2020 – Lewis Pass to St Arnaud – Five…ish Passes

As we walked this route, we debated just how many passes we could claim to have conquered. Ada pass, Three Tarn pass, D’Urville pass, Thompson pass, Waiau pass. We all agree the last four are legitimate passes. But Ada pass barely even raises a sweat. So lets call this trip “four and a bit passes”. or “Five…ish”, for the optimists out there.

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Magnus, Adam, Paul, Lewis, Chris, Luke

The Trip:

Day 1: St James walkway carpark to Ada Pass hut
Day 2: Ada Pass hut to Bob’s hut
Day 3: Bob’s hut to East Matakitaki campsite
Day 4: East Matakitaki campsite to Lake Thompson
Day 5: Lake Thompson to Blue Lake hut
Day 6: Blue Lake hut to Sabine hut
Day 7: Sabine hut to road end

Topomap of our route

Google map of our route

Day 1

Saturday 18th January – St James walkway carpark to Ada Pass hut

Day one of this trip was technically day two for Paul and Chris. They left Christchurch together on Friday afternoon to perform some convoluted car shenanigans that are far too complicated to explain here. The summary of it all is that with the help of Magnus and his wife Vanessa, and Paul’s mother-in-law Eleanor, they conspired to leave a car at the St Arnaud end of the track and then get to the Lewis Pass end for high noon on Saturday.

And that’s where and when the rest of the Moa Hunters met them. It was a hot sunny afternoon with only a light breeze drifting in from the north. The carpark was very warm indeed. Even the local sandflies seemed listless and lacking full commitment in the afternoon heat. While we apportioned food and equipment evenly into our six backpacks, lunch-on-the-run including delicious homemade sausage rolls and scones was eagerly consumed. Thanks Eleanor!! We all knew that the next seven days meals would not include quite such yummy treats.

By 1pm we had all eaten more than we should, and with rather heavy packs on our backs we were ready to make a start. Lewis had weighed them with his little portable scale, and we all clocked in around 19-20 kg. Luke topped the scales at 22 kg.

The track away from the carpark leads past a pretty pond surrounded by grasses and low vegetation. Sweeping picturesque views of the valley open up ahead. It all looked very beautiful and inviting in the clear conditions. Occasional boardwalks across boggy sections remind us we are on the St James walkway at this point, a well walked and well maintained piece of track.

After half an hour easy walking, we are well into the beech forest and reached the first swing bridge across the river – a strongly constructed one with a solid deck and healthy bounce as we crossed it in pairs. It’s not often you find a back country bridge that takes more than one person at a time.

We did find a couple of places where the track was washed out near the river, but well-worn diversions were easily followed round these and back to the main track.

There are plenty of lovely spots to stop beside the main river or side streams along the way. We took the opportunity to drink plenty of cool fresh water from them roughly every hour. With sunset not until 9:00 PM, there was plenty of time to reach Ada Pass hut. The afternoon heat and heavy packs were certainly causing us to lose a lot of fluids to perspiration. Keeping well hydrated and enjoying the surroundings was one aim of our first days walking.

We reached Cannibal Gorge hut at 4pm. Almost exactly three hours walking the easy track, and right on the DOC time. It is a fantastic place, and quite unlike most back country huts you will come across. Built taller and grander than the average hut, it dominates the end of a flat grassy meadow that has somehow kept the beech forest pushed aside. We stopped for a short break to grab some scroggin and take a sneaky peek inside. Chris remembered the last time he walked this park of the track the hut was still being built. I will make no comment here on whether that makes the hut quite young, or Chris quite old!

Keeping cool was our main difficulty as we walked the last hour to Ada Pass hut. With no cloud to temper the blazing sun’s heat, and an almost complete lack of breeze in the beech forest, we were walking in extremely hot conditions. Fortunately this was a short day on the track. We all hoped for cooler conditions in the days to follow, but knew the forecast was for the clear sunny weather to stick around for quite some time.

We reached Ada Pass hut at 5pm. Only one person was inside, with everyone else enjoying the lovely afternoon sitting on the deck, or in a shady area under some trees below the hut. Once we got our packs and boots off, we were able to cool off a bit and do the same.

The hut has fantastic views up to Three Tarn pass, our major obstacle for the next day. We chose to cook outside and take the opportunity to enjoy the vista. There were a few keen sandflies about, but not enough to drive anyone inside. Magnus commented that they are somewhat like the New Zealand hospitality industry – bleeding the tourists for everything they can get!

The late afternoon was changing from hot to mild, and it was all extremely pleasant.

There were seven others at the hut that evening. A father and two teenage girls we guessed were his daughters, and a group of two young women and two young men. To be fair, almost everyone we see on the track seem “young” these days!

Looking up the valley towards Three Tarn pass from Ada Pass hut

We made conversation with the other trampers, and quizzed two in particular who had run up to the pass that afternoon. They had done it in two hours, but had badly scratched legs from bush bashing to show for it. They said it is was not especially hard to find a way to the top, but it is steep. Granted they only wore daypacks, but two hours was impressive – and certainly not a time we expected to get remotely close to!

After downing a well-earned meal of marinated steak (thanks Paul!!), we listened to the latest bedtime story from Richard. Unfortunately he was unable to join us this year due to a slight mishap involving a training walk, a pothole, and a broken ankle. Richard had recorded a kiddies story for us before we left, which Paul played on his phone. It was a worthy sequel to the Wonky Donkey classic he recorded for us prior to the Dusky track Moa hunt.

Day 2

Sunday 19th January – Ada Pass hut to Bob’s hut

With a long day ahead of us, we were up bright and early, with the aim of reaching Three Tarn pass by lunchtime, before the full heat of the afternoon kicked in. With others still sleeping in the hut, we did our best to be as quiet as possible. We ate breakfast outside, then packed ready for the days walking.

It was 7:55 AM when we set off back down the track we had walked up the previous day. It was a short five minutes back to a wooden bridge over the Maruia river. From here we would head off the main track up the valley to Three Tarn pass. It would be the end of following any kind of maintained track for the next few days.

Just ahead was the terrain Paul had borrowed Richard’s walking poles for… His knees had been complaining a little during his training runs, and he had decided walking poles were good insurance for a week on the trail.

Over the bridge, we turned hard right and pushed through a thin stand of Manuka and began walking up the true right of the stream that would lead us most of the way to Three Tarn pass. There is a lightly trod track of sorts to follow, but a little bush bashing is required.

Big dragonflies buzzed up and down the river, darting quickly from left to right, going about whatever their important business was. With their twin sets of wings and chunky bodies, they are amazingly prehistoric looking creatures.

After following the main stream for approximately 100 metres, a side-stream cuts in from the left. At this point the bush ahead on the main stream gets very thick and nasty. Don’t try and go through it. Follow the side stream up for 100-150 metres, keeping an eye out for where the bush opens out on the true left. There are a few cairns up this moderately steep climb, and in parts it is obvious where others have walked before. When the bush opens out on the TL, traverse across an open grassy meadow and rejoin the main stream.

Back on the main stream we entered some fairly thick and at times messy beech forest. The route through here is for the most part fairly easy to follow, but does involve a bit of scrambling under and over fallen logs and branches. We met a man and woman through this section who we had seen go past Ada Pass hut the previous day. They were tracking Kea. The woman had a large aerial on her pack which we presumed was to locate signals from collars on the birds.

As we ascended, the forest thinned out and by 9:00 AM we were well out of the bush and into low scrub, snowgrass and tussock. It was still early, but the sun was already feeling hot, so we stopped to apply a layer of sunblock.

Picking a way through this section was not hard, and we all enjoyed the surroundings which were becoming increasing pretty as the valley tightened. There was little wind, with just the occasional blowfly buzzing past. Well ahead of us we could thee the rubble-strewn peaks surrounding Three Tarn pass. They still looked a long way off.

Climbing higher, we entered a nasty section with lots of Spaniard grass. No matter how carefully we attempted to dodge these vicious plants, we all received some painful stabs on our hands, arms and legs. Ahead of us we spotted two figures making their way down the valley towards us.

Andrew and Matai

Ten minutes later, we were saying hello to Andrew and his son Matai. They had camped on the other side of Three Tarn pass that night, and were heading out today. Andrew assured us there was less Spaniard higher up, and gave us some excellent information on our route ahead. He also mentioned there was “some wind throw” on the track through to Bob’s hut.

Some?! We beg to differ, Andrew! But more on that later…

We had a great chat, and were just about to part company when Paul mentioned the Moa Hunter website… Andrew took a step backwards and said, “wait… are you guys the Moa Hunters?”. He was excited to find out that we were indeed the Moa Hunters. It turns out he had read quite a few of our trips on the website.

After getting photos of each other, we parted company. Because Andrew and Matai were so friendly and gave us such good info, we agreed they should be officially bestowed the title of “Associate Moa Hunters”.

At the top of a steepish section, we stopped for scroggin. It was now about 9:45 AM and ahead of us we could see the vegetation thinning out. Beyond that is the start of the rubble and scree that signal a much steeper and tougher ascent.

Energised by our short break, we pushed on into the messy rubble below the pass. The rocks here are amazing. Large slabs of varying colours and textures are strewn all about. Red, green, silver, brown, blue. Some glitter, others have unusual patterns and markings.

There are a number of options when ascending the steep rubble. Most of us took an “up the guts” approach, trudging up what looked like the most direct route. Chris chose to head off to the right and avoid the more unstable sections of rubble. In hindsight this is probably the best option. Going straight up the loose rock was a real grind. Chris followed up the true left of the valley to a small spur between two streams, then at a knob, traversed left.

The sun beat relentlessly down on us from a cloudless sky. Occasional breezes wafted up the valley, briefly refreshing, but not enough to properly cool us. We were all sweating profusely as we slogged up the steep and tricky terrain, weighed down by our still rather heavy packs.

After a hard climb, we reached a basin which holds two cool clear tarns. It was 11:30 AM, but we decided this was a good spot for an early lunch. We still had a significant climb ahead to Three Tarn pass, and we were in no hurry to battle up it. We dropped our packs next to the smaller of the two tarns and stretched out to enjoy some lunch. Boots came off to let hot feet recover and cool off a little.

Adam and Lewis took the opportunity for a quick dip in the tarn. The water was cold, but not freezing cold, and it was deliciously refreshing. Sunblock was again applied liberally. There was no natural shade to escape the intense sun in this terrain. At this altitude the sky seemed incredibly blue and clear. Some of us draped jackets over our arms or legs to shelter from the burning UV rays.

It was 12:45 PM when we somewhat reluctantly hefted our packs on to begin our final ascent to the pass.

Just like the climb we had battled up to the basin, this last section up to the pass was brutally steep and quickly had us grunting and dripping sweat again. It took us 45 minutes to reach Three Tarn pass from the basin. We passed some small pockets of snow on the way up. It seemed amazing the snow could persist so long in such warm temperatures.

The drop off from the pass to the three tarns below is a short steep scramble down scree into another wide rubble filled basin. We each chose different routes to slide our way down. Once in the basin we wandered over to the tarns, took a few photos and enjoyed the feeling we had knocked off our first big climb of the trip.

From Three Tarn pass, the route descends a rather steep valley beside a stream that will eventually grow into the Matakitaki river. Initially we found the best walking was not in the streambed itself, but up on grassy ridges that ran down the valley at an angle beside it.

However, as we lost altitude, the snowgrass and spaniard got bigger and nastier. The grassy ridges became less and less desirable and more and more prickly. We were forced to spend our time close to the river, which was fine. Occasional boulder hopping was all that was required.

The descent is a long one, and the skies were still brilliant blue and clear. The sun was beating down on us mercilessly. When we stopped for a scroggin break at 3:30 PM it was very warm indeed, with just an occasional light breeze wafting past to cool us.

Prior to this break, Lewis had stepped into a rut hidden by snowgrass and went over heavily on his ankle. We gathered around him, quite worried as he lay on the ground rubbing it and wincing. It didn’t look good and he didn’t look happy. After spending some time to gather himself, he was able to stand and take weight on it, albeit gingerly. He took a few paces back and forwards, and gave a little nod. It seemed he would be able to continue. A Voltaren and ibuprofen were swallowed with water as a little insurance. Adam offered Lewis the use of his walking poles, which he took up.

It was mid afternoon when we reached a sweeping right hand bend in the valley and came upon a remarkable sight. A very large area of ground on the true left of the river was churned up like a massive herd of bison had charged across it, pulverising it with their hooves.

Standing amongst the carnage, we worked out the cause of the destruction. A massive quantity of snow and ice had avalanched off the mountains above and crashed down into the valley. Much of the ground we were standing on was in fact thick ice covered in debris. The avalanche must have initially dammed the river, which had by now eroded a path through it. It was a fascinating and awe inspiring sight.

We took lots of photos before wandering on down the valley again. We still had a long walk to Bob’s hut ahead of us.

It was 4:40 PM when we reached the first scraps of forest. It felt like we had been in the grassy river valley forever, and it was nice to have a change of scenery. The bush also signaled a significant flattening out of the terrain, and we soon found ourselves in a pleasant wide valley with much easier walking ahead.

Four and a half hours walking from the top of the pass and nine hours since we left Ada Pass hut, we reached a big friendly triangular orange marker on a tree. The start of the final section of track that leads to Bob’s hut. Unfortunately this marker lead nowhere. A stream had washed out the track, and we couldn’t find where it continued beyond. We did however spot a second marker 200 metres further up the river and walked to that one instead.

From the second marker we had about two and a half kilometres of walking through beech forest to Bob’s hut. This was the section Andrew had warned us had some wind throw. Well holy hell, we reckon there were large areas where there were more trees blown over than left standing!

It was a real mess and quite hard going. Frustrating awkward stuff. Endlessly climbing over, under and around large quantities of large logs was tiring and slow going. At the start of the day it would have been easier, but our energy levels were certainly at a low ebb after nine hours walking to this point.

We had estimated two hours to Bob’s hut from the start of the track, but it was a solid three. We lost the track countless times as we grovelled through that hideous messy section.

It was just ticking past 8pm when we walked the last few hundred metres up a side stream on the true left of the Matakitaki to the hut. We were all feeling pretty buggered. A curry was hastily prepared, as was a cheesecake. Uncharacteristically, we didn’t finish the curry and nobody felt like eating the cheesecake. Fatigue had killed our appetites. More than anything, we all just wanted to go to sleep.

We climbed into our sleeping bags and were soon snoring.

Soon… but not for long! Mice, bloody mice, everywhere! Adam and Paul were woken by them noisily getting into food bags. They each wearily crawled out of their sleeping bags. Adam more than once. Food items were all stuffed randomly into packs which were closed tight. A rubbish bucket was put outside the door. The cheesecake was covered with a plate.

After a series of mouse-proofing exercises we could finally get some well earned shut eye.

Day 3

Monday 20th January – Bobs hut to East Matakitaki campsite

It was nice to have a leisurely start to day three of our Moa Hunt. We had agreed the night before that there was no rush to get out of the hut in the morning. The plan was to start walking mid morning and get to the East Matakitaki hut mid afternoon. After dinner, we would walk on and camp up the valley.

Paul was first up, making porridge, and making the most of being in “Bob’s hut”. Before the trip he had said that he liked the name of the hut, and wanted to spend a night there. Just because it has an odd name. It is definitely a quirky and unusual name for a hut. None of us know the background of it. There is a mock grave outside with a cross on it. We presumed this is perhaps in honour of “Bob”.

After our exertions the day before, and a light dinner, our appetites had returned. We were all very ready for breakfast. A large billy of porridge was gobbled up in short order, and the uneaten cheesecake was dispatched equally quickly for morning tea.

It was extremely pleasant spending time together in the hut that morning, chatting about everything and nothing. Solving the world’s biggest and smallest problems. These times are what make our trips so special. We could have spent hours there. Actually we did! But the time had come to leave. Shortly after 10:00 AM we were outside the hut with our packs on ready to hit the trail.

From Bob’s hut, we followed an easy track on grassy flats up the Matakitaki river. A large orange DOC orange triangle on the edge of the beech forest was spotted, marking the start of a well trod track through the trees. Adam and Lewis also saw what they thought was a Tui flitting about high on the branches above the triangle. The flash of a white tuft on its breast confirmed it was indeed a Tui. A somewhat rare and exciting treat.

We didn’t encounter anything especially difficult in terms of terrain that morning. There was some wind throw here and there, but not on the scale that we had encountered the day before.

Shortly before midday we came to a wire bridge that appeared to have been recently renovated. It was perhaps a little slack and had a bit more wobble and sway than was entirely comfortable. But not a problem for the mighty Moa Men.

Shaded by the forest, we were sheltered from the full power of the sun. But the warm air temperature and lack of breeze still left us overheated at times.

We stopped for lunch in the forest beside a small stream. Leaning back against a tree or mossy bank was a wonderfully relaxing. The sun was shining brightly on the beech canopy above us, illuminating it a brilliant verdant green.

This deep in the forest, sandflies were few and far between, as were the wasps. In fact, we had seen very few at wasps at all thus far, which was pleasing. We did however expect there would be more farther north.

Following lunch, we were back on the track again. There were some boggy patches along the way, which we either skirted around, or carefully picked our through, hoping not to step in any deep muddy spots. Often these sludgy sections were immediately followed by bone dry ground, literally a few steps over a rise.

Occasionally the track popped out of the forest onto grassy flats beside the river, keeping the scenery interesting and making for a very pleasant day walking.

We reached East Matakitaki hut at 3:15pm. Situated on a grassy terrace right beside the river, it was copping the full intensity of the afternoon sun. With a metal walls and roof, it was just like a great big oven. Inside the hut it felt well over 30 degrees. We pulled the bench seats outside and sheltered from the sun on the shady side of the hut.

As we had some extra time on our hands, walking tops and socks received a wash in the hut’s nice new stainless steel bucket. We even had some laundry powder and liquid with us! They were hung on a wire on the sunny side of the hut and rapidly began to dry in the afternoon heat.

A dinner of spaghetti bolognese was prepared, substituting rice for spaghetti. It was very good indeed.

As we sat together in the shade finishing our meals, a figure appeared out of the forest on the track we had walked in on. She was a German woman, walking alone. We all said a friendly hello and she introduced herself as Grit. We asked where she was heading, and she said she was planning to follow basically the same route as us – over D’Urville, Thompson and Waiau passes. She looked quite fit and judging by her tan, had spent plenty of time walking in the great outdoors. We suspected she might pass us in the next day or two!

Unfortunately we didn’t get much time to chat as our plan was to get walking again. We guessed Grit would have been a little pleased we were going as this meant she didn’t have to squeeze into a six bunk hut with six smelly Moa Hunters! But, she would also not get to talk with anyone that evening, which may have been a slight disappointment.

We slung our packs onto our backs and said goodbye and see you later to Grit. It was likely we would see her again.

Following up the river, we were able for the most part to stay on an old track up the valley. While quite overgrown, it was easiest to spot if we looked at the ground rather than the vegetation, where the once well worn track was still visible. It did require regular pushing through brush, but was surprisingly quick going all the same. Note that the track, if you happen to be following it, switches sides of the river a couple of times.

Pretty much bang on an hour and a half from the hut we came upon an open grassy spot that looked perfect for camping. A large flat-topped rock would make a perfect cooking bench, and there was plenty of flat ground for shelter and sleeping. We discovered the next day as we walked further up the valley that this was virtually the last decent camping spot aside from a marginal grassy area an hour farther on.

It didn’t take long for approximately one million sandflies to find us. We quickly applied dimp and/or covered up with long sleeved tops and long-johns to limit the damage!

With shelters pitched, Magnus set about making us his famous hot chocolate recipe while Chris made dessert. It was a creme brulee instant dessert, cooled in the river. With both those delicious treats in our bellies, and twilight descending on us, we were ready for bed and crawled into our three shelters.

Day 4

Tuesday 21st January – East Matakitaki campsite to Lake Thompson

It was sandflies buzzing about of faces that woke us in the morning. We crawled out of damp sleeping bags onto wet grass. It had been a heavy dew overnight, and the air temperature was quite cool. Beanies and polarfleeces were pulled on. After so much hot weather, it was kind of nice to wear the thermals. At least it justified carrying them this far!

After breakfast and a lovely hot cup of coffee, we took down our shelters, shaking as much water as we could off them. Quite a lot of fairly wet gear was stowed into packs, adding some unwanted additional weight.

Today promised to be a very interesting one. Ahead was another tough climb up to D’Urville pass. From there a tricky looking traverse to Thompson pass before dropping to Lake Thompson. There was an air of anticipation about our camp. Perhaps mixed with a little nervousness. We all knew the traverse in particular could be quite a challenging one…

Shortly before 8:30 AM we were on our way up the river again. Much like the evening before, the way ahead was a real mix of varied terrain. Lush grassy flats beside the river lead us into darker tracts of beech forest or scrub. Occasional river crossings were required, or sloshing through the rocky shallows along a bank.

Our first hour of walking was all in the shade, with the sun still below the high ridges to the east. When we dropped out of the forest to a sun drenched bank beside the river at 9:45am, we accepted natures invitation to take a break. Wet and damp gear was spread out to dry. Even at this early hour, the intensity of the sun was enough to visibly dry them in just a few minutes.

Twenty minutes later and with our now crisp dry gear re-packed, we struck out up the valley again. As we gained altitude, the bush was thinning, offering us unobstructed views of David Saddle, a distinctive angled gut up the mountain ahead. It looked nasty, but we had read that while steep and challenging, it isn’t as bad as first impressions are from the valley.

The valley swings round to the east under David Saddle, and from there the Matakitaki river gradually dwindles to a small stream before abruptly disappearing completely under the rocks. Initially we were a little concerned. We didn’t want to tackle the climb over D’Urville pass without a decent drink of water in our bellies. Far ahead we could see the river above ground. We took a punt that it would be accessible from where we would start our ascent of the pass, and carried on walking.

Just over three hours since we left our campsite, we dropped packs at the foot of D’Urville pass. As luck would have it, the river was still flowing above ground here. We all enjoyed the cold refreshing crystal clear mountain water.

At Bob’s hut we had seen a possible route up the pass drawn on a map. It matched what we were looking at from our spot beside the river. The drawn route zig-zagged from right, to left, and then right again. The right hand edge of the scree above us was just that shape.

After muching down some scroggin, we took the chance to wet our hats and walking tops in the river. This had become a regular activity to combat the heat. Pulling on a wet top just before grunting up a steep slope definitely helps keep the body cool. That said, it was surprising how quick the wet hat and top dried in the sun.

We struck out up the slope shortly after 11:30 AM. Again we were under clear blue skies, and the sun was relentless. We were just halfway through our walk, but worryingly, well over halfway through our sunblock! Some of us had applied almost all we had. Even with heavy use of sunscreen, we all were showing some signs of sunburn in various places.

The initial 300 vertical metre climb felt steeper than Three Tarn pass, but the rubble was generally more stable. The late morning heat was brutal. There were a few stray fluffy white clouds about, but they rarely drifted across the sun to create any welcome respite from its full force.

Above the scree/rubble face, the terrain got a little easier. A rocky ridge provided stable walking at a slightly less demanding angle of attack. This was a relief as it had been a steep grunt to that point. As we approached a basin with a tarn at its centre, the rubble was replaced by rocks that quickly grew from large to very large. We picked our way through the maze of granite to the tarn, and gratefully dropped our packs at its edge.

A few of us were feeling quite shattered. Probably all of us, to be fair… A combination of the heat and pushing too hard too fast up the hill left Adam and Chris in particular feeling a bit under the weather. Despite the clock saying it was lunchtime, neither felt particularly hungry. But knowing you can’t run an engine without fuel, they both ate as much as they could.

There were very few places to escape the sun at the tarn, which was by now almost directly overhead, meaning even the largest rocks offered little shade. Lewis again took the chance for a cool dip in the tarn, but no-one else felt motivated or energetic enough to strip down for a swim.

As we were eating our lunch, we spotted a lone figure across the tarn. It was Grit, and she gave us a friendly wave. As expected she had overtaken us. After a much shorter lunch break than ours, she started the steep climb to the pass. We watched her increasingly distant figure became smaller and smaller as she steadily picked her way up the 200 vertical metres to the top. It took her forty minutes.

The route up to Three Tarn pass

The top of the pass wasn’t getting any closer while we were sitting by the tarn… We pushed our remaining lunches and other gear back into our packs and started the final ascent. As with the climb up to the tarn, getting up to the pass was a steep grunt. Slow and steady wins the race, and this time we all paced ourselves a bit better. The route up is fairly obvious, aiming for a prominent rocky outcrop below the pass, swinging up and to right on top of it, then up the last scree to the lowest visible brow above.

A quick check of Paul’s watch at the top confirmed we had made the climb at the same pace as Grit – 40 minutes.

We spent a bit of time at the top assessing where to next… Prior to the trip we had done a fair bit of research on potential routes that traverse from D’Urville pass to Thompson pass. But hadn’t considered how to drop off D’Urville pass and begin that sidle. We had assumed it would be obvious, and it wasn’t. We could see Grit in the distance skirting round a small tarn, but didn’t know the path she had taken to get there.

Eventually we agreed that the safest descent that was least likely to end in an impassable bluff was down a chute some distance to the left as we looked down – away from Thompson Pass. Once low enough and clear of potential bluffs, we could cut back right towards the distant tarn. It turned out to be the correct choice. The slide down the chute was very manageable, and there were rocky bluffs farther to the right that would have been awkward..

Travel to the tarn was bumpy to say the least. Large boulders and rocks fallen from the peaks above fill the flatter terrain below. Where we could, we walked across grassy flats, but these were few and far between. A lot of boulder hopping was required. It was tough on the boots.

From the tarn, the route ahead was a bit clearer. We would need to traverse across a rubble slope, aiming fairly high to a grassed area just under a rocky outcrop. From there a more challenging looking scree slope would await. This would require us to gain some altitude as we picked our way across to the top of another rocky outcrop. Possibly not easy on loose material. From there we could sidle evenly over what looked like less unstable terrain to an unusual rust coloured scree slope.

Looking ahead, planning a possible route to Thompson Pass.

Our assessment again proved correct. The scree slope beyond the rock outcrop was indeed the tricky. In fact, it was the most demanding section of the whole traverse. We each kicked out flat footholds for the next Moa Hunter, hopefully making life easier for them. Again, slow and steady was the winner here. Only fools rush in.

Crossing the rust coloured rubble was easier than the fine scree, but we did need to remain conscious of altitude. Ahead was an obvious rock outcrop which we needed to go over. We each took care to push up the slope as we trudged across the interesting red-brown feature.

Above the rocky outcrop, travel got a bit easier. Despite being unable to escape the full intensity of the sun, continuing to carefully ration what sunblock we had left, we enjoyed the magnificence of the surroundings. We were in rugged, unforgiving country. Few people get here, standing in wonder as we did, at the massive scale and rugged beauty of the towering craggy mountains and the majestic sweep of the plunging valleys below. It is massive country. This is what Moa Hunting is all about…

Beyond the first small outcrop we traversed up and across to a gravel chute that lead up the right hand side of a very large rocky feature to a little pocket of snow. It’s possible some people may choose to sidle carefully below it. But the route across the top is easy and flat, and most definitely less dangerous than below. A large cairn at a high point of this outcrop confirmed we were on the right path. Lewis found some antlers nearby, and added them to the rock pile.

We dropped off the rocky bluff, across more rubble, then up and over another large outcrop of rock. From this we chose to skirt across to a very climbable looking rockface which would take us up and over a final bluff and onto Thompson pass. Lewis scampered up it like a mountain goat, with the rest of us a little farther back. From the top of the rockface it was mostly grassy, with an awkwardly steep descent down to the pass.

It was a little before 6:00 PM when we all stood atop the pass. It had taken the best part of three hours to traverse from D’Urville pass to Thompson pass. It had been a challenging section, but very rewarding both in terms of the views and the satisfaction of knocking it off.

We dropped off the pass into a narrow valley. As soon as we had cleared the end of the knob on the true right, we climbed up and out onto a grassy plateau that sloped down to the shore of Lake Thompson. It was a beautiful view, reminiscent of Lake Angelus in many ways. If it was more accessible, a big hut would certainly attract a lot of visitors, given the gorgeous aspect of the lake.

We spotted Grit’s green tent already erected some way round the lake, well beyond what was clearly a well used camping area ahead of us. There were two stone walls that had been put up for shelter from the wind, and what looked like a couple of flat spots for tents or shelters.

Chris and Magnus put up their shelter inside the stone walls. Paul and Luke grabbed a spot down the slope a little. Lewis and Adam, after much to-ing and fro-ing, finally decided on a spot that was no better or worse than anywhere else. From above the camp area looked flat, but at close quarters, it was dotted with lots of rocks and lumpy ground.

Dinner was prepared and devoured, hot chocolate fortified with whisky was downed, and we were all feeling pleased with ourselves after a very good day in the hills. It had been another long day, with a lot of ground covered. Very satisfying.

As the sun disappeared behind the surrounding peaks, the air chilled down rapidly. The thought of tackling yet another steep pass tomorrow encouraged us to grab an early night to recharge our batteries as much as possible.

As 9:00 PM ticked past, low cloud started to blow over the pass behind us, dropping steadily lower into the lake basin. We decided we would rather be tucked into our sleeping bags when the cold misty cloud finally arrived.

We said our goodnights and slid into sleeping bags, anticipating we may be waking up to damp conditions again the next day…

Day 5

Wednesday 22nd January – Lake Thompson to Blue Lake hut

We awoke to an unexpectedly dry morning. A light breeze through the night had prevented any dew from forming. The low foggy cloud was gone, but high cloud was building. Given the amount of sun we had been exposed to over the past few days, this was a welcome change.

As we ate breakfast, we debated our exit strategy. A valley right in front of us was one obvious option, although there looked to be a steep section with a waterfall to get round. Farther round the lake where Grit was camping a second valley follows the stream that drains the lake, and that could also be taken.

Just as we were thinking the second option seemed best, Grit appeared over a rocky rise and wandered down. She was using a route planner GPS for her journey, and was following option 1, the valley below us. The planner showed a route that leaves the river to follow a terrace above the true left of the river. We wished her all the best for the days walking, and watched her head down the valley as we finished packing our gear.

We decided to go with the valley below. It was 8:50 AM when we headed off down the valley. The terrace arrived a little sooner than we expected, and we had to make a short but steep climb up to it, having missed an easier walk onto it back up the valley.

Once on the terrace, walking was very pleasant. Particularly lower down as we were treated to sweeping views down the valley. To our right the river had left an impressive sculpted wall of rock. Distinct vertical grooves an indication of the massive tectonic forces that have been thrusting and distorting these rocks. There were some steep snow grass sections on the terrace that would not be fun at all in slippery wet conditions. We were thankful for another fine day.

As we dropped off the terrace into the river valley again, we could see another option for the descent would have been to follow the spur down the true right of the river. Given the steep cliffs dropping away into the river, you wouldn’t want to attempt it in low visibility, but it looked no better or worse than the terrace on a good day.

Once in the valley, it didn’t take us long to swing round the corner to the foot of Waiau Pass. It had taken us an hour to walk here from Lake Thompson. Luke’s eagle eye spotted the orange top of a snow pole high up to our left. We walked up the river little more to a good spot for a break, before heading up to the pole.

From where sat munching on scroggin, the ascent ahead looked steep, but not brutal. The track obviously headed up left, then back right onto a rocky bluff. But after that, we weren’t sure. We couldn’t see enough of the higher terrain from the riverbed.

