"Buried in the crevettes of Tongariro land, one may stumble upon mysterium symbols for divination and rituals. Knuckle bones of nature, with magical properties beyond our comprehension.
These are the root runes of Tongariro."
Tucked away in the wild, just a stone’s throw from the charming alpine town of Ohakune, lies a forest that feels like it was dreamed into existence by a mischievous earth spirit.
Tongariro Forest is a place where ancient trees lean in close to swap secrets and moss drapes like velvet over lava-strewn trails.
Here, time forgets itself. The forest is neither in a rush nor concerned with direction—rivers twist and tumble as they please, ferns uncurl like green scrolls inscribed with prehistoric wisdom reminds you that this is a place where wild things still rule.
Tongariro Forest is a place where ancient trees lean in close to swap secrets and moss drapes like velvet over lava-strewn trails.
Here, time forgets itself. The forest is neither in a rush nor concerned with direction—rivers twist and tumble as they please, ferns uncurl like green scrolls inscribed with prehistoric wisdom reminds you that this is a place where wild things still rule.
Beatle Mania
'Beatle Mania' captures the chaotic beauty of a moment in time, where nature itself seemed to mirror the whirlwind of emotions I was experiencing. The snow-covered trees, their limbs twisted and tangled, appear almost like the iconic shape of a beetle, its rounded form hidden in the complexity of the forest. Much like the frenzy of the time, the scene is a mix of confusion and wonder, with the storm of snowflakes blurring the lines between clarity and chaos. The stillness of the snow contrasts with the frenzy of life, offering a snapshot of a world that, like the photo itself, felt disorienting yet strangely beautiful. In this piece, I found a reflection of my own journey through the noise—an unexpected sense of calm within the madness.
Birds with names as melodic as their calls—like the tūī and the elusive kōkako.
Tongariro Forest isn’t just a forest—it’s a living storybook, stitched together with volcanic history, Māori legends, and the gentle pulse of nature doing its ageless thing.
The forest holds layers upon layers of stories—both geological and mythical. Beneath your feet, ancient lava flows sleep beneath tangled roots, reminders of Tongariro’s fiery origins. To Māori, these mountains and forests are sacred beings, woven into the land’s genealogy. Every gust of wind, every rustle in the branches, feels like it’s brushing up against legend.
Tongariro Forest isn’t just a forest—it’s a living storybook, stitched together with volcanic history, Māori legends, and the gentle pulse of nature doing its ageless thing.
The forest holds layers upon layers of stories—both geological and mythical. Beneath your feet, ancient lava flows sleep beneath tangled roots, reminders of Tongariro’s fiery origins. To Māori, these mountains and forests are sacred beings, woven into the land’s genealogy. Every gust of wind, every rustle in the branches, feels like it’s brushing up against legend.
The limbs of Tongariro trees stretch out, like they were trying to pull something through, inviting the unknown into the quiet forest.
The forest itself is alive, caught in the throes of a great awakening.
The forest itself is alive, caught in the throes of a great awakening.
The snow, untouched moments before, began to shift as the trees' restless energy filled the air, blurring the line between reality and something otherworldly.
Twins of Mythology Editions
The thing I remember most of the Tongariro grounds, the atmosphere felt like a new earth, the freshest air I've breathed yet, the coldest I've felt. Until the sunlight appears turning the forest into warm maple.
In the shadows of the forest was were the art, conversations and presence was felt.
As for the light, it made our path and discoveries visible to sight, calm and peaceful and a nest to be absorbed.
We followed through the paths and pasts the runes to be met with the maple sunlight.
Exposing through the trees and upon our faces, I would lay here until the runes consume and cover me completely.
As for the light, it made our path and discoveries visible to sight, calm and peaceful and a nest to be absorbed.
We followed through the paths and pasts the runes to be met with the maple sunlight.
Exposing through the trees and upon our faces, I would lay here until the runes consume and cover me completely.
Maple forest visits me, in melancholy as the temperate changes from dusk to dawn.
When I see curious magpies flutter around.
How I miss it, how it'll stay with me.
When I see curious magpies flutter around.
How I miss it, how it'll stay with me.
May you find rest upon the soft moss ground,
may the magpies of maple forest carry our joy like song.
may the magpies of maple forest carry our joy like song.
Because the forest didn’t notice when it ended. It just kept growing.
As some places hold the shape of a feeling long after it’s gone.
Everything is still beautiful.
As some places hold the shape of a feeling long after it’s gone.
Everything is still beautiful.
