Rangitoto is a volcanic island whose beautiful skyline looks so attractive and inviting from our side. I haven't been there but would very much like to visit, maybe in spring.
Today I went to the Auckland Museum and learned about so-called "Rangitoto baches," old holiday homes on the island. They are now under protection by a trust, and their home page says:
"The bach communities on Rangitoto Island were built in the 1920's and 30's and consist of private holiday dwellings and boatsheds as well as communal facilities such as paths, swimming pool, community hall and tennis courts. Built by families, using the scarce resources of the Depression era, the buildings demonstrate the 'kiwi' do-it-yourself, jack-of-all-trades attitudes of the times."
Here is something so exhilarating. An aspect of the US of H.D. Thoreau still remaining in the early twentieth century, perhaps?
Some baches are still there, weathered, but strong. I'll come and see. And touch. And think. There is nothing like some actual object that helps us to fill the gap of our memories, and when they are made of wood, their emotional charge is sometimes overwhelming.
Wooden objects are haunting.
