Episode description:
I wandered inland from tranquil Te Ngaere bay on the North Island of New Zealand (Aotearoa) and discovered a secret wood. It was populated by giant tree ferns and guarded by the spirits of the land and lively local birds called pee-waka-wakas. The wood was deeply soothing and the perfect spot to try some forest bathing in the southern hemisphere, without the risk of snakes disturbing the peace.
If you are wondering ‘where can visitors participate in forest therapy in New Zealand’, ‘why is forest bathing good for you’, or ‘is forest bathing worth it’, this podcast episode might help to answer those questions.
Listen to a podcast about forest bathing in a tranquil wood in New Zealand.
Transcript – S4 E5: Forest bathing at Te Ngaere Bay
This week we’re enjoying a rather spiritual interlude on cool earth beneath giant ferns in a blissful New Zealand wood.
I’ve been lucky enough to do a fair amount of forest bathing in the northern extremes of Finland – still my favourite country – so I thought I’d see what it feels like on the opposite side of the globe, in New Zealand.
I’m in Te Ngaere Bay, a 20-minute drive from the Bay of Islands in the far north of the North Island.
In front of me is a crescent of golden sand, which is being lapped by the laziest of waves, slapping satisfyingly on the shore. There’s a tea-coloured creek that empties into the south end of the bay, near a rocky headland. Some kids are playing in it, jumping into a yellow dingy and – just as fast – falling out of it again.
I have been for a run along the beach and am now strolling back through the small township.
I find an unmarked path and take it… and am soon passing big blue hydrangeas and pink-and-orange hibiscus. Everything else is a riot of green: deep emerald blends with avocado, pine and jade.
Aotearoa’s powerful nature is everywhere
Every now and a charcoal-grey volcanic boulder appears. It’s all feels distinctly South Pacific and for a moment I think I could be in Samoa.
There’s a powerful undercurrent of nature running through Aotearoa – or the Land of the Long White Cloud. Maybe it’s the volcanic energy bubbling away under my feet, or the ghosts of ancestors, keeping watch over the land, protecting the heritage, the ta-ha Māori.
Whatever this force is, it commands respect and I find myself watching where I walk more carefully than usual, in case I disturb the natural rhythm.
I enter a wood and the temperature instantly drops as I move into the shade. Above me is a canopy of Dicksonia tree ferns, a thousand green umbrellas shielding the forest floor from the sun. I have to walk bent over to avoid brushing them with my head.
I creep along the path, deeper into the wood. The yells and cries from the kids in the dingy have faded now… the sounds of the waves too. It’s so quiet in here… so still.
I smell the loamy earth and see the remains of the morning dew adorning banks of moss… and coating patches of lichen on the branches of elfin trees. I find a dry spot on the ground and sit down next to a young fern whose green and brown tentacles – or croziers – are still unfurling. The next generation of forest flora is looking good and healthy.
Meeting the forest guardians
In seconds there is a whir by my ear and one of the tree ferns twitches slightly. A small bird has arrived, sent by the forest guardians as a scout to investigate this alien human. It never sits still, turning left, then right on the branch of the fern, then towards me, then away from me, showing me its very impressive tail.
It’s a New Zealand fantail, also known by its beautiful Māori name… pee-waka-waka.
I say it has come to “check me out” but that might be vain and presumptuous. The real reason might be that I seem to have brought with me into this wood quite the fan club of gnats. I didn’t notice them before but now I am lying down on my back and looking up, I see there is a cloud of them thick enough to rival the dust haze that follows the Peanuts character Pigpen.
The pee-waka-waka is busy and superbly acrobatic, catching anything and everything in the air. At one point it lands temporarily on my stomach. I see it but the tiny bird is so light I can barely feel it.
Should I press on, explore more of this secret wood? I have all day. I wonder what else I might find, deeper into the foliage? But then, would any other part of this wood be as good as this bit? After all, here I am protected by an interlocking canopy of tree-fern umbrellas, and watched over by a pee-waka-waka and the unseen spirits of this forest. Nothing is troubling me. Nothing is annoying me. My anxiety is draining from me, dissolving deep into the earth.
I think this is enough. I think I’ll stay here. I am so relaxed I may have a snooze.