Our sitting assessment of the initial climb was correct. It was certainly steep. But not viciously steep. And because the pass sees plenty of traffic, it has well worn steps making the climb easier. Waiau pass is part of the Te Araroa trail, an increasingly popular 3000 km walk from the top of North Island to the bottom of the south. In the summer of 2018/2019, it is estimated 1200 people walked the trail. Most of them would have crossed Waiau pass.

There is a stream that flows over the top of the bluff and it is possible to fill water bottles at this point. We took the opportunity to take a drink and replenish ours. From the bluff, the track follows a narrow grassy ridge to a steeper increasingly rocky climb. On this section, grass and soil rapidly disappear and the walking is pretty much all on rock. Very grippy and abrasive rock. Your boots certainly grip them well, but their sandpaper-like surface is hard on the hands when climbing steep sections.

It was at the bottom of one of the first steep rocky climbs that we met the first of many walkers we would see that day. Three women heading down stopped briefly to say hello. They had obviously started their day very early indeed, and were headed to Waiau hut. No doubt there would be many more heading that way, and they were keen to score a bunk each!

Climbing the steep rocky sections was straightforward in the dry conditions. Even in the rain the rocks would likely be very grippy, but we were pleased to be walking in lovely conditions again. High cloud was taking the edge off the sun’s power, but it was still fairly warm.

Bent, buckled and broken snow poles were testament to just how much snow and ice accumulates in the pass over winter.

Beyond the steep rocky section, the track levels out and the last 700 metres to the top of the pass is across an scree slope. By this time we had passed a few more Te Araroa walkers, and we could see there were three more people sitting at the pass. They were two young American women, and another who wasn’t with them as such, and didn’t say a word! They were very pleased to be atop the pass, which is possibly the hardest climb of the whole Te Araroa trail. Although Stag Saddle further south would likely be on a par…

We dropped our packs and got our lunches out. It was just a shade after 1pm and we were rather peckish. The views from the pass were spectacular, and for the first time on our journey, we were exposed to a strong breeze. Sitting in the sun with rocks at our back was lovely and hot, and standing on the pass in the path of the breeze was bracingly cool. A nice contrast.

Lake Constance was visible to the North, and to the South we had big views of the rugged towering ranges of mountains we had weaved a path through over the past days. Lake Thompson was also easily spotted, nestled in a basin among the peaks.. We were clearly at a much higher altitude here on the pass.

From the pass, the descent is quick and fairly easy. It is almost all loose scree. Sliding our way down, we were happy to be doing the pass in the direction we did. Climbing up this loose material would be a tough exercise, and down-climbing backwards down the steep rock sections we had ascended on the other side would not be especially fun with a heavy pack on.

Scampering down we passed a lone English woman heading up the pass, and at the bottom another two Te Araroa walkers just about to take on the pass. All in all we said hello to 13 people on the track that day.

While the descent was easy, it was also loooong. There were fabulous views of a brilliant blue Lake Constance as we descended, but we were certainly pleased to finally be on flat ground next to the small stream at the bottom. It had taken an hour to get down, and that’s more than enough steep descent in any old Moa Hunter’s books!

The walk to Lake Constance was lovely, meandering through grasses and flowering shrubs across flat terrain. Following the shore of the lake was just as idyllic. It is an absolutely lovely lake, surrounded by steep grassy slopes rising into rugged rocky mountain peaks.

Near the head of the lake, the track detours inland and climbs a couple of hundred metres to skirt around the back of a bluff that extends into the lake. We hoped that the low lake level would mean we could get around the bluff and avoid the climb. But no such luck.

At the end of a fairly tough day, this diversion seemed overly long and overly high. But in hindsight it wasn’t particularly nasty. It did climb steeply at times, and continued to climb higher and higher for what seemed like a fair while. But at the start of a day it would be a doddle.

We finally reached the point in the track where it descended off the bluff. Below we could see the track winding across a grassy flat that sits behind an enormous mass of rock and rubble that spans the valley. Apparently the rock dam is the result of a massive rockfall which dammed the river and created Lake Constance. Not a glacial moraine as we originally surmised.

As we started down, we spotted a group of three trampers walking across the flats. We met them just before we reached the flat. They had not long left Blue lake hut, planning on walking to Lake Constance and finding somewhere to camp. We told them there were plenty of good camping spots, particularly at the far end of the lake.

We wandered on, weaving across the grassy flat. It is dotted with large rocks, and we chose a spot beside a particularly large one just above the bushline to stop next to for a break. While the rock was indeed a nice rock, the real reason for our stop were some excellent views of Blue Lake below us. We snapped some photos and nibbled on some snacks, enjoying the beautiful late afternoon conditions, and the knowledge that we were almost at the hut.

From our snack spot, the walk down through the scrub that led us into beech forest was easy and very pleasant. This close to the hut, the track was very well worn by the many feet that walk it every day.

It was 6:30 PM when we rolled up to a busy hut. There were seven bunks free, so we claimed six of them quickly. It was very likely quite a few more people would arrive before dark, or after! Inside was a hive of activity and conversation. People of all ages and walks of life were standing, sitting, lying, enjoying discussion about their day, and the days to come. We got talking to a number of them, and made friends with the hut warden, Bruce… Always a good thing to do!

The Te Araroa walkers were almost all headed south, and at this point were approximately 2/3 of the way through their long journey. Blue Lake hut is about 2000 km from their start point, and most had been travelling for about 90 days. They tended to fit two demographics. Either young, with no responsibilities, or old with no responsibilities. So, an interesting mix of twenty-somethings and retirees. Each walking the trail independently, but also making life long friendships along the way through their shared experience. Most of them chatted familiarly with each other. But others, more introverted, sat off to one side, listening and enjoying the energy, but choosing to not actively participate.

Dinner was a big stodgy (in a good way!) curry followed by chocolate instant pudding.

We all took the opportunity to walk down to the lake and wonder at the incredible clarity of the water. It is allegedly the clearest water in the World, and that claim is not hard to believe when you stand on its shore. Every detail on the lake bottom is visible is stark detail through the crystal clear water. It would be wonderful to dive in and experience that clarity from below the surface, but the lake is tapu (sacred) to maori, and doing so would be offensive. It would also introduce unwanted impurities to the water and spoil what is an incredible natural phenomenon.

Lewis and Adam popped into the camping area and said hello to Grit. Her tent was tucked neatly into the corner of one of the flat designated camping areas. Adam asked her what other trips she had done in New Zealand. As we had guessed, she is an experienced tramper. She had recently been down to Gillespie pass and Rabbit pass. Rabbit pass is not a climb for the faint hearted!

Adam also got talking to a friendly American chap who was clearly a keen photographer, given he was carrying a large SLR camera the length of Aotearoa. He said that when he read about the Te Araroa back in the States, he decided he had to do it. So he quit his job, flew to New Zealand, and started walking! If you are interested in walking the Te Araroa trail, he has an awesome photo blog which will give you a preview of what to expect

http://gonetrekking.net/

By the time we climbed into our sleeping bags, Blue Lake hut was more than full. Two walkers were sleeping on mattresses on the floor, thanks to Bruce for digging out a couple of spares. The camping areas outside were also pretty much full.

Day 6

Thursday 23rd January – Blue Lake hut to Sabine hut

Blue Lake hut was a busy place on Thursday morning. Some Te Araroa walkers had risen and left very early, but most were hauling themselves out of sleeping bags about the same time we were. It was a hubbub of noise and activity. Breakfasts being made, bags being packed, tall tales being told.

One of the most notable and unusual features of the hut is a massively over-engineered exterior door handle. About a foot long and weighing at least a kilogram, the enormous handle wouldn’t look out of place in a nuclear submarine… We certainly found it quite amusing, and wondered what madman had decided it would be an appropriate installation on a remote back country hut.

After a quick photo outside the hut, we were on our way at 8:30 AM. Our expectations of the day were that the track would be generally good. There had been washouts due to very heavy raid in December 2019, but conversations with others in the hut reassured us the track had been re-routed around the messy areas and was now well walked and easy going.

Between Blue Lake hut and West Sabine hut the track was indeed in very good condition. It was a pleasant change to be on an easily followed track again. There had been some mention of bush bashing being required, but this didn’t eventuate. The worst it got was walking a little closer to saplings and scrub than was usual.

Along the way we passed some enormous boulders the size of small houses in the river valley. One in particular formed a fantastic natural shelter under it, which had obviously been used by many walkers in the past.

We also noted that a new orange track marker was in use by DOC. Numerous sections of the track are prone to avalanches and the start of each has a sign warning trampers not to stop along them when there is significant snow. The orange triangle markers that mark these sections of track have a large black exclamation mark on them to emphasise the risk.

There was about 1km of track that had been washed out by the Sabine river. It must have been a scary sight when the river was in flood. It had scoured out a wide path, dumping shingle and rocks well into the forest. Very large trees had been ripped out the ground and were piled up in tangles of broken branches and logs.

Along this section we did have to climb over some fallen trees and weave through generally messy terrain. But it was no where near as bad as the wind throw near Bob’s hut.

The thick cloud we had hoped would keep the day cool had evaporated as the morning wore on, and by the time e reached a swing bridge to the West Sabine hut just on 11:30 AM, the skies above were clear and hot.

We had been hearing chainsaw noise for quite a while as we walked down the valley. The source of the noise was half a dozen DOC workers at the West Sabine hut. In very hot conditions indeed, they were working hard cutting up fallen trees and logs around the hut. We waved hello and gave them a thumbs up and thanks for their fantastic work clearing the track, then ducked inside the hut for an early lunch.

West Sabine hut

There were already a few trampers inside, and quite a few more arrived while we were there eating our days lunch rations. The Te Araroa trail descends to the West Sabine hut from Travers saddle. The walkers arriving from that direction were looking hot and tired having already done a nearly 400 metre climb followed by a steep descent that morning.

Shortly before 1:00 PM we were on the track again. There were a few lovely waterfalls viewable from the track below West Sabine hut. The farther we got from the hut, the flatter and wider the valley became. Walking was very pleasant. The beech forest here seemed exceptionally lush, with a vivid green canopy almost glowing as the sun shone through the leaves.

As we got closer to the Sabine hut, we became aware of the first wasps. Unfortunately the Travers Sabine area is a bit notorious for these nasty insects. We weren’t bothered by them, but did take extra care to stay on the track and watch where we put our hands on trees.

All in all, it is an easy amble between the two Sabine huts. We did feel the last climb over a bluff which dropped us gently down onto flat land before the hut was unreasonably high. But perhaps we were getting a little lazy with such easy track before it.

We stopped to take some photos from a swing bridge that crosses the Sabine not too far from the hut. Below it the river gorges spectacularly, with inviting jumps off rocks into very deep water. None of us were keen to give it a go, but likely many people have.

Apart from the sandflies and wasps, Sabine hut is lovely. Situated on the lake edge, the windows offer beautiful views of the lake. If you can see past the million sandflies that throng outside on the glass!

Some of us did brave them to take a dip in the lake. Jumping off the jetty into pleasantly warm water was bliss. Two days sweat and toil were washed off and we felt refreshed and invigorated after our splash.

Lake Rotoroa

After dinner, we asked Grit and the other trampers at the hut if they would like to join us feeding eels out on the jetty. They looked a little puzzled, but agrees to come along. We had some leftover salami and figured it would probably attract some hungry eels. Before long we had at least twenty of them snaking around in the clear water under the jetty. It was a lovely time. Watching the eels in the fading evening twilight was hypnotic. Their effortless serpentine gliding through the clear water to catch the slowly falling salami chunks delighted us all. Some of the trampers had not seen eels before and absolutely loved the experience.

Sabine hut at dusk

We went to bed with smiles on our faces. It had been a thoroughly pleasant day on the track, capped off with a mesmerising eel feeding on the jetty.

Day 7

Friday 24th January – Sabine hut to Mt Robert carpark

Our final day of the Moa Hunt dawned sunny and clear. Lake Rotoroa was sparkling in the morning sun. Billions of sandflies thronged outside the window, awaiting our exit from the hut.

Beyond the sandfly cloud, wasps were flying back and forwards from the ventilation chimneys of both long drop toilets. Harvesting protein in the form of you-know-what from the toilets for their hives, they were a nasty blight on an otherwise magic place. None of us fancied sitting on either toilet seat with wasps with spiked bottoms just below our bare bottoms. An email was sent to DOC after the trip asking them to replenish the bait stations around the hut.

We said goodbye to Sabine hut at 8:30 AM and set out along the track, which initially meanders along a few metres from the lake edge. Black swans were gliding across the silky surface of the lake, undisturbed by any wind at this early(ish) hour. The fishermen in our group would have loved to have spent some time angling from the shore.

The track is still lovely after it leaves the lake. Weaving through sparse beech forest, gentle ferns and soft moss covered logs and rocks, it isn’t steep and presents no awkward challenges. We all enjoyed the chance to chat as we walked. Our backs and shoulders had been hardened by much heavier weights on the first days of the trip. By day seven our packs now felt light and comfortable.

We walked for an hour and a half before stopping for a break in the dappled shade of the beech forest. The air temperature was warm, but not hot… yet! We all knew it was shaping to be yet another scorcher on the trail. A South Island Robin dropped in to say hello. They are delightful friendly birds, always interested in a chance tasty insect stirred up by passing humans.

Walking on from our stop we came to a very new bridge. Built to a higher specification than DOC bridges of old, this one spanned a now much wider side stream that had removed the previous bridge during flood conditions.

Our lunch stop farther up the trail was at the site of another former bridge across a side stream. This one was yet to be replaced, but fortunately for us, the stream it once crossed was non-existent due to recent dry conditions. No doubt DOC have plans for a fancy new one at that point too. Very little evidence of the bridge remained. It must have been a mighty surge of water that swept it away.

Beyond our lunch spot, the track climbed lazily up through the thinning beech forest. We encountered more wind throw along this section. But nothing as nasty as near Bob’s hut. The sun was now high overhead and just as intense as previous days. We had mentioned more than once on this trip how lucky we had been with the weather. For seven days barely a cloud had blotted the sky and the chance of bad weather thwarting our plans had remained firmly at 0%.

There is a long section of boardwalk that takes the track up to a flat plateau at the track high point. It extends for at least a kilometre – the longest boardwalk we have seen anywhere outside Rakiura Stewart Island. It was a little awkward heading up so many evenly spaced steps, but fast going. We barreled up the hill to the impressive plateau.

The view from the plateau on a clear day was spectacular. Beyond the stunted beech trees, range after range of mountains stretched out to the horizon, each one a lighter shade than the previous. It was so vivid we felt we were looking out into a vast oil painting.

We left the plateau and walked yet another lovely section of track to Speargrass hut. Meandering through mostly flat beech forest, it was idyllic and a very enjoyable walk. Out of the sun it wasn’t scorching hot, and with no difficult obstacles to tackle, we chatted about everything and nothing. Time passed quickly and just before 2:00 PM we popped out of the forest onto a grassy flat with Speargrass hut sitting in the middle.

We stopped for a scroggin break in the shade of the huts large covered deck. The hut was familiar to the Moa Hunters who had stayed here on the final night of our Travers Sabine walk in 2015.

Speargrass hut

From Speargrass hut, we had less than two hours walking ahead of us. Much like the walking to this point, it was lovely and posed no challenges.

At 5pm we were all in the Roberts carpark, loading packs into Paul’s car. We drove the short gravel road to St Arnaud and stopped at the shop/cafe for some much needed junk food – fizzy drink and bags of chips all round! Inside the shop we bumped into Grit. After sharing the track with her for the past few days, and finally getting to chat properly at Sabine hut, we now seemed like friends. We all gave her a hug and agreed to sit outside and share an iceblock and talk about our adventures. We were going to be home late, so what difference an extra half hour!

The Moa Hunters, and Grit!

2019 – Hawdon / Edwards – A Mini Moa Hunt

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Paul, Adam, John
Mini Moa Hunters on this trip: Sian, Cole, Emma

While not an “official” Moa Hunt, this weekend wander in the hills does feature three Moa Men, and three 15 year old Moa Hunters in training.
We figured this is enough to earn a place on the website!

The trip had two goals: A training walk for the Moa men, leading up to what looks to be an ambitious January 2020 Moa Hunt. And a chance to show just how rewarding and fun tramping can be to three keen young Moa Hunter trainees.

Our itinerary:

Day 1:  Hawdon shelter to Hawdon hut
Day 2:  Hawdon hut to Edwards hut via Tarn col
Day 3:  Edwards hut to Greyney’s shelter

See our route on topomap.co.nz

See our route on Google Maps

Day 1

Friday 22nd November – Start to Hawdon hut

Due to work commitments and not wanting a late night, it was agreed that Paul and the three young trampers would head to the Hawdon hut early on Friday, aiming to get there with plenty of daylight ahead of them. Adam and John would wander in later that day and arrive mid evening, hopefully with some lingering daylight.

The Hawdon valley starts out flat and wide

The walk up the Hawdon river is straightforward. While there’s no strict right or wrong route as such, sticking mainly to the true right of the valley certainly works well. The track starts on the true left of the Hawdon river, with a crossing to the true right required fairly early to sidestep an electric fence that extends across the river.

Once across the river, progress up the valley is a mix of open riverbed walking with many pleasant opportunities to enjoy sections of grassy meadow and low bush, or taller beech tree stands. Keeping your left shoulder close to the valley edge will ensure you spot these sections and have some time off the rock strewn riverbed.

Keep an eye out for grassy flats to walk along

On occasion we needed to splash across a river braid, but there was certainly nothing worrisome in any of the crossings. With feet already wet from the first time across the Hawdon, additional wading was done without hesitation.

One of numerous crossings en-route to Hawdon hut

As the valley narrows, marker poles start to appear. While following these is certainly not a requirement, it does make for easier walking. Sticking to the poles means you get to follow a well walked trail that avoids awkward bush and rocky riverbed. However, if you choose not to, it would be extremely difficult to get lost in such a simple valley.

If you are thinking of walking to the Hawdon hut, here’s a good time guide. Paul did the trip with three 15 year old’s, not hurrying at all, in three and a half hours. The eight fellas we met there followed a track that traversed fairly high in the bush above the valley and took closer to four hours. Adam and John walked briskly and hit the hut in two and a half hours. Three hours is definitely a good benchmark in reasonable conditions if you stay down on the flat. If the river is high, you might consider the high track, but it does add quite a climb, and quite some time.

Hawdon Hut is a relatively new twenty bunk building, with lovely views up the Hawdon valley to be had out its large windows. The current structure was built in the early 2000’s after the original was destroyed by fire. We passed burnt remains of wooden piles that supported the original hut about fifteen minutes walk from the new hut.

Hawdon hut
The view from Hawdon hut

Inside the hut, Paul was tending to his bread dough, which was raising inside a billy ready for into crusty bread in the morning. John and Adam set about preparing their dinner of tuna and noodles, followed by an instant pudding dessert. Some dried fruit thrown into the dessert lifted it from nice to very nice.

With a fairly big day of walking ahead, we left the eight friendly fellas we shared the hut with playing cards, and slipped into our sleeping bags fairly early.

Day 2

Saturday 23rd November – Hawdon hut to Edwards hut

Paul, being a good keen man was up bright and early preparing breakfast. The hut was filled with the delicious nutty aroma of fresh baked bread when most of us opened an eye and rolled out of bed. Emma, Sian and Cole reported hearing quite a bit of snoring through the night, while Adam, John and Paul reported less. No surprises there!

Cole, Emma and Sian enjoying breakfast

With bellies full of bread and porridge, we had our packs on and were outside the hut and ready to hit the track a bit after 8:30am. Conditions were perfect for walking, with little wind, overcast conditions and no real threat of rain in the air. We had an exciting days walking ahead. Sian, Cole and Emma certainly looked keen and up for the challenge.

From the hut the track briefly meanders through tall beech forest alongside the river, but quickly becomes steep with the bush thinning and becoming more stunted as the 900 metre contour is approached.

It didn’t take long to get very warm, and any extra layers that had been put on at the hut were soon removed. By 9am we had gained quite a bit of altitude and were treated to some nice views behind us of the Hawdon river’s snaking course through the mountains. Fifteen minutes later we were effectively above the bushline and had a good look at the rather flatter approach to Walker pass ahead of us.

Following a short sharp descent, we took a break on the edge of Twin Fall stream at 9:30am, having made excellent progress. The steepest climb of the day was behind us and we were all enjoying the varied scenery.

Keeping the feet dry…

From our comfy spot beside the stream, we spotted some of the group of eight men from the Hawdon hut on the high point of the track before it drops to the stream some way behind us. They waved and we heard a few shouts. Not sure whether they were just saying hello, we sat and waved back.

Unexpectedly, a few minutes later one of them came clattering round the track, very hot, and carrying a bag of rattly items. It turns out silly Adam had left his gas cooker and billies back at the hut. These good fellows had come after us to return them! A huge thank you to the wonderful men from a Rolleston church for going above and beyond in getting those items back to us. They jogged/ran an hour along the track to get them back in our hands. Legends.

Apart from having to splash through Twin Fall stream a ridiculous number of times as it meandered from side to side back and forwards across the valley, the walk up to Walker Pass was beautiful. Native bush of varying textures and shades of green painted the valley floor, highlighted by occasional pretty white flowers.

We passed the tarn just below Walker Pass shortly after 10am. Even under an overcast sky, the green algae growing in it seemed to glow an almost iridescent green. We rounded the tarn and progressed up the grassy slope over Walker pass and down to the East branch of the Otehake river.

An eerily green tarn

After a leisurely scroggin break we continued up the increasingly tight valley that would lead us to a sharp left turn and the climb to Tarn col. The ascent here isn’t steep, but it is steady.

With small pockets of snow visible in shady spots far up the valley ahead of us, we called a break. A cosy grassy area between some large rocks looked perfect for lunch. It was 12:30, and the valley here was nicely sheltering us from the cool breeze. Not far beyond our lunch spot, spectacular vertical cliffs tower above the right hand side of the track.

Sian, Cole and Emma had put in an impressive morning of walking. We had battled up some fairly steep track, and covered plenty of ground. It’s great to see fit motivated young people enjoying the outdoors.

Cole found himself a comfy spot and had a little nap in the pleasant conditions. John followed suit in another natural bed nestled in amongst the snowgrass. Emma and Sian chatted, enjoying the break. We had covered quite a bit of terrain that morning, and the legs were feeling a little tired.

Lunch break below Taruahuna pass
Snowball fight!

It took us twenty minutes from our lunch spot to reach the snow and start lobbing snowballs up and down at each other. Great fun! Thirty minutes on from there, we had passed the tarn and were standing atop Tarn col.

We stopped to take some photos of the broken craggy peaks of the southern alps that surrounded us. We also took some time to assess the best route down what is a fairly steep descent from the col. Paul dropped his pack and picked his way twenty or so metres down to choose a good path to take.

With a route decided, we all started the descent. Taking our time and staying close together, we were soon all standing at the bottom. A zig-zag route proved to be the winner, with care taken to ensure we didn’t have anyone down the slope from others in our group, where they could be hit by dislodged rocks.

Taruahuna pass
The view back from Taruahuna pass
A steep descent from the pass
It’s a team effort tackling the steepest sections

Ahead of us was the remarkable almost lunar landscape created by Falling mountain. In 1929 a magnitude 7.1 earthquake caused a massive landslide, carving a huge chunk off the side of the mountain and sending it smashing down into the valley below. Ninety years on, it still looked like the slip happened yesterday. A few hardy plants have found places for their roots in the dark rubble, but for the most part it is devoid of vegetation.

Falling Mountain
The top of the mountain, now in the valley

Despite the lack of vegetation, numerous large grey grasshoppers surprised us with their powerful jumps as they sprang out of our way. We thought perhaps they might be in the area looking for things other than food…

It pays to find and follow a fairly well trodden trail that heads up and initially to the right. This skirts round some of the nastier areas filled with very large rocks, keeping you on the easiest terrain. There are cairns along the way to mark your route, but these can be hard to spot given they are just piles of rocks in amongst piles of rocks.

Picking our way across the rubble field

The tarn on the far side of Taruahuna pass is very deep and spectacularly clear. In fact, crystal clear the day we were there. If the weather had been warmer, we would certainly have been tempted to drop packs and dive in for a refreshing splash.

Fifty minutes after cresting Taruahuna pass, we had descended into the lush grasses of the Edwards valley and were taking an afternoon scroggin stop. The sun was warm and with just the distant sound of the river and a few buzzing insects nearby, we were all guilty of sneaking in a few minutes snoozing. At this point we had been on the trail for seven hours and were now all looking forward to reaching Edwards hut.

Bliss….
Its a long walk down to the hut when the valley opens up…

Back in the valley, red topped DOC marker poles make a reappearance and we were able to follow a well marked trail to the hut. Walking down the Edwards river is certainly pleasant enough, and not especially demanding. But we did find the last hour and a half walking a little long. We were certainly pleased to finally see the boardwalks leading to the hut at 5:20pm.

Edwards hut
Emma and Sian

Already at the hut were two young fellows from the Unites States, and their friend from Patagonia. The two Americans, originally from Chicago had quit their jobs and were spending a year enjoying all that New Zealand has to offer. While here, they bumped into the like-minded South American, and together they had been exploring the South Island in a Toyota Hiace van.

We got on well with them, and enjoyed their free-spirited attitude to life. They choose their next adventure almost randomly, taking suggestions from anyone they met on their travels. We discussed everything from electric vehicles to the relative merits of imperial vs metric units with them.

Judging by the nameplate on its door, Edwards hut has just celebrated its 50th birthday, in whatever manner huts do that! While much of the building feels unchanged since 1969, the original windows and door have all been replaced with aluminium joinery. A nice upgrade. There are two bunk rooms and a spacious communal area with a wood burner for those colder days and nights.

Day 3

Sunday 24th November – Edwards hut to Greyney’s shelter

We had been keeping a watchful eye on weather conditions. Our last couple of river crossings would rely on the Edwards and Bealey flow levels being relatively low. Provided we didn’t get significant nor’west rain blow-over into the catchments, we would be OK. However, there had been some rain through the night, and the morning sky was dark and stormy looking, threatening further precipitation.

It was agreed that the sooner we got going the better. We expected to make good time on the well walked track back to the road. Not long after 8am we were ready to make a start. We grabbed some team photos at the door of the hut, and were soon on our way.

Our friendly hutmates

For the first kilometre down from the hut, the track flits back and forth between the river and the beech forest, making for varied and interesting travel. Then as the valley narrows quickly, there is a short climb, and from this point the track stays relatively high above the river.

Following the Edwards river
Synchronised slurping

Emma, Sian and Cole showed no signs they had walked nine hours the previous day before, and were setting a cracking pace up front. Us older fella’s just looked on with plenty of admiration as they confidently scampered up and down difficult sections. We never once heard a complaint or saw any sign of discontent from any of them.

After just over an hour of pleasant walking, we stopped for a scroggin break. Overhead conditions had brightened and the threat of heavy rain seemed greatly diminished. There was still a strong wind blowing through the tops, and we knew that the nor’wester could strengthen more and potentially bring rain.

We continued along the track, which was a mix of dropping in and out of gullies, some very dry sections along ridges, and some surprisingly wet and muddy areas.

Not long after 10am we had dropped back down to the Edwards again. From here we found that sticking close to the true left of the valley is the easiest walking. Not that walking close to the river would be especially hard. But it was at the valley edge that we found plenty of flat grassy or packed shingle areas to walk, which were much nicer than the loose rubble near the river.

A few spots of rain were blowing over the tops as we stopped for another scroggin break on a natural seat created by the river when it was in flood. A number of mice scuttled around among the sticks and stones below our dangling feet. We had seen a lot of them on this trip. This is due to the beech trees seeding heavily in what is called a mast year. They seemed relatively unafraid of us, and were taking a significant risk being out and about in full daylight we thought. Perhaps the seed bounty was running short leaving them a little desperate for food.

It was 11:45am when we reached the end of the “official” track, marked by a friendly green and yellow DOC sign. We had made pretty good time, knocking off the trip in less than four hours.

From here we just had a couple of obstacles left. Two river crossings. Any anxiety we had about these was quickly dispelled. The water was definitely cold, and did come to the tops of the legs on Adam, John and Paul, and higher on Cole, Sian and Emma. But it wasn’t swift. Crossing in pairs, holding the straps of each others packs for mutual support, we all got across both rivers very easily.

Lining up the first crossing – the Edwards…

Once over the rivers, it is just a short hop skip and a jump to a rail underpass which leads to the road and Greyney’s shelter. We were at the shelter by 12:30pm and gratefully taking off very wet boots and socks in exchange for warm dry stuff. The local sandflies had set up a strong welcoming committee and we quickly dug out the repellent sprays.

Paul and John were preparing for a jog down the road, hoping they would manage to hitch a ride with not too much running required. But this turned out to not be required. Adam got chatting to an American tourist couple who had driven to the shelter to escape torrential rain in Greymouth. They were initially intending to drive back in that direction, but when they heard we were looking for a ride to the Hawdon track, they very generously offered to take John and Paul. This was a lovely thing to do, and we were very grateful. Paul repaid them with lots of local knowledge on the geology, geography and history of the area as they drove to the Hawdon.

Greyney’s shelter

45 minutes later, John and Paul were back in the cars, and we were headed back to Christchurch. Well done to all of us, but especially our three young Moa Hunter trainees for tackling every inch of the track with enthusiasm and energy!

The Hawdon Edwards circuit is a really wonderful walk, and very underrated. You see a fabulous range of diverse scenery, face some challenging terrain, and will likely meet some really nice people along the way.

2019 – Lake Christabel – German Fire Punch!

Given it is not much more than a stones throw from both Maruia Springs and Springs Junction, surprisingly few people seem to have heard of the Lake Christabel circuit. Certainly it seemed DOC had all but abandoned any maintenance of the track a few years ago, which may have contributed to its relative obscurity. The good news is the track looks to be getting some love from DOC again, and the circuit is no longer in danger of being consumed by the bush.

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Magnus, Adam, Paul, Richard, Lewis, Chris, John, Luke

The Trip:

Day 1: Drive to Newcombes. Walk to Mid Robinson hut.
Day 2: Mid Robinson hut to Top Robinson hut
Day 3: Top Robinson hut to Lake Christabel hut
Day 4: Lake Christabel hut to Road end

Topomap of our route

Google Map of our route

Day 1

Friday 18th January – Start to Mid Robinson hut

With seven of us heading for Springs Junction from Christchurch, two vehicles were required for all the gear and Moa hunters. Given the reports we had read regarding the often dubious condition of the unsealed access road to the track, we were very happy one of them was a Nissan ute, generously loaned to us by Paul’s dad for the weekend. According to other blog posts we had read, attempting the road in a standard 2wd vehicle after any kind of rain is unwise due to the large number of fords that need to be crossed.

Eight superbly fit Moa Men in magnificent condition

The timing of our arrival in Springs Junction just after 12:15pm was almost perfect. We arrived just 5 minutes after Magnus, who had travelled down from Nelson.

With Magnus’s gear loaded into the ute, we set off along SH7 looking for Palmers Road, which would take us to the start of the track. We found it easily and followed the remarkably smooth road in both vehicles until we reached the north end of the track, where we would exit the bush in a few days time.

Feeding the sandflies…

At this point we parked Chris’s little Honda Jazz out of the way under a tree. Paul continued up the road in the ute with half the Moa Hunters on board, leaving the rest of us fighting off an enthusiatic squadron of sandflies while we changed into our boots and walking gear.

