An Angel In The Wild: Who's Gregory and Finding The Hermit's House

We often expect things in life to stay the same.

The cycles of the familiar comfort and guide us.

We can forget that everything is shifting, moving, flowing, evolving, expanding, contracting, spiralling and changing all the time; including us. It's one of the reasons that we will never have photos of ourselves around our house and why I'll never write a book. Everything always changes.

Many times we are in charge of the big events of our lives- we choose them, other times irrevocable changes occur around us that we just never saw coming.

Over the last 8 years as we were driven out of our home by the unrelenting torment of what the Wattie's factory had become, we found ourselves finding solace in going to the land. And the more we ventured out, the more we were met and welcomed and made to feel at home.

We learnt how to have adventures! And the whenua became our best friend.

And then cyclone Gabrielle swept through our beloved landscapes in mid-February and destroyed everything that we had come to love so fiercely. After a while sitting with the grief and melancholy, distressed and afraid we realised that we had been given an opportunity to record and share all of those experiences that had been gifted to us. We hadn't just had a "nice day" out, we'd seen things, touched things, tasted things in ways that were rare and unique. And we'd done it all together.

After we discovered Ellis Wallace road I came across a posting about an Olivery and there were lovely pictures of picnic spots amidst the olive grove, so one summer we went to ask if we could picnic there too. The people were nice and said that we could, by all means, but also told us that if we went through the gate and drove down the driveway we would find a lovely spot by the river. This driveway, we came to understand, is called Gregory Access and is a little known public Esk river "road".

10th December 2017

We were ecstatic to find this new space and set ourselves up for a picnic.

No we didn't eat the fluff.

Quite soon some people turned up to enjoy the river too. An English couple who had just started a bed and breakfast. We had a lovely chat even about things like orobanche plants and the fact that it was said that an old hermit used to live across the river. Funny, the olive people had mentioned that too.

Off we went for a wander and a photo was taken of our picnic that is still on the bnb site here.

It was so lovely to find lotus pedunculatus and red clover flowers.

It was around the time of our wedding anniversary so we were delighted to discover the poplar fluff all around us. The same poplars (cottonwoods) that produce poplar buds.The resin of these buds is amazing and very sticky and one of the constituents the bees use to make propolis.

But this day we had plenty of fluff!

We wandered down the shallow river gathering wild mint and watercress along the way.

By the time we'd got down and around the bend we decided that it would be a bit much like hard work to wade back up the river, so we cut across the bottom of the paddock to get back to our picnic spot again. Well we certainly didn't expect to find an assortment of old cars resting in the meadow.

How amazing!

There were ducks sleeping in odd places.

And as we meandered along in amazement we came across a house. Suddenly we felt that we shouldn't really be here and everything started to feel a bit eerie. What if "Jed"came out with a shotgun and told us to bugger off! We scarpered off as quick as we could but soon snuck back and waited to see if any one came out. Eventually we realised that the house was empty. But that was enough excitement for one day and there was no buckshot in my bum so we packed up and headed home, astonished at where this Gregory Access adventure had taken us one summer's afternoon.

18th January 2018

We couldn't quite believe what we'd found and since that summer was pretty hot and the factory truly ghastly, back we came for another visit in mid January.

This time we crossed the river with all our picnic stuff and set ourselves up in this delightful little dell under old trees and surrounded by hawthorn.

It's quite tricky wobbling across a river with chairs, a table and baskets, but no one fell in.

So cool and entirely private.

We began to fall in love with hawthorn. Linden may be the trees that wish us well, but hawthorns are like family- they open their hearts and yours and declare you to be whanau.

We left our things. Lucky there are no bears or squirrels or other inquisitive creatures in New Zealand.

Still holding our breaths, we quietly approached The Hermit's House.

Wandering around the outskirts a bit first.

Incidental wild sculptures appeared everywhere.

The strangest arrangements and clusters of abandoned rusty memorabilia.

Good place to keep the wire.

Collections everywhere.

Be careful where you step Rob!

Been around a good while- chimney's and all.

Barberry- berries. Edible when ripe although rather astringent.

Even a wishing well.

Old water tank on the outside.

Hose reel.

And finally we snuck inside. Oh my goodness- everything's still here as if The Hermit will come back later!

And here he is- The Hermit himself- Ray McGabe.

Bread box, safe and old fridge.

Ooh, that smell of old damp entropy and abandonment.

Everything still here.

And the last time the calendar page was turned was for autumn 2008.

Bed in the leant-to at the front. Boots still waiting for him to return.

Arty!

