually I got up and looked around. The whole viewing platform was alive with people. A tourist bus must have arrived, as the noise on the platform was greater than the gannet colony. We decide to head back down to take some sunset shots on the beach.
After the sun had completely sunk below the horizon, the others decided to go back to camp. We stayed a little longer, to try something I haven’t before. Long exposure photography. We waited until it was a little darker as we didn’t have any ND filters. Once it was dark enough that all my photos wouldn’t turn out pure white madness, we set the tripod up and got experimenting.
As we were experimenting with smoothing out the waves, the tide rushed in. Icy cold water filled my hiking boots and as my feet sloshed around in my drowned shoes, I couldn’t stop grinning. In that moment, in that exact moment I felt it all click. This is what made me feel alive. Being under a blanket of stars, with the sea around me and the salt stinging my legs, capturing moments with my camera. This was what it was all about.
After washing off the sea with a hot shower, I discussed a plan of action with my family. Tonight was going to be kind of special. It was the night of a meteor shower, the Geminids, which was said to peak at 3am. We all set our alarms to 2:30am and called it a night.
I crawled out of my sleeping bag at that unworldly hour, blurredly eyed and half coherent and saw all my family already up. Their necks craned skywards, huddled under duvets, and whispering about how cold it was and was that a possum over there. We joined them to watch the heavens for a while. After around an hour or so, we hadn’t really seen any meteors, just a few shooting stars and also a UFO, or so my mom claimed (we think it was a satellite). My sister reconsulted the news article and discovered it was 3am, the previous night. A collective groan sounded out and we all shuffled back to our warm sleeping bags.
The next morning, we packed down our site after a breakfast of avo on toast and a flat white from down the road. And yes, I am aware that is the most Auckland sentence I have ever written. We loaded the car with all our gear, and headed back to the city with the sun shining over us and everyone pretty damn merry, despite our night of confusion and stars. Camping with the family is always an adventure.
Photos courtesy of myself and Jono Shields.