Jessie Casson

Three weeks have flown by since we pulled back into Pt Chev. I said to matt the other night, “The three months away seems like a distant dream now” and he replied, “I know”. As I write this Matt is cleaning the car and when Dylan wakes we are going shopping for a posh frock for me. We have slipped, rather seamlessly, back into city life and the weekends are now filled with lattes, brunches and walks to the playground. I wonder if everyone who had a childhood running free in fields, climbing trees and stone hopping in streams feels the same strained confinement of living in suburbia. But right now I am happy, the book is taking shape and I love lying out the small contact prints in a line and standing back and admiring the work. It’s my project; my book and I feel proud.

Back to large beds, showers that do more than dribble, a dishwasher and a large static house. For the last day of the trip and the following days I felt exhausted, headachy and very out of sorts. Whether this was a reaction to the end of the mission I can’t say but I think perhaps the mental adjustment back to “normal’ life might have played a part. The last week saw more beach action than the rest of the trip put together and 4 more champions were collected. Allan making a last minute entry as a winner of the ‘Wearable Arts’ held annually in Wellington. Allan lives a 20 minute walk into the bush, past the lake through the goats field and across a couple more stiles to reach his incredible abode. We all went to visit Allan, who has lived without power since 1971 raising a family there and working as an artist.

Matt did twelve hours at work to day, next week the clocks go back and things seem slightly grey in comparison to life in the sunshine bus on the road. But there is still plenty to be done, we have a book to edit, an exhibition to create and a two year old to potty train.

I write this in the car as we head up to Northland for the last 10 days of the trip. Yesterday I shot subject number 35, a champion bow-hunter specifically a winner of the World Koi Carp Classic held annually in Huntly. This classic competition involves shooting Koi Carp (fish) with bows and arrows to try to eradicate the introduced pest from the waterways.

We have just driven through Auckland for the first time since we left in December. I felt slightly overwhelmed by the urban sprawl and traffic volume and that desire to move away and bury our heads in an organic garden with free range chickens pounded strong.

We spent 3 days instead of the planned one night last week with Emily, a shearing world record holder. Her family let us park in their about-to-be-open café car park and invited us to banquet with them every night with 10 others. They took us caving into a kilometer long cave filled with stalactites and stalagmites lining the walls and ceilings like a sugared cathedral. They sent us on our merry way with a bag full of greens from the garden and some bacon from the farm. I would like to think we will see this family again, either because they live 90 mins from Auckland or because we have fled the city and bought a piece of neighboring land.

Our week in the East Cape was shortened to 3 nights as time was catching up with us. However the 2 nights at John’s basic, ‘Sea Level Park’ made sure we got the beautiful East Cape experience. John’s camp was a field with a make shift long drop in the corner. The location was meters from the sea and an eclectic collection of small lean to shacks operated as John’s living quarters. On the first night while I was shooting Christine, a record holder for ladies fishing, John joined Matt for a chat and gave us a bag of fruit. I was introduced to John the following day and we talked for about half an hour about the beauty of slow living verses the city’s rat race. Every anecdote and story that John told I wanted to capture and record. That evening on returning from his fishing trip he handed Matt 4 snapper for our dinner and then appeared later with a whole smoked Kahawai and another bag of fruit. Smoked fish that was still warm with fresh lemons, we felt like kings. The following day we were treated to stories of his father, the traveling world champion woodchopper. We left promising to write to let him know before we return next time so that he can catch some crayfish in advance of our arrival.

We have 3 weeks left before routine house living sucks us back into her four walls. I choke up just thinking about it. We must stand still and inhale the deserted beaches and morning swims, 2 hob cooking and candle lit nights.

The past 10 days have passed at a slightly different pace. Two friends from the UK came to stay for 4 nights. We decided to take them up to a tramping hut, near Mangaweka, for one night. 3 hrs of uphill walking, Matt carrying Dylan and us lugging food, sleeping bags and wine, there was no hut in sight. The wind was howling, we were on the top of a mountain and the rain was beginning to fall. We realised that we had about 2 hrs before dark and decided to do an about turn back down the track. At dark we were back to where we had begun and looking at the sign in more detail we realised that we had taken the wrong path from the outset! Had we continued on this path we wouldn’t have reached our destination for another 6 hrs. Thank goodness we had about turned.

Two days later I photographed John from New Plymouth, who shows Poultry. What a lovely guy, he has been showing his ‘fancy birds’ since 1945. I write this from Tauranga while trying to investigate a competition that involves people trying to fly.