The outdoor flush toilet.

And a peach tree.

Quirky handmade features all over the place,

Useful shed.

And then back across the river we went.

A life lived there across the river (looking back again)- whoever would have thought!

It's amazing that in a good summer the Esk river is largely wanderable.

There's always that feeling of "I wonder what's around the bend?"

Phew, we need a rest after all that excitement!

And so we returned home filled with amazement that we had been given such a wondrous and special adventure. But who was Ray and where did he go to? And why did he never return to his home?

29th January 2019

What better place could we come to than Ellis Wallace road for a birthday. The thing with the "wild" is that you just never know what you'll find or how things will be when you get there.

Every season is different and most certainly, every year surely is!

We headed back up to what I now call Wallace Access to see if that might be a good place to be and we wandered around visiting the violets

and the hawthorns

and picking so many glorious wild flowers

and seed heads.

Then we headed back down the road to Gregory Access and went to set up our picnic at the river's edge. But oh dearie me somehow we forgot to bring the chilly bin with us.

And since it was my birthday this was quite an oversight. So off went Rob to retrieve our dinner from home, while I had a lovely birthday chat with my dear friend Gracie who lives in Taupo.

We'd allowed plenty of time. Adventures cannot be rushed.

Eventually Rob returned with sustenance and we ventured back across the river.

This time we came across a good lot of Hedge woundwort (Staychus sylvatica).

The plant is medicinal and stinky but the flowers are adorable and edible.

Where did all this stuff come from?

Rivets, metal, old concrete wash tubs and taps to nowhere. We could hardly believe our eyes.

Such interesting landscape that felt as if it didn't belong to anyone any more.

Imagine walking an old fridge out in to the paddock and deciding "I think I'll park you just here"

So many old cars just the same.

I wonder if they were towed here, or were they driven for the last time to lie...still?

Old wood now growing lichen.

And then one day you wander out and leave a box of old preserving jars too?

This old shed is pretty wonky so we peered through the cracks. Didn't even consider opening the door.

And look a spot of bamboo.

Then the next vintage. Did they just cruise along for a meet up and forget to go home again?

Even the headlights are still in tact.

Back at our picnic site we'd popped the wild flowers in to an old jam jar of our own.

And admired all the different kinds of clover

and the pretty pink flowers of wild carrot that we found.

Summer fruits make perfect picnic food.

We found montbretia, yellow dock seed heads, stinking mayweed, verbena brasilienesis

and vervain- verbena officinalis, yarrow and wild carrot.

Books to read...

And a pretty lunch bag.

Cath Kidston backpack- perfect for wildcrafting across rivers!

The funny old stinky epazote- used in Mexican cooking. Apparently helps the digestion of beans.

Barberries- yet to ripen up.

Who would have guessed that just over there- we would have an adventure like no other.

Of course, we don't just sit still when we're adventuring- there's so much to explore and gather and learn.

If you look directly over the chair, The Hermit's House is right there tucked out of sight.

Always more to learn- every day.

And then sometimes you just need a swim.

And a bit of a breeze.

And a wish and a puff of a dandelion clock.

Oh look some paewhenua- yellow dock.

Mauri Ora- life force, energy and wellness.

Pukuaroha- empathy!

Time blurs in the summertime by the riverside.

If you're lucky you just might find a wild carrot flower (Daucus carota) with a little red or purple heart in her centre.

There's freedom in this place.

Dance like no-one is watching.

I was dancing to Foule Sentimentale by Chilly Gonzales. Have a listen.

Such beautiful land.

No that's not dancing Rob!

Time for our forgotten platter.

And some Turkish orange cake. It is so good- I make it once every year. No flour, just ground almonds. You can find the recipe here.

A perfect day for wandering.

Under hawthorn trees,

passed mullein (verbascum thapsus). Both wonderfully medicinal wild plants.

To discover an old wool shed.

Peering through the window.

Should we have been there? Probably not! But we couldn't think of a way to find out who to ask and there was never a soul about.

What a glorious sight looking down on all the wonderful willows, poplar, hawthorn, macrocarpa and gum.

And look, tucked in the middle is The Hermit's House.

Power, even. Fancy that!

Parked too.

The Hermit had his own hawthorns!

By now I had asked my friend Robyn who has wonderful genealogy skills, for a hand to see if we could learn more about Ray. Whatever became of him?

And amazingly Robyn was able to discover that Ray (also known as Berg) lived at Voguehaven in Clive at the time of his death on the 4th August 2013 aged 80 years.

He was born on the 11th March in 1933.