After about 20 minutes, Paul was back with an empty ute ready to ferry the rest of us to the other end of the track. As there had been no recent rain, the fords we crossed were either completely dry, or barely running. There were certainly no concerns that day. But it was clear from the amount of scouring and erosion around some of the crossings that they could become ferocious and impassable in bad weather.

It was probably around 1:30pm by the time we were all standing with packs on ready to hit the track. Despite being mostly cloudy, conditions were very warm. Whenever it found a gap in the clouds, the sun shone strongly down on us, adding more heat to the day.

Lush grass at the start of the track

The first section of track skirts the edge of farmland, following a deer fence through open country. December had been a wet month, and consequently the grass we walked through was long and lush, bent at the tops by heavy seed heads.

Heading into the Robinson valley

New orange markers along the track were actually quite good. Regularly spaced and clearly visible, they were easily spotted as we left the fence line and began following the Robinson river. However, given the pleasant conditions and easy walking along the river, we did tend to ignore them for much of the first couple of hours. We simply ambled along the river following the most inviting looking terrain as it presented itself. Occasional river crossings were required, but these were more a pleasant cooling of the feet than an obstacle.

Our lunch was more of an early afternoon tea. Or “second lunch” perhaps, if you are a Hobbit. We perched ourselves along the grassy banks of a trickle of a stream and munched our lunches in the pleasant afternoon heat. Small insects, flies and bees busily flew back and forwards past us, enjoying the abundant nectar available on the masses of flowers in the tall grass.

Richard was very happy to be with us. He had worked hard for many many months to get what is essentially a fairly buggered knee into fit condition for another Moa Hunt. Lots of low impact swimming, spinning, walking and numerous supplements and magic potions seemed to have done the trick. He wandered along, seemingly untroubled by the knee. It was certainly great to have him back Moa Hunting with us after his forced absence from the Dusky in 2018.

Walking up the Robinson river valley is lovely in late summer. The terrain is easy and the gentle flats either side of the river can be walked without a care. Flanking each side of the river flat, beech covered mountains provide drama and contrast to the scene.

Chris enjoying the mid afternoon sun in the Robinson valley

It’s amazing how varied and colourful this type of country can be. Low plants and grasses created a tapestry of colour along the river, contrasting with the shades of green and grey of the surrounding peaks.

There were occasional tricky spots as we progressed up the Robinson. The higher we got, the narrower the valley became. In places, the river in past floods had scoured out the banks on either side leaving piles of river rubble and fallen trees in our path.

Fallen trees create both obstacles and assistance

It was close to 6:30pm when we came upon the swingbridge which crosses to the true left of the Robinson to within a stones throw of Mid Robinson hut. Most of us used the bridge, despite the river being low enough to walk across with relative ease. I for one like the idea of pulling on relatively dry and warm boots in the morning… It was for that reason I was more than happy to wait my turn to cross the swingbridge.

If you were to design a hut for maximum summer sun, you couldn’t go past Mid Robinson as a perfect example. It was 7:45pm before trees and hills obstructed the warming rays of yellow sunlight that shone brightly straight through the doorway of the hut all evening. The hut is a cosy little forestry service one, with 6 bunk beds, a good size bench and barely enough space for eight Moa Hunters to move about!

Paul and Richard keeping eyes and noses close to the sizzling steaks

Wonderfully tasty and tender marinated steak was fried, filling the hut with mouthwatering aromas of garlic and red wine. When it came time for dessert, Chris surprised and amazed us all with a stunning piece of tramping ingenuity. Prior to the tramp he had cleverly fashioned a cunningly insulated container from snow foam and insulating sprayfoam. At the hut he pulled from it a litre of still frozen Kapiti gingernut ice-cream to complement our dessert. It was a fantastic treat…. and there was more to come, courtesy of Magnus!

Over the next few hours we were educated on the German ritual of the Feuerzangenbowle, or German Fire Punch. Three litres of mulled spiced red wine was gently heated over a cooker. Then a cone of sugar suspended above the wine on a metal frame, drizzled generously with dangerously potent over-proof rum, was spectacularly set alight. As it burned with a blue and red flame, more rum was carefully added to the flaming cone, creating wonderful bursts of orange flame. All the while, burning drops of caramelised sugar melted off the cone and dripped into the wine below.

Soaking the sugar cone in over-proof rum
Fiery conflagration, Magnus-style!

When the fire display was over, we lay on the bunks drinking the rich beverage while watching a black and white German movie projected onto a bedsheet screen supended between tramping poles high on the hut wall.

Magnus introduces the German film

We all agreed the “fire punch” was like a liquid Christmas Cake. The spices, red wine and citrus juice and zest had a rich flavour. Drinking the ferociously warming mulled wine while watching a quirky 1940s German subtitled movie and getting slowly sozzled was a strangely surreal and unforgettable night!

Paul estimates we consumed 8kg of food and beverage that night. Those who didn’t have to carry it in their packs the next day were no doubt extremely grateful!

Adam and Luke dossed down on the floor with an array of bedrolls and self-inflating mattressed under them for comfort. The rest of the team slipped into their sleeping bags on bunks and we were all soon sound asleep.

Day 2

Saturday 19th January – Mid Robinson hut to Top Robinson hut

Saturday morning dawned overcast and cool, with some of us feeling perhaps a little jaded from the late night before… or was it perhaps due to the somewhat higher alcohol consumption than is usual for a Moa Hunt?!

It was a leasurely 9am by the time we had eaten, tidied the hut and were balancing cameras on packs outside the hut for our traditional team photo. Judging by the map, our day ahead looked to be a fairly short one, with a couple of hundred metres altitude gain over the 9km between us and Top Robinson hut.

Eight well preserved Moa Men…

In contrast to day one, which had been spent in the open river valley, the track to Top Robinson hut winds through dense beech forest and thick vegetation. Our old friend hook grass was also out in force, its nasty little seeds keen to snag the hairs of our legs and hitch a ride.

We encountered the odd muddy patch, crossed many side streams, but generally found the track to be in good condition. If more people walked the circuit, it would be excellent. But the lack of traffic does leave the track in danger of being overgrown in parts. Grasses and ferns were quite thick, obscuring the path below.

Overgrown, but well marked

However, despite the enthusiatic vegetation growth, DOC have definitely been working hard to improve the track. Shiny new orange markers were dotted evenly between the huts, and the worst tree falls had been cleared.

The ascent throughout the day was steady, with the odd short grunt up and over a steep section, or round a gully, but nothing too onerous.

Knowing it was to be a short day, we grabbed ourselves an early lunch near a stream in amongst the beech forest. Leaning up against a comfy tree or backpack, we discussed everything and nothing, enjoying being away from the usual routines of real life.

By this time, we were feeling the occasional drop of rain, and the cloud had thickened noticeably. We were keen to get to the hut before any serious precipitation set in, so didn’t indulge in a long languid lunch this day.

Following our lunch break, the track did get a bit messier. The valley gets a little tighter, and we did find ourselves battling through trickier terrain. While it was a bit more demanding, it certainly wasn’t anywhere near as nasty as some days we have experienced.

Slippery rocks make crossing a sidestream tricky

The track does depart the river for about 45 minutes, staying quite high to avoid a steep gorged area below. The ascent is a steady climb, a short relatively flat section, then another easy climb. Friendly Robins flitted along beside us from time to time, and Lewis very briefly spotted a deer while we walked this section. He has a good keen eye for wildlife!

The benefit of climbing higher is the lack of hook grass. While hook grass does no real harm, and inflicts no injury, it is a bloody irritating and annoying plant! Having said that, we’d all prefer pushing through hook grass than being perforated by wicked spear (Spaniard) grass!

We arrived at Top Robinson hut at 2:30pm. There is a swingbridge about 500 metres before the hut, which is nestled snugly in the bush just above the river. Despite being listed as an 8 bunk hut, Top Robinson would comfortably sleep ten people. There was more than enough space for eight Moa Hunters to move about and get a large dinner and dessert prepared.

A lazy afternoon was spent snoozing, solving the World’s political problems and preparing the evening meal.

The remains of the bottle of very strong rum was polished off. Moa Hunter opinions on the drinkability of the liquor varied from “not bad, I quite like it“, to “it’s disgusting… a bit like petrol… I’ll have another swig, thanks“.

Day 3

Sunday 20th January – Top Robinson hut to Lake Christabel hut

Breakfast took nearly an hour to prepare. Fried bacon, mushrooms and black pudding with a side of scrambled eggs were generously loaded onto plates. Some experimental home-built hash browns were abandonded. They just refused to crisp up and cook properly. The mighty breakfast was excellent preparation for the only day of the trip that would involve significant altitude gain.

Saturday breakfast – a mere snack….

We left the hut at 9:15am and enjoyed the gentle first 15 minutes of track which led to another swingbridge, which crosses the Robinson river for the last time before the track leads up a ridge to the open tops.

Outside Top Robinson hut

Aside from some fairly brackish tarns on the tops, the swingbridge just past the hut is the last point to grab clean clear water for quite some time. We filled our bellies and bottles with cool water before starting up the ridge.

Plodding our way up the hill was warm work. Sheltered from any cool breeze in the thick beech forest, we found ourselves perspiring and blowing despite the grey overhead conditions and occasional drizzle. The track is evenly stepped and in good condition, the only challenge being the steady and at times steep climb.

Grunting our way up to the saddle

We stopped regularly to catch our breath and cool off a little. The higher we climbed, the more the bush around us thinned out. Beech trees gave way to lower trees and more sparse vegetation, eventually opening out completely, offering wonderful views back down the Robinson valley.

Above the bushline, the track levels out somewhat, becoming an easily followed poled route across the tops.

Clear of the bush and exposed to a strong cold wind that rapidly chilled us, we didn’t dilly dally. Despite the marvellous views around us, we kept up a sharp pace to ensure we spent as little time as possible in that unpleasant wind and the odd spot of rain.

The view back down the Robinson valley
and still climbing…
Reward! Squiggletop biscuits for reaching the tops…

We reached the saddle at lunchtime with the chill wind still blowing relentlessly into our backs. Just over the lee side we found a relatively sheltered spot. We each nestled into a comfy hollow between tussock grasses and got stuck into our lunches, enjoying being out of reach of the wind’s cold fingers.

The descent ahead…

Eyeing up the afternoons descent from our lunch spot, we could see the track dropping quite quickly into the river valley below us. The markers looked to traverse through scrubby vegetation angling down to reach the river fairly quickly, rather than taking a long sidle.

With our lunch bags tucked back into our packs, we started picking our way down the valley slopes sometime around 1:30pm. The descent to the river was no worse than it appeared from the saddle. Occasionally steep, sometimes boggy and with the odd painful grove of spaniard grass to avoid, we made steady progress down to the river.

Spaniard grass…. A Moa Man’s least favourite plant.

Beyond the first patch of beech forest, things got a bit more interesting. A wide rocky slip needs to be crossed here. It’s not immediately obvious where to head for on the far side of it. There are no orange markers visible in the distance. If you read this before making the trip, make a note to drop to the river.

Traversing the slip

Beyond the slip, the track briefly follows the river for about 50 metres, then turns abruptly left and climbs sharply to a plateau above. In the long grass and scrub it is very easy to miss this 90 degree switch to the left. So many people have now missed the turn and carried on straight that there is now an initially well defined track continuing to follow the river. It carries on for a short while, then confusingly fades to nothing. Take your time and look carefully for markers through this section to stay on the track.

This section is scrubby, messy, a little overgrown and slow going. However, the good news is it doesn’t last too long, and eventually leads into beech forest which is a far more pleasant walking experience. The final descent to the flats of the valley below didn’t take long. At 2:45pm we were dropping packs and digging out our scroggin for an afternoon break beside the river.

Between our scroggin stop and a swingbridge there were a couple of places where the river in flood had scoured away its bank and the track with it. We either skirted around these places, or dropped down into them and out again. In some places, large trees had fallen into the river, and shingle piling up against them had created new islands. With nowehere else to go, the water now surges either side of them, creating new channels and washing away existing river banks. And with them, significant sections of the track.

We reached Lake Christabel hut at 5:15pm – a solid 8 hour day on the track. The hut is an equally comfortable identical twin of Top Robinson. As was expected, we had the hut to ourselves again. A big feed of curried mince was prepared as the wind outside picked up, and heavy rain started to drum on the roof.

Inside the hut we found some interesting treasures, including what looked to be a genuine 1954 National Geographic in fairly good condition. It’s probably still there if you want to read it…

Day 4

Monday 21st January – Lake Christabel hut to Road End

Our final day of Moa Hunting dawned murky and overcast. Peering out the windows of the huts, the skies above looked heavy and threatening, but it wasn’t raining. However, the possibility of getting wet seemed high. On the bright side, it wasn’t cold.

Our final day of Moa Hunting dawned murky and overcast. Peering out the windows of the huts, the skies above looked heavy and threatening, but it wasn’t raining. However, the possibility of getting wet seemed high. On the bright side, it wasn’t cold.

Porridge was heated, dished up, liberally smothered in brown sugar, and enthusiastically consumed.

Waterproof pack covers were stretched over our packs in anticipation of likely precipitation, and by 8:45am we set off down the track. After three days walking to get to this point, we were eager to see Lake Christabel.

Preparing for a potential precipitation possibility….

It didn’t take long to tick that box. By 9:15am we were at the head of the lake and had some nice views across the grey waters. The cloud had lifted a little by this time and the peaks surrounding the lake were mostly clear of the mist that was lurking about not long before.

Our first glimpse of Lake Christabel

At our first scroggin stop, the weather was looking a bit more ominous again. Luke set about making a pack cover from a small tarpaulin he had brought. It was clear to all that he had inherited plenty of his father’s practicality and cleverness as he roped the tarp to his pack. Well done Luke, and well done Paul!

The track skirts around the edge of the lake, offering surprisingly few unobstructed views of the lake, and equally few chances to stand on the lake edge. That said, the times that the lake is accessible are particularly worthwhile. Perhaps it is because those opportunities to stand on the shore are few and far between that makes them all the more special when they happen…

Or was it the particularly flat and satisfyingly skimmable stones on the lake shore that made it special? The first beach we came upon was littered with such stones. Regardless of whether they added to the specialness of the lake, the Moa Men proceeded to skip them across the lake with great enthusiasm. All Moa Men can skip a stone, but Richard with his tennis toughened right arm is the undisputed champion. His stones bounced across the lake further and faster than anyone elses.

Serene Lake Christabel
Richard skips a stone into the far distance…

Worried we might completely fill the lake with stones, we hefted our packs and continued our walk around the lake. A lunch break was called at 12:15pm, not far from the point the track leaves the lake edge and climbs out of the basin to find the Blue Grey river.

Boys will be boys

The track leaves the lake a short walk from where it drains into the Blue Grey River via an underground channel. If we had a little more time and the weather was a little less threatening, we might have made a side trip down to investigate. As it was, we followed the track up a roughly 100 metre climb to a flattish plateau and the final stretch to the road.

Under and then over.

We found this section to be fairly overgrown, as much of the previous walking had been, but not hard to navigate. Long grasses and ferns hung wet leaves across the track and moss laden beech trees created interesting structures above us.

Wonderful, moss covered everything.

As we got closer to the road, the beech forest inevitably thinned out. We were able to make out the clear area around the road some time before we reached it. We spotted a few fishermen in black waders and green tops trying their luck near the bridge that takes the road over the Blue Grey.

Popping out of the bush around 4pm, we were right on time for meeting Magnus’s better half at Springs Junction, provided the fords were still passable in Chris’s little Honda Jazz. Fortunately they were, and Chris, Paul and Luke were able to drive to the far end of the track and return in the ute and the Jazz without incident.

Magnus ponders the end of another Moa Hunt

While this was not a typical Moa Hunt, it was a most enjoyable wander in the hills. Each of the days showcased very different scenery. From luxuriant river valleys on day one, to dense beech forest, then wind-blown open tops, and finally a serene lakeside, this track has it all.

2018 – The Dusky Track – Dry feet on the Dusky?!

The Dusky Track is a route with a reputation for stunning views, magnificent solitude, challenging terrain and lots of mud.  For many years it has been on the Moa Hunters’ must-do list of tramping tracks.  After over ten years of walking mountains and valleys across the rest of the South Island, finally we got our ducks lined up for the Dusky!

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Magnus, Adam, Paul, Lewis, Chris, John

The Trip:

Day 1:  Fly to Invercargill. Mini bus transfer to Clifden. Boat trip up Lake Hauroko. Walk to Halfway hut
Day 2: Halfway hut to Lake Roe hut
Day 3: Lake Roe hut to Loch Maree hut
Day 4: Loch Maree hut to Supper Cove hut
Day 5: Supper Cove hut to Loch Maree hut
Day 6: Loch Maree hut to Kintail hut
Day 7: Kintail hut to Upper Spey hut
Day 8: Upper Spey hut to West Arm hut
Day 9: Boat trip to Manapouri, ride to Invercargill, fly home.

Topomap of our route

Google Map of our route

Day 1

Saturday 13th January – Start to Halfway hut

After a week of the usual preparations, six Moa Hunters met at Christchurch airport.  In the days leading up to the start of our Fiordland adventure, lists had been checked, re-checked and anxiously checked again.  The Dusky is a long walk, and none of us wanted to be “that guy” – the one who forgot something vital.

We all felt a growing feeling of excitement.  At last the departure day was here.  With our final farewells made, we hefted our packs onto the Air New Zealand bag drop, and soon after, boarded the turbo-prop ATR-72 bound for Invercargill.

For those interested, our packs all weighed in at around the 19kg mark.  With some ruthless cutting back on luxury items, we could possibly all have carried a bit less. We certainly wouldn’t have wanted to carry much more!

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Invercargill here we come!

While we milled about at Invercargill Airport, Paul came to a horrible realisation, which was confirmed by a call to his wife, Maria.  He had left his legendary Moa Hunt curry mix in the fridge at home.  As this was to provide the flavour that would make three of our freeze-dried meals palatable, we agreed that an emergency dash to a Supermarket for some alternatives was necessary.  Thanks heaps to Paul’s cousin Trevor and his wife Lynn for the ride!

Our trip from the Airport to Clifden in the Humpridge Track bus was more than pleasant.  Under a wonderfully clear sky blue sunny day we were driven across the lazy plains of Southland.  It was yet another cracker of a day in what was a record-breaking summer in the South.

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Historic Magnus and historic John in front of historic Clifden Bridge.

We climbed out the bus at the historic Clifden Suspension Bridge and stood in the shade of a big tree while Johan opened up his mighty old Land Rover which would take us to Lake Hauroko.

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Stunning conditions in Southland

The Southern end of Lake Hauroko was surprisingly busy.  Utes with boat trailers lined the edge of a large parking area near a boat ramp, and a group of lads were busy loading slabs of beer onto a boat for what looked sure to be a very big night indeed.

Hauroko is a hidden gem – a really beautiful lake.  Where we stood, golden sand left dry by the hot summer is quickly met by green beech forest, and further round the lake, lush bush pushes out to the lake edge.  A wooden jetty extends out into calm dark waters of the lake.  Johan expertly reversed up beside it, and launches his boat “Namu” – our ride to the northern reaches of the lake.

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The many colours of Lake Hauroko
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Chris enjoying our blast across the lake

Powering across the lake, it felt like our adventure had truly begun.  Following a short and slightly tongue-in-cheek safety briefing from Johan, we were left to soak up the constantly changing view.  We did so with relish, taking in every moment.  Lake Hauroko is prone to strong winds that can create an unpleasant chop.  But not so on the day we crossed it.  In delightfully smooth conditions, we thoroughly enjoyed every view New Zealand’s deepest lake offered us.  The 45 minute ride was worth every penny.

As we unloaded our packs at the northern shore of the lake and the start of the track, Johan commented on the lack of sandflies. He seemed somewhat bemused…  Maybe it was the weather?  Maybe some other factor?  He had no explanation.  Whatever the reason, there were very few of the miserable little bloodsuckers to form a welcoming party.  And we were very happy about that.

At 2pm we took our first steps onto the Dusky track.

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Six fresh and fit Moa Hunters ready to conquer the Dusky…

The first hour in the bush gave us a strong indication of what was to come; Very warm conditions, little breeze and high humidity, all made for some very sweaty Moa Men.  From the first step, the track is beautiful.  Flanked by countless varieties of ferns which fill every available space at the feet of moss-covered silver beech trees, it quickly led us into deepest darkest Fiordland.

Areas that would in “normal” Fiordland weather have been muddy bogs, were relatively dry.  Consequently, we made good progress on what is a mainly flat and easy section of the track.  Our first three-wire bridge crossing was done and dusted just before 5pm.  Varying foot placement techniques were employed by members of the group.  While the bridges aren’t particularly hard to cross, the consequence of a mistake is high, so we all took care and didn’t rush our crossings.

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An upmarket wire bridge – 5 wires instead of 3

Shortly after 7pm we were at Halfway hut.  Given how remote the Dusky track is, we were surprised to find five other trampers inside.  No doubt they had some misgivings when six blokes somewhat noisily rolled on in, disturbing their evening!  As it turned out, three of them were up for a chat, which is always good.  Melanie from Devon, UK, Hayden from NZ, and Konrad from Germany were excellent company.

In fact, Hayden had even read a Moa Hunter website post or two:  “Oh, so you are those old fellas!” sums up the moment he realised who we were…

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Public Service Announcement at Halfway hut…

As is a first-night-on-the-track tradition now, Paul cooked up a tasty steak and veg dinner.  It was a very warm night and sleeping bags remained unzipped throughout.

Day 2

Sunday 14th January – Halfway hut to Lake Roe hut

One of the many things that makes tramping an addictive drug is standing outside the hut on a clear crisp morning, inhaling cool air so clean and so fresh it seems nobody before you could have breathed it.

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“Dolly Parton” Peaks

High above the hut, “Dolly Parton” peaks (as we dubbed them) were tanning in the early morning sun. It was going to be another lovely day.  Creamy porridge liberally covered in brown sugar would provide us with energy for the first couple of hours of the day.  And a steaming cup of coffee, your choice of Hazelnut Latte and Salted Caramel, provided by Magnus.

By 8:30am we were packed up and ready for the obligatory team photos. Hayden “volunteered” to take them for us, and hopped barefoot across the damp grass to snap a few shots on our many cameras.  Justifiably, he wondered why we needed so many photos…  There’s no reason, it’s just tradition!

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Konrad, Hayden and Melanie

Our packs still felt like they were full of lead and stones as we said our goodbyes and left Halfway hut. The track climbs gently up the Hauroko Burn valley, and we were mostly untroubled by bog or awkward terrain.

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Dehydrated mud.  Our favourite kind!

We were standing at the first swing bridge by 9:30am.  Crossing this one was made doubly interesting due to its drunken nature.  The upper-left cable is not as taut as its partner on the right, causing the whole rig to lean awkwardly to the left.  With 19Kg on our backs, crossing it was an interesting off-kilter exercise…

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Lewis employs the “duck feet” wire bridge walking technique…

Around midday we rolled up to the second wire bridge.  Regular boggy patches along the way had been easily hopped across or skirted.  The odd steep drop into a gully and similarly tight climb out the other side kept things interesting.  Generally we found the terrain in this section easy going and quite pleasant.

Our only “complaint” was the heat.  Our expectation was that we would get very wet on the Dusky, notorious for the metres of rain that Mother Nature dumps on it every year.  We had not expected our shirts would be soaked with sweat in place of that regular precipitation.  At times the heat and humidity were oppressive.  With no relief even in the shade, our bodies struggled to maintain temperature.  We all drank plenty of water at every opportunity to maintain fluid levels.  John used his sweat to create romantic art on his walking top.

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John’s prize-winning entry in the Dusky sweat art competition

The stream here was so low here we didn’t bother with the wire bridge, and just rock-hopped across.  On the other bank we dropped packs and had lunch.  A few sandflies hovered about listlessly, but perhaps they also found the heat tiring.  They lacked commitment, and didn’t live up to their fearsome relentless bloodsucking reputation.

Paul perused his topomap and reminded us all that the next section would get steeper.  Not horribly steep, but a good workout.

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Paul’s arms are just long enough for him to read a topomap without optical assistance…

From the wire bridge the track follows the true right of the stream.  Below Lake Laffy the valley narrows considerably, and the track gets noticeably steeper with numerous rocky sections. Progress slowed, and the heat of the day increased.  The bush above our heads thinned and the sun made its presence felt, adding fire to the already oppressive mid-afternoon heat.

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Tricky downhill conditions in the summer heat

Breaking out of the bushline we almost immediately encountered boggy conditions.  Perhaps this is due to the lack of large vegetation to soak up the moisture.  While the ground underfoot was heavy and at times spludgy, crossing this area onto higher and drier ground wasn’t too arduous.

Looking dark and almost syrupy, Lake Laffy sits below Lake Roe hut.  Adam wondered why the hut is named after a Lake you can’t even see from it.  Lake Roe is significantly larger, and is a short walk over the low hills behind of the hut.  Maybe it got hut naming rights because it is the big brother.

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Lake Laffy

It was almost bang on 2pm when we spotted Lake Roe hut across Lake Laffy.  Our short day on the track would give us some time to explore the interesting looking terrain behind the hut.

We had been told at Halfway hut that Lake Roe hut was being used by two DOC staff for a Rock Wren monitoring programme.  So finding the hut full of supplies came as no surprise.  They had all sorts of goodies like fresh lettuce and tomatoes.  Having a chopper bring in your gear allows for some luxuries.  However, the two staff were nowhere to be seen at this time.

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Mighty muscly Moa Men

After a pleasant break soaking up the warm afternoon sun on the porch, we organised ourselves for a foray over the low hills that hide Lake Roe behind the hut.

Without our heavy packs, and wearing light footwear, we scampered up the slopes in no time at all. The short walk is well worth the time.  The strange array of tarns that punctuate the grassy flats around Lake Roe are quite unique. Cameras were pulled out and many photos taken.

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Magnus takes in the view of Lake Roe

Below us, one of the DOC staff strode into view, carrying a mid-size day-pack.  We gave her a cheery wave, and she waved back.  No doubt we would say a proper hello later at the hut.

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A patchwork quilt of tarns beside Lake Roe

Hoping to catch a view of distant Centre Pass, Chris, Paul, Lewis and Magnus decided to walk across to the opposite peaks for a view.  Later when we met back at the hut, they reported nice views, but were nowhere near high enough to get a glimpse of Centre Pass.  That would have to wait a few days now!

Our evening at the hut was a very interesting one. Crystal and Louise explained the DOC Rock Wren programme to us all.  Pointing to various marked locations on a topmap, they gave us a fascinating insight into the daily life of this tiny native bird.  The passion they have for their work, and love for the Rock Wren was impressive.  So much so, when we mentioned seeing Kiwi on Stewart Island, they were almost dismissive.  Kiwi are nowhere near as exciting as Rock Wren in their books!

In return, we entertained them with tall tales of our Moa Hunts.

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Crystal and Louise – our lovely DOC Rock Wren enthusiasts

Sadly, Richard had to pull out of this year’s trip due to a dodgy knee.  Because we would be missing his frequent renditions of children’s songs, Paul had recorded him singing “Wonky Donkey” on his phone.  He played it to us all, including the slightly bemused DOC gals…  Hearing Richard recite the entire Wonky Donkey song certainly brought a smile to all our faces and was a fitting end to a really enjoyable day on the Dusky.

Day 3

Monday 15th January – Lake Roe hut to Loch Maree hut

Monday morning looked good.  High cloud meant we would be spared the full force of the sun as we traversed the tops of the Pleasant Range.  We were also hopeful it would remain clear of the higher peaks and allow us some great views.  An increasingly enthusiastic nor’westerly breeze would keep things interesting.

All six Moa Hunters were out of their sleeping bags before 7am, and a mere hour and a half later, we were ready to start our days walk.  After the obligatory photos and goodbyes to Louise and Crystal, we were off.

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Moa Men ready for action

In dry conditions the climb out from Lake Roe is a straightforward exercise.  Steep sections are well stepped, and where the going is less tough, the track meanders its way up the slopes.  Climbing is steady, and we all got quickly into our stride, with a welcome breeze keeping us cool.

Some parts were a definite grunt, with some blowing and panting.  The spectacular views back to Lake Roe hut behind us provided plenty of excuses to stop for a breather, and take in the wonderful scenery.

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Looking back at Lake Laffy.  It’s a steep climb from Lake Roe hut to here…

Lake Horizon sits just above 1000m.  The track follows a narrowish grassy strip that runs between it and Lake Ursula, undulating over small lumps, or winding its way between them.

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Lake Horizon

Leaving the Lakes, our next leg was across the open tops of the Pleasant Range.  Chris and Paul noted on the map that there are quite a number of tarns along the way.  Conscious that once we hit the bushline later in the afternoon there would be no more water until Loch Maree.  We planned to fill out bottles at one of the last tarns that we would pass.

Surrounded by range after range after range of granite mountain peaks, we enjoyed every angle of the 360 degree panorama that swept around us.  This is a special part of New Zealand, and we were all determined to make the most of the spectacular scenery that was on show.

Shortly after 11am we stopped at a clean and clear looking tarn.  Chris hopped down and sure enough, the water he filled his bottle with looked clear and very drinkable.  Bottles and bellies were filled with cool refreshing water.

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Yummy tarn water…  Actually, it wasn’t bad at all for tarn water.

Reaching a high point shortly after, we were finally rewarded with absolutely stunning views of Dusky Sound.  After half an hour of being teased with tantalising glimpses of the distant ocean, it now lay majestically in front of us.  Despite the cool breeze, we stood there for quite some time, rewarding ourselves and feeling privileged.

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Distant Dusky Sound from the Pleasant Range

Below us we could see the track disappearing into the bush.  We agreed that lunch should be taken at a spot out of the bush, out of the wind, with views of the Sounds.  We walked on down, and just after midday found just such a spot.

Cushioned by the long grass and sheltered from the breeze, with the World at our feet, it was all too comfortable and pleasant.  We were in no rush to start the brutal descent to Loch Maree, and spent over an hour in that place, chatting, snoozing, and nibbling away at our lunches.

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Magnus enjoying a tussock bed, high in the Pleasant Range

From the tops, the track drops away steeply.  And that would be a fair summary of the entire 900 vertical metre drop to the Seaforth River below.

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A beautiful view, but a brutal descent…

Initially relatively dry and clear, the track quickly becomes trickier with plenty of beech roots and short vertical climbs.  Out of the breeze and working very hard, we quickly got very warm indeed.  Aware that we had only the water we were carrying until the bottom, we rationed ourselves.  This took some willpower in the stifling heat.

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Steep… steep… steep!

Only Lewis enjoyed the long descent.  While the rest of us puffed, grunted and grumbled, he cheerfully hopped and skipped his way down.  What a bastard.

We had numerous stops during the two hours of arduous downhill.  Any flat place with a hint of a breeze was a welcome respite.  Imagining what the Dusky might be like, none of us had envisaged this.  In my mind I pictured myself with a jacket on, frequent heavy rain, mist, mud and sandflies.  I certainly hadn’t anticipated the heat, humidity, sweat and sunshine we were experiencing.

Dropping our packs beside the Jane Burn was a welcome relief.  Two hours on that hill had been more than enough, and we were feeling generally buggered.  The cold clear water of the stream was heavenly.  It’s amazing how good water can taste.  Just drinking from Jane Burn was not enough for Lewis, who took the opportunity to cool his entire body in the water.

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Does water get any more sparkling crystal clear than this?

The short stretch of track from Jane Burn to the wire bridge over the Seaforth River is magnificently flat.  We filed across the bridge and just a few minutes later were at Loch Maree hut, after a short climb up the rocky knob it sits atop.

