It's January 2, 2011 and the fourth annual dragonboat races are in full swing at Home Bay, on Rakino Island. About 100 children, adults and dogs are happliy mingling on the beach, watching as the paddlers try to keep their unweildy craft pointing in the right direction. On a loudspeaker a running commentary from one of the organnisers encourages the paddlers to keep going, as excited parents shout to their children from the shore.
For those who don't know, Rakino is a small island – just 2.4km long and about 1.2km wide – and sits nestled north-east of Motutapu and to the west of Waiheke.
Nearly all of the people watching the races are on holiday – there are only 12 or so permanent residents on Rakino – but the sense of belonging and community is strong. Old aquaintances are renewed, fishing and diving trips are planned and invitations to pop in for a cold one given out. Children who played there twenty years ago now watch as their own children play.
The dragonboat race isn't the only event on these holidays. Clay pidgeon shooting is on tomorrow; tactics are discussed for the annual Woody Bay Road residents' water fight and on new year's eve the annual 'round the bays' fun run was held – as it has been for at least the last 28 years.
An old homestead stands magestically on the shore at Home Bay, fronted by a long jetty and surrounded by neatly clipped grass and out-buildings. It wasn't always like this. In the 70s it fell in to disrepair and steers – which used to graze the island then – would wander through the rooms while birds nested in the rafters; both leaving their calling cards on what was left of the floors and walls. It was an odd sight, while exploring the rambling old house, to see a startled steer's head poking around a doorframe or peering out a window.
At the side of the homestead was an overgrown orchard still bearing fruit (originally planted by the Sanfords), outhouses, an old chicken coop, a rusting old Morris van covered with weeds and derelict wooden sheds and workshops, one with an old sign saying 'Rakino Garage' (the sheds are gone now; they stood where the island's 'transfer station' currently is); all evoking a time long past and faded dreams.
An old church stands on the grounds and it looks like it's always been there, but is in fact a recent arrival to the island, barged over (as everything big has to be) a few years ago. One wonders if the returning barges could take back a few of the old dumped cars that now line the road from the wharf, a sad reminder perhaps that we live in a different age.
The foundations for the homestead at Home Bay were laid by Governor Sir George Grey, who bought the island in 1863, planning to make it his home. He started building but abandoned it when Kawau Island became available and in 1874 the island was leased, then subsequently bought, by Albert Sanford – of Sanford fishing company fame – and he and his family lived and farmed there for the next 80 years.
In her wonderful book Islands of the Gulf, Shirley Maddock interviewed Albert's youngest son, Gilbert, who said: “Dad started on his own. There were no powered boats, they were out in all weather, working handlines and then they rowed 12 miles to Auckland with a dinghy full of wet fish. They sold them on the steps of the Queen Street wharf, three good fish for a shilling.” Humble beginnings indeed.
In 1963 the island was bought by The Great Ricardo, aka Dr Maxwell Rickard, a psychologist and touring hypnotherapist who, among other persuits, ran a well-known (and some might say infamous) night club in Auckland. He was also the president of the United People's Organisation (Worldwide) Incorporated and his plans for the island included a clinic for disturbed and nervous patients (a newspaper reference from 1963 says “Rakino Island was purchased by Dr Maxwell Rickard for site of the Rakino Mental Health Hospital”), an international orphanage, a refuge for unmarried mothers and homes for the elderly. He placed advertisements in newspapers calling for 100 men and women to populate the island and 'donate' their wordly wealth for the benefit of all and at one stage even considered seeking United Nations protection and independent statehood. Oddly enough, there were no takers and in 1965, when his Utopian dreams came to nothing, he was forced to subdivide the island. A man before his time perhaps.
Over the years others have had grand schemes for the island and one that has made the news on and off over the years is a casino, mainly based on the tenuous fact that Rakino is 12 miles from the mainland and therefore in international waters.
There are now around 200 properties on the island – with around 30 of them currently for sale. Walking around the island's (mostly) gravel roads, you really know you're on an island. Even though you can see the Sky Tower poking its pointed hat above Rangitoto, the edges of the island feel close and there's a liberating feeling of isolation and freedom. Thirty-odd years ago, in the middle of winter, you could be the only person on the island.
Rakino's only public telephone box is painted a pleasing red and still has the metals bars surrounding it that kept out the steers that once roamed freely. It was the first solar powered telephone in the southern hemisphere at the time (some say the world, but that might be stretching it) and once it was the only building on the ridge where it stands (houses now line the road on both sides), lonely and surrounded by windswept grass. It was a friendly beacon and a focal point for the community. And it was reassuring knowing it was there and that help was a (free) local call away.
Walking down to one of the bays and around the rocks to the next, is easy. When the tide's out, you can almost walk the whole shoreline in a few hours, although the northern end can be a bit dicey, so caution is advised. Along the roads and at various points on the island there are stands of native plants that were planted – with the help of an enthusiastic team – by Ivan Whyle, one of the original homeowners on the island after it was subdivided. Now tui and and other birds fly freely where none existed before. Ivan passed away last year but his legacy will live on for many generations to come.
Woody Bay and the imaginatively named West Bay are (as you'd expect) on the western side of the island and offer boats safe anchorage. The eastern side is rocky and includes Maori Garden Bay, with is fairly sheltered. There's good fishing pretty much anywhere and for those in the know, crayfish, mussels and scallops (in season) can be harvested.
Unless you travel by helicopter - and some do, especially if they're staying at the $12,000-a-night (give or take) Hurakia Lodge, of America's Top Model fame - the only way for non-boaties to get to the island is by ferry. In summer the ferries and water taxis go fairly regularly, but in winter they only go a few days a week. It's always been this way and is the main reason Rakino has not been developed. That and the fact there's no electricity on the island. And no reticulated water. And no shops.
Sandy Bay is just ahead as you get off the boat, and is probably the best beach on the island for swimming and snorkelling, and because it's almost a lagoon, it's calm and a safe anchorage. Tiny Tuatara Island shelters one side of the lagoon and the pines on it were reputedly planted by Governor Grey. To date there's been no siting of the tuatara that was supposedly released there around 100 years ago.
Sandy Bay is also the site where, every Easter, the rakino Island Jazz and Art festival is held. Extra ferries run from both Auckland and Waiheke for the event and hundreds of music lovers from all over congregate for one day of good music and good company. And at the community hall on the wharf, festival-goers can browse the arts and crafts on offer, which are all created by talented Rakino islanders. The wharf buildings also house the well-stocked Rakino library and a composting public toilet.
Nothing's changed much on Rakino Island. When Shirley Maddock wrote about Rakino for her book in 1966, there where around 12 people living on the island. Much the same as now. Sure, there's more holiday homes than there used to be, but the essence of the island – its timeless magic – still remains. And for that I'm grateful. Stephen Dickens
