ABOUT TOWN–POINT WELLS
The tide is in, stretching blue and wind-rippled to the mangrove-covered shores of Whangateau. On this side of the harbour, my neighbour is heading out on her paddleboard. She kicks off her jandals, pads down the rough concrete boat ramp into kneedeep water, and glides off without a wobble. The ramp was built by my grandfather in the 1960s, a cracked door stop of concrete and gravel always painful on sea-softened feet. It serves as a daily launchpad for watercraft: paddleboards, kayaks, sailboats, and the tiny rafts I made as a child from branches and hollowed-out watermelon husks.
From the boat ramp, the land surrounding the harbour is bushcovered in every direction except east. Omaha extends across the harbour mouth, a long, pixelated strip of white and green gleaming houses interspersed