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A proper 3-wire bridge

We were the only trampers at the hut, but not for long.  Shortly after our arrival, two men rolled in, followed by a group of four internationals who had been to Supper Cove.  The two older Kiwi blokes had come in from Kintail Hut.  We dubbed the younger group “The United Nations”.  Ulysse from France, Marlene from Norway, Lukas from Germany and Harry from Scotland all met at Auckland University and were spending their summer break walking the best tracks in the South Island.

After a hot day on the track, the cool waters of Loch Maree and the Seaforth River looked inviting.  John, Magnus and Adam strolled down for a dip.  The initial intention was to plop straight into cool waters of the Loch.  However, the sandy bank is extremely soft and drops steeply into very deep dark water.  Getting out again could be an issue.  As we pondered this, a very large eel slowly swam past, sealing the deal.  We instead bravely (not!) opted for a splash in the shallow waters of the Seaforth where it flowed into the Loch.

It was how big?

Loch Maree was created by a landslide that was triggered by a large earthquake on the Alpine Fault in 1826. The landslide dammed the Seaforth river creating this lake in the valley behind. The trees in the valley were all drowned. It is amazing that nearly 200 years later, their stumps still remain, the cold water of the lake protecting them from insects and fungus attack. They now form a handy gauge for trampers. If you can’t see the stumps, you can’t get to Supper cove. The rivers will be impassable. If you can see half a metre of stumps, you are good to go.

Seeing all the spider webs on the hut, each festooned with dead sandflies got Magnus thinking…  He made the comment that in Fiordland, we lowly humans are the bottom of the food chain.

“Sandflies feed on us. They are then eaten by spiders, which are finally eaten by birds…”

That evening, a hearty Spaghetti Bolognese followed by Panna Cotta dessert filled our capacious Moa Men bellies.  Hot chocolate fortified with whisky capped off a deliciously tasty trio.

We enjoyed chatting to the other hut residents, and watching The United Nations play a fascinatingly complicated card game.  Before bed, we played Richard’s rendition of Wonky Donkey for everyone, which was enjoyed particularly by our young tramping friends.

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The “United Nations” are suitably bemused by Wonky Donkey….

Day 4

Tuesday 16th January – Loch Maree hut to Supper Cove hut

Looking down at Loch Maree from the hut window, the waters seemed even lower than the previous evening.  Perhaps it was our imaginations, but the dead trunks seemed more exposed on this slightly overcast but pleasantly warm morning.

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Loch Maree…  Eerie and unique.

We spent the morning doing deciding what equipment and food we could leave at the hut.  Our aim was to carry to Supper Cove only what we needed. The rest could stay in bags in a cupboard at Loch Maree until we returned.

Leaving the hut at 10am is late even by Moa Hunter standards, but with walking conditions very good, we were not concerned about the leisurely start.

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Did we find a Moa skull?

The first section of track follows the north bank of Loch Maree fairly closely, with regular climbs to skirt boggy areas and gullies.  Progress along here is steady and we made good time to the west end of the lake.  At times it was clear were on the remains of an old miner’s track that was cut through this area in the early 1900’s.  In particular when we walked past an old blacksmith’s anvil on a rusting iron frame.

Beyond a section that skirts high above the narrow gorge at the tail of the lake where a huge landslide blocked the river a few hundred years ago, the tracks drop into the Seaforth valley again.

We stopped for lunch at a lovely spot on the bank of the Seaforth.  Leaning up against moss covered rocks, munching on our lunches while watching the river flow slowly past was a peaceful and incredibly pleasant experience.

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Lunch at the most remote and peaceful cafe in the World

After an hour we somewhat reluctantly pulled our packs onto our backs and continued on.  Shortly after our lunch break we came to a ladder up a steep rocky face.  This is a fairly unusual find on tramping tracks.  Clearly, heading into the bush to find a way around this feature proved too nasty when the track was being formed, and the ladder was put in place instead.

Shortly after crossing a three wire bridge, the track opens out into a flat super flat super easy section, akin to a great walk.  After the earlier slightly awkward sections, unimpeded walking was a welcome change.

We stopped beside the river at a deep and inviting looking swimming hole.  Lewis and Paul were keen for a quick refreshing dip.  Dropping packs, they were in the water in no time, enjoying the clear water of the Seaforth.

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7/10 for artistic impression, 8/10 for technical merit…

Marking the end of this Fiordland highway is a set of three walkwires which cross Henry burn and another unnamed river that crosses the track.  Conditions around these bridges were boggy even when we were there.  Chris did have to excavate one of his legs by hand from a particularly deep and sticky mudpool.  After rain you can expect to encounter some serious gloop and spludge in this area!

A short walk from the trio of bridges, we stopped for afternoon tea in a clearing with a beautiful waterfall.  Two blue ducks were standing on a rock between us and the fall.  Clearly they owned the place.  We took lots of photos and enjoyed the serenity of that place.  A skilled painter couldn’t have come up with a better composition.  Because it was such a lovely spot, we spent longer there than our usual afternoon rest.  We arrived about 3:30pm and didn’t leave until an hour later.  But it was worth it.

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The ridiculously photogenic Dusky…

Beyond the waterfall, the track gets rougher.  In fact, it gets particularly unpleasant and grovelly.  There is an option to avoid this section if the tide is out, and walk across the sand to Supper cove hut.  This wasn’t an option we were able to avail ourselves of.  So we spent the next hour and twenty minutes scrambling up and down awkward, slippery, nasty terrain.  After the easy section that preceded it, this seemed like a particular hardship.

Our tired bodies were very happy to drop out of the bush into a small inlet with an old boatshed nestled up in the trees.  Paul had arrived a few minutes before us, and comically greeted us at this point carrying an umbrella he had grabbed from the hut.

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How may I be of assistance, good sir’s?

We wandered up the last gentle climb to the hut and gratefully dumped our packs for the day.  After marvelling at the sweeping spectacular views of Dusky sound from the deck, a few of us headed back to the little inlet for a quick swim to wash off the day’s sweat.

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Supper Cove…

Our plan was always to catch and eat fish for dinner this night.  So, we rigged up our lines and headed down to some rocks below the hut to try our luck.  As it turned out, not catching fish was harder than getting them!  A short throw of a hand line from the rocks invariably came back with a fish on the hook.  In just over an hour we caught over a dozen good sized fish, including blue cod, terakihi, red cod, parrotfish, stargazers and spotties.  We kept the best eaters, and put the rest back.

A word of warning – the large rocks are very good to fish off, but are also extremely slippery.  Magnus very nearly took an unscheduled swim before John grabbed his collar and prevented him sliding into the drink.  Normally slipping into the sea wouldn’t be of much concern, but the large sharks that were regularly cruising by made us rather cautious about falling in!

Our fish bounty caught at Supper Cove

It would be fair to say we overindulged on fish that night!  The rather unique combination of  terakihi, ghee, seasoning and wasabi peas was actually rather good!  We piled so much pan-fried fish and couscous into our bellies that it was agreed a dessert wasn’t required.  A rare decision for the Moa Hunters!

Day 5

Wednesday 17th January – Supper Cove hut to Loch Maree hut

Breakfast consisted of left-over couscous and rice pudding.  Not a traditional offering, and probably not one that we will repeat.  But it did put some fuel in our tummies for the morning’s walking.

Overnight we had the first significant rainfall of our trip.  By morning low cloud was still shrouding the hills that flank Supper Cove, and light drizzle was falling.  Hearing the heavy rain during the night had raised some concerns that crossing some of the low-lying sections back to Loch Maree could become tricky.  But those fears proved unfounded.

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Mist and drizzle finally feels like Fiordland!

As we packed up our belongings and tidied the hut, drizzle and rain alternated outside.  Knowing that a 10am departure would be plenty of time to get to Loch Maree, we had another lazy start to the day, with plenty of tall tales and laughter around the breakfast table.

We all loved Supper Cove.  It is a special place that not many people get to experience.  Describing it in words or even photos doesn’t come close to doing justice to the pristine beauty.  To understand how lovely it is, you will need to get your tramping boots on and see for yourself.  Fun fact:  Dusky Sound is the first place that beer was brewed in New Zealand.  Hooray!  In 1770, James Cook had his crew make spruce beer here, using molasses, Rimu tips and Manuka as the primary ingredients.

After a protracted photo session, we bade goodbye to Supper Cove at 10:10am and walked back down the track towards Loch Maree.

Low tide was 7am, which meant that by the time we reached the first streams that flow into Supper Cove, the tide was well on its way in.  The incoming tide is very effective at blocking the stream water flowing into the cove, causing them to back up and get very deep.  Crossings that we strode through with dry feet the day before were now a metre deep in water.  We were forced to make two or three long diversions up these creeks to find suitable places to cross them without swimming!  In one case we had to walk quite some distance before finding a perfect bridge formed by a large fallen tree across the stream.

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Chris, comfortable in his natural habitat

Aside from occasional refreshing drizzle, our day was very much the previous one except in reverse.  We did take the opportunity to walk the lake edge for the last couple of km to the hut rather than stick to the track.  The sand was fairly puggy and soft, so the change of route didn’t save any time, but was a nice change from the track through the forest.

We reached Loch Maree hut at 5:30pm to find just one occupant – a young French fella called Johann.  He was a friendly and quiet dread-locked dude – a proper hippy loner who was cycle-touring and tramping his way round the South Island.  We gave him some of our unused soft baits for fishing with, and rags to make sinkers from.  (Putting a stone in a scrap of material and tying it to your fishing line makes a perfect sinker, and rags are much lighter to carry in your backpack than lead sinkers!)

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Loch Maree turning on the special effects for our return

Dinner that night was nachos punctuated with what we christened “bullet beans” in it.  Partially rehydrated, they were rather solid, but actually quite good.  Dessert was ambrosia pudding, and was a brilliant success, and a debut for that recipe on a Moa Hunt.  Chris was particularly pleased to have finally produced a properly set yoghurt on a tramping trip, which was used for the ambrosia.  Johann was also pleased, because he got to share some of it!

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Sleepy Moa Men with Johann after consuming lots of ambrosia…

Shortly after 10pm we were all in our sleeping bags snoring contentedly.

Day 6

Thursday 18th January – Loch Maree hut to Kintail Hut

Low cloud quickly gave way to clear patches and soon a sun was shining warm and bright on Loch Maree.  Our packs were loaded up with all the extra gear we had left behind while at Supper Cove, and certainly felt heavier this morning.

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New Zealand’s most ineligible non-bachelors…

The track from Loch Maree starts with a rough and at times awkward sidle above the Seaforth River.

Almost exactly an hour’s walking from the hut we came to a short solid construction bridge over a stream.  From there the track stays low beside the river.  For much of the next two hours, the track isn’t much of a track at all.  The river valley is wide flat and quite boggy.  Rather than looking for an obvious trail, the best course was to choose the least muddy and wet looking route to the next orange marker, if there was one.

In many places, even finding the next marker was a challenge.  If you are on the Dusky and walk more than 20 metres without seeing an orange track marker, you are likely not on the track any more.  The track is not always well formed, but it is very well marked.  If you aren’t seeing regular orange markers, backtrack to the last marker you passed and have a better look around for the next one.  While the track may appear to carry on straight, oftentimes the next marker is to your left or right.

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A blue duck keeping a watchful eye on John…

We reached the first wire bridge right on 12:30pm, and once all safely on the other side, we dropped packs for a lunch break.  A blue duck preening itself on a rock nearby provided some light entertainment as we sat back and enjoyed hot sunny conditions next to the river.  Enjoying the lovely day, we didn’t pull our packs on until 1:45pm.

Beyond the wire bridge the tracks begins to climb towards a tight valley at the base of Tripod Hill.  After 30 minutes walking, light rain started to fall.  We put our pack covers on, but didn’t bother with rain jackets.  The day was still very warm, and wearing another layer would have been extremely hot and sweaty even in the rainy conditions.

Just after 3pm we had our first glimpse of Gair Loch.  What looks easy on the topomap proved not to be so in real life.  We lost the track numerous times around the lake, and had to traverse a large slip full of boulders and trees that had swept down with all the earth.

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Drizzly Gair Loch

Beyond the lake, the last section of track to the hut is much easier to follow and we reached Kintail hut at 4pm.  The rain had now stopped and we hung out wet pack covers outside the hut to dry.  It was something of a relief that the rain had stopped.  A note in the Loch Maree hut book warned trampers that the wire bridge east of Kintail hut across the Seaforth River had been destroyed by a tree fall.  If the Seaforth was in high flow, crossing could be problematic or impossible.

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Och aye…  Not far to the hut, laddie.

Magnus brewed up a very welcome hot chocolate, which was fortified with the last of our whisky.  Dinner was an Indian curry and naan bread.  The naan was a particularly delicious success.  Dessert was less of a success, but equally tasty.  What was supposed to be a self-saucing chocolate pudding ended up as chocolate slops due to too much liquid and no baking powder.

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Yummy curry not far away…
A perfect naan bread ready for frying

Kintail hut is a good one – larger than the others we had stayed in on this trip, with low sandfly numbers.  Any hut with few resident sandflies is a good one!  For the first time on our Moa Hut, we came to a hut with no other occupants.

Lewis and Chris amused themselves that evening repairing Chris’s boots, which had started to fall apart.  The sole and leather upper had clearly had a disagreement, and had decided to part company.  A combination of wire and strapping tape was used to resolve the dispute.

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Good as new!

Day 7: Friday 19th January – Kintail Hut to Upper Spey hut

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The United Nations left us a wonky note.  They are awesome!

Clear skies greeted us as we went through our usual morning routine of porridge, fart-arsing about, tidying up, fart-arsing about, cleaning, fart-arsing about and a team photo.

Despite the fart-arsing about, we were out the door and on the track by 9am.  Knowing we had a fairly big day ahead, with a solid 600 vertical metre climb to Centre pass, we were keen to get going earlier than our more recent starts.

With the wire bridge smashed, we wandered upstream from its remains to find a suitable crossing.  This was found almost immediately.  The Seaforth was running very low, and could be crossed easily almost anywhere.

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The remains of the wire bridge near Kintail Hut

Beyond the river crossing, the track launches into a steep sidle followed by a steep climb through the bush.  Steep became a bit of a theme for the day.

The first wire bridge was reached in 50 minutes.  From this point, things get very steep, and with no streams marked on our map for quite some distance, we took the opportunity to fill our drink bottles.  The best spot to get water here is five minutes’ walk up from the wire bridge, then a short clamber down a slope to the stream below.   We dropped down at a DOC post marker with an arrow on it.

From here we slogged uphill for an hour and fifty minutes.  Twenty minutes of that was particularly steep.  As it looked like the bushline was not far ahead, we stopped in the shade for some scroggin and a break.

Our break was well timed.  After just ten minutes more walking we emerged from the bush and could see Centre pass looming high ahead of us.  It took us an hour and a half to reach the pass.  Walking through the tussock and alpine herb fields was a pleasant change from the bush.

We had been hoping for a clear day, and it looked like we would get out wish.  While there was scattered cloud about, it was high, and we would get good views from the top of the pass.

Looking back towards Tripod Hill and beyond from the pass is a spectacular sight.  Standing up there certainly gave us an appreciation of the just how vast, rugged and isolated Fiordland is.  You don’t get to see views like that very often, so we made the most of it with a long leisurely lunch.  Lying in the tussock just below the pass we were out of the keen wind.  John may have even fallen asleep.  Briefly.  Again.

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Looking back past Tripod Hill from Centre Pass.
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Magnus shaded by his well-walked customary tramping hat.

Having filled our bellies with lunch, and our eyes with the views, we proceeded over the pass for Upper Spey hut.  It is just ten minutes from the top to Warren burn and the bushline on the north side.

We were lucky to reach the bush at a time when the trees were flowering.  The sweet perfume scent of the blossoms was almost intoxicating and very unexpected.  We were not sure what the trees were – Plagianthus perhaps?

Beyond the flowering trees we descended into an eerie goblin forest.  Massive old gnarled trees draped in thick trailing moss would make for a great Lord of the Rings movie set.  From the goblin forest and flowering trees, we had roughly half an hour of relatively pleasant descent, followed by an hour of solid, somewhat steeper, and slightly less pleasant descent.

When you reach a waterfall on the left side of the track, you are twenty minutes from the hut.

Ten minutes from the waterfall you are down on the flats, which rather amusingly have boardwalks across them to the hut.  Having walked through far nastier looking bogs, this seemed a little unnecessary, but also a welcome luxury.

Our arrival time at the hut was 4pm, which gave us time to relax and enjoy the surroundings.  Upper Spey hut sits at the base of Mount Memphis and is surrounded by spectacular peaks.  Walking a short distance down from the hut to what looks like a wooden helicopter pad affords some lovely views of the surrounding mountains.  While enjoying the place, we indulged in a few old man leg muscle stretches, which always seem more painful than the actual walking.  But they do seem to reduce stiffness the next day.

Day 8

Saturday 20th January – Upper Spey hut to West Arm hut

We heard some rain on the iron roof of the hut at various times through the night.  Our Saturday morning was overcast, but still very mild.  A few showers passed by, but nothing too ominous.

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Upper Spey hut sits nestled in the bush under the watchful eye of Mt Memphis
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Six mighty Moa Men, still looking powerful and manly.

By 9am we had the hut tidy, and were ready for our last day on the track.

It seemed like time had flown by and the end had come too soon, but at the same time, our trip across Lake Hauroko seemed a lifetime ago.

We set out across the boardwalks from the hut and onto the track at the far and of the clearing.  From here the track descends moderately steeply down to the flatter Spey River valley.  It took just 45 minutes to reach the pair of two wire bridges at Waterfall creek.

The track meanders at a generally even height above the true left of the Spey River, deviating around frequent areas of windfall.  There must have been a strong wind through this area in recent times, as there were a lot of trees down.  The men and women from DOC hadn’t been through with their chainsaws to clear them yet, so regular scrambling up or down was required to pass these messy areas.

An interesting pink cabbage-like fungus

Skirting round the windfall did mean we regularly lost the track.  But it really didn’t matter.  The vegetation below the trees was relatively sparse, and you can make your way forward fairly comfortably whether you are on the track or not.  It was always just a matter of time before we stumbled upon the “real” track again.

We stopped at the walkwire over Bypass Stream for lunch.  Little fish watched us munch through our food from the stream that trickled by.  The stream was so low that we didn’t bother with the walkwire, opting to walk under it instead.

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“Come on in, the water is lovely and warm”

At 1:50pm we rather suddenly exited the bush and found ourselves standing on Wilmot Pass road, a shingle road that links Manapouri Power Station to Deep Cove.  Within five minutes we had watched five coaches full of tourists roll past.  Eight days of seeing almost nobody, then as soon as you hit a road, 150 people rumble past in a matter of minutes!

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The Dusky.  Done and dusted…

The walk to West Arm hut from the end of the track takes half an hour or so.  At 2:20pm we pushed open the door of the hut, and were relieved to find it unoccupied.  Being a snug six bunk hut, we were going to need the whole thing!

After dropping our bags and scoping the place and resting our hot feet, we wandered down to the wharf at Manapouri Power Station wearing more comfortable shoes.  Boots are not nice to walk long distances on hard hard roads.  The visitor centre was still open.  Inside we chatted to the Real Journey’s staff member about ferry times.  Our original plan was to catch the 11am boat next day, but after some discussion, we agreed to grab the 8:45am one instead, and have brekkie at Manapouri township.  Porridge on the track is very nice, but a big fry-up instead sounded irresistable!

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Wandering down to the Power Station.
Manapouri Power Station

Back at the hut we had a dinner which consisted of any leftovers we could find.  Salami and all sorts of other bits and bobs combined for a tasty meal.  Dessert was crème brulee topped with brown sugar and Glayva.  Not quite traditional, but a damn fine twist on the recipe!

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Creme Brulee on Day 8 – not a bad effort!

The sandflies were particularly brutal at West Arm hut.  We all grabbed a quick splash bath outside using water from the tap at the base of the hut water tank.  It was fantastic and invigorating to feel clean again, even if sandflies were being swatted at throughout the whole process!

Day 9: Sunday 21st January – Manapouri to Home

After an early start, we made our way down to the wharf where we enjoyed some very pleasant views through the clouds of sandflies that swarm around the lake edge.

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Our ride, berthed at Manapouri township

The boat trip was a lovely finale to the trip.  We all enjoyed the views on both sides of the boat as we powered across the glassy flat surface of Lake Manapouri.  At Manapouri township we walked a short distance into the centre and found what we were looking for – cooked breakfast!  Initially John was going to have something healthier, but he quickly folded to peer pressure and ordered a big cooked feed like the rest of us.  A decision he did not regret.

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The breakfast of champions…

2017 – Two Thumb Track: Snow and Sun on the Te Araroa

Moa Hunters on this trip: Paul, Chris, Lewis, Magnus, Richard, Logan

This year a more benign trip this year was scheduled, mainly due to time constraints, and foundation Moa Hunt member Adam being absent due to a ruptured Achilles.  His quick wit was missed, but this did not detract from the overall enjoyment of the trip.

The Two Thumb track is a small portion of the increasingly popular Te Araroa trail, so we expected to enjoy the camaraderie of more tourists and trampers than in previous Moa Hunts.

The plan was fairly straight forward:

Day 1: Road trip to Mesopotamia, walk to Crooked spur Hut. 9km / 4hr
Day 2: Crooked spur hut to Stone hut. 9.5km / 5hr
Day 3: Morning Hunting, Stone Hut to Royal Hut in afternoon. 6km / 2hr
Day 4: Royal hut to Rex Simpson Hut. 14km / 6hr
Day 5: Rex Simpson hut to Road and home

Topomap of our route

Google Map of our route

For this adventure, we all converged in Christchurch on Friday 20th January, a whole month ahead of the standard Moa Hunting schedule, as our main food man Chris could not make the usual March Schedule.  Everyone knows a good Moa hunt marches on its stomach!

To negate any weather holdups, Richard, Lewis and Magnus had all flown in on the Friday afternoon. Sampling the local brews, and devouring “shark and tatie” in the name of carbo-loading helped to fill in the time before departure the next morning.

Day 1

Saturday 21st January – Mesopotamia to Crooked Spur hut
Nice spread, where’s your head at?

All on time, we converged at Adams place, as he had generously given his time to help transport us to the start of the track this year. As there were 6 of us, Paul’s dad Alan also helped with transport. Without further ado we packed and drove to Mesopotamia station, where breakfast number two (for some) was prepared. The ritual Moa Hunter enormous, gourmet breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns and lots of mushrooms was expertly fried up by Paul and Adam.

We start out as seven…

Once we had all got our gear sorted, we had an obligatory group photo, then set off in overcast, calm conditions. The track started on a scrubby river terrace across a road into Bush stream river valley, all fairly innocuous stuff. The first river crossing arrived about 40 minutes in – always the tester as it will be the deepest after recent rains. It turned out to be swift but manageably shallow,  keeping the ‘tackle’ dry – thankfully!

As we were progressing up stream, the expectation was that the flow would reduce… This proved correct with relatively easy crossings for the rest of the day. The second crossing was just over an hour in. Paul’s father Alan (who had joined us for the first part of the trip) decided this was his turning point, but not before crossing for a snack! Good effort and thanks for the company, Alan.  We’ll see you in four days on the far side!

We continued on, following Bush stream until the track rose abruptly to avoid a gorge over a small saddle, in a short but well formed grunt uphill.

First grunt! Nice track…

We arrived at Crooked Spur hut about 3pm, taking little over the posted 4 hours and still feeling pretty fresh.  Despite the light day we all were looking forward to the traditional first up steak dinner, which Paul gladly prepared, pleased to not have to carry it any further!

Crooked hut is a delightfully rustic musterers hut with rough-sawn timber framing seemingly being held up by the bunk frames, clad in 3rd hand corrugated iron peppered with nail holes. It is in a magic spot, with a great view down the valley through one small grimy window. The floor is a very rough concrete, and not pleasant on bare feet.

Crooked Spur Hut

Around 4pmish, two very fast Te Araroa walkers motored into view. Blair was lucky to stop without overshooting, Marten was hot on his heels. Blair was on his 84th day on the trail, with very few rest days since departing Cape Reinga! They made Crooked Spur in 2 hours 20 minutes and weren’t sticking around. Traveling light, with poles they swore by, they looked in peak fitness. A quick yarn uncovered they had stocked up earlier that day and were heading to either Stone or Royal hut that night. We checked out their gear and setup, compared notes, discovered Blair used to travel like us, but had been transformed by the Te Araroa trail experience into a super light (or is that Ultra-light?) tramper. They had seen Alan heading back near the start, and two other trampers removing their shoes at the first crossing (rookies) when they blasted by! Without further dilly-dally, they were off, trying to beat the weather and light to Royal hut.

(I later read Blair’s account of the snow, and wonder if it was the only time they needed to turn back on their entire trip.)

Dinner was expertly fried by Paul, and as always, was a superb warming feed, and one we were going to need if the weather forecast of snow was accurate! During the process we discovered that the white Spirits brought for fuel had a too high flash point to work on either of the cookers. Magnus spent a good 30 minutes trying to get the fuel to work in his museum piece (sorry Magnus, it was entertaining!)

Paul’s Whisperlite, with a pre-heating coil battled and produced a black sooty flame. Who are the rookies? Luckily Paul had filled up on Fuel Lite which we decided to nurse through the trip. The cooker fuel was to become a fixation for Chris who could never quite figure out how to use it!

Dishes time produced “The Glove”!  A trial device designed to make back-country dish washing a whole lot easier, and entertaining(!) eh Logan?

The ultra-modern glove welded by Logan with a rustic framing backdrop.

Two Belgian youngsters – Yannick and Aline appeared after dinner, just as it started to rain. They were absolute beginner trampers on holiday in NZ. Carrying a lot they didn’t need, they were a little damp, but in good spirits. They were learning a hell of a lot, and were to be our companions on and off for the next 4 days of quite frankly grotty and great weather.  Welcome to tramping in New Zealand! These guys were great company and we hope the trail didn’t put them off tramping for life.

That night it poured down.  The swiss-cheese iron roof of the old hut afforded us an unpleasant damp night. It wasn’t just wet, but cold too. The lack of insulation meaning we made full use of our warm sleeping bags!

Day 2

Sunday 22nd January – Crooked Spur hut to Stone hut

Dawn was cold and damp, with breath showing in the hut. A quick glance out of the window told us the snow level was not far above us. It sounded like steady heavy rain outside, but the noise can be deceiving in a tin hut. As usual Paul was first up and cranking out a billy load of porridge, which was scoffed down with liberal dollops of brown sugar, the staple start to any Moa hunt.

Chris and Paul discussing the plan of attack – note the dusting of snow on the hills behind.

In rather quick time we were ready to depart by 8.40am, eager to hit the trail and check out the conditions. Yannick and Aline we much less keen, only just starting to stir as we departed.  Their choice turned out to be the better one…

The team ready to depart, one of us is wearing no pants…

We bid farewell to Crooked Spur hut in persistent, but not heavy rain. Climbing steadily up a lovely gradient kept us warm for the next 30 minutes. Around this point the ground was becoming a little slushy, the temperature significantly colder, and the rain was getting a little harder.  We decided to don some warmer gear.  Twenty minutes further on, we were walking through steady snow with a good inch underfoot. We kept fairly warm on the climb, apart from wet chilled hands and feet. Those of us with wind proof gloves fared better.

At the top we stopped briefly to get the lay of the land and snap the odd photo, but conditions were brutal and we didn’t linger. Apparently we were at 1500m in high summer – could have fooled us! Lewis was finding his choice of a light jacket less than adequate, but he has always had a high threshold for coping with cold conditions.

Paul looking toasty warm, not far from the unnamed saddle

Fortunately, Chris had been on this track in better conditions and was able to point out the way forward down the right side of the valley. So, in a mixture of glissading and walking, we high-tailed it down, noting very quickly that the lack of exertion in descent was not so warming.  This was especially the case for Logan. He quickly started to shiver and wasn’t keen to stick around. The lack of water-proofing in his jacket proving to be his undoing.  He was also not wearing all of his warm underlayers, having chosen to keep it in his pack as a dry reserve. We persuaded him to stop, and gave him another polypropylene top to put on. For a brief moment his torso was pretty exposed to the elements, but a dry first-layer helped keep some body heat in when he was fully dressed again.

Chris proving shorts are for all seasons.

Once out of the heavy snow, we stopped briefly by the first stream crossing for a nutritious scroggin energy hit. We decided those who were cold should push on fast to keep warm and get to shelter. It was still raining hard. The next section was a steady climbing sidle to the right of another saddle. In the end Logan and Richard pressed on while the rest were distracted by the locals (Tahr) who seemed to be quite numerous. At this point Chris, who had packed his hunting bow, became fairly excited. He began planning a couple of hunting excursions immediately!

We arrived at Stone Hut about 12.30pm, just in time for lunch. Conditions had improved.  It was a little breezy with the odd smatter of drizzle between welcome sunny patches. The Hut offered dilapidated but usable camp chairs for outdoor use. There were a couple of trampers enjoying the sun on these when we arrived, looking to head to Crooked Spur hut in improving conditions.

Stone hut was of a similar construction to Spur Hut, with the exception of a large stone wall on the south west end.  The corrugated iron seemed only 2nd hand rather than 3rd hand, with far less holes! It featured a largely useless open fire place, and the available fuel was no more than scrub.  That didn’t stop us trying to get a warming blaze going though.  It was going to be a chilly night…

After lunch Paul and Chris set off on a hunting expedition that would prove to be a learning experience. The rest of us pottered about taking in the serenity and wildness of the central south. The hunters returned empty handed but with tales of seeing Tahr either too high or too far away across rivers. Plans were conceived to have another go tomorrow.

Magnus and Lewis taking in the last of the summer wine.

By 6pm the snow had gone from the pass and our Belgian friends had arrived, having had a better time crossing the saddle than us.

Another option for using the stubborn white spirits –blackening Billies!

Patience (or tardiness) had paid off. Dinner at Stone hut was a magnificent affair featuring fabulous nachos incorporating home-made dehydrated beans, full of flavour.  The sour cream was a little dodgy, but overall, the meal was judged a great success…

Surprise!! Happy 50th, Richard.

A big surprise was the second dessert (always a good thing) of birthday cake complete with candles! You only turn fifty once, Richard!!

We cranked up the fire, which did a good job of drawing cool air into the hut for the hour it was burning! It gave off little heat but provided some entertainment, in a black-humour sort of way. We all hit the sack once the entertainment had subsided to embers.  With all the bunks full and two on the floor, any night movement was tricky.

Day 3

Sunday 23rd January – Stone hut to Royal hut

Dawn broke after a windy and wet night, but temperatures had risen meaning no more snow. Today was the short day with only two hours walking to Royal Hut. The plan first thing was for Chris to venture down Bush stream on the true right, using his learnings from the previous day to bag us some dinner with his bow! The rest of us big stompy footed noisy trampers agreed to move in the opposite direction, meandering up the nearest gentle slope in search of snow and a good view. The weather was cool but clearing for what looked like a great day.

Stunning conditions…
Some of the locals…

On the climb we counted 24 Tahr moving up scree, obviously expecting improving weather. They were too far away for bow hunting, the only shots taken were with cameras. We made the top of the lump we were climbing in now fairly blustery conditions. Magnus’s well-loved hat got caught in a gust and vanished over the side at a fair rate of knots. Paul, forever the innovator, immediately setup a direction indicator so we knew which way to search.

