Open secret
My first encounter with Auckland’s hidden underworld began at the bend of a cul-de-sac on the flanks of Te Tātua-a-Riukiuta (also known as Three Kings). The walk up the long driveway gave little away, other than to indicate we were among the inhabitants of a genteel, leafy suburb.
We reached a platform that was clearly someone’s deck. Now more or less single file, about 50 of us, some clutching cushions, sidled through an outside shower cubicle and then down rough step-like rocks around a tree.
There, the ground fell away abruptly in a scree of
