Where every step feels like a conversation with life.
A muddy, winding trail — but every slip, every breath felt like life itself teaching me how to keep walking.
The third day began with a short drive past Little River and Lee Bay,
where I stopped near Māori Beach carpark to see the island’s symbolic sculpture.
From there, I chose the Garden Mound Track —
a modest three-hour loop through forest and coastal air.
The rain from the past two nights had left the trail soft and muddy,
each step a quiet reminder to move carefully.
At times the path was slippery,
but the beauty of the forest — the dense canopy, the earthy scent —
made every climb worth the effort.
The trail rose and dipped like a pulse,
and as I caught my breath on the steeper slopes,
I felt the full rhythm of life — joy and solitude walking beside me.
It wasn’t an easy trail, but it was real,
and in that reality, I found a strange peace.
Halfway through, I reached Māori Beach.
The tide was low, and I crossed the wide sand,
hopping across dark rocks like stepping stones toward the open sea.
Seaweed clung to the stones,
and I imagined abalone shells hidden somewhere beneath the water —
quiet lives unfolding out of sight.
The path curved back into the forest,
and near the middle of the climb, I found a single wooden bench.
It felt like a small gift —
as if the mountain itself was saying,
“You’ve come far enough. Sit. Rest for a while.”
I sat, breathing in the view —
the sky and sea blending in still harmony,
as if peace had quietly reached the height of my heart.
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