Sept 29, 2008 - The Little Bridge that Didn't Want to Go
by Michel & Jane DeRidder

The Kerikeri River, with its sheltered estuary and safe anchorages, provided a natural entryway into the interior of New Zealand's North Island in the days of travel by Maori waka, sailing ships and their pulling boats, small sailing cutters, oxen, foot and horseback. The constantly changing weather pattern made it possible for larger boats to sail in and out of the river with favorable winds. It was in the Kerikeri Basin that a mission house known today as Kemp House was built, and the fortified storage building now known as the Stone Store constructed.

It wasn't until 1913 that a one way plank bridge was built across the river to replace the original river ford and stepping stones.

A barge bringing fertilizers was a regular visitor to the Stone Store Basin. (These two old photos thanks to the Wood family.)

In the seventies, when we first visited Kerikeri, visiting vessels dropped their anchors and tied their sterns onto giant gum trees protecting the head of the basin. Smaller boats dropped their anchors near the Stone Store Bridge, sometimes tying a line to the hand rails. Cruisers took their washing up into the pool beyond the bridge to scrub it in the fresh running water, then festooned their rigging with freshly washed clothes. The store sold fresh bread, milk and groceries, newspapers and fuel to boats. Thousands of Kiwis and tourists visited Kemp House and the Stone Store each year.

Stone Store Basin scene in the late 70s when yachts tied lines onto the gum trees.

Boats anchored just below the bridge where it is no longer possible to anchor because of flash flood damage.

Traffic built up as Kerikeri and the district grew. Runoff scum from extensive shore developments fouled the river. The river silted up. The gum trees were cut down. The Stone Store closed its shop and became a museum. A flash flood in 1981 piled rocks below the bridge where boats used to anchor, and flooded the historic buildings to a height of four feet.

Rocks washed down in the Flash Flood of ’81 to foul the turning basin where boats formerly anchored.

Then some johnny-come-lately got the idea that the Stone Store, New Zealand’s oldest remaining stone building and the old mission house, could be developed as a World Heritage site - a tourist drawing card. A glossy plan was drawn up. The area would be restored to early mission status. For who knows what reason, the year 1840 was picked. The NZ Historic Places Trust came on board. We must get rid of the bridge which threatens to flood the historic buildings, said they. The Prime Minister thought it a fine idea, not realizing that when the buildings flooded in the ’81 flash flood, it was bottlenecks downstream of the bridge that brought the water level in the basin much higher than bridge level, which is what actually caused the flooding of the buildings, not the bridge. It all happened at night so the only pictures taken were the morning after when the water had receded. (See our March 6, 2006 story of that FLASH FLOOD)

In June of this year, an oft-delayed by-pass was finished. Government funding was provisional on the understanding that the old bridge must be removed - to the horror of those who feel that it is part of history too, and to those of us appalled at the waste of a perfectly good bridge which could have served as footbridge as well as back up bridge for emergencies after the traffic was diverted. In spite of years of petitions, pleas and protests, on the very day of the official opening of the new bypass, the nearly 100-year-old Stone Store Bridge was not only closed to both vehicles and pedestrians but its destruction begun.

Demolition crew.

But the little concrete bridge, raised and rebuilt in 1963 on the supports of the 1913 plank bridge, did not give up easily. It had been built to last, to withstand floods. Even the Flash Flood of ‘81 could not do it in. What was to have been a quick and easy job turned out to be more of a challenge than anyone had bargained for. Mr. Glass, the engineer, had apparently not left drawings of the construction details and those who had been present at the time were not sought out to ask what they had seen.

“Our engineers have done their sums. It’ll be gone in three weeks,” we sticky-beakers were told upon questioning how such a job would be accomplished. We watched as workmen drilled holes in the concrete where chains would be threaded so the bridge could be lifted piece by piece.

Cutting holes in the concrete in order to thread chains for lifting.

We saw where the first span of seven had been sawn down the center. We happened to be on hand at the time of the attempted test lift of that first half of one of the seven spans. No go. It seems that there was far more reinforcing rod holding it all together than expected, and denser concrete used, which meant it was far heavier than calculated. Too heavy for the crane to lift.

Test lift of first section of bridge – too heavy for the cat!

Jackhammers were brought in to cut away the cement so the rods could be burned out by gas torch. Additional time-consuming saw cuts through ten-inch reinforced concrete were needed to divide each half span into more manageable sections.

Heavy duty concrete sawing.

To complicate matters, Telecom was well behind time removing their telephone lines suspended under the bridge and connecting up to the new boxes, saying they had no crews available to deal with the matter; they were all busy in larger centers and could not be spared. When the Prime Minister arrived for the official opening of the bypass, she was appalled to discover the bridge still there. It took a word from Aunty Helen, as she is known, to get Telecom’s part of the job done forthwith.

Slowed further by atrocious weather and high water, everything took much longer than tendered for. The demolition crew soared well over their scheduled time allotment. That little bridge simply did not want to go.

Nibbling away at the bridge.

Locals came in dribs and drabs to watch the desecration, to reminisce about walking to school over the bridge way back when children still walked. We met ever so many people with stories to tell, including some who had watched or worked on the construction of the 1963 raised section on top of the 1913 supports, and how the engineer went about it.

The main sorrow of local people is that a promised foot bridge had not been built before the bridge demolition began. “I have always walked across the bridge from my home to church.” “My children can no longer cycle to school.” ”I miss being able to walk to town.” “We feel sick about a perfectly serviceable bridge being removed.” “This used to be such a lively place. Now it’s dead and deserted.” “I’ve been fishing for kahawai from the bridge all my life and I miss wandering down to catch a few fish for tea.” And so it goes. Nevertheless, some are delighted to find no traffic streaming by, no longer having to dodge vehicles to cross the road, not having photos ruined by passing vehicles.

Little by little.

Eventually the bridge was gone, but the abutments remain, relegated to the Too Hard Basket we suspect. The parking lots have not been completed and open for use as yet. Weather? Resources? A means of keeping gawkers away? The promised foot bridge has not even been started. Will it ever be built? A recent letter to the editor of a local paper from a longtime resident said, “The indecent haste with which the bridge was removed following the opening of the bypass was nothing more than corporate vandalism.”

The road is closed.

The bridge is gone except for the abutments at either end.

Despite bitter division of the community, both literal and figurative, birds still nest along the shore. Royal spoonbills still fly in to sweep the muddy low tidal shallows. The Stone Store Basin, the end of the navigable part of the river, is still a place where cruisers come by boat or dinghy to access the well supplied Kerikeri shopping center.

And there are still lovely hideaways to discover – for instance a hidden boatyard downstream from the Kerikeri Basin.

For a depiction of early mission days in the Kerikeri Basin, you cannot do better than finding a copy of the children’s book, LIZZIE LOVE, by Brenda Delamain, Longacre Press, 2006. It is based on the true story of Elizabeth Kemp, crippled by illness, the eldest of seven children. Her father, James Kemp, was missionary to Maori at Kerikeri in the Bay of Islands. The story begins in the year 1833 and shows early interactions between the two races, compares values and ways of life. Fascinating details of everyday life based on extensive historical research make the story come alive.