What a view – Stone hut way down below by the stream.

We took off in the direction the hat had vanished, discussing the rather slim possibility of finding a stone coloured hat on a mountain of stones! The search proved a long one with us losing the direction because of the steepness of the slope and the swirling nature of the wind in the hills. Some of the scree proved to be quite a lot of fun, with frequent stops to scan for the hat. Having given up of reuniting Magnus with his hat, it miraculously appeared on the edge of the scree at least one kilometre away from where it had first taken flight. Magnus’s sharp eyes picking it out!

Magnus on right with Hat – well chuffed!

The remaining descent was uneventful, but the spectacular scenery made for an enjoyable walk. We arrived back at Stone not long before Chris, having not been able to spot him on the other side of the valley. He found Tahr. Unfortunately they also found him. Chris had fired an arrow in their direction, but had to settle with hitting the rock beside one. After a spectacularly sunny lunch at Stone hut we assembled our gear from all points of the hut, posed for a photo and left for Royal Hut.

Well posed, beautiful close-up of the grass.

With sun block and hats slapped on, we set off, steeling ourselves for the first chilly stream crossing. After a few minutes of debate we decided to sidle around on the true right of the stream. It was a bit of a clamber but certainly the dryer and safer option! This turned out to look like a well-trodden route and relatively easy. We did venture into the water briefly, but no further than a metre from the bank. Doing this missed two crossings and the higher we got the less flow there was in the ever present Bush steam. Logan seemed the only one disappointed as he continued to carry a large wooden pole for the purpose of propping against in fast water.

Lewis taking a close look at the river.

When we finally got to the point making a crossing was unavoidable, we were actually rather keen for a dip as it was now quite warm. The stream was still swift and around high thigh deep, made more difficult by the large slippery boulders. Richard, Paul and Logan were the first there and linked up to get across. Paul couldn’t understand our difficulties on foot placement until he realised he has polarised sunglasses making the water far more transparent. Note to self – get some!  Chris, Lewis and Magnus soon followed with Lewis taking an unplanned refreshing dip.

From there the track became quite well formed on the true left of Bush stream and was a pleasant amble. For a while we watched a Tahr family higher up on the other side of the stream. They were moving slowly in the same direction as us and were really hard to spot amongst the grass. Eventually we re-crossed Bush stream, now a much smaller version of its former self.

Easy walking.

We then came to Forest Creek track and turned right to stroll up to Royal Hut in a very open valley with a flat base. This was high country now, with snow on the tops it seemed like late winter early spring, not mid–summer! The scenery seemed to get more spectacular, helped by the superb weather conditions.

As Royal hut came into view it looked like there was a party going on! We knew Yannick and Aline were ahead of us but there seemed quite a crowd sitting out in the sun. As we got closer the numbers reduced as we realised some of what we thought were people were in fact, packs. But there was a great get together, fellow walkers being full of chat about their experiences of Te Araroa and the various obstacles, highs and lows. We sat down for a good chin wag, getting the tourist point of view, and giving our local take on the experience.

Lewis enjoying the scenery.
A party going on!

A couple of the most amiable people we have met were Matt and Jo who were well through their Te Araroa trip and were loving it at day 6o something! All had learned along the way and refined their kit to be efficient and very fit walkers. They certainly made good pace as we were to find out. Royal hut is situated in a very pleasant river valley devoid of trees, which just serves to enhance the stark beauty of the spot. The sunset was spectacular with a few trying to get some shots – here’s my take with a sunglass filter!

Sun Ray(Ban)s…

The evening saw us retreat into the hut and the party followed. There were two tramping chaps unable to move due to snow blindness. They had been bunked up all day waiting for it to subside, which it did, but not before significant headaches and very little vision. One had tried to move off in the morning but found it impossible to see the track. This was a warning to us to use our sunglasses on the pass, which we all luckily carried. Yannick did not have any but Chris offered an ingenious solution……. Again the dinner formed the entertainment and conversation!

Ambrosia – Fab food.

After a jolly evening, we folded ourselves into the 8 bunk hut with some difficulty… Four on the floor with Matt and Jo topping and tailing, content with having experienced an enjoyable, easy day of variety and scenery.

Day 4

Monday 24th January – Royal hut to Rex Simpson hut
A Royal Hut with light frost and a Central Otago feel!

We woke to a late January, mid-summer frost! The unexpectedness of the temperature helped to highlight the snowy mountain tops and general scenery. A bowl of steaming porridge put us in great shape to tackle Stag pass. There was much chatter as we got our stuff assembled and took the obligatory photos.

Team photo – note the last remaining mushroom and sunnies.

Yannick and Aline were first out the door, we weren’t far behind intending to catch them before making it into the snow. The first task was crossing Bush stream for a final time before heading up a side valley. The track was a steady climb following a stream that was crossed with regularity. Before long we had warmed to our task. Matt and Jo caught us at our first scroggin break.

The start of the real climb to Stag Saddle!

They were cruising effortlessly up the climb, showing off the conditioning they had built over their many weeks on the Te Araroa trail. Not to be outdone, we Moa hunters tagged along making conversation like it was easy! Lucky there was 6 of us so we could rotate the talk while others got their breath back.

Before long the track left the stream to ascend the left side of the valley, initially quite steeply, before settling back into a steady climb. After about 45 minutes we caught Yannick and Aline on a plateau amongst scattered snow, stunning views and wispy cloud. We stopped to make and don sunglasses.

Yannick donning Chris’s inventive “back to the future” pinhole sunnies!

From here the  steady climb continued, following a snowy boot channel track to the highest point of the Te Araroa trail, Stag Saddle. The abrupt view from the top was breathtaking, with a sweeping vista of nearly all of Lake Tekapo. There was a small DOC sign on the saddle proclaiming it to be at 1925m.

A happy bunch at the top – mostly downhill from here.

It was fairly breezy on the saddle, the view only spoiled by an annoying ridge to the North West hiding what had to be a view of Mount Cook! After a quick lunch we traversed to the ridge to find the promised view and what looked like an easier ramble down to the hut for the night. On reaching the ridge, sure enough Mt Cook was there to see, plus other outstanding snow covered peaks.

Looking up the ridge, Beuzenberg Peak beckoned… in fact it demanded to be climbed! So we ambled up to the 2066m peak and took in the 360deg views from Tekapo through to the headwaters and the mountains beyond. We lingered for a time on the peak not wanting to leave such a magical spot. Logan planted his walking pole into the pile of rocks on the peak which looked a fitting place. But when the time came to leave he took it with him, the attachment too great to leave behind. The descent was very straight forward, follow the ridge all the way down on a constant decline. The trail seemed well trodden and clean, with the perspective of the view morphing as we descended. We caught up with Matt & Jo, Yannick & Aline about half way down the ridge towards Rex Simpson hut.

Magus nearly at the top struggling with the view.
Hello Mt Cook!

After fond goodbyes we parted company above the Rex Simpson Hut. They were heading to Camp Hut, probably to sleep on the floor.  In the space of three and a half days we had forged strong connections with strangers as is often the case in the back country. Good times, shared experiences and a lot of laughs; must be all the fresh air! We were stopping at the Alpine Recreation Rex Simpson hut, which we were very lucky to get the use of. It is a far more modern affair compared to other huts on the Two Thumb track, built on a strong semi A-frame design, to take the strong winds its exposed position would subject it to. It has tremendous views, a wooden floor and even insulation! The only drawback being the water supply was a fair trek away.

Alan Stevens greeted us as we arrived. He had camped up near the hut for two hours waiting for us, obviously making good time up from the carpark having driven from Christchurch. Around an hour after we arrived a couple of extreme cross country mountain bikers appeared looking for a place to stay. We had no room (the floor space is minimal) but there was an outside access snug on the hut designed for shelter which they decided to use. Richard took time out to discuss their bikes, turning slightly green with envy! They were heading to Queenstown and had traversed the Two Thumb track, obviously very fit as pushing those bikes through that sort of country would not be easy.

Sun setting on the edge of the Rex Simpson hut – spectacular vista.

Day 5

Tuesday 25 January – Rex Simpson hut to road end

After a very blustery night and what sounded like horizontal rain, Paul was first up as usual to get the porridge on the go. During the usual pack and clean up and after a first class coffee and porridge, three girls arrived on the Te Araroa trail. Two through walkers and one in and out, keen for advice on central Otago trails. It’s safe to say she was in the right place for advice on that area and left keen on paradise! We hope she found it.

Alan hit the trail while we gave the hut an extra going over and re-stocked water supplies to make sure it was as pristine as we found it. The walk out was pretty straight forward, downhill through farm land but with views of the upper Tekapo area a constant. We were surprised to see a wallaby bounce through the scrub. From there it was a gentle stroll down to the car park where Alan and John Bowers were waiting with vehicles for the trip home.

Leaving that place for home, we all reflected on the incredible country right on our doorstep. The scenery was so unexpected, and made more striking by the hugely changeable weather we experienced.

Of course the hot pies bought in Fairlie on the way home were great too!

Another excellent Moa Hunt completed.

2016 – Whitcombe Pass – Beautiful and Brutal

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Magnus, Adam, Paul, Richard, Chris, Logan

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Crossing the main divide 150 years ago proved to be difficult and perilous for surveyors John Whitcombe and Jakob Lauper.  Their goal was to map an East – West route, suitable for constructing a road link between Christchurch and the West Coast.  Starting their journey in the upper reaches of the Rakaia, they struggled through increasingly challenging terrain for three weeks, until they finally reached the Tasman Sea on the West Coast.

It was there that Whitcombe tragically lost his life when the explorers attempted to cross the flood swollen Taramakau River.  Their makeshift raft capsized and the men were swept out to sea.  Lauper, the stronger swimmer made it to shore.  Whitcombe succumbed to the pounding waves of the Tasman sea.

Well aware of the history of Whitcombe Pass, The Moa Hunters knew this was going to be a tough trip.  We had read enough of Lauper and Whitcombe’s account of the route to know it would be challenging.  Just as the two explorers before us had underestimated the crossing, we did not anticipate just how brutally tough it would be…

The Trip:

Day 1:  4WD to the headwaters of the Rakaia. Walk to Evans Hut (2hrs / 3km)
Day 2:  Evans Hut to Neave Hut (13hrs / 19km)
Day 3:  Neave Hut to Price Flat Hut (8hrs / 10km)
Day 4:  Price Flat Hut to Frew Hut (6hrs / 8km)
Day 5:  Frew Hut to Road End (7hrs / 16km)

Topomap of our Route

topomap snip whitcombe pass

Google Map of our Route

whitcombe pass altitude profile

Day 1

Friday 26th February – Evans Hut

Our day started early.  By 6:30am the Moa Hunters had converged on Adam’s house in Rolleston and we were busily loading packs into two utes.  Yet again, Paul had worked his organisational magic and convinced Alan (his father), and two-metre Peter (a work colleague), to drive us to the upper reaches of the Rakaia.  According to Paul, the two hadn’t taken much convincing.  Alan fancied a bit of fishing, and two-metre Peter had his rifle stowed in the ute.  His plan was to bring back some venison for the freezer.

From Rolleston the two utes drove out to Mt Hutt township and up Blackford Road, which becomes Double Hill Run Road at the point the seal ends.  Along the way we met up with George, a good mate of two-metre Peter’s.  Under a hot February sun, we now had a three vehicle convoy.

Just testing
Big country

From the meeting point it was a long but not entirely unpleasant drive along 40km of unsealed road, to a junction at Glenfalloch Station.  The scenery around us was barren and beautiful.  At the junction we turned right onto the short track to the edge of the Rakaia where we stopped.  Across the river we could see dust clouds being whipped up and blown down the valley by the increasingly boisterous nor’westerly wind.  An ominous sign.

Moa Men prepped and ready for battle
Moa Men prepped and ready for battle

Fortunately on our side of the river we were relatively sheltered, making it a perfect spot for a cooked breakfast.  Cooking gear was quickly assembled, and before long bacon, liver, kidneys, hash browns and mushrooms were sizzling.  Alan broke out his Thermette and brewed a welcome cuppa to chase down our hearty breakfast.

The next challenge was crossing the Rakaia.  It was agreed Alan’s ute had the least ground clearance and he should go in first.  A good choice because Alan knew what he was doing…  He drove out slowly and confidently forded the deepest channel, showing the way for the rest of us.  For those of us not used to 4WDing, there were a few sphincter-tightening seat clutching moments when the utes nosed into deep water.  But the crossings were made without incident.

Once on the other side we found a 4WD track which lead to Manuka Point Station, an impressive hunters lodge complete with grass airstrip.  Out of the lodge strode a familiar figure to Adam.  Dave Reese, a Rolleston local and hunter guide, greeted us as we pulled up to a stop.  He suggested we could drive as far as Totara Point, and from there walk to Evans Hut, about 5km farther on the same side of the river.  Our original plan was to walk from Totara Point, crossing back over the Rakaia to the Reischek Hut, quite a bit farther up the valley.  But Dave’s suggestion of staying dry and not walking as far held a lot of appeal.

Following Dave’s directions we drove the 4WD track until it petered out at Totara Point.  An attempt was made to drive further, but we quickly reached terrain too difficult for the utes to navigate.  The Moa Hunters piled out, said our goodbyes to Alan, two-metre Peter and George, and struck out into the savage nor’wester.

Stunning surroundings
Stunning surroundings

Apart from the wind, the first kilometre was easy walking.  The valley here is open and flat, with grassy areas providing islands of smooth walking among the rockier terrain.  The wind was wild.  At times we walked into a strange quiet lull, with no breeze at all.  Those moments were short lived, as the gale would soon howl down the valley again, buffeting us backwards, whipping sand into our legs and dust into our faces.  Not pleasant at all.

The relatively flat riverbed walking inevitably came to an end.  Ahead of us the river’s course took it hard up against a steep bluff:  Duncan’s Face.  We had two options at our disposal:  Crossing the river twice to skirt around the bluff, or some bush bashing over the bluff.  The river looked deep, swift and cold, so we chose the uphill route, which looked steep, scratchy and nasty.

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Battling the bush

We began picking our way through the stunted vegetation, looking for an easy route up the bluff.  We knew that others would have done the same before us and were on the lookout for obvious tracks.  Unfortunately not many people walk the Whitcombe, so any previously walked track would be far from obvious.  We never really found a track as such.  Occasionally we found ourselves on what were probably deer tracks, which disappeared as fast as they appeared.

Through the eye of a needle...
Through the eye of a needle…

As we picked our way through the scrub, we could see that we had not one, but two bluffs to find a route over.  We climbed higher and spotted a marker pole.  Maybe there was a track!  We made our way to the pole and scanned the next ridge for another.  The poles were few and far between with very little in the way of formed track between them.

We eventually found ourselves over the last ridge with clear inviting gravel riverbed in sight below us.  With no reason to still be up in the bush, we hunted forward and back for an easy route down.  But found nothing.  Feeling frustrated and completely over battling awkward terrain and scratchy bush, we decided to go down regardless.  So we began smashing our way down through thick bush, tall trees, flax, and every other awkward obstacle you care to imagine.

One of many crossings
One of many crossings

After a grovelly and generally unpleasant descent, we finally burst out of the bush into the windswept Rakaia valley.  From there we had a blustery 1km walk to Evans Hut, which we reached at 2pm.

Nestled snugly in a sheltered clearing at the base of tall peaks flanking Cattle stream, Evans hut was built and is maintained by the NZ Deerstalkers Association.  We immediately liked it.  While the modern DOC huts are comfortable and well designed, old huts like Evans are full of character.  Sitting inside you can’t help but feel a sense of history emanating from the old timbers and time-worn furniture.

Light footed with heavy packs off.
Light footed with heavy packs off.

As it was still early in the day, we agreed a wander up the valley past Lauper creek and up towards the Lyell Glacier would be worth a nudge.  Even without backpacks on, the strongest wind gusts howling down the valley buffeted us backwards.  Apart from mother nature’s best attempts to blow us back to Christchurch, the walk up to Lauper Biv was on the whole fairly easy.  Only a couple of boulder strewn fans proved to be challenging, briefly forcing us off the riverbed and up into the bush.

Lauper Biv. (Spelled wrong on the door!)
Lauper Biv. (Spelled wrong on the door!)

After two hours we had reached Lauper Biv.  Sheltering on the leeward side, we enjoyed a very pleasant break lying on the soft grass in the warm afternoon sun.  Given it was now after 4pm, we abandoned any thought of walking further up the Rakaia, and agreed to head back to Evans Hut.  The walk back being slightly downhill and wind assisted, with a generous tailwind, took us just an hour and a half.

Back at Evans hut Paul immediately began preparations for dinner.  As has become something of a tradition on recent Moa Hunts, our first meal on the track was decadent steak fry-up.  This years steak was not as tender as previous cuts, but equally tasty thanks to the special marinade Paul has been perfecting over the years.  Chris put together a stodgy apple uncrumble and custard for dessert, which landed nicely on top of the beef already in our stomachs.

Logan tucks into the marinated steak
Logan tucks into the marinated steak

Day 2

Saturday 28th February – Evans Hut to Neave Hut
IMG_1549
A damp start to the day

Knowing the day ahead of us had the potential to be a fairly big one, we dragged our creaky carcasses out of our sleeping bags fairly early.  By 8:20am the Moa Hunters had wolfed down a hearty porridge breakfast, washed up, warmed up, thrust bags of gear back into backpacks and cleaned the hut.  Outside, wind blown drizzle was falling fairly steadily.  But on a brighter note, above us the cloud appeared to be breaking up.

Having already walked the route to Lauper Biv, we knew what was ahead and made good progress.  It didn’t take long to leave the drizzle behind and before long we were treated to a spectacular rainbow ahead of us.  One end of it seemed just a few hundred metres away to our right at the foot of the hills flanking the valley.  We all secretly fought the urge to drop our packs and make a dash for it to lay claim to the pot of gold.

Headed for the pot of gold
Headed for the pot of gold

We reached Lauper Biv at 10:30 and from there turned into the Lauper valley and uncharted territory.  The terrain quickly become more challenging.  Crossing the stream to avoid an inconvenient bluff happened frequently.  Where a bluff couldn’t be avoided, we were forced to skirt high up the valley side, usually through scrubby bush riddled with nasty spear grass and scratchy matagouri.

There is no marked route between Lauper Biv and Neave Hut.  We did spot the occasional cairn at river crossings, and over one bluff, a couple of track markers.  But being an infrequently walked route, there are no obvious tracks, no tried and tested well worn paths to follow.

Ascending the Lauper
Ascending the Lauper

Wherever possible we stuck to the riverbed where walking was easiest, boulder hopping where that became necessary.  However, the higher we got, the larger the boulders became, the tighter the valley got, and progress grew steadily more difficult.  Longer periods were spent picking our way through scrub above the river.  When we dropped back down, tricky river crossings were often necessary to avoid bush bashing.

By mid afternoon we hit what were probably some of the gnarliest section leading up to the pass.  Progress was slow and the amount of energy expended to travel short distances was high.

Some scrub bashing
Some scrub bashing

However, with increased altitude came some reprieve.  The higher we climbed, the more the bush thinned, and the more stunted it became.  About two and a half kilometres from Lauper Biv, where a significant tributary stream joins the Lauper on the true right, the valley flattens considerably.  After a careful crossing, we found ourselves moving into more open country, strewn with shattered sharp edged rock and rubble. Only scrubby low grass and beds of moss cling to what passes for soil in this windswept hostile terrain.

Numerous tricky crossings
Numerous tricky crossings

The gradient also eased and we made much faster and more consistent progress.  By 4pm we found ourselves at a large cairn that marked the top of Whitcombe Pass.  We were happy to be there, but any elation was tempered by the knowledge that the hardest part of the day was yet to come.  All accounts we had read prior to the trip described the descent down the Whitcombe as being particularly arduous.

It was quite a bit later than we had anticipated and a cold wind was blowing over Whitcombe Pass, chilling us rapidly as we congregated at the cairn.  The temperature was not conducive to socialising….  We took a few quick photographs before continuing on.

Heading down from the saddle, the Whitcombe stream rapidly swells to a significant river.  At least six glacial melt tributaries feed into it over the course of the first kilometre.

One of the few cairns on the route
One of the few cairns on the route
Tarns below Whitcombe pass
Tarns below Whitcombe pass
Barren and exposed landscape
Barren and exposed landscape
Whitcombe Pass
Whitcombe Pass

It is important to cross to the true right of the Whitcombe at the earliest opportunity, before it becomes too swift and deep.  Failure to do so will result in an undesirable slog back up the valley to find a safe place to cross.

As we left the pass, it was agreed we would split into two groups:  Adam, Richard, Paul and Logan in the advance party, with Magnus and Chris following behind.  This seemed practical as it meant the faster moving group would get to the hut first and could get food preparation underway.  By the time Chris and Magnus arrived, dinner would be all but ready.

In hindsight, this was not a great decision…

Inhospitable terrain
Inhospitable terrain

Heading down from the pass, the terrain was much the same as we had seen on the eastern climb.

Crossing to the true right.
Crossing to the true right.

Large rocks punctuated the rubble which filled the shallow valley. Low tussock and patches of hardy grass clung to whatever soil they could find.

The advance party, including Adam, Paul Richard and Logan took an early opportunity to cross to the true right of the Whitcombe.  From that point we knew we would not cross the Whitcombe again until just before Collier Gorge, two days later.

The five kilometres between Whitcombe Pass and Neave Hut were as tough as any we had encountered in the ten years of Moa Hunting.  With nearly eight hours walking under our belts already, every few hundred metres we gained was hard won.

Fatigue combined with difficult terrain proved challenging.  Whether we were in the riverbed, or bush bashing above it, the going was tough.  Pushing through bush in our modern tramping gear, we often commented on the toughness of the early explorers who struggled through this country with their heavy equipment, hobnail boots, little food and inadequate clothing.  They were truly amazing.

At times the dense bush forced us to crawl, resorting to an exhausting push and shove through thick scratchy brush that showered dead leaves and twigs down our collars. Other times we were grunting our way through waist high bush, heaving it aside to get a glimpse of the uneven ground below and a good place for the next footstep.

More time crashing through vegetation
More time crashing through vegetation

As we dropped altitude, the bush grew more dense on either side of the Whitcombe.  We were now on the West Coast and the vegetation was looking more like the sub-tropical rain-forest, interspersed with ferns.

Shortly before 7:30pm the advance party arrived at the Gateway – a kink in the Whitcombe river where it bends sharply around a very large and hard rocky knob.  We skirted around the edge of the river, wading at times as it diverted around the knob, thankful that this significant landmark signaled we were near the hut, but also very aware that daylight was beginning to fade.

Just on 8pm our advance party arrived at the Neave hut, pretty much buggered.

Light is fading as the first group arrive at Neave hut
Light is fading as the first group arrive at Neave hut

Quick thinking Paul suggested that unless a couple of us went back up the river to find Chris and Magnus, their chances of making it to the hut were slim.  We all agreed.  With the light fading rapidly and a couple of tricky bush bashing diversions between them and the hut, they would need guidance to avoid camping out overnight.

Richard’s recently repaired ankle was far from 100%, and Logan was all but spent, so Adam and Paul grabbed some scroggin, headlights and a warm layer of clothing.  They left the hut at a good pace without heavy backpacks, heading back up the Whitcombe in search of Chris and Magnus.

In hindsight we realised this was a very badly planned rescue mission:  There was no agreement as to how long Adam and Paul would search for Magnus and Chris before returning to the hut.  The Personal Locator Beacon was forgotten completely, left at the hut in a pack.  Not much use in there!!  So Adam and Paul charged up the valley, leaving Logan and Richard getting more and more worried about everyone with every minute that passed.

Fortunately Magnus and Chris were both fine, but had been delayed by traveling too far down the true left of the Whitcombe.  They had been forced to make a costly backtrack to locate a safe crossing, piling close to an hour onto their journey.

It would be an understatement to say Adam and Paul were pleased to spot them ahead, after 40 minutes of increasing worry.  That relief probably paled into insignificance to that which Logan and Richard felt an hour later when the four weary Moa Hunters finally stumbled into Neave Hut, well after dark.  The Whitcombe is unforgiving country, and Richard and Logan had understandably begun to think the worst…

Knackered Moa Men inside Neave Hut
Knackered Moa Men inside Neave Hut

However, an hour or so later, we had all eaten a hearty curry and were feeling somewhat better about the day.  It had been truly epic.  Over thirteen hours on the track is hard work any day.  And on this day we had rock hopped, bush bashed, waded and crawled through some of the toughest terrain we had ever encountered.

Day 3

Sunday 29th February – Neave Hut to Price Flat Hut

We all awoke from a good nights sleep feeling slightly less than refreshed.  Tired muscles and lingering fatigue clung to our sad and generally old carcasses (Logan excepted!).  A not unexpected legacy of our previous days exertions.

However, hot porridge and a more than leisurely start to the day left us feeling somewhat  more energised, and almost ready to tackle the track. And for a change, that is exactly what we would be tackling:  a formed track leading us away from Neave Hut to Prices Flat which would be our next accommodation.

Following a period of general fart-arsing about, cleaning the hut, and some more concerted fart-arsing about, we stood with packs on ready to start the days walk at just after 10:00am.

A traditional photo between a Welsh flag and the Neave hut...
A traditional photo between the Welsh flag and Neave hut…

The track away from Neave hut is quite flat, sticking fairly close to the true right of the Whitcombe as it descends towards an expansive flat created by its

Marvellously gnarled old trunk
Marvellously gnarled old trunk

confluence with the Wilkinson River which joins on the true left.

We reached the confluence at 11:30am and took the opportunity to drop bags where the track dropped into the riverbed.  We hadn’t been walking for long, but the legacy of our exertions the previous day weren’t far below the surface.  We felt fatigued far more quickly than normal, and energy levels were lower than usual.  Dropping packs was a welcome relief.

Even partially obscured by cloud, the sheer cliffs at the head of the Wilkinson valley were an awesome sight. Sliced by a dramatic waterfall, they hold back the vast Bracken snowfield, allowing only the Wilksonson glacier to grind past their southern flank.

We willed the cloud to break up completely, but never got a clear view of the cliffs and glacier.  Rather, as the cloud shifted, we got jigsaw puzzle of views, which put together would have made a completed scene.

Massive buttress cliffs soar into the clouds
Massive buttress cliffs soar into the clouds
Willing the clouds to break
Willing the clouds to break

The group consensus was to push on a bit longer and have lunch farther up the track.  Just in case the cloud sneakily cleared, we regularly glanced over our shoulders, hoping to trick the weather and see the cliffs in their full splendour.  Unfortunately our cunning tricks tricks didn’t fool the clouds.

By 12:30pm we had reached a perfect spot for lunch.  It was either Crack creek or Bond creek – whichever of the two has the aluminium ladder.  Chris took one look at the surroundings and declared it was the ideal location for cooking a chocolate cake.  We looked about and couldn’t disagree.  It was definitely cake country.

Chris set about preparing the cake while the rest of us lazily got on with lunch.  The sun shone pleasantly and we all felt very relaxed, a million miles from anyone and anywhere.

Lining the billy...
Lining the billy…
In goes the cake mix...
In goes the cake mix…

With regular expert adjustments to the burner under the cake, it was cooked to perfection in just over an hour.  “Perfection” being a relative term…  It may not have won a beauty award at the Lincoln Farmer’s Market, but without doubt it was one of the best cakes ever cooked on a tramping trip.  Topped with marmalade and chocolate icing, the cake went down rather well, and rather quickly.

An hour or so on the burner...
An hour or so on the burner…
Success!
Success!

From our lunch spot the track climbed slowly but steadily to some 50 metres above the Whitcombe river, then descended sharply down a steep face back to the river.  Chains attached to the rocks by DOC assisted us as we picked our way down.

Up the ladder, full of cake
Up the ladder, full of cake

In the dry conditions we were enjoying, the chains were hardly necessary, but on a miserable wet day they would certainly provide a welcome handhold.

Two large slips are shown on the topomap for this route.  However, there are many that are not shown at all.  We soon learned these were challenging to traverse.  At 5:30 we came across a significant and very recent slip which took some time to navigate.  The steep drop combined with loose rock and rubble encouraged extra care.  We chose to start high and remain high.  Dropping to the bottom of the slip as we traversed it would have been an easy option, but climbing back up to the track again would have been nasty.  Our decision turned out to be a good one.  We picked a path on the high side of a very large boulder and were able to scamper up to the track on the other side of the slip without too much trouble.

Traversing a large slip
Traversing a large slip

Beyond the slips, the track remained high, skirting along the hillside some 50 metres above the Whitcombe.  While the terrain across the river was steep, the bush clad hillside to our right in contrast sloped much more gently.

We were very pleased to arrive at the Cataract creek footbridge by 6.30pm, as this marked the end of our day, with Price Flat hut just a stones throw away on the other side.  It had been a long day on the back of a very long day, and we were all still feeling quite fatigued.

Moa Men repairing their battered carcasses
Moa Men repairing their battered carcasses

Fortunately Chris still had enough energy and enthusiasm to whip up some naan bread.  This was a tasty addition to the mince and pasta dish, which may have raised an eyebrow or two in India, but not where we were.  Knowing that food is essential for muscle recovery and repair, we wisely made a cheesecake for dessert.

Day 4

Monday 1st March – Price Flat Hut to Frew Hut

We all slept soundly and woke up early, feeling considerably more refreshed than the previous morning, which had been somewhat of a struggle.

Posing outside Price Flat hut
Posing outside Price Flat hut

Chris was strutting, triumphant, having successfully producing yoghurt on a tramping trip.  Previous efforts in Stewart Island had produced flavoured milk.  A larger longer burning candle turned out to be the key.  Keeping the mixture warmer for longer produced a nicely set product that was most definitely yoghurt.

Slopped on top of a rich bircher muesli, the yoghurt made a very nice change of pace from the traditional porridge brekkie.  Those in the group still aged below thirty and endowed with a voracious appetite, even ventured to add leftover cheesecake to their helping.

Shortly after 9 we had taken out traditional Moa Men outside the hut photo, and were wandering off down the track.

We stopped briefly to admire the wonderfully restored slab hut at the far end of the flat.  It is a lovely example of an old construction technique used by early setters in Australia and New Zealand.

Price Flat slab hut
Price Flat slab hut

Beyond the Price Flat footbridge that leads to the Steadman Brow access route, the track enters a long section of steep and particularly unstable hillside.

Chris decided that in this area there were two kinds of track:  Track that has fallen into the river, and track that is falling into the river.

And it was true.  Short sections of slightly stable track were interspersed by quite long sections with no track at all.

Track falling in the river, and track that's fallen in the river...
Track falling in the river, and track that’s fallen in the river…

We picked away across roughly two kilometres of this fairly awkward terrain, negotiating a number of tricky river crossings along the way, including one through a small waterfall, just to keep things interesting.

Wet willy in the waterfall
Wet willy in the waterfall

Beyond Hopeful creek, the valley opens out and we gratefully walked out into a flat forested section which required a lot less care to walk.  We enjoyed the rich damp smell of the west coast forest.  Twisted trees, covered with moss and lichen, rose above the fern dominated understorey.  Sunlight that found its way through the branches above created a dappled colour effect.

Beautiful west coast bush
Beautiful west coast bush

The pleasant walking conditions continued for the next half hour or so, until we broke out of the bush onto the log strewn rocky bed of Vincent Creek.  Evidence of recent heavy rain was everywhere.  Uprooted trees, branches and debris littered the ground, and the banks of the creek were deeply scoured out.

