Crossing the Dargaville Bridge over the Northern Wairoa River on a misty morning is an act of faith. From the middle of the bridge onwards there is nothing but damp cloud, and one can never be sure whether the road actually does carry on to the far bank. Then there are the reflections beneath that seem to point to some subterranean city, populated at the very least by mermaids, and possibly pirates. As always, it lends some excitement to our journey.
(apologies – I couldn’t seem to get past another haibun – maybe next time)