A couple of weeks ago I returned to Cape Rēinga – Te Rerenga Wairua. In corporeal form, I hasten to add. Cape Reinga is, in Māori tradition, the departing place for the souls of the dead as they leave for Hawaiki.
When you visit, there is no denying it is special place – you can just feel it. It’s like being in a cathedral – if the cathedral’s roof was the sky, the floor a clifftop, and the choir was the meeting of two oceans and the wind over the barren hillsides.

Cape Rēinga – Te Rerenga Wairua
Cape Rēinga is at the top of the North Island – though not the very top, as Surville Cliffs takes that honour. In any case, it’s a very long way from Wellington. Driving there was like a pilgrimage; we’d travelled there because of a hard winter – one with a sudden, serious, and then resolved health problem. We journeyed there to let it go.
Despite our purpose, we’d meandered up the island, staying for a few days at Russell and Mangōnui, both places with a lot of history. The night before we stayed at Waitiki Landing – as far as you can go and still buy dinner, and have a cabin to sleep in.
‘You’ve been here before,’ said one of the ladies who run the office, and the café, and the bar and everything else up there. It was seven years ago since we’d been here. ‘It’s changed,’ they said. I said I’d heard they’d sealed the road from here. I was sad when I heard that, because before, with the gravel road, you had to slow down before you got there, you had to prepare. They said that wasn’t the only change, but they wouldn’t tell us any more than that. ‘We’ll let you see for yourselves,’ they said, ‘then come back and tell us what you think.’
The next morning we got up before it was properly light, woken by the people who were heading off for the annual fishing competition. The drive to the cape was certainly quicker on the sealed road, but, strangely, seemed hillier than in my memory.
The first change we noticed was that they’d moved the car park and toilets – this was in response to a request from local iwi Ngāti Kurī, as previous the toilets were too close to the tapu (sacred) site.
Now, to get from the car park to the path, you have to walk through a waharoa (gate/tunnel). (On the wall of the waharoa is a reproduction of this map – which you can view fullscreen – from 1790; the oldest known map made by a Māori.) When you enter the waharoa, a sensor starts a sound recording of Māori instruments – I think it was the whirring of a purerehua and the cry of a wind instrument such as a putātara (made of a conch shell) – and a karanga (welcome call). I couldn’t decide whether it was moving and appropriate, or theme-park tacky. Or possibly both (it did give me a lump in my throat).

One of the many helpful and informative signs
A new, immaculate path of red stones winds its way down from the car park to the lighthouse, replacing the unadorned asphalt one that used to be there. And every five steps along it a different sign or plaque tells you interesting tidbits about where you are and what you’re seeing. It felt like someone had taken a little piece of Te Papa and sprinkled it over this windswept coast at the end of the earth. I tried to ignore them – I was there to experience this special place, to feel it. To be there.
We reached the lighthouse – which is as far as you can go – to find a new stone wall all around it on the seaward side, which meant we couldn’t sit on the grass and watch the ocean, as we did seven years ago (there is a bench, but it faces the wrong way). But, I was relieved to find that the landscaping, designing and attempts at taming hadn’t taken away the power of the place. It is still amazing.

The lighthouse and path, as it used to be
On the way back up I did read some of the signs, and they told me helpful things about the meaning and history of the place, about the geology, geography and birdlife. While they give you an excuse to pause and catch your breath on the climb back up, as one of our hosts at Waitiki Landing pointed out later, for me it felt like it was trying to explain the experience for me while I was having it, or instead of me having it. Like someone sitting next to me at the movies, giving me a critical interpretation while I’m still watching the film.
That said, I know tourists visit Cape Rēinga by the bus-load every day. Having good paths stops the landscape from being damaged, and having signs tells them about the importance of the site. I know I liked it better before, but I also know some changes did have to be made.
There are other sites around New Zealand, and the world, that have been ‘landscaped’ and ‘interpreted’ to make them more accessible, and better for tourists. Should they be? What do you think? Which ones have you been to?