The Enchanting Of The Wanaka Tree

Every now and then, if you are lucky, life will hand you a moment that feels like pure poetry. Like it’s too perfect and too beautiful to be real.

Here is one.

In Wanaka, there is a tree. It’s not very big, but it stands alone, a few metres from shore, growing alone out of the water of the lake. This in itself makes it noteworthy, and in the setting of Lake Wanaka, with the surrounding hills and mountains, it’s a beautiful tableau. At any time of day you can find a half moon of tourists strung around it, each eager to get their shot of the famous Wanaka tree.

There I aimed my steps one evening, same as any other tourist, to get my picture for Instagram of the tree in the sunset. I was so focused on the tree itself, and the size of the crowd on the beach, that at first I didn’t notice the piano.

At the very edge of the water, just to the right of the tree, was a small platform with a piano, and a man. And he was playing the most beautiful music, floating out from his open upright, lifting up into the evening breeze so that the music was all around us. I took my photos and I sat down in the crescent moon audience on the beach.

I listened to the music as the shine faded from the few fluffy clouds, and the sky glowed in the softest pastel sunset you could imagine. The almost full moon was already bright and high in the sky, directly above the tree. As the light faded and the music went on she shone down, crowning the scene like a cosmic good luck sign. Like a goddess blessing the scene below her.

The mountains faded to misty blue and the moonlight on the water shone a path across the lake directly to the tree. In the last moments of the music, I was reminded of ancient kings and magic, of Merlin, of mysterious lake women, and magic swords. It felt like I was outside of time for a moment, caught in a bubble between the current hour and the time of fairy tales of old.
All daylight faded, and our shadows, mine and the other backpacker I befriended, were sharp and clear on the beach behind us, clearer than the shadows thrown by the streetlights in town. The moon was impossibly bright, lighting up the lake and the valley in a scene from a black and white film.

I walked back around the lake alone, wondering at the beauty of the colourless night around me. The edges of the lake were so black, the middle where the moon shone so bright, it was as if someone had poured melted silver on the middle of a pool of ink.

I walked back around the lake alone, singing haunting songs to the moon, adding what little magic I could to the night.

Here is my love poem to the moon

Her haunting light

At night’s high noon

Her shadows sharp and contrasts bright

I am enchanted here tonight

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If you’re wondering about the pianist, his website is here.