[As published in March/April BayBuzz magazine.]

I left Hawke’s Bay in January. It had been home for the last ten years, and I grew up here. I’ve moved to be closer to my children and mokopuna. One day I may return. Never say never. 

I’ll miss the non-veg Thali at Namaskar. It’s not really on the menu, but it used to be, so if you ask nicely, most of the time they’ll rustle one up. 

I’ll miss the Hastings/Havelock roundabout, the only roundabout I’ve seen with a give way sign. Napier might have two Woolworths, but this is next level planning. 

I’ll miss Bay Expresso Cafe Blend, and I wish I’d been brave enough to ask for the almond cream recipe that goes with the slow cooked lamb at Black Barn. 

I’ll miss a summer that seemed longer than I can ever remember, and the crayfish caught off Ocean Beach. 

‘Take two’ insisted Phil. ‘The bigger one was caught yesterday, and the other one this morning.’ I don’t expect to be hearing those words in that exact order for a long time. 

I’ll miss the local Heretaunga bounty, no question. But, if you don’t watch out, so will you. 

Scott Lawson, who grows organic blueberries out Bridge Pa way, worries about food security quite a bit. He estimates there are now only a half dozen market gardens in the Bay, down from twenty or so a couple of decades back. 

Gabrielle didn’t help when she ripped through Pākōwhai, but neither have the councils. 

‘We need to grow up not out,’ says Scott, in reference to the 10,000 acres of fertile land lost to housing and industrial development in the last forty years. 

The shameful treatment of growers by Big Food has only made it worse. It’s hard to get any to speak publicly for fear of reprisals. That doesn’t change the fact that peaches are rotting on the ground this season. Last year it was tomatoes. 

Our food choice is shrinking too. Good luck finding an heirloom tomato in the supermarket these days. 

The growers need support. Not just by buying produce, but in backing campaigns like ‘Save Our Soils.’ Get noisy. Politicians hate it. 

I’ll miss the people most. Even the ones I don’t really know. 

Not long after I arrived back, I was walking down Tennyson St. A pin connecting the temple arm of my glasses had come undone, and I had to carry it around looking like a dork, tilting my head slightly to one side so they wouldn’t fall off completely. 

As luck would have it, this happened almost right outside the optometrists on the corner. I had a spare pair in the car, so I’d drop these in for repair and come get them later. 

‘Oh don’t be silly’ said the woman on the front counter. ‘We can take a look at it now’. Which they did. When I reached for my wallet and asked how much, this too was met with another ‘Oh don’t be silly.’ 

This was a few years back so things might have changed. But I doubt it. 

There was quite a lot of this going on. I had barely found my way around the old haunts when a tyre blew out on my 7 series. 

It’s quite embarrassing not knowing how to change a tyre properly, so after limping to the nearest garage, I lied and said I left the jack at home, hiding the evidence under a beach towel. 

‘No problem,’ said Dave. As quick as a F1 pit stop the tyre was changed, and just as quick, offer of payment was declined. 

‘You can put that away’ he said shaking his head as I reached for my wallet. ‘You’re all good.’ And I was too – sneaking home to put the jack back in the boot. 

This was also a few years back, so things might’ve changed. But I doubt it. I still can’t change a tyre, but I have joined the AA at least. 

I lived in Haumoana back then. It was my first house with a wood-burner. 

‘Have you got a wood guy yet?’ Was the question often asked first, and always asked eagerly. 

I didn’t, and my lack of urgency about getting one seemed to be disturbing to most. Not a failing as such, but definitely a signal I was a ‘blow in’, even though I grew up in Napier. 

‘Call Johnny. He’ll sort you out,’ was the common advice. 

‘You’ll need a load of comfy’ said Johnny quickly sizing things up, and in a tone drier than the mix of pine, gum and Manuka that he dropped off in the driveway. I explained that I’d just moved down from Auckland and was almost looking forward to the weather to turn so I could fire up the burner. 

‘That’d be right,’ said Johnny knowingly. ‘Bloody Aucklanders. Always leaving things until the last minute.’ 

As it was mid-January and the temperatures in the late 20’s, it hadn’t occurred to me I’d be cutting it so fine. Local knowledge is a valuable commodity. 

I was here for Gabrielle. I’ll miss her in a small way. Not for what she took, but for what she showed us. As locals stepped up, Gabrielle showed us what we were made of. Quite sturdy stuff as it turned out. 

A friend lost most of their crop, a river taking out years of graft and dreams. The neighbours arrived the minute after the water had dropped to start cleaning up. So did others. They brought tractors and diggers and hope. 

No one asked for permission. No one waited. They just turned up. 

If Covid made us scared, maybe Gabrielle gave us courage again. 

She didn’t take our sense of humour. Chris Barber and his family were rescued by three men wearing wetsuits. His call for help is written into history. 

‘Are you from the Navy?’ Barber yelled out as the guys roared across the newly formed ‘Eskdale Bay’ on their inflatable. 

‘Nah, we’re just three Māori boys’ they shouted back. 

The line from Mikey and Rikki and Morehu was judged by New Zealanders to be Massey University’s 2023 quote of the year. 

Says it all. 

Mind you this was a few years ago now, so things might have changed a bit. But I very much doubt it. 

He tāngata. He tāngata. He tāngata.