Peter MacDonald
Long before Abel Tasman charted the western coast of New Zealand in 1642 and James Cook set foot on our shores in 1769, there may have been other visitors: seafarers whose stories have been lost, obscured or deliberately buried. As increasing anecdotal, archaeological and botanical anomalies come to light, a growing number of independent researchers, local observers and concerned citizens are questioning the sanitised version of New Zealand’s discovery and settlement.
The mainstream historical narrative maintains that Polynesians were the first to arrive, developing into the Māori and that European contact began in the 17th century. But there are whispers of an older story – a much more complex – one involving Norse explorers, Spanish mariners and suppressed evidence hidden from public view.
The Spanish Pohutukawa in Galicia
In La Coruña, a coastal city in Galicia, Spain, stands a massive pohutukawa tree (Metrosideros excelsa), a species endemic to New Zealand. Local tradition holds that the tree is over 500 years old and speculation surrounds how it came to be there. The only logical explanation: it was transported back by early Spanish explorers. The timing aligns with the golden age of Iberian exploration, long before the British and Dutch laid claim to New Zealand’s ‘discovery’.
Winston Cowie and others have drawn attention to this living anomaly as possible evidence of pre-Tasman European contact with New Zealand. If proven, it would rewrite the known chronology and pose difficult questions for historians and policymakers alike.
The Mysterious Helmet of Wellington Harbour
A Spanish conquistador-style helmet, dredged up from Wellington Harbour, was quickly removed from public view and stored in the basement collections of the national museum, Te Papa. The official explanation is unconvincing: that the helmet was dropped by a 19th-century settler or actor. But the design and condition suggest something far older. The reluctance to investigate this artefact seriously adds to growing distrust in institutional transparency.
Norse Carvings and Settlements in the North
In the upper regions of the North Island, particularly in Northland and the Waipoua Forest, there have been quiet reports of stone carvings and foundation structures resembling Norse origin with some displaying rune-like inscriptions. Whistleblowers and locals claim that these sites were sealed, removed or buried and that access is now strictly controlled by government agencies.
Some claim that Norse explorers, long known for their daring voyages, may have made their way into the Pacific, adapting their vessels and following Austronesian maritime routes. Oral traditions in some iwi (tribes) even speak of tall, red-bearded men arriving in longboats, a story that aligns uncannily with Viking features.
A Speculative Hypothesis: Could Vikings Have Reached New Zealand?
While mainstream historians remain sceptical, it is worth considering the Vikings’ proven capacity for extraordinary voyages. The Norse reached Vinland, believed to be part of present-day Newfoundland in Canada, around the 11th century; a remarkable feat of navigation across the North Atlantic.
If Vikings could cross the Atlantic and establish temporary settlements so far from their homelands, could they have also ventured farther afield, following established maritime trade routes through Europe, the Mediterranean, the Indian Ocean and finally into the Pacific? By adapting their ships with influences from Austronesian double-hulled canoes, they might have been capable of traversing vast ocean distances to reach the islands of Polynesia, including New Zealand.
This remains speculative, but the combination of Norse saga fragments, local oral traditions and unexplained archaeological finds make it a hypothesis worthy of further exploration, free from the constraints of institutional dismissal.
The Silent Embargo
Adding to the mystery is a disturbing pattern: a moratorium placed on digging below one foot in certain areas of New Zealand even in open fields or city worksites. Multiple local authorities, under the guidance of Heritage New Zealand and other departments, have halted excavations for fear of disturbing ‘pre-1900’ archaeological materials. While caution is important, some suspect this is part of a broader suppression strategy.
Even more troubling are reports of 75-year embargoes on specific archaeological findings, particularly those that could indicate cultures existing in New Zealand prior to recognised Māori settlement. If true, this would amount to an intentional blackout of historical data, perhaps to avoid political fallout or Treaty complications.
A Personal Account
I experienced this first hand while assisting a local military historical society in Dunedin. The group renovates forgotten soldiers’ gravesites in the Southern Cemetery and is currently searching Dunedin’s Kensington Oval for WWI trophy guns brought back from war zones and placed near the South African Memorial statue for the Boer War guns reportedly buried in the 1930s for safekeeping, at locations including the Oval, Market Reserve and Queens Gardens next to the Cenotaph.
Despite the society’s dedication, we were not allowed to dig deeper than one foot due to the moratorium. The excavation was strictly guided by local archaeologists, who enforced these restrictions. This policy not only hindered recovery efforts but raised questions about what might remain buried, uninvestigated and unknown beneath our feet.
Why It Matters
This is not merely about history: it is about identity, truth and the politics of memory. If other cultures reached New Zealand before or alongside Māori, it does not diminish Māori mana but enriches the story of this land and its peoples. However, for some institutions, complexity is inconvenient. Treaty settlements, national identity and academic careers all rest on a tidy timeline.
We must ask, why are we afraid of the full truth?
The pohutukawa in Spain, the helmet in Wellington, the buried carvings of the North and the embargoed dig sites form a pattern that cannot be ignored forever. New Zealand deserves a deeper, more inclusive conversation about its past: one that is brave enough to face the inconvenient.
