Richard, Kawatiri Beach Reserve

I meet one of my favorite travel friends at Kawatiri Beach Reserve in Westport. Over the course of our conversation, I didn’t actually get this man’s name so I’ll call him Richard. Richard is not the kind of man I’d usually strike up a conversation with. He appears to be in his 60s and he is scruffy, with unkempt white hair and ground down yellow teeth. Yes, I wouldn’t normally call out to a man like this but Richard is clutching an armful of gardening implements, which piques my curiosity.  

“Well hello there! What are you doing with all these gardening tools?” I call out to him. 

He looks a bit surprised and, heaving a big sigh, drops all of it on the table where I’m making my morning coffee. He sits down across from me and relaxes into the conversation. He explains that the beach reserve is a community effort and that since he’s camped here every time he’s gone through Westport for the past 25 years, he figures it’s well past time to give back to the community. He’s going to plant a Nikau tree, New Zealand’s only native palm. The reserve does not yet have a Nikau and he thinks it should. Later, when he’s become more comfortable with me he tells me that the tree is for his friend who has recently been diagnosed with a nasty form of cancer.

“It’s not a memorial tree,” he tells me. “It’s a good luck tree.” 

What do you do when your friend is fighting for their life and there’s nothing you can do? What do you do with the grief, the frustration, the helplessness? Richard has chosen to put some good into the world, to plant a tree that will outlive the both of them, standing tall as a tribute to his love for his friend. 

Richard reminds me a bit of my uncle Henry with his manner of speech and he chews a piece of straw as we talk. I smile. He would fit in well in the South. 

As is my habit, I ask him for recommendations for things to see in the area. 

“And you just want to see the country?” he verifies. It feels like a test and I affirm yes. “Well, what you’ll want to do is this: go up to Karamea, there’s a DOC campsite there, very safe. On the way up you’ll want to stop and see the mines up on the hill. They’re open cast mines and you can make a nice day of it, have a picnic there. Right as you turn off to see the mines, there’s a nice museum that’s worth having a look at.” 

“And if you have any trouble,” he adds, “just introduce yourself to your neighbors at the campsite. We’re all kiwis anyway, and most of them are old farts like me. Just say hi and anyone will be glad to help you.” He points out his camper and tells me to keep a lookout for him and he’ll be glad to keep an eye on me. 

I took a chance calling out to Richard. I normally don’t call out to scruffy looking men because more often than not, they make me feel uncomfortable and unsafe. I’m glad that Richard didn’t disappoint me and also that he had such a poignant story to tell. I’m glad that when we face hardship, there are friends who will walk beside us and plant trees for us. I’m glad that love exists, in all its diverse and complex forms.