We made our way up the bed of the creek to a large rock which anchored a swing-bridge that spans the creek.  The lack of track at the far bank was slightly interesting.  Before the latest flood, we assumed it had followed the bank of the creek down towards the Whitcombe.  But now that bank was gone, swept away by a raging Vincent Creek.  So we were once again forced to go bush bashing in search of the track.  As it turned out, we didn’t have to go far to locate it and continue on our merry way.

Vincent creek
Vincent creek
Magnus hovering above Vincent creek
Magnus hovering above Vincent creek
Hunting for a washed out track...
Hunting for a washed out track…

Beyond the Vincent creek bridge is the even more impressive Cropp foot-bridge which stretches across the Whitcombe.  We stopped to take photos but had no need to cross it.

Cropp foot bridge
Cropp foot bridge

Less than an hour later we were basking in the warm afternoon sunshine at Frew hut. The lazy afternoon felt well earned after the rigours of our first couple of days on the track.

Mighty Moa Men inside Frew hut
Mighty Moa Men inside Frew hut

Day 5

Tuesday 2nd March – Frew Hut to Road End

Like so many huts in the South Island, Frew hut is situated to take full advantage of the surrounding scenery.  We were fortunate to arrive during a spell of lovely weather and enjoyed spectacular views up the Whitcombe on a crisp clear blue sky morning.  Watching the dawn sun slowly spreading its glow across the surrounding mountains certainly takes brushing your teeth after breakfast to a whole new level.

A brilliant blue sky morning at Frew hut.
A brilliant blue sky morning at Frew hut.

In true Moa Hunter fashion we broke no speed records that morning.  It wasn’t until after 9am that we assembled outside the hut for some posed photos before hitting the track.

Magnificent Moa Men
Magnificent Moa Men

Our day on the track started with a nice section of open riverbed – a mix of fine sand tracts flanked by lichen covered rocks.

Wise Moa Men
Wise Moa Men

After little more than an hour walking we arrived at a swing-bridge which would take us across to the true left of the Whitcombe.  The bridge starts high, with chains and a ladder in place to assist with the climb up damp and fairly slippery moss covered rocks.

Magnus climbs to the swingbridge
Magnus climbs to the swingbridge

Adam quickly learned just how slippery the rocks were.  Attempting to pivot his body sideways to swing under the suspension cable, his foot slipped.  Sliding sideways, protruding bolts raked down his thigh leaving behind some nasty looking gashes.  Fortunately the wounds weren’t deep, but they did look spectacular, weeping claret down his leg.  Paul expertly patched Adam’s leg up with some stick on stitches and plenty of tape and bandage, and we were on our way again.

From the bridge the track stays in the bush above the river through Collier gorge.  Shortly before midday we emerged from the gorge into a more open section of track.  Very large boulders lay strewn all about in the riverbed and the sun continued to shine down on us.  We were definitely enjoying the West Coast weather more than the howling nor’wester that had pummeled us on the Eastern side of the main divide.

Walking down the side of the river towards Rapid Creek, we watched a helicopter fly overhead several times.

Each time it passed there was a large net containing kayak’s dangling below it.  We all agreed that the kayaking group were heading into gorgeous weather and that the timing of their trip down the river would be stunning.  Little did we know that one of those kayakers would lose his life on that trip, drowned in a terrible tragedy that ended a young life far too soon.  West Coast rivers are unforgiving, even in beautiful seemingly benign conditions.

The confluence of the Whitcombe and Hokitika rivers
The confluence of the Whitcombe and Hokitika rivers

We stopped short of Rapid creek for a bite of lunch, just past the confluence of the Hokitika river and the Whitcombe.  Despite the Hokitika looking like the younger brother of the larger Whitcombe, from this point the river is called the Hokitika.

Eating lunch in that place was extremely pleasant.  Under a clear blue sky with barely a breath of wind wafting up the valley, we munched through the last of our rations, enjoying the solitude and beautiful west coast scenery.

With lunch finished, we had just one challenging obstacle left to negotiate – Rapid Creek.  Even in dry conditions, it is a fairly swift little waterway with the water level reaching up to the thighs at times.  It is easy to see how this can quickly become impassable when it rains.

Magnus crosses Rapid creek
Magnus crosses Rapid creek

After carefully picking our way across, we continued down the Hokitika to the cableway which would take us over to the true right of the river and the final section of the walk out.

Crossing the cableway was not a new experience for the Moa Hunters who did the Whitcombe – Toaroha trip in 2013.  But that doesn’t make it any less fun!  We all enjoyed our ride across the river in the little cablecar.

Chris in the cableway engine room
Chris in the cableway engine room
I... can.... fly....!
I… can…. fly….!

Beyond the cablecar, the terrain becomes fairly benign as it leaves the steeper mountainous country and heads for the more open flats of Kowhitirangi. Walking was easy and we made brisk progress, reaching the 4WD track that joins the Whitcombe Valley road shortly after 3pm.  An hour later we were at the carpark and the official start of the Whitcombe track.

The beginning of the end
The beginning of the end

After a couple of quick photos, we continued up the road for another 45 minutes, when a familiar ute rounded a corner ahead of us.  Paul’s father Alan, superbly organised as always, handed out sandwiches and fired up his Thermette to brew up a cuppa.

Journey over...
Journey over…

Our crossing from East to West was complete.  We had done the Whitcombe Pass route.  It was a very satisfying feeling.  The trip was certainly one of the most challenging we have undertaken, and certainly not one that anyone should take lightly.  But as always, the spectacular New Zealand scenery was more than enough reward for our efforts.

2015 – Rakiura Stewart Island North West Circuit

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Adam, Paul, Richard, Chris, Lewis

Just days before departure, Magnus was forced to pull out of this trip.  We missed you Magnus, and really hope you can make the next one!

The Trip:

Day 1:  Fly to Invercargill, Ferry to Oban, Stewart Island.
Day 2:  Water Taxi to Freshwater Hut, walk to Mason Bay Hut (3hrs / 15km)
Day 3:  Mason Bay Hut to Big Hellfire Hut (7hrs / 15km)
Day 4:  Big Hellfire Hut to East Ruggedy Hut (7-8hrs / 14km)
Day 5:  East Ruggedy Hut to Long Harry Hut (5-6hrs / 10km)
Day 6:  Long Harry Hut to Yankee River Hut (5hrs / 9km)
Day 7:  Yankee River Hut to Christmas Village Hut (6hrs / 12km)
Day 8:  Christmas Village Hut to Bungaree Hut (6hrs / 12km)
Day 9:  Bungaree Hut to Port William Hut (3-4hrs / 6km)
Day 10: Port William Hut to Oban (4hrs / 12km). Fly home.

Our route on topomap.co.nz

topomap rakiura snip

Our route on Google Maps

NorthWestCircuit_Elevations

Above is an altitude profile of this route.  Click to enlarge.  Note:  The horizontal scale divisions are roughly 1km.  The transition from green to brown does not accurately represent the bushline.  The horizontal scale to vertical scale is not 1:1

Day 1

Friday 27th February – Destination Oban

Aboard various flights from all around the country, the Moa Hunters converged on Christchurch Airport.  By mid morning,  we were reunited, just over a year since completing our last trip in the Nelson Lakes.  Ahead of us was our most ambitious trip yet.  Ten days on Stewart Island.  We all felt a mix of emotions:  Excitement at what the next days would hold for us, mixed with anxiety at being away from family for so long.

Shortly after lunch we boarded the flight to Invercargill.  As we winged our way south, those on the west side of the plane we treated to spectacular views of the southern alps and interior of the South Island.  Once on the ground in Invercargill, we had a short wait outside the airport before our shuttle bus collected us.  Forty minutes later we were standing in light drizzle outside the Bluff ferry terminal.  We boarded the Stewart Island ferry just before 5pm and were in Oban just after 6pm.  Thankfully Foveaux Strait was in a benign mood, and the crossing was a smooth one.

Light rain greeted us in Oban
Light rain greeted us in Oban

As it was raining lightly in Oban, we grabbed our backpacks as soon as they were unloaded from the ferry and walked briskly up to the South Sea Hotel.  Full of locals and visitors, the pub was noisy and vibrant.  We booked ourselves a table in the adjoining restaurant for 7pm, then filled in time downing a few ales.

Wetting our whistles at the cosy South Sea Hotel
Wetting our whistles at the cosy South Sea Hotel

After a very good feed of locally caught cod, chased down with cheesecake, we left the South Sea Hotel.  With our jackets back on we headed up Main Street to the “Harris House” holiday home we had booked for the night.

Once settled in, we distributed food evenly between our packs (which now weighed around 22KG on average) and headed for bed, whereupon rather a lot of farting ensued.

Day 2

Saturday 28th February – Freshwater Hut to Mason Bay Hut

After a night which allegedly featured snoring loud enough to drown out a large Stihl chainsaw, the Moa Hunters arose from their slumber soon after 7am.  Once the house was tidied, we locked up and left about 9am. With heavy packs on our backs, we wandered down Main Street in light spotty rain to the South Sea Hotel.

Yes, again!  But this time for a delicious cooked breakfast of hash browns, bacon, eggs and mushrooms.

With full tummies we left the hotel, made a quick stopover at the DOC Office to buy hut tickets, then wandered up Argyle Street for Golden Bay.  It was easy to enjoy the peaceful and lazy ambiance of Oban.  Nobody seemed in a hurry to get anywhere.  Tui flitted about in nearby flowering tree fuchsias, and cheeky Kaka called raucously from the trees above us.

With backpacks at maximum weight we walked into Oban
With backpacks at maximum weight we walked into Oban

Golden Bay is a lovely sheltered little harbour with a small wharf shared by a number of local water taxi operators.  Not long after our arrival, Ian Wilson from Stewart Island Water Taxis showed up in his ute.  Before long we were aboard his boat and under way.

Lewis waves goodbye to Golden Bay as we head for Freshwater River
Lewis waves goodbye to Golden Bay as we head for Freshwater River

Headed for freshwater river at the top of Paterson Inlet, we made a quick detour into beautiful Ulva Island to drop off some Australian sightseers.  30 minutes later we were cruising along in very shallow waters near the mouth of Freshwater river.  Its banks overgrown by thick vegetation, the river snakes its way into the heart of Stewart Island.  Ian skilfully piloted us up to the narrow waterway to the small jetty at Freshwater Hut, where we disembarked with our packs.

Finally, we were at the official start of our Moa Hunt.  Not wanting to rush our adventure, we took some time to take in our surroundings.  After a look around inside Freshwater Hut we hefted our packs onto our backs and struck out down the track to Mason Bay Hut.

Boardwalks make travel over boggy terrain very easy
Boardwalks make travel over boggy terrain very easy

The track was hard and fast.  Walking through low a mix of low scrubby vegetation and taller Kanuka, we encountered our first muddy patches, but nothing too deep or difficult.  After about an hour the track was boardwalked and ran dead straight for more than a kilometre, following an old logging tramway.  After that section the terrain opens out dramatically with the boardwalking taking us through a wide expanse of grassy marshland flanked by low bush covered hills.  The different coloured grasses creating a spectacular natural tapestry on either side of the track.

Along the way we bumped into two lovely young ladies, Inge and Katrina, who had paired up for the walk.  We walked with them for the last half hour of track to Mason Bay hut, stopping for fifteen minutes or so to explore some historic farmstead buildings. Mason Bay was relatively unproductively farmed for decades, before being finally abandoned in the mid 1980’s when the NZ Government purchased the land and incorporated it into the Rakiura National Park.

Inside the old woolshed
Inside the old woolshed
A rusting old tractor whose working days are over
A rusting old tractor whose working days are over

The Mason Bay hut was already bustling with trampers when we arrived.  We quickly secured ourselves some bunks and then acquainted ourselves with the area.

Paul was very pleased to remove two kilos of marinated steak from his pack and cook it up for our dinner.  It was superbly tender and expertly cooked – well done Paul and Chris!  There was more than we could eat, and some leftovers were donated to some starving trampers we had befriended.  In particular, Nancy, who had seriously underestimated how much food she would need for her trip.  She is a Stewart Island local and promised us extra chips at the Kai Kart if we dropped in after our walk.  We said we would hold her to that promise!

From the hut there is a track through the dunes out to the spectacular 12 km sweep of white sand that forms Mason Bay.

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Hefty logs line the river at Mason Bay
From the sky to the sand, everything is spectacular at Mason Bay
From the sky to the dunes, everything is spectacular at Mason Bay

Accompanied by Inge and Katrina we walked out as the sun sank towards the horizon, hoping to witness one of Stewart Islands legendary sunsets.

Inge and Katrina
Inge and Katrina

We weren’t disappointed.  Blazing reds and orange hues set the horizon on fire, while the sky above turned shades of azure, purple and pink.  We stood on top of a high dune soaking up the splendour of Stewart Island.

Clouds on fire above Mason Bay
Clouds on fire above Mason Bay

After a long walk along the beach, we returned to the hut slightly damp from a passing shower of rain that had arrived unexpectedly.  Apparently a not unusual phenomenon on Rakiura!

Day 3

Sunday 1st March – Mason Bay Hut to Big Hellfire Hut

Despite Mason Bay Hut being a busy place, we all got a fairly good sleep.  Not only do trampers frequent the hut from both the North West and Southern circuits, but tourists also arrive regularly in small planes that land on the beach.  Kiwi spotting is the main reason for the tourist flights – Mason Bay is allegedly a great spot to see them.  So this hut is often filled with an eclectic mix of tired trampers on their last rations, in sharp contrast to well provisioned tourists with large quantities of food, wine and beer.

Still fresh looking, about to depart Mason Bay hut
Still fresh looking, about to depart Mason Bay hut

As we had a fairly big day ahead of us, we left the hut relatively early.  Under blue skies streaked with hazy high cloud, we followed the well walked track through the sand dunes out onto the beach.

Endless Mason Bay...
Endless Mason Bay…

The first four kilometres of the beach was a doddle. Firmly packed sand made for express progress.  We enjoyed the scenery and the opportunity to walk as a group, chew the fat, and generally put to rights all the wrongs of the World.

Halfway down the beach, a rocky outcrop protrudes past the high tide mark.  We arrived there at the tidal midpoint.  This left us with the opportunity to dash round the point between waves, avoiding an onerous diversion inland on the high tide track.

Paul and Chris sizing up our options round a rocky outcrop...
Paul and Lewis size up our options round a rocky outcrop…

As we approached the end of the bay, flat sand made way for more rocky terrain.  The rocks there are an annoying size.  Not big enough to rock hop, but just large and loose enough to be a nuisance.  The last couple of kilometres to the end of the beach did drag on somewhat. Consequently we were all relieved to spot the track marker leading us off the irksome rocks and into the bush.

Richard holding a whale vertebrae
Richard holding a whale vertebrae

From the beach we began a 250 vertical metre climb over a headland that separates Little Hellfire beach from Mason Bay. The bush here is fairly scrubby, with some taller windswept Kanuka forming a low canopy in places.  The climb was hot work and parts of the track were quite muddy.

Some of us adopted a skirting round the edges policy when confronted by large mud troughs. Others (Chris!) preferred an “up the guts” approach, straight through the middle.  There is definitely not a single best approach to the mud.  Some areas are easily and quickly skirted around.  Others are not, and simply spludging through the middle makes the most sense.  The reality of Stewart Island is you are regularly going to get wet and muddy.

We stopped at the top of the climb for a welcome breather and a bite of scroggin.  From our high vantage point we had good views up the coast to Codfish Island, a few days walk ahead.

Westerly winds blow almost constantly across Stewart Island.
Westerly winds blow almost constantly across Stewart Island.
Cooling off at the high point between Mason Bay and Little Hellfire bay.
Cooling off at the high point between Mason Bay and Little Hellfire bay.

The drop to Little Hellfire was fairly sedate, the track marked by ghoulish looking buoys with faces carved into them.  It was also much less muddy than the more shaded ascent we had just made on the south facing hillside.  This was a trend we noticed throughout the walk: South facing hillsides tend to be much more muddy than the northerly facing ones.

Little Hellfire is a short stretch of pebbly sand flanked at each end by low rocky granite cliffs.  We stopped at the North end of the beach and had lunch.

Looking south back towards Mason Bay
Looking south back towards Mason Bay

Having packed a telescopic fishing rod, Adam eagerly headed out over the rocks at the edge of the beach looking for a good spot to try some fishing.  Using a plastic softbait and a small rock tied in fabric for a sinker worked quite well.

Fish caught! A wrass.
Fish caught! A wrass.

His first cast was a snag which took some time to free.  The shallows all around Stewart Island are thick with rubbery kelp.  Not ideal for surf casting.  However, the second cast was much more successful – a bite!  Two minutes later, a fairly fat looking fish with vicious pointy teeth was landed.  After a couple more snags and only half a dozen casts, a pair of these murderous looking mystery fish had been caught.

Once the fish were gutted, filleted and bagged, we hefted our packs and headed up off the beach for the second big climb of the day.  Between us and Big Hellfire Hut lay 399 vertical metres of climb.  We slogged our way up an extremely muddy and fairly steep section of track.  We marveled at how such steep terrain could be so wet and boggy!  It turned out that this section would be one of the muddiest of the whole trip.  And probably the hardest.

At 350 metres above sea level the track flattens out somewhat, rising and falling more gently as it bends from North to West following a long prominent ridge.  It is also much drier along this section making for relatively swift progress.  After a short sharp climb to 399 metres the track drops off the main ridge onto a smaller one.

The bush in this area is beautiful – a mix of massive rimu, occasional totara and spectacular red flowered rata.

The view from Big Hellfire hut towards the Ruggedy Range
The view from Big Hellfire hut towards the Ruggedy Range

We arrived at Big Hellfire hut just after 6pm.  We agreed the day was probably half an hour too long.  An hour out from the hut we had reached some board-walked sections of track that fooled us into thinking we were nearly there.  And we weren’t.

Fish for dinner!
Fish for dinner!

There were four other occupants at the hut:  three people from Waikato University, there to do some survey work on an unusual nearby stand of Pink Pine trees, and a Canadian dude named Andrew.

Big Hellfire Hut appears to be perched at the top of a massive sand dune.  At over 250 metres above sea level, there is a steep sandy chute all the way down to the beach.  But to be fair, it isn’t a true sand dune…  In reality it is a lot of sand (wind blown we presume?!) on a steep rocky hillside.  Looking east from the hut there is a magnificent view across a huge flat expanse of the Island’s interior, framed by the Ruggedy Range in the misty distance.

After enjoying a lemon pepper fish entree and curry main, we walked out from the hut to the top of the “dune” to watch the sunset.  Sitting together on the warm sand, we watched the sun blaze its way through a conflagration of flaming orange crimson and red hues as it sank into the Tasman Sea.  Absolutely breathtaking.

Atop the mighty Hellfire dune
Atop the mighty Hellfire dune
Looking north from Big Hellfire towards Codfish Island
Looking north from Big Hellfire towards Codfish Island
Sunset at Big Hellfire
Sunset at Big Hellfire

Day 4

Monday 2nd March – Big Hellfire Hut to East Ruggedy Hut

By 9am we were packed up and ready to hit the track.  The three from Waikato University had left earlier that morning, so silently that most of us didn’t even hear them pack their belongings and go as we slept.

Mighty Moa Men posing it up at Big Hellfire
Mighty Moa Men posing it up at Big Hellfire

The track leaves the hut to the North heading steeply up a dune of deep loose sand.  A warm breeze was blowing in from the North West, meaning we immediately broke into a healthy sweat as we struggled upwards.

The steep climb out from Big Hellfire
The steep climb out from Big Hellfire

Once out of the dunes, we dropped down an easy section of much firmer ground into a valley, before spludging up another very muddy south facing climb.

At the top of this section we dropped packs next to a small stream, taking a break for a drink and some snacks.  The water on this side of the Island is quite drinkable, but not exactly crystal clear.  Ranging from slightly brown to quite brown, water from streams and creeks on Stewart Island generally tastes a little musty, but not so strongly that it is off-putting.

The descent down to Waituna bay was steady and fairly dry, with only a few muddy sections.  As we progressed northwards, the bush became progressively taller with large stands of towering rimu and totara.  However, as we descended to the bay, the trees thinned out and the bush became more stunted.

Though the air was still warm, the sky was growing darker and we felt a few errant drops of rain.

The extended forecast we had read a few days earlier had suggested a Southerly front was due this day.  It was certainly beginning to look threatening.  We decided to take a moment to get some wet weather gear on, just in case.  Jackets and pack covers were quickly put on.

And not a moment too soon.  Literally the moment we stepped out of the bush onto the beach, the front hit.  A strong wind whipped up and lashed rain across the beach. With heads down we set out into the nastiness.  It wasn’t especially cold yet, but every hint of the earlier pleasant morning was blown away.

Mighty rimu flank the track
Mighty rimu flank the track

Once back in the bush we were sheltered from the worst of the wind, but the heavy rain still cascaded down through the canopy and ran off large tree boughs in torrents.  It was easy to see how the track gets so muddy!

From Waituna Bay the track climbs steadily to just over 200 metres above sea level.  The rain was unrelenting, so we spludged onwards up a very muddy and increasingly waterlogged climb.  We passed two trampers heading the other direction.  They were also very wet and muddy.  We surmised conditions weren’t going to get any better.

Close to the top of the ascent we found a relatively flat section of track with no mud in sight.  Chris pulled the tent fly from his pack and after a short debate on how and where to attach it, we had a makeshift shelter set up.  Huddled under it, we ate our lunches as the rain came down.

While we were hunkered down, a couple appeared round the corner ahead of us.  The bloke had a semi decent jacket, but his lady friend was poorly equipped for the weather, wearing a puffer jacket with a plastic poncho over it.  Both looked like drowned rats.  She looked pissed off.  The kind of pissed off that men dread.  The man asked us how far to Waituna Bay.  Paul told him it was a good two hour walk.  He stared at us in horror, then said just one word…  “Fuck”.  Ducking under our shelter he headed off down the track, with her not far behind.  There was a dark angry thundercloud over her head.  That poor bastard…

After what seemed like a long afternoon in the rain and mud, we dropped down onto East Ruggedy beach.  It is a nice beach and we would have probably had another go at fishing… if it wasn’t absolutely pissing down.

Part way along the beach we came across a marker.  Mistaking this for the start of the track, we followed the steep route up off the beach, only to drop back down onto the beach again some distance later.  It was the high tide track – an unnecessary and irksome diversion.  The lady at the DOC Centre had advised us that the tracks are always at the end of the beaches.  We should have had more faith in her good advice!

Ghoulish buoys mark the track near the coastline
Ghoulish buoys mark the track near the coastline

At the end of the beach we did find the correct marker and ascended up a sandy slope onto some very interesting rocky terrain.

Just before 5pm we reached East Ruggedy Hut nestled amongst the bush.  We were very wet and glad to be there.  The hut had a single resident, a quiet Englishman called John.  To be fair, he didn’t look especially pleased to see five noisy Moa Men arriving.

After hanging up all our wet gear and getting the log fire blazing, we sat round the table and enjoyed a hearty tomato soup followed by some very good spaghetti bolognese.

Feeling quite weary we were all in bed fairly early that night.

Just as well, because at 2am Lewis woke us all with news he had met a kiwi on the track to the long drop!  We all quickly pulled on some warm clothes and sneaked outside with torches to try and spot it.  Fortunately the rain had stopped.  Unfortunately the kiwi didn’t.  By the time we got outside it had scuttled off into the ferns.  We could hear it scratching about, but that was as close as we got.

Day 5

Tuesday 3rd March – East Ruggedy Hut to Long Harry Hut

East Ruggedy hut is a nice hut, so far as huts go, but lacks any kind of view.  Surrounded by fairly thick bush it has been christened the ‘Ritz’ by previous visitors.

This morning John seemed to have warmed to us a little.  Well quite a lot actually. Perhaps his realisation that most of the Moa Hunters are in fact engineers in disguise helped.  We certainly found the accounts of his deep sea diving work on oil rigs fascinating.

To break the monotony of porridge for breakfast, Chris prepared us some bircher muesli.  Loaded with dried fruit, nuts, oats and other mystery ingredients, it was bloody delicious.

Ready to depart the 'Ritz', East Ruggedy
Ready to depart the ‘Ritz’, East Ruggedy hut

When we had finally packed our backpacks and generally tidied up, we said goodbye to John and left the hut.

Initially the track meanders off easily through low scrubby bush.  But it isn’t long before it emerges into a wide expanse of sand dunes.  Signs of animal activity were everywhere.  Possum footprints were common.  So were kiwi tracks.  Their distinctive three-toed footprints wandered across the sand, punctuated by little holes they had excavated with their beaks in search of grubs.  White-tailed deer hoof prints were also spotted along the way.

Adding Moa Men footprints to the kiwi, possum and deer tracks we spotted on the dunes...
Adding MoaMen footprints to the kiwi, possum and deer tracks we spotted on the dunes…

We marveled at the diverse landscapes we were encountering.  It seemed that every few hours we were being treated to a new experience.  Stewart Island is without doubt the jewel in New Zealand’s scenic crown.

After a quick river crossing near the coast we began a stiff climb up to a ridge. Looking out we were able to enjoy wonderful views of the Ruggedy Islands, clustered just off the coast. Little did we know this was just a preview of even better to come.

Steep sided granite islands rise sharply from the sea just off the coast
Steep sided granite islands rise sharply from the sea just off the coast

A short walk further up the track, we reached a sign for a lookout.  Being a shorter day on the track, we had enough time for a quick diversion.  We dropped packs and followed the very muddy and well walked track for five minutes out to the lookout.

Dealing with the mud (and dead feral cat!) was totally worth it.

Words and photos probably don’t do the view justice.  In front of us the bush clad Ruggedy Islands rose sharply out of the ocean, their hard granite cliffs almost vertical.  They seem so very different from islands seen off the mainland, reminding us more of Thailand than New Zealand.  In the far distance we could make out the southern coast of the South Island.  To our left, the golden sands of the dunes we had walked across that morning stretched out to the ocean. Even from our height we could clearly make out the kelp beds through the near crystal clear water.

Windswept kanuka frame the Ruggedy Islands
Wind sculptured kanuka and the Rugged Islands

We stood in awe, thinking the view was perfect in every way.  Just to prove us wrong, a pod of dolphins appeared and swam slowly across the bay, demonstrating that it was possible to improve on that perfection.

The view back to East Ruggedy beach
The view back to East Ruggedy beach

From the lookout the tracks drops steadily towards the sea.  At that point we would officially start following the Northern coast of Stewart Island.  We walked back to our packs and began the descent to the coast.

We had a relaxing lunch break on a rocky West Ruggedy beach looking out across Foveuax Strait to the South Island.

Steep!
Steep!

A steep (near vertical!) climb off the beach had us back in the bush.

Walking under a canopy of tall gnarly old kanuka, Adam glanced to his left and spotted movement on the ground amongst the ferns.  A kiwi!  We had agreed that rather than shouting “Kiwi!” and scaring them off, anyone who saw one would throw their arms out wide to let the group know.  So Adam threw his arms out wide, and Chris, Richard and Lewis ground to a halt behind him. Unfortunately Paul was in front of Adam and had no way of seeing the signal.  He walked on oblivious to the mute excitement.

The elusive Kiwi
The elusive Kiwi
Does he see us?
Does he see us?

The Kiwi very kindly hung around for quite some time, pottering about probing the leaf litter for food morsels.  Thankfully, after a few minutes Paul twigged that he was alone, and returned in time to join us watching our National icon doing its thing.  It was mesmerising watching such an odd creature going about its daily activity in front of us.  We felt extremely privileged to be watching it.

Mud became less and less frequent the further we nudged round the northern coast of the Island.  It became a bit like walking through a beautiful garden on this part of the Island.  Pleasant grassy areas amongst tall trees, flax, toi toi and flowering rata gave our surroundings an idyllic feel.  Tui, wood pigeons and other smaller birds were prolific, and the bird song was constant.

Our final hour into Long Harry hut did however become a bit torturous.  The track plunged into four deep gullies, and back out again.  Each gully is a sharp descent followed by a grunt up the other side.

Descending into the first gully we were surprised by a hunter.  Dressed in camo gear complete with camo face paint, he suddenly popped out of a large fern with a compound bow on his back.  Dan was his name.  We had been told by various other trampers along the way that Long Harry Hut was occupied by a group of hunters, so it wasn’t a total shock to meet Dan.  We had a short yarn to him then carried on for Long Harry.

Looking down on Long Harry hut
Looking down on Long Harry hut

Reaching the hut at about 4:30pm we were welcomed by Steve.  Steve is an all round good bloke, and was the self-appointed spokesperson for the hunters.  He immediately made us very welcome, and cleared space for our gear.  That was necessary because they had a colossal amount of supplies which had been choppered in with them!

The hunters had a little more gear than us
The hunters had a little more gear than us

We had a great evening chatting to the five hunters, made especially great due to the fact they shared their roast venison with us.  Absolutely magnificently cooked, golden brown, tender and delicious.  It wasn’t until after 10:30pm that we eventually crawled into our sleeping bags.  Quite a late night by our usual standards…

Slow cooked roast venison, courtesy of the Long Harry hunters
Slow cooked roast venison, courtesy of the Long Harry hunters

Day 6

Wednesday 4th March – Long Harry Hut to Yankee River Hut
Long Harry hut has powerpoints...
Long Harry hut has powerpoints…

Not long after 7am we were all up and about.  Not so our hunting friends…  They had obviously decided there was no need to be out at the crack of dawn and were all still tucked up in their sleeping bags.

After a feed of porridge, we were ready to attack the day.  For Lewis, that meant paua hunting.  Steve had generously offered to head down to the coast with us to point out the best spots to find them.  Low tide was about 9am, so just before then we all walked down the short track to the coast.  Steve sensibly had a wetsuit on.  Lewis who seems strangely immune to freezing temperatures was not wearing much more than a rash suit and long-johns.

It didn’t take much more than half an hour of groping under rocks in the shallows to hit the jackpot.  Lewis was extremely happy to have a bag of four very nice sized (well above legal minimum!) paua.

Lewis prepared for battle...
Lewis prepared for battle…

To our surprise, Steve gave us the four he had gathered.  We had assumed he was collecting for himself, but apparently he had always planned to give them to us. Top bloke.

Once back at the hut, Steve proceeded to give us expert lessons on preparing the shellfish.  Before long we had eight paua removed from their shells, guts and teeth discarded.  Steve then insisted on tenderising them all for us, using his trusty manuka club.  We stood in the hot morning sun and watched him deftly pummeling the paua flesh into submission with it.  When he had finished, we estimated our plastic bag contained a couple of kilos of paua meat.  Wow.

Shortly after 10am we were ready to leave Long Harry.  We thanked the hunters for their hospitality and said our goodbyes.  We were especially grateful to Steve, who had been so generous with his time, expertise and roast venison!

Victory!!!
Victory!!!
Steve expertly demonstrates paua preparation
Steve expertly demonstrates paua preparation
Ready to depart Long Harry
Ready to depart Long Harry

We stopped in a sheltered bay not far from the hut for a brief unsuccessful fishing attempt before hitting the track again.  From Long Harry the track drops slightly before a steepish and relatively muddy climb up to a ridge.  From that point the track was very pleasant, winding its way under a very tall forest canopy of rimu and kotukutuku (tree fuchsia).

A stunning cove just east of Long Harry hut
A gorgeous cove just east of Long Harry hut

High above us the sun was shining brightly from a cloudless sky.  We were thankful of the shade the trees provided.  As we neared the coast, the track got steadily steeper until we suddenly emerged from the bush onto Smoky beach.

