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Denis McLean
by Geoff Chapple
Denis McLean first made me sit up and take notice not because he’d been a Secretary of Defence, or an Ambassador to Washington. I’d name checked him certainly, but such posts are above and beyond those of us who just read the papers, inform ourselves briefly on matters of national interest, nod and turn the page.
What made me sit up was his 1986 book The Long Pathway: Te Ara Roa. This was his account of an 800-kilometre coastal tramp with his wife and family from the small East Cape township of Te Araroa down to Wellington. The family walked. Denis wrote the geology of the cliffs. He reached up and over the cliffs to history in the land above – Maori myths that enriched the capes and bluffs, or perhaps specifically the birthplace and exploits of a Maori VC, or a recounting of old farming history. It was the land and the people questioned and beautifully represented. He could write – I knew that the moment I had the book in my hands. Such simple but effective phrases that set the McLean family walk in motion - ‘The open coast held us again.’
I took notice of Denis because The Long Pathway: Te Ara Roa was exactly the kind of book I wanted to write. The book stayed in my mind. At around 10 pm on what I now see as a fateful night in mid-1994, I wrote the article that sparked the long trail movement in this country. The trail didn’t exist, but if it was to be pulled into being by its bootstraps, it was important to name it. Late night, deadline approaching . . . I needed a name. Denis’s book came back to me then as a guide. Te Araroa – sure it was the name of a town, but Denis had also named the town with respect, then had gone on to use the wider meaning.
In 2002 I went to see him for the first time. I wanted to talk about the trail. I had a plan for the South Island and as a fellow long walker I wanted him to see it. We pored over maps. He was one of those people who can raise a topology from scanning a map and presently the Richmond Range stood before us in his living room. A rampart. “Look here - ” his fingers were tracing that bunching of contour lines that signals a tramping challenge. “Very steep country Geoff. You’ll need to be well prepared. What are you going to carry in?”
I knew his interest in writing and geology and suggested at that first meeting that he read John McPhee’s Assembling California one of a McPhee series of books on road-cut geology across the 83rd parallel in America. What did I mean should read? Denis, I came to know, buttressed his huge range of interests with scholarly depth. He read widely. He’d already read McPhee – the whole series in fact, which was more than I’d done – and in due course a parcel arrived at my home gifting me that entire series.
By 2004 all of the New Zealand trail’s route preparation had been done, and we’d reached the stage of setting up regional trusts so that the burden of securing routes could be advanced by experienced people who knew the local possibilities. We needed a Wellington Trust, and there was one obvious candidate to chair it.
My wife Miriam and I visited Denis and Anne at their home. They were busy people. Denis, as I recall, was just finishing off his manuscript on Australia/New Zealand relations, and was preparing for another long walk down the western coast from Whanganui. His other interests were also simmering – papers to be done for the Institute of International Relations, also the regular meetings of former Rhodes Scholars, also the initial steps in setting up a catalogue of New Zealand war graves overseas.
Ahem – but could he chair the Wellington Trust ? He was a very busy man and . . . it took only a few moments. He couldn’t resist it.
Long walker, great political contacts, great energy. He was perfect. The first thing he did was arrange for me to talk to Wellington Rotary, and a $5,000 startup donation arrived. The team that formed around him then developed into a highly active and persuasive unit. The track took shape from Levin through to the sea at Island Bay. In 2007 Denis and then-Wellington-Mayor Kerry Prendergast unveiled a plaque to mark Te Araroa’s North Island’s terminus. Way back in 1986, Denis had used a stanza from Denis Glover’s poem Themes to draw to a close that east coast Te Ara Roa walking book, and the plaque used the same wonderful sweep of words.
Sing all things sweet or harsh upon
These islands in the Pacific sun,
The mountains whitened endlessly
And the white horses of the winter sea,
Sings Harry.
Denis knew these islands, and loved them in word and deed. Those of us who knew him and respected him for that and for his fine character and his open and engaging mind were shocked by his sudden death on March 30th. Some of us were moved to further tears when the death notices came in and we found an entirely unexpected last wish. No flowers, it said and suggested instead a donation to Te Araroa.
Denis was working for us still.
2007: Denis and Kerry Prendergast unveil Te Araroa's North Island anchor stone