And what a beach!  It is absolutely stunning.  Bright white sand contrasts with clear blue ocean and the deep greens of the surrounding bush to paint a breathtaking view.

Smoky Beach
Smoky Beach

Smoky creek flows into the west end of the beach where we stood.  It is fairly deep when the tide is high.  We looked for a spot to get across it, but couldn’t find anywhere shallow enough.  So we backtracked and followed a high tide track which took us ten minutes upstream to a bridge over the waterway.

After a brief chat to a group of builders who were constructing a new hunters hut on the edge of the bush, we made our way back down to the white sands of the beach.  A large and enthusiastic sandfly population resident in the shelter of the trees left us with little choice but to eat lunch out on the sand.  Which wasn’t an altogether bad thing… unless you dropped your salami.

Not the worst place in the World for lunch....
Not the worst place in the World for lunch….

After liberal applications of sunblock, we sat, ate, and marveled at the scenery.  Smoky beach is a pristine paradise, which anywhere else in the World would be seething with people.  But on Stewart Island, five Moa Hunters could have it all to themselves.

Backpacks sunning themselves on pristine Smokey beach
Backpacks sunning themselves on pristine Smoky beach

We all enjoyed the walk to the far end of the beach.  To our right, low dunes capped with tussocks and low grasses crouched below tall dramatically windswept kanuka.  Across the ocean to our left the South Island was again plainly visible.

Brilliant blue water at Smokey beach
Brilliant blue water at Smoky beach
The South Island clearly visible across Foveaux Strait
The South Island clearly visible across Foveaux Strait

We encountered three hunters at the eastern end of Smoky beach.  They hadn’t bagged anything, and were returning to their camp.

From the beach the track climbs up through the dunes, then drops very steeply down a loose sandy face to a small creek.  We were very happy to be going down and not up!

A land of contrast
A land of contrast

From the creek we followed the track up a long and at times quite steep climb through old gnarly kanuka.  An hour and a half later, at the top of what is effectively a knob, we stopped for some scroggin.  By this time the kanuka had given way to taller trees with a low fern understorey, common around this part of the island.

On the way up, Adam and Lewis had a chance encounter with another kiwi.

The descent from the knob was gentle and fairly dry.  In less than an hour we were at the bridge over the Yankee River which is just a stones throw from the side track which leads to Yankee River hut.  From that point it is a short walk through bush beside the hut.

Yankee River hut is a lovely old hut sitting on a small grassy rise overlooking the river as it flows slowly past and out to sea less than one hundred yards away.  Old wooden windows and a rustic deck in front are part of the hut’s charm.  Already at the hut were Sam and Keran.  Sam, a lobster fisherman from the Northeast of the United States was visiting New Zealand to escape the winter freeze in his hometown.  Keran was there to collect a food drop.  She and her partner were intending to walk the whole circuit together, but an unfortunate back problem had left her partner stranded at Christmas Village hut.  Keran would be walking back there the next day to reunite with her partner and arrange a water taxi rescue mission.

Yankee River hut
Yankee River hut

After a wash in the icy waters of the Yankee river, we sat on the deck and soaked up the last of the days sunshine.  It was all incredibly pleasant.  Sam and Keran were great company.  We shared some of our paua with them.  Steve had given us some cooking tips.  Half of the paua was thinly sliced into a garlic white sauce, and the others were fried as steaks.  Any misgivings we had about paua were gone in a flash.  It was absolutely delicious and wonderfully tender.  Well done Lewis collecting it!

Looking out to the coast from Yankee River hut
Looking out to the coast from Yankee River hut

We finished the evening with a round of hot chocolates fortified with whisky, and our traditional toast to Magnus, who’s company we were all missing.  Tired but contented, and with full bellies, we headed off to bed with the light of the full moon casting a silver light into the hut.

Day 7

Thursday 5th March – Yankee River Hut to Christmas Village Hut
Paul found a kindred spirit!
Paul found a kindred spirit!

During the night, high tide pushed up the Yankee river sending waves rolling past the hut.  Those Moa Hunters with insufficient bladder capacity to see them through the night marveled at this phenomenon as they walked in the light of a full moon from the hut to the toilet.

The following morning Adam’s backside bore the cost of insufficient planning.  A leisurely trip to the toilet turned into an exercise in frantic swatting as his posterior was immediately and ferociously attacked by sandflies as he seated himself on the long drop. Insect repellant before the toilet, not afterwards Adam!

Being young and keen, Sam left bright and early, headed for Long Harry hut and the prospect of a large feed of venison courtesy of the friendly hunters.  Keran, keen to check how her partner was faring also left early for Christmas Village hut. That left the Moa Hunters to go about their usual long leisurely tidy up before hitting the trail.

Knowing we had a fairly short day ahead of us with no challenging climbs, we were in no hurry to leave the very pleasant surroundings at Yankee River.  However, by 9am…ish we were on the track headed for Christmas Village hut.  Our backpacks finally feeling significantly lighter, we met the day with a spring in our steps.

Yankee River hut
Yankee River hut

The track sidled along the northern coast of the island through tall forest which shaded a dense fern understorey.  Sensing that this would be ideal kiwi spotting territory, we kept our eyes wide open for the elusive birds, but predictable saw none.  It seems you only see kiwi when you least expect it.

Just after midday we reached Lucky Beach.  Flanked by toi toi and windswept kanuka, it is a short stoney stretch of coastline littered with driftwood.  We found ourselves a nice big log to sit on and sat down for some lunch.  Even though the skies were overcast, the day was still pleasantly warm.  It was easy to close our eyes, lie back listening to the waves and feel generally sleepy.

After lunch we continued along the beach, surprised to find the sign for the track halfway down.  So it seems not all tracks start at the end of the beach!

A beached Chris
A beached Chris

Climbing up from the coast we soon found ourselves in an absolutely magnificent jaw-droppingly massive stand of rimu. In all directions we were surrounded by enormous ancient rimu giants.

Monster rimu
Monster rimu

On the mainland, Fiordland is probably the only place likely to have anything comparable.  Evenly spaced, each rimu rose up straight as a skyscraper dwarfing everything around them.  We felt small and insignificant in that place.

It seemed that each time we assumed we had seen all the amazing wonders of Stewart Island, yet another would unexpectedly be unveiled.

Not long after 4pm we arrived at the short stretch of beach that leads to Christmas Village hut.  Situated on grassy flat just above the beach, the hut has lovely views out over the ocean.  After dropping our packs, we gratefully removed our boots, gaiters and packs and headed into the hut to escape the sandflies.

Keran was already inside and introduced us to her partner, Mathea. The only other resident was John, a young fit New Zealand teenager who was charging round the track at a phenomenal pace.

Christmas Village beach
Christmas Village beach

After a spot of unsuccessful paua hunting in the shallows and equally unsuccessful fishing, we settled into the hut for the evening.

Another Chris masterpiece
Another Chris masterpiece

Chatting to Keran, Mathea and John was exceptionally pleasant.  The two ladies are very experienced trampers and we enjoyed swapping information and tall tales from various tramping trips around the South Island.  They gave us some great ideas for tramping food and had some tips for tracks in the Northern South Island. John’s youthful vigour and bullet-proof enthusiasm was lovely, but made us all feel a little old!

Dinner was soup, then a spicy enchilada mix followed by chocolate cake.  Yet another brilliant effort by Chris, the chocolate cake cooked beautifully in his billy oven.  There was plenty to go around…

Being social animals, we spent the rest of the evening yarning with our new friends before curling up into our sleeping bags just before 10pm.

Dusk at Christmas Village hut
Dusk at Christmas Village hut
Keryn and Mathea
Keran and Mathea

Day 8

Friday 6th March – Christmas Village Hut to Bungaree Hut

Day eight dawned overcast with occasional light drizzle and plenty of low cloud.  Looking back over Christmas Village Hut towards the Island’s interior, we could see thick foggy cloud blanketing the surrounding hills.  This meant an ascent of Mount Anglem would be nothing more than a workout in the fog.  So we canned that idea, without too much hesitation.  In truth, we were all fairly happy to have a few easy days ahead rather than a steep climb followed by a long day jumping a hut.  Having made that decision quickly, we were under no pressure to leave the hut at an early hour.

Christmas Village Hut
Christmas Village Hut

Ever the experimental chef, Chris made a couple of attempts at creating yoghurt on this trip.  Unfortunately not completely successful…  In theory it should have worked.  Easi-Yo yoghurt powder dissolved in water and kept nice and hot for a number of hours produces thick creamy yoghurt.  Perhaps Chris’s small billy nestled in a larger billy simply lost too much heat through the night, despite having a small candle burning under it.  Whatever the cause, the end result was yoghurt flavoured milk.  Which wasn’t at all bad added to bircher muesli!

Following a leisurely tidy-up and customary photos outside the hut, we were finally prepped and ready to hit the track by 10am.  Disgracefully late!

That night, Keran and Mathea had managed to contact the water taxi and arrange a pickup.  Just as we said our goodbyes and left the hut, we spotted the water taxi in the distance headed straight at the hut, ready to ferry them to Oban.  We all hoped Mathea’s sciatica would improve so she could enjoy the remainder of her holiday with Keran on Stewart Island.

Light drizzle kept things cool as we wandered back down the beach and away from Christmas Village hut.  Our packs were now marvelously light and our shoulders were accustomed to the straps of our backpacks.  It was an easy mostly flat walk to Murray beach, with little mud and only the occasional heavy drizzle making this leg anything outside of the usual.

Engineers talking engineering stuff
Engineers talking engineering stuff

As we approached the river, Paul made an astute observation about the bush in this part of the island.  There was a distinct lack of large trees.  He surmised that the presence of a large waterway and relatively flat terrain would have made this area particularly conducive to logging.  And clearly it was, because there are no big rimu, or any other large trees for that matter, anywhere near the river.  No doubt they were all felled, floated out down the Murray to the Island’s sawmills long ago.

Lunch in a hunters hut porch
Lunch in a hunters hut porch

Before we reached the Murray, the weather packed in somewhat and we were forced to don our waterproof jackets. A quick look at the map informed us that there was a hunters hut not far away, and given it was close to lunchtime, we planned on stopping there for lunch.  We were pleased to find it had a covered porch, perfect for five wet trampers to squeeze into and eat their lunches out of the rain.

Sitting in that porch, we didn’t do much more than eat and talk.  But it was strangely memorable.  Moa Hunting trips are all about camaraderie, the simple things in life, and immersing yourself in the moment.  Even if that moment is huddled in a small porch on a rainy day in the middle of nowhere.

When we had finished lunch, polar fleeces and jackets were donned as we set out into the rain for Murray Beach.

Murray beach, beautiful even in the rain...
Murray beach, beautiful even in the rain…

As it turned out, polar fleeces and jackets were not required.  We crossed the bridge over the river and dropped down onto yet another pristine sandy beach in clearing conditions as the sun broke through the scattered cloud.  The sand on this part of the island is a lovely deep gold colour, dotted with occasional white sea shells.

Clearing skies on Murray Beach
Clearing skies on Murray Beach

At the end of the beach the track inevitably heads up into the bush.  We passed as odd barbed wire enclosure which had clearly been built many years ago judging by how deeply embedded the wire was in the trees it had been stapled to.

A tree eating barbed wire
A tree eating barbed wire

The track from Murray beach to Bungaree hut is relatively flat and dry and we made quick progress despite being in no particular hurry.  Close to the hut the track climbs briefly to a flat bowl like area filled with ferns and moderate sized trees covered in climbers, moss and lichens. From there it drops in an easy descent to the hut.

As we made our way down the last stretch of track towards the beach we were unexpectedly hailed by another tramper who suddenly emerged from the bush on the track ahead of us carrying a large dry log.  “You must be the Moa Hunters…!” he called out in a strong American accent.  His name was Mark.  Apparently our reputations had preceded us!  John had passed through quite some time earlier and alerted him to our impending arrival.

After a brief chat with Mark, we descended the last section of the track to the beach and the hut.  And what a beach!  Bungaree Hut overlooks a stunning sandy beach with a tiny bush covered  island creating a natural separation between that beach and another equally gorgeous beach.  The sun was still high and the temperature quite warm.  A quick dip in the ocean to freshen up was irresistible.

Idyllic Bungaree
Idyllic Big Bungaree beach
A small cove at Bungaree
A small cove at Bungaree

Back at the hut we met Sagacouchi, a Japanese traveler who spoke just a little English but smiled a lot.  Mark had returned with his firewood and we settled in for a series of long and interesting philosophical discussions with him.

Bungaree Hut
Bungaree Hut

Shortly after 7pm we were joined by a Dutch couple, Anya and Hans who had walked to the hut from Oban.  It had been a long day for them and they looked quite tired and very happy to have finally reached the hut after a 9 hour walk.  We speculated that they were perhaps carrying a little too much weight in their packs as their time was somewhat on the slow side.

As the evening drew into dusk, we spotted two seals tumbling and flopping about amongst the thick brown kelp out in the bay.  Yet another moment where we thought a place couldn’t get better, and then it did!

Day 9

Saturday 7th March – Bungaree Hut to Port William Hut

What a difference ten hours can make!

Stormy Big Bungaree bay
Stormy Big Bungaree bay

We awoke to find the pristine sandy bay in front of the hut transformed into a tempestuous stormy scene.  A strong southerly which arrived through the night was whipping the bay into a cauldron.  Wave after wave swept relentlessly up onto the sandy beach, the wild wind sweeping white spray off their crests.  Driving rain rattled against the windows of the hut.  It wasn’t a pleasant looking day and we were in no hurry to head out into it.

Not a swimming day at Big Bungaree
Not a swimming day at Bungaree

So, we spent a lazy morning solving the Worlds problems with Mark, discussing everything from home insulation, energy efficient design, to religion and war.

John, still bulletproof and full of youthful vigour, set off mid morning into the teeth of the Southerly, bound for Oban.

Mark, being an ex-teacher had a joke for us:

Q.  What’s the difference between an extrovert Math teacher and an introvert Math teacher?

A.  An extrovert Math teach walks about looking at other peoples feet.

Nice.

We ate a leisurely lunch and were ready to hit the track by 12:30.  Probably not a Moa Hunter record for tardiness, but not far off it!

Hat confusion amongst the Moa Men
Hat confusion amongst the Moa Men
Out into the cold across Big Bungaree beach
Out into the cold across Big Bungaree beach

Again we walked in generally easy conditions.  The short walk down the beach was quite exposed and not especially pleasant.  But once we entered the bush, we were sheltered from the wind and the thick tree canopy kept us surprisingly dry.

The track climbs fairly steadily up to 130 metres or so, drops back to 100, and then rather rudely climbs back to 130 metres again.  After that it is a steady descent to Port William Hut.  The closer we got to the hut, the more mud we encountered.  It would be fair to say that the mud on this side of the island, while not the deepest, is definitely the stickiest.  Thick, gloopy, deep brown gloopy mud soon completely coated out boots and gaiters.

Mud, glorious Rakiura mud!
Mud, glorious Rakiura mud!

When we hit the coast just short of the hut, we took the opportunity to wash the mud off our our boots in the ocean at Magnetic Beach.  It was surprisingly hard to get the sticky mess off them!

Boardwalks lead to Port William Hut
Formed track leads to Port William Hut

From Magnetic Beach we hit a shingled wooden edged track.  A sure sign we were getting closer to civilisation and the end of our epic Moa Hunt.  Just one hut left…

When we arrived at Port William hut, we found it was fairly empty with just a handful of travelers in residence.  We bagged ourselves a bunk room, dropped packs and slung our sleeping bags out on the mattresses before heading through to the common room.

Or perhaps “The Morgue” would have been a better term.  There were half a dozen trampers in there, all completely silent, reading books or just sitting quietly minding their own business.  They briefly acknowledged our presence then went back to being totally quiet.

Moa Hunters don’t really do “quiet”…

So we proceeded to break the ice by force.  We plonked ourselves at strategic points about the hut and started conversations with the little groups.  Before long everyone in the hut was enjoying telling tall stories and getting to know one another.

Tall gums outside Port William Hut
Tall gums outside Port William Hut

Mission accomplished!  At one point we jokingly asked a Swiss tramper called Adrian whether he was a banker, or a pocket knife manufacturer.  It turns out he actually was a banker – who would have thought – a Swiss banker!

We had a rather tasty dinner of Salami Shepherds Rice Bolognaise.  Yes, a mix of all the leftover food we had!

After a quick wander out the the Port William wharf, we settled in back in the common room for an evening chatting and generally chewing the fat.  It was nice to see the previously silent and solitary occupants were now enjoying a noisy card game together when we returned.

A heavily decorated instant pudding finished off the evening before we headed off to bed and our final night on the track.

Day 10

Sunday 8th March – Port William Hut to Oban
Our last hut team photo. Outside Port William hut
Our last hut team photo. Outside Port William hut

It was with mixed feelings that we left Port William hut.  Ten days is a long time to be away from family, and we were all thinking of home.  We also knew that our time on Stewart Island was coming to an end, and that it would be a long time before we were likely to return to that magic place.

The track away from Port William is very much a formed path, with timber retaining and compacted shingle inside.  We strolled along at a very decent pace, while soaking in every sight smell and sound around us.  The tracks climbs easily enough through quite dense forest for about 1.5 kilometres and then descends a little more steeply to a swingbridge which spans a small river a the northwestern end of Maori beach.

Dusky skies above Maori beach
Dusky skies above Maori beach

Under a mottled sky we meandered along the sandy beach, chased by a number of enthusiastically hungry sandflies.

Resting up at the end of Maori beach
Resting up at the end of Maori beach

At the end of the beach the track stays low following the coast to Lee bay.  An enormous rust coloured chain sculpture spans the track here, forming an archway marking the official start of the Rakiura track.

The chain sculpture at Lee Bay
The chain sculpture at Lee Bay

The “other end” of the chain is on the coast at Bluff.  The symbolic chain linking the two islands is from the Maori legend of Maui, in which the South Island is Maui’s waka (canoe) and Stewart Island is its anchor.  The North Island is a great fish he pulled from the oceans depths with his magic fishhook..

We spent some time at Lee bay reading the information boards which tell the history of the area.  From there we walked out onto the road, the final leg of our journey back to Oban.  We followed the unsealed road over a low brow and down to beautiful Horseshoe bay.  Sheltered by two large headlands, the bay is a peaceful spot dotted with houses commanding spectacular views.

Walking along the road we were surprised to hear a car approaching from behind tooting its horn.  “Alright, alright!”, we all thought, “give us a chance to get off the road, mate…”

The car stopped beside us, and a familiar face smiled out at the open window.  It was Mathea!

The final leg, on sealed roads
The final leg, on sealed roads

She couldn’t fit us all in, but she offered to take our backpacks to Oban.  There was room for one Moa Hunter in the car, so Chris joined her for the trip.  They would swing by the holiday house and pick up the day packs we had left there, relieving us of having to walk that detour later.  The remaining Moa Hunters, unencumbered by packs, legged it for Oban at great pace.

45 minutes later we were all sitting at a picnic table outside the Kai Kart.  Our journey was complete.

We wolfed down a delicious feed of blue cod fish and chips from the Kart before heading to the South Sea Hotel for a final drink.  Who should we find at a table outside the hotel, but Mathea and Keran.  Again!

We sat down with them and spent a very pleasant last hour on Stewart Island, chatting in the sun.

Return to the South Sea Hotel. Wake up Paul!
Return to the South Sea Hotel. Wake up Paul!
Paul explains why he fell asleep earlier...
Paul explains why he fell asleep earlier…

The ferry trip to Bluff was beautiful.  Flat calm seas, dramatic clouds, swooping albatrosses and hundreds of sooty shearwater (muttonbirds) on the water created a spectacular sendoff for us.

Stunningly calm conditions in Foveaux Strait
Stunningly calm conditions in Foveaux Strait
The other end of the chain in Bluff
The other end of the chain in Bluff

Our bus was waiting in Bluff and before long we were back at Invercargill Airport awaiting our flight.  This Moa Hunt had been an absolute epic, enjoyable in every way.

Rakiura Stewart Island is absolutely stunning, with new gobsmackingly beautiful wonders seemingly around every corner.

We didn’t see any Moa, but seeing his distant cousin the kiwi was an unforgettable privilege.

2005 – Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku – On top of the World

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Paul, Richard, Chris

The Trip:

The second attempt to summit Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku

Prep:  Drive to Seddon.
Day 1:  Gladstone Downs to Hodder huts
Day 2:  Hodder Huts to Summit, and out

Our trip on topomap.co.nz

Our trip on Google maps

February 2005 was the Moa Hunters second attempt to ascend the 2885m Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku, after being foiled in 2004 by inclement weather.

Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku is the highest point in the Kaikoura Ranges. It is also 80m higher than any North Island peak. As it is a “walking” climb with well travelled routes, we decided visiting Moa may find the view worthwhile and thought why not take a look?

We started with the usual long drive up the Coast, with Chris taking a different route to be met in Seddon in the evening. His pre-packed pack was dropped off to travel with us. All went well with Chris joining us at Seddon and then the long winding trip up the Awatere Valley to shearing quarters near the Hodder River.

After extensive searching Chris finally came to the red-faced conclusion that he had left his sleeping bag out of his pack! When we had finally stopped laughing, we started to comprehend the gravity of the omission.  The Hodder River huts are at over 4000 feet and being without a sleeping bag would not be an option.

A quick trip to Gladstone Downs to inform them of our trip yielded a borrowed sleeping bag for Chris.  Lucky boy! We will not forget this incident!

Day 1

Gladstone Downs to Hodder huts

The day was gorgeous.  Bright blue and sunny.  Perfect for the required 68 crossings of the Hodder river. Gladstone downs informed us of two parties ahead of us.

A gorgeous day heading up Tapuae-o-Uenuku
A gorgeous day heading up Tapuae-o-Uenuku

The first was a couple.  Him the spitting image of Rod Stuart, and her, similar to Yoko Ono. As we passed pleasantries we noticed he also sounded exactly like Rod. Interesting.  Further up stream we encounter three blokes with ancient packs and long beards walking out.  These two very similar to ZZ Top…  Clearly it was going to be a good trip! (It is a bugger didn’t get a picture. but in our minds eye they were definitely ZZ top!)

Ascending through rock and low tussock
Ascending through rock, occasional speargrass and low tussock

We passed the 2nd party who planned on going in further up, with teenagers in tow.  This was excellent as it meant we were going to get the choice of huts! We had the usual rocky walk up the Hodder in excellent sunblock-required conditions, enjoying the water crossings to cool off hot feet. Goats were the ever present “smell before you see them” companions that seem to thrive in the Kaikoura’s seemingly barren landscape.

There is a spear grass infestation on the route, around the nearly impassable gorge that made for some painful scrambling. We made the huts in around 7 hours including the trudge up to the bluff, always tough. We chose the older smaller hut as we were a party of three, leaving the larger hut for the youngsters. The two warm and well constructed huts are wired down within 10m of each other. Obviously it gets fairly breezy at times!

Paul whipping up a Moa Meal
Paul whipping up a Moa Meal

We setup camp drying socks and boots for the impending climb tomorrow. News paper in boots and a stiff breeze made for good drying weather, although the temperature drops fairly quickly as the sun goes down at these altitudes. The larger group were not far behind and setup in the larger hut. Rod and Yoko appeared on the track below traveling very slowly late in the day. She was struggling, and obviously worn out, devastated by the impending climb to the hut. So off we went, down the steep slope. One person on each arm and relieved her of her pack.  We had “Yoko” up to the hut in a jiffy and a revived with a hot cuppa to get her back on her feet! She didn’t look pleased to be there though! Oh well the view down the valley was awesome, with the sea just visible in the distance. Great end to the day.

Chatting with the locals
Chatting with the locals

Day 2

Hodder Huts to Summit, and out

The next day looked good to make the summit. Paul decided that runners were the climbing footwear of choice due to a sore toe. We lightened our packs to just lunch and warm clothes. So, with dry feet we set off across the Hodder to climb the never ending scree. There was a rough track initially on the true right of a stream and then Zig zag up scree/rocks. As we passed our maximum height from the year before we realised we were a long way off the top on the last attempt! Cloud had restricted our view.

Stunning weather for the ascent
Stunning weather for the ascent

The steady sidle to the right passed a stream where we topped up our bottles. We then came across the same stream when sidling left above the bluffs we were skirting. The water appeared out of the rocks on the slope and was noticeably colder. Fresh melt out of the mountain. Lovely stuff!

Chris grunting up a steep rocky slope
Chris grunting up a steep rocky slope

As is normal in a long climb, we separated when each of us took slightly different routes. There were mini bluffs to work around, loose areas to avoid. Chris managed to give himself a scare when he dislodged a large rock at head height which narrowly missed him. He looked a little pale and shaken but okay. The steep slopes slope tested our sphincter muscles at times during the ascent. The last part of the climb was 3 steps breathe, breathe some more and repeat.

Higher.... Steeper....
Higher…. Steeper….

The summit in my mind felt like a Himalayan mountain top, with little flags blowing in the breeze and huge views from Banks Peninsula to Wellington Harbour entrance. Once we had stopped breathing, we started cool down. It was a great place to have lunch and watch the other group make their way to the top and take in the views.

Picturesque phone call
Picturesque phone call

We made a few phone calls to release the euphoria of making the top and generally show off! I was amazed to see blow flies cruising around up there.  You just can’t escape them!

The descent was a relatively fast boot destroying scree run that went on forever. That was followed by uneventful walk out, by the end of which we were totally used to wet feet.  But walking down was much easier to deal with. It did drag on towards the end.  The bareness  of the Kaikoura mountain is a bit unrelenting. Finally we reached the bottom and made a quick stop at Gladstone Downs to return the SLEEPING BAG (not forgotten!) and let them know we were out.

Best lunch spot on the planet.
Lunch spot with a million dollar view.
Satisfaction....
Satisfaction….

Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku conquered. A fantastic Blast in the hills.

2014 – Travers Sabine – Easy Street

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Adam, Paul, Richard, Chris, Magnus

The Trip:

A much shortened Travers-Sabine circuit, reaching the Angelus hut via a lesser trod path up Hopeless creek and over Sunset saddle.

Day 1:  Drive to St Arnaud. Fish and Chips. Walk to Coldwater hut.
Day 2:  Coldwater hut to Hopeless hut
Day 3:  Hopeless hut to Angelus hut via Sunset saddle
Day 4:  Angelus hut to Speargrass hut
Day 5:  Speargrass hut to Road end

Our route on topomap.co.nz

Our route on Google Maps

Day 1

Thursday 20th February – Carpark to Coldwater hut

Our Master-plan was in place. Chris would make the four hour drive from Dunedin to Christchurch and Richard would fly south escaping the rat race that is Auckland.  Adam would sweep by in his mighty Caldina late Thursday morning to collect them both.  By lunchtime the majority of the Moa Hunters would be at Paul’s house, ready for the drive North to St Arnaud.  Magnus would hop on a plane in Wellington that morning, fly home to Nelson,drive himself to St Arnaud and meet us all there for fish and chips.  Simple.

Except there was thick fog in Wellington that morning.  Very thick.  And Magnus was going nowhere.

After investigating every possible option, we agreed Magnus couldn’t possibly get to St Arnaud in time to walk into Coldwater hut that night.  With luck he would fly into Nelson that evening, drive to St Arnaud the following morning and get a water taxi to the hut.

With four Moa Hunters, four packs and other assorted paraphernalia jammed inside, a heavily laden Caldina departed Christchurch at 1.30pm.  Two and a half hours later we rolled into a searingly hot Springs Junction for a quick toilet stop and leg stretch.

Shortly after 6pm we were sat outside the St Arnaud General Store tucking into a delicious feed of fish and chips.  Shortly after that we were at the car-park and preparing to walk in to the Coldwater hut.

4/5 of the Moa Hunters ready to hit the track
4/5 of the Moa Hunters ready to hit the track

While not quite as baking hot as Springs Junction had been, it was still very warm despite being early evening.  It didn’t take long at all to break into a healthy sweat as we marched off down the well trod track.  The sun set quickly and as the daylight waned, the track ahead became indistinct in the murk. We dropped packs and fished out headlights for the remainder of the walk.  Paul enthusiastically clicked his new Kathmandu headlight on and lit the surrounding area with the power of an industrial searchlight.  Squinting into the intense glare, Chris commented that he might need a layer of sunblock if he walked ahead of Paul!

Set in a lovely little bay with a tidy wooden jetty reaching out into the lake, Coldwater hut is nestled into a picturesque spot. A sneaky peek though a window revealed the hut was occupied.  There seemed to be just one person inside, already tucked up into a sleeping bag.  We did our best to be quiet, but it is nearly impossible to haul gear out of a pack in complete silence.  I don’t think the occupant slept through our arrival!

As it wasn’t especially late, we wandered out onto the jetty and trained our headlights into the water.  Much to our delight a large number of extremely substantial eels curiously snaked their way over to investigate the disturbance.  Paul dashed back to his pack and grabbed a roll of salami.  It turns out Lake Rotoiti eels really enjoy a little salami.

Day 2

Friday 21st February – Coldwater hut to Hopeless hut
Dawn at Coldwater hut
Dawn at Coldwater hut

We all slept well and awoke around 7am to a crisp beautiful morning.  Layers of fog still clung to the edges of the lake.  Ducks paddled quietly across the mirror surface, rippling through reflections of the surrounding trees and bush covered hills.  Trout regularly flopped out the water, rising for flies.  The fishermen amongst us wished we had a rod and tackle on hand.

Our hut companion turned out to be a DSIR version of Slim Whitman.  Sporting a scientific beard, wearing reading glasses missing one leg, he was a studious man of few words.  Whilst friendly enough, sort of, we got the feeling he was keen to depart and enjoy solitude in the bush, without the company of four rowdy Moa Hunters.  He said his goodbyes and left us to our ostentatious bacon, eggs and mushroom fry up.

Magnus arrives!
Magnus arrives!

Shortly before 11am we saw a powerboat cutting across the lake towards the hut.  Within minutes Magnus was climbing out, clearly delighted to finally be with us.  It was great to see him again.  Paul and Chris gave up trying to work out what was wrong with the hut water supply and joined Magnus, Adam and Richard getting ready to hit the trail.

A lazy departure from Coldwater Hut.
A lazy departure from Coldwater Hut.

By 11.15am we were on the track following the Travers river up an easy valley.  With barely a cloud in the sky, the temperature soared and it was soon extremely hot.  We were relieved to discover far less wasps on the track than we were led to believe there might be.  Certainly nothing like the plague we encountered on our Wangapeka trip.

The wide valley, carpeted with tall grasses and random clumps of scrubby vegetation reminded us of the Rees and Dart valleys we had walked through in Mt Aspiring National Park some years ago.

The wide expanses of the Travers valley
The wide expanse of the Travers valley

At one point we rounded a bend and came upon a young couple cooling off in the river.  They were fully clothed and slightly flustered.  We guessed that might not have been the case had we approached less noisily.

Heading up to Hopeless Hut.
Heading up to Hopeless Hut.

Around 3.30pm we came to a swing bridge close to the confluence of Hopeless Creek and the Travers River.  Heading off up the Hopeless valley on the true right of the creek we were glad of the shade offered by the surrounding beech forest.  Being out of the sun offered some respite, but it was still hot work as we sweated our way up the valley towards the Hut.

While less walked than the main Travers Sabine circuit, the track was still easy to follow as it wound its way up through the beech forest.  We arrived at the hut around 5.00pm.  It was a relief to drop our packs and take the chance to cool off.  Hopeless Hut is one of the older generation of huts, the kind Moa Hunters like.  Lots of character, offering plenty of history and generally quaintly cramped conditions.

Magnus prepared his traditional delicious hot chocolate for us all while Paul set about searing some superbly tender marinated steak for dinner.  Apple crumble drizzled liberally with evaporated milk finished off the evening.  All in all, a bloody magnificent meal.

Moa Hunters in Hopeless Hut
A hopeless Moa Hunter clutter in Hopeless Hut

Day 3

Saturday 22nd February – Hopeless hut to Angelus hut

After a very warm night spent more on our sleeping bags than in them, we awoke to a change in the weather.  Blue skies and blistering heat had been replaced by low cloud, rain and an increasingly strong wind.

Paul was up first and had some porridge heating in a large billy. He has perfected his porridge preparation technique over many Moa hunts.  Soaking the oats overnight makes for a shorter preparation time and a sublimely smooth result.

By 9am we were on the track.  Not exactly early, but early enough for the day ahead.

The first 500 metres of our day was in the bush where we were relatively sheltered from the rain and wind, which was now blowing like a bastard.  After that point the track left the bush climbing onto exposed and rocky terrain.  The wind howled, buffeting us mercilessly, driving rain into our faces and attempting to throw us off balance.  We picked our way slowly carefully over the rocky landscape, following a line of cairns up the valley.

The route skirts up the left side of the valley (true right of the river) before cutting back across the top of a waterfall.

Above the falls, conditions didn’t improve.  In fact they got significantly worse.  Thick cloud descended on us, reducing visibility to no more than 20 metres through a swirling mist and rain. Spotting the next cairn became increasingly difficult.  Some time earlier we had naturally drifted into two groups, but with the thick mist was increasing our risk of getting lost or injured. The lead group stopped and waited so we could all walk together.

As we approached Sunset Saddle, the cloud lifted and rapidly broke up.  Within 15 minutes we were on the top of the saddle in relatively sunny conditions, enjoying spectacular clear views of Lake Angelus and the surrounding peaks.  A treat we were not expecting!

The view from Sunset Saddle towards Lake Angelus.
The view from Sunset Saddle towards Lake Angelus.

Ducking over the crest of the saddle, we found ourselves a nice spot amongst the large rocks out of the wind and in the sun.  We dropped our packs and broke out the lunch rations, laying our jackets out in the sun to dry.

Above us stood Angelus Peak.  We all agreed it would be rude not to climb the couple of hundred metres to the top. Well, to be fair, all but Chris, who took the opportunity for an early afternoon siesta, sheltered from the wind in a sunny nook amongst the rocks.

“Climb” is probably not quite the right word for our ascent.  It was more a half hour scramble up loose scree, following any route that looked decent. Halfway up, the wind accelerated over an exposed rocky shoulder, rising to near gale force. Exhilarating!

Extremely windy!
Extremely windy!
Awesome views from the summit of Angelus Peak.
Awesome views from the summit of Angelus Peak.

Angelus peak offers majestic 360 degree views of the surrounding ranges.  In the distance we picked out the inland Kaikouras, including Mt Tapuae-o-Uenuku (Tapuaenuku). Absolutely stunning and well worth the extra energy expended getting there.  The cloud started to lower again, so Adam, Magnus Richard and Paul charged back down the scree slope back to Chris – great fun!

Tarn above Angelus Hut
Tarn above Angelus Hut
Friendly trampers at Angelus Hut
Friendly trampers at Angelus Hut

The fairly quick descent from Sunset saddle to Angelus Hut skirts round a series of tarns, Hinapouri being the largest.  Rather rudely, the track drops below the level of the hut before climbing back up again.  A rather unnecessary deviation we thought!

We reached the very large and modern Angelus Hut at 3.30pm, finding it bustling with other trampers.  While we particularly enjoy the splendid isolation of true back country huts, swapping tales with other trampers in a busy thoroughfare like Angelus is also lot of fun, and we quickly made some new friends.

Dinner was a simple three course affair consisting of spicy laksa soup, a nice curry and delicious freshly baked red velvet cake for dessert, proudly cooked in Chris’s billy oven.

More firndly trampers at Angelus Hut
Three more friendly trampers at Angelus Hut

After dinner we sat and chatted to other trampers, enjoying the guitar and harmonica playing.  Chris swapped food drying techniques with another guy called Chris.  Nobody we talked to had spotted any suitable Moa food around the Angelus Hut.  We naturally assume a large number of Moa had eaten it all and left.

Day 4

Sunday 23rd February – Angelus hut to Speargrass hut

Trampers should always prepare for any weather, no matter what the season or location.  The Nelson Lakes proved this to be very wise advice on this trip.

Paul samples the weather outside Angelus Hut.
Paul samples the weather outside Angelus Hut.

We awoke to fairly nasty weather at the Angelus Hut.  Low cloud obscured the surrounding peaks and a howling cold wind whipped rain squalls with vicious power across the lake.  This was a far cry from two days earlier when we were sweating our way up Hopeless Creek under a blazing summer sun.

Amongst the rain, hailstones started to pepper the deck of the hut, and before long  the deck was coated in a wintry white blanket.  When the hail transitioned to something resembling snow, the Moa Hunters couldn’t resist the opportunity for a lightly clad romp in the unseasonable weather!

Not a pretty sight at all....
Not a pretty sight at all….

Trampers prepared to leave the hut. One group were set of tackling the very exposed Robert Ridge route back to Lake Rotoiti, despite the awful weather.  We suggested it would be extremely unpleasant at best, and likely dangerous in the strong winds, but they set off regardless.

Being a staunch battle hardened group of back country trampers, the Moa Hunters settled in for a lazy morning, waiting for better weather so we could execute our revised exit strategy via Speargrass Hut.  Earlier we had debated the merits of this option vs our original much longer route to Sabine Hut. Given the the hideous conditions, we had decided on the appealingly shorter Speargrass Hut option.

Chris occupied himself preparing and baking a loaf of bread for lunch. The rest of us relaxed in front of the big hut windows watching groups of trampers disappearing into the wild weather.  Rather than using paid DOC staff, Angelus Hut (as do many others) has a volunteer warden system .  Paul and Juliana were the resident volunteers and we had an interesting time chatting to them.  They had come down from Wellington and tramped into the hut for a couple of weeks to do the job.

A volunteer warden politely pretending he hasn't seend Paul's pink longjohns....
Volunteer warden Paul politely pretending he hasn’t seen our Paul’s hideous pink longjohns….

By late morning the only life forms left at the hut were five Moa Hunters, two volunteer wardens and approximately 10,000 sandflies.

We ate an early lunch supplemented with delicious fresh baked bread and by 12.30pm were ready to hit the track.

ready to hit the track
Richard rugged up and ready to hit the track

The weather hadn’t improved much at all.  The first section of track climbs steeply away from the hut onto an exposed ridge, where we felt the the windchill’s full effect.  Cold conditions encouraged good speed and we moved quickly to get ourselves off the tops and into a more sheltered valley.

Descent into Speargrass valley
Descent into Speargrass valley

The scrubby valley was certainly more sheltered from wind, but not from snow, which fell steadily as we descended. The tops of our packs soon wore icy white hats.  We hopped back and forwards across the muddier sections of the increasingly steep track.

Close to the bushline the snow eased off and the sky brightened slightly, then closed in again just as we made the edge of the beech forest.

We arrived at Speargrass hut not long after 3pm.  The hut is located at the top of a grassy clearing which slopes relatively gently down towards Speargrass creek.  DOC installed boardwalks lead up to the hut cutting a path through the long grass, hinting that in wetter conditions it may get boggy underfoot.

Packs off at Speargrass Hut
Packs off at Speargrass Hut

The hut was unoccupied, so we dumped our packs and proceeded to make a hell of a mess of gear in true Moa Hunter fashion.  Jackets were hung on hooks to dry, gaiters spread on the deck, and boots under the platform seats which run across the front of the hut.  The wind was still keen, but the cloud began to break and the sun made its warming presence felt.

Being good back country citizens, we cut some dead branches from the surrounding beech forest and hauled them back and left them to dry properly in the woodshed near the hut.

Later in the afternoon we were joined by an Israeli couple. Eran and Anna were heading up the Speargrass creek for Angelus Hut, hoping to make it there before dark.  Given it was close to 5pm and they had a fairly solid climb ahead of them in cold conditions, we advised them against the attempt.  They seemed happy with that, and we made some space for them amongst our clutter.

Eran and Anna
Eran and Anna

Eran and Anna, like almost every tramper you will meet, were lovely people.  We enjoyed hearing their answers to our questions about Israel, their religion and culture. And in return, they quizzed us for advice on what adventures New Zealand has to offer.

Later that evening Eran and Anna taught us an intriguing card game called ‘fool’.  Apparently the game is of Russian origin and is quite popular in Israel.  None of us had heard of it before, but very much enjoyed learning the subtleties of the new game.  After playing cards we had a shared dessert.  Chocolate mudcake provided by the Moa Hunters, and cheesecake by Eran and Anna.

Day 5

Monday 24th February – Speargrass hut to Road end
Frost melt drips off the roof of Speargrass hut
Frost melt drips off the roof of Speargrass hut
Paul at the helm of a gas burner.
Paul at the helm of a gas burner.

Given the light day ahead of us, we were up and about surprisingly bright and early.  Not long after 7pm Paul had porridge heating and even Chris was beginning to stir.

Overnight the temperature had dropped, and under a brilliant blue morning sky  there was a hint of a frost in the air.  We spent the next hour unhurriedly packing and tidying the hut ready for the next arrivals. Eran and Anna said their goodbyes and set off up the valley together.

By 9.30am we had everything packed and were assembled outside for the usual group photos outside the hut.  The early morning sun was already quite hot and sunblock was slapped on a few noses. We we were pleased to know from our trusty topomap that most of the days walk would be in the shade of the beech forest that clads much of the Nelson Lakes ranges.

Mighty Moa Hunter Chris in front of Speargrass hut.
Mighty Moa Hunter Chris in front of Speargrass hut.

The walk out is an easy track following Speargrass creek as it descends towards Lake Rotoiti.  The creek never makes it to the lake directly.  With a long ridge in its path, it turns north and joins the Buller river on its long trip to west across the South Island to Westport. The track leaves the creek about 2.5km from its end, climbing lightly all the way to Mt Robert road.

We stopped for a mid morning break at a nice clearing beside the creek at 10.30.  Or as hobbits would prefer to name it, second breakfast.

Magnus and Chris telling each other engineering tall stories
Magnus and Chris telling each other engineering tall stories

Just before midday we emerged from the track to a bright sunny afternoon and spectacular views over Lake Rotoiti.

Magnus snaps a pic of the gorgeous lake vista
Magnus snaps a pic of the gorgeous lake vista

Another most enjoyable tramping trip, if perhaps a little lightweight by Moa Hunter standards.  But still with its share of uphill grunts, and definitely with the most varied weather we have encountered on such a short trip.

2013 – Whitcombe Toaroha Circuit – Finally a win on the West Coast

Moa Hunters on this trip:  Adam, Paul, Richard, Chris, Lewis, Magnus

The trip

Day 1:  Hokitika Gorge to Frew hut
Day 2:  Frew hut to Bluff hut
Day 3:  Bluff hut to Mungo hut
Day 4:  Mungo hut to Top Toaroha hut
Day 5:  Top Toaroha hut to Road end

For this adventure, the Toaroha – Whitcombe circuit, six Moa Hunters converged on Hokitika from all four corners of the country.  Chris and Lewis came from Dunedin and Wellington respectively and joined the Christchurch crew for a Thursday evening road trip to Hokitika.  Richard had flights booked from Auckland to Hokitika via Christchurch, scheduled to arrive 9.30am Friday.

Our route on topomap.co.nz

Our route on Google Maps

Above is an altitude profile of this route.  Click to enlarge.  Note:  The horizontal scale divisions are roughly 1km.  The transition from green to brown does not accurately represent the bushline.  The horizontal scale to vertical scale is not 1:1

Day 1

Friday 22nd February – Hokitika Gorge to Frew Hut

Inside our cosy motel unit in Hokitika, the now ritual Moa Hunter enormous and extremely delicious breakfast of bacon, eggs, hash browns and mushrooms was expertly fried up.  We did feel a little guilty that the room would likely smell strongly of that delicious fry up for some days to come.  But it was worth it.

The breakfast of champions!
The breakfast of champions!

Looking out the window, we could see the day had dawned quite foggy in Hokitika.  A text from Richard confirmed our fears that this might be a problem.  His connecting flight from Christchurch had been delayed until Hokitika airport cleared.  Bugger.  Later that morning, worse news.  Another text from Richard informed us that the flight had finally been cancelled.

Luckily he had sweet talked his way into sharing a ride with two West Coasters in a hire car.  He would arrive in Hokitika just before lunchtime.

While not catastrophic, the delay meant we would have to walk fairly briskly to make the Frew hut before dark.

So, after whiling away an hour or two on a now brilliantly sun-drenched Hokitika beach and in a nearby park, Richard was collected and we were all finally together and ready to start the Moa Hunt proper.

Shortly before 1pm we were standing at the head of the Whitcombe track.  The DOC sign listed Frew hut a mere 7 hours walk away.  On the bright side, the weather looked great and the day didn’t involve any big climbs.

The start of the Whitcombe Track
The start of the Whitcombe Track

The initial section was an easy mix of grassy flats and rock hopping.  By 2.30pm we had reached the cableway over the Hokitika River.  One by one we were hand winched over the cold looking but strikingly sky blue water of the river in the little cablecar.  Quite a fun diversion from walking.

From the cableway, the track fairly lazily follows the relatively open flats on the true left of the Whitcombe River, until it rounds a bluff and leads into the much steeper terrain that forms Collier Gorge.  It turned out that the Gorge was a bit of a bastard.

Magnus on the cableway
Magnus on the cableway

Following the track as it cut its way through the tall trees and ferns, we suddenly hit what appeared to be a dead end.  Behind us everything seemed well formed and well walked, but in front there appeared to be no obvious path.  We quickly fanned out, pushing deeper into dense tangled vegetation looking for signs of the missing track.  Looped fern roots grabbed and snagged our legs and packs making progress awkward and frustrating.

After half an hour of fruitless and fairly exhausting bush bashing, we all agreed this was no way to proceed, and backtracked.  Walking back along the track we each found a way down to the river and from there rock hopped our way up the gorge until we met the track again some way further upstream.  From our riverbed vantage point it was clear the reason the track had disappeared was the bank it was on had been scoured away by the river during recent heavy rains.

The Collier gorge track continued on the true left of the Whitcombe river snaking incessantly up and down through the short bush on the steep slope. As mentioned earlier it’s a bit of a bastard. Nevertheless, not long after 5pm we had reached a swing bridge across the Whitcombe, signaling the end of the gorge and the start of more open terrain.

A stop to catch our breath and nibble a few peanuts was rapidly cut short by the incredible swarms of sand-flies. Note: at the end of a long warm summers day, on the West Coast of NZ, next to a river, while lower than 500m, do not stop for longer than 2 minutes, no matter how tired you are, or how beautiful the spot, you will get eaten alive.

Less than an hour later we reached the large and relatively modern 10 bunk Frew hut, which meant we had completed the 7 hour section in just over 5 hours. We tip-toed in quietly as it appeared the hut might already be occupied by someone already tucked up for the night – however it was just a sleeping bag and gear left by a local possum hunter who had left his kit behind.

Moa Hunters lurking outside the Frew Hut
Moa Hunters lurking outside the Frew Hut

On paper, the day’s walk was an easy one. But the extra hour spent battling the bush through Collier Gorge had turned it into a long and difficult one.  Conscious we had to make good time, we had pushed the pace a bit and only taken short breaks along the way.

Upon reaching the hut, it would be fair to say we were all pretty damn tired.  Naturally we all blamed Richard for being late. Richard had been gracious enough to compensate for his late arrival by carrying an extra 1.5kgs of fruit cake that had been added to the trips food cache by Magnus’s good friend Johanna from Kowhitirangi. The fruit cake and steak that Paul had marinated and frozen 2 weeks prior were scoffed with great appreciation at the end of a good first day.

Day 2

Saturday 23nd February – Frew Hut to Bluff Hut

Frew hut is nestled in against the base of a hill where Frew creek flows into the Whitcombe River.  We awoke there to an overcast day, but the cloud cover wasn’t threatening and we were all looking forward to a big day on the trail.

After downing a traditional Moa Hunter porridge breakfast, complete with the remnants of the fruit cake as a tasty condiment, we tidied the hut and were on the track by 8.30am.  Not our earliest start, but not the latest either!

Since being deluged by rain in January, the West Coast had been in the grip of a “drought”.  By their standards the land was parched, with barely any rain for a month or so.  The effect of the drought was obvious on the track.  Our previous experiences on the West Coast were of greasy rocks, slippery roots and generally demanding conditions.  Well not so in 2013.  Most places were quite dry and finding reliable footing was easy.

Hot work heading up the the Frew Saddle
Hot work heading up the the Frew Saddle

Consequently, we made pretty good progress on the first section of the track, which sidles along above Frew creek on the true right.  The first 4km of the track gains altitude steadily, but not viciously.  From the first footbridge the slope is increasing, and at the second, the track gets decidedly steeper as it follows the creek up a deep valley.

By 12.30pm the sun was shining brightly and we were just getting our noses out of the bushline, close to the final grunt which would take us to Frew Saddle and a well earned lunch break.  The final ascent is a poled route through snowgrass, tussocks and our favourite grass of all, Spaniard (spear) grass.

Just below the saddle sits the Frew Biv, with a cheerful red door.  Wired to the ground, it has two bunks and looks like a handy shelter to spend the night in if you got caught on the tops.

Friendly Frew Biv
Friendly Frew Biv

The saddle itself has fantastic views back down the Frew valley we had walked up, and in the other direction across the Hokitika river to Mount Tancred.  We had a nice long lunch, after the 1200m climb, taking in the splendid vista.  While we enjoyed the view, it was obvious to all that the track down to the Hokitika river looked brutally steep.

And it was.  Not only was the way down steep, it was also fiendishly difficult to stay on the regularly walked paths as they were overgrown with tussock.  This meant frequent wandering off the beaten trail, regular plunging into erosion holes hidden by tussock and painful encounters with Spaniard grass.

Seriously steep...
Seriously steep…

With the 200 vertical metre descent behind us we headed off in fairly murky conditions down the Hokitika river.  Low cloud became mist, which wasn’t unpleasant, but did limit our enjoyment of the view a little.

The track follows the river for a bit over 3km where it leaves the riverbed.  This marks the start of a fairly long sidle which climbs gently, but rapidly leaves the river which drops away below as it flows down the valley.  Plenty of awkward roots and the ever present spaniard grass made this section a little more demanding than the earlier rock hop.

The final kilometre to Bluff hut is less of a sidle and follows a now very open track through sparse vegetation until the hut itself comes into view, perched impressively on a large rocky bluff with huge views in all directions.  No surprises there really.  But what a magic setting for a hut! And high enough to be above the sand-flys. Another bonus for Bluff hut is the location of the privy, whose open door faces unnervingly, directly across a gorge in the Hokitika river.

With an arrival time of 5.30pm, it had been a good solid days walk again, but we were all feeling in slightly better nick than the night before. A good number of generous stops during the day had kept our energy levels higher and allowed us to enjoy the day immensely.

Alpine gangster
Alpine gangster

Sitting on the deck in the late afternoon sun, we enjoyed the company of a troop of cheeky Kea that had swooped in to investigate the new arrivals.  We were intrigued at their fearlessness as they hopped up and pecked at our boots and clothes, assessing them for vandalism opportunities.  This would definitely not be a hut to leave items outside overnight!

Nestor notabilis
Nestor notabilis

Day 3

Sunday 23nd February – Bluff Hut to Mungo Hut

Sunday dawned beautifully sunny, with perfect views in all directions.  We were ready to hit the trail a little earlier than usual at 8am.  On such a lovely morning it was very tempting to just sit in the sun and soak it all in.  But the Upper Mungo and its fabled hot springs was calling us.  After the obligatory group photo outside the hut, we hefted our packs onto our backs and set off.

Mighty Bluff Hut
Mighty Bluff Hut

Fellow trampers with similarly dodgy knees will know that steep downhill sections with a heavy pack are no fun.  Especially first thing in the morning when the old joints are a bit cold.  Unfortunately that is how Day 3 started for the Moa Hunters.

View from the swingbridge
View from the Bluff swing bridge

After just a few minutes of easy walking, the track plummeted straight down a very steep hillside to the Bluff swing bridge some 500 vertical metres below where it spans the Hokitika river.  Fortunately the way down wasn’t too slippery and there were plenty of available branches to use as handholds / brakes.  Needless to say we made it down the 500 metres significantly quicker than we would have going up it!   (We did  note in the Hut visitors book that a group of over 60’s had come up that way. Hats off to them…  impressive effort!)

From the swing bridge the track winds along on the true right of the Mungo River, dipping in and out of gullies where small streams come down and cut across the track.  Cutting between two fairly high peaks, this section is fairly shaded and probably quite wet under normal conditions.

Our pace along the fairly easy 2.5 km stretch to Poet hut was perfect, and we arrived right on 12.30pm.  Lunchtime!  Like Bluff before it, Poet is in a magic setting.  Nestled in a grassy clearing protected by surrounding trees, and just a stones throw from the river, it is an idyllic spot.  Lunch was eaten sunning ourselves in front of the hut, enjoying the pleasant day.  Again it would have been very easy to have stayed longer, but still the Mungo called us on.

Idyllic Poet Hut
Idyllic Poet Hut

Continuing from Poet hut, the track was much as before, skirting along the hillside further and further into deepest darkest Mungo.  Once past the junction of the track that drops from Top Toaroha hut, the track climbs steadily, before dropping again quite steeply into the Mungo riverbed.  What goes up must come down!

Dropping steeply to the Mungo
Dropping steeply to the Mungo

From here we clambered up the true right of the Mungo before crossing where the river cuts in against some bluffs. Then continued up the true left, regularly inhaling promising sulphurous smells in the air, no doubt venting from hidden hot springs along the river. The directions we had found online referred to the best hot springs being both above and below the confluence of the Brunswick Creek, on the true left of the Mungo, so we soldiered on.

Luckily it didn’t take us long to locate the fabled springs. We found them about 100m below the Brunswick and approximate 300m upstream from a large slip on the true left of the Mungo. From our experience the easiest way to find them is to walk along the river bed close to the edge of the bush, the best spring was found flowing out beside a large rock, right on the bush edge. The spring left tell-tale yellow-white sulphur deposit on the rocks. We also noted large mats of rubbery green algae growing in the hot sand and on the rocks. Without thinking it over too much, we downed packs and started an attempt to dig ourselves a bath where it flowed out of the bush.

We quickly discovered that keeping any of the hot water contained was going to be very difficult.  It just soaked away into the coarse sand.  Even our tarpaulin looked an unlikely solution.

Fortunately Lewis found the answer.  He wandered down to the rivers edge and discovered that the hot water which was disappearing into the sand higher up the bank where we were digging was re-emerging next to the river.  The perfect spot to make a bath.  Hot and cold water readily available!

Digging out hot bath was hot work
Digging out hot bath was hot work

Half an hour later we had dug out a large bath area, walled it with rocks, and were blissfully soaking our weary carcasses in the hot rejuvinating waters of the Mungo…  New Zealand’s (allegedly) most remote hot springs had been found again.  Mission accomplished.

For the third time that day we were tempted to stay in one place longer than was wise. Reluctantly we left our hot bath and headed up the Mungo towards the confluence of with the Brunwick

Brunswick Stream can be difficult to cross, even in good weather, but we were fortunate. The lack of any real rainfall for weeks meant it was running relatively low. While still swift, the deepest point wasn’t much above knee height and not especially dodgy to cross.

A second much smaller hot pool was found a few tens of meters above the Bruswick, we were glad we had put the time and effort into the civil engineering works to develop the lower pools.

Soon after the Brunswick it is necessary to cross the Mungo again then Park Stream and storm the final climb up to Mungo hut.

That last push turned out to be fairly steep and something of a late afternoon grunt, but we made the hut by 6pm where we were more than happy to dump our packs and set about preparing a mighty Moa Hunter meal.

Remote Mungo Hut
Remote Mungo Hut

Day 4

Monday 24th February – Mungo Hut to Top Toaroha Hut
Goodbye Mungo
Goodbye Mungo

From the Mungo hut we had a few options.  The boldest involved heading straight up Park stream into a difficult looking rocky fan, picking the correct gut and climbing out between Mt Bannatyne and Mt Chamberlain.

From the pleasant grassy doorstep of the Mungo Hut, it was difficult to assess exactly how difficult that route would be.  At best it would be tricky. At worst, treacherous and fraught with hazards for a group of six, on what appeared to be a loose and frost shattered rocky slope.

Somewhat tempted as we were, in the end and after some debate, we opted for the more conservative option of backtracking down the Mungo and climbing to the Toaroha saddle and up to the Top Toaroha hut.

Saying a last goodbye to the awesome Mungo hut, we set off down the steep slope back to the Mungo River.  Paul asked if anyone had signed the visitors book.  No.  We hadn’t….

Paul, a well-balanced Moa Hunter
Paul, a well-balanced Moa Hunter

Mungo hut is visited by a half a dozen groups per year at best.  It was unthinkable to leave without adding our names to that list.  Richard volunteered to run back up to the hut.  The rest of us headed on down, carrying his pack for him as we went.

Regrouping at the river we filed off back to the start of the climb to Toaroha Saddle.  And some climb it was.  While never excessively steep, it never let up either.

For the first time in many days we passed some other travellers heading down the track.  We said some hello’s and swapped a few tips about the tracks ahead.

Conditions were good and the track well and recently maintained.  We made pretty good progress up through the varying bush towards the saddle, stopping part way up for a bite of lunch.

The last few hundred metres to the top are in open country with splendid views of the surrounding ranges, until the biv and its surrounding tarns is reached.

Approaching Toaroha Saddle
Approaching Toaroha Saddle

At the top we dropped packs and ploppped onto the grassy saddle to enjoy the views.  Paul, with a sly smile on his face, reached into his pack and produced a pack of toffee pops chocolate biscuits.  Wow!  After a hard climb of 600 vertical metres, they were an unexpected treat.  We polished them off in short order! Paul is a great guy.

Magnus on Toaroha Saddle
Magnus on Toaroha Saddle

From the saddle, the track follows the Toaroha river down a valley until it reaches the relative flats where the Toaroha hut is situated.  We made a simple mistake and charged down the river following the orange DOC markers, enjoying the relative ease of downhill rock hopping river bed travel.  What we didn’t pay attention to was where the track actually went.

Soon enough we were entering awkward and seemingly untravelled sections of the river, filled with very large boulders, difficult drops and unlikely looking squeezes.

We stopped.  It didn’t seem right.

Richard...  stopped!
Richard… stopped!

Finally, Magnus noticed a bright orange DOC track marker well above us on the true right of the stream we were standing in.  Some way behind us we had missed a marker where the track left the river.  Backtracking we found the deviation and followed the trail along a much higher route well above the steeply descending and increasingly narrow stream below.

Lewis descends the chain
Lewis descends the chain

From there the track followed much easier terrain for a while, before dropping fairly steeply in parts.  In some of those places DOC have attached chains for handholds to help travellers down some particularly gnarly sections.

Finally the track opened out into the boggy flats which precede Top Toaroha hut. We wandered across them feeling like we were greeting an old friend, having stayed at this hut on our previous attempt at the circuit in 2012.

As is becoming a bit of a Moa Hunt custom, Chris excelled himself in the cooking department again and produced a superb loaf of bread.  A day spent carrying the raising dough in a billy was well worth the effort.  Well the rest of us thought so anyway!

Another superb Chris Creation.
Another superb Chris creation. (He could do with a shave though)

Day 5

Monday 24th February – Top Toaroha Hut to Road End

For our final day on the track we were up and organised in record time.  With a fairly long but not overly arduous day ahead of us, followed by a drive back to Christchurch, we didn’t want to muck about.  By 8.05am we were on the track.  Not exactly the break of dawn, but not bad for a bunch of creaky old Moa Hunters.

Our Top Toaroha pose
A Moa Hunter Top Toaroha pose

Having walked the stretch of track between Top Toaroha hut and Cedar Flat huts previously, we thought knew what to expect.  And this time round conditions would be noticeably easier due to the dry track conditions.

An unexpected hurdle was locating the track out from the hut.  We had frequently come across weather damage along the circuit, caused by the torrential rains in January.  Large scars on the landscape carved by what would normally be small creeks had cut massive washouts down hillsides, scouring them deep and wide, leaving debris and rocks strewn everywhere.

Departing Top Toaroha
Departing Top Toaroha

The grassy track we had previously followed ten minutes out from the hut was gone.  In its place was a very wide stretch of battle scarred riverbed, mostly shingle, but littered with large rocks, broken branches and logs.  It was almost unrecognisable from three years previous.

After a frustrating ten minutes search, we located the track right at the bottom end of the bush on the opposite bank.  To find it, follow the bushline down the slope until you locate the DOC marker.  Perhaps by now a few more cairns have been left by other trampers.

Following the true right of the Toaroha river down the valley, the track was generally relatively easy going and we made good time to the turnoff to Crystal Biv.  We continued on a little farther before calling a break.  Knowing it was going to be a long day, like hobbits, we stopped beside the river for “second breakfast” at 11.30am.  Sitting in the sun was more than pleasant.

Lunch by the river.  Mostly sandfly free.
Second breakfast by the river. Mostly sandfly free.

Beyond our lunch stop, the track was very much more of the same until at 1.30pm we reached the open grassy flats where the Cedar Flats huts are located.

The "new" Cedar Flat hut
The “new” Cedar Flat hut

The newest of the two huts there had undergone something of a transformation.  Now ‘L’ shaped, it had twice as many bunks as before and a separate kitchen area.  Obviously the popularity of the hot pools here warranted a bit of investment in the facilities since our previous visit in 2010.  We settled in for a third breakfast.  Or was it a second lunch?

Cedar Flat swing bridge crosses the Toaroha
Cedar Flat swing bridge crosses the Toaroha

Keen to get home, we blasted down the last section of riverbed and track.  By 5.30pm we had emerged from the bush and were walking across grassy meadow towards the Kokatahi river.  As on our last trip, we would cross the river, nip across some farmland and phone to be picked up.

As we approached the river, we were greeted by a German couple looking wet and slightly flustered.  They appeared to have dressed rapidly and recently after a likely skinny dipping session.  Good on them!  After advising them that walking off into the Toaroha valley with their scant supplies and poor footwear was ill advised that late in the day, we said goodbye and forded the river.

No, it isn't milking time, ladies....
No, it isn’t milking time, ladies….

When we reached the opposite bank, two problems arose.  Mobile phone reception was almost non-existent, and the sandflies had found us.  Not wanting to hang around and be eaten alive, we marched across the farm and out onto Lake Arthur road.  There after quite a walk, we finally found both reliable mobile phone reception and the phone number for our transport.  A few mouthfuls of wild blackberries later, we were picked up by the lovely Johanna and whisked back to her house.

Road End
Road End

We all agreed the trip was one of the best, if not the best Moa Hunt yet.  Every day was tough, but rewarding.  The weather had been magic, the scenery stunning, (the company reasonably tolerable) and we had finally pulled it off.  New Zealand’s most remote hot pools had been ticked off the list!