I was slouching up against the wall of an Indian takeaways on Kent Terrace when I made the call. A weather bomb had hit the Tararuas, swelling rivers and drowning my dreams of taking my troop of ‘easy-medium’ punters to Mangahao Flats Hut. Instead, I spent the time waiting for my butter chicken pondering an alternative. Waiopehu Hut seemed like the perfect choice, with an ample 18-bunks for our large party of 12 and no river crossings in sight. I hit send on the ‘change of plans’ email, picked up my curry and headed out into the crisp Wellington night.
Poads Road to Waiopehu Hut via Waiopehu Track
It was barely raining as I drove up the Ngauranga Gorge to Kiwi Self-Storage where the Wellington Tramping and Mountaineering Club’s van is kept. I had a long series of miscommunications the day before involving multiple sets of keys, but I won’t bore you with that as on this occasion I was successful in picking up the van. It was quarter past seven by the time I pulled up at Wellington Station’s platform 10. Slowly but surely punters materialised out of the early morning crowd of Intercity passengers. By 7:32 am the boot of the van was stacked high with 11 packs and we were on our way to pick up the last at the BP in Paraparaumu. Following that, a petrol station pie and a van load of coffees we trundled down the back roads of Levin to reach Poads Road.
As soon as the boot was opened gear came tumbling out onto the soggy gravel. In a great orchestrated faff boots were flung on, billys were stuffed into packs and the obligatory group picture was taken. Once this formality was dispensed with we had a brief safety briefing before we were marching like ants into the landscape. A single-file line heading off into the pastures.
These green fields soon gave way to lush forest. Not long after this did the first trial begin. Much to the disgust of all involved the track reached a juncture where it headed abruptly up the hillside. One by one our boots trod the saturated ground as we wound our way up between the supplejack vines. Given I usually try and punish myself with fast walking this ‘easy medium’ pace was novel to me. Rather than flash by in a blur sweat-soaked speed the forest around me exploded with detail, a world of flora, fauna and fungi waiting to be discovered.
Or at least that’s what I told myself, it sounded better than hour upon hour of staring at someone else’s pack as I plodded up the hill. The star of the steep ascent had to be the rather extravagant flourish of pekepeke-kiore we found growing out of a dead log along the side of the track.
It was around an hour and a half of walking by the time we reached the top of the ridge where the Six Discs track veered off to the Ōhau River and Blackwater Junction. I called a halt here to the front of the pack and we found a spot to sit down. As promised in the pre-trip emails I revealed a bag of sour squirms, handing these around to keep spirits up.
With the party regrouped we once again set off up the ridge. The walking was easy, even with the odd mud puddle. The worst of these had been covered over in the not-too-distant past with wooden rafts, part of track improvement works required now the track is on the route of Te Araroa.
Although we were gradually making progress it was decided to call a stop at pt 690 as stomachs were growling and the sun was attempting to make an appearance. Punters scattered themselves along the track as food bags were pulled out of packs. I quickly discovered that I had been a little over-ambitious with my tomato paste rations for my wraps. The rest of the group got great delight out of watching me eat it with a spoon like a pottle of yoghurt.
The other delight was the discovery of a werewere-kōkako; a bright blue mushroom endemic to New Zealand. Following a jovial lunch break we decided to get back underway. As we trotted along we were surprised to discover through a gap in the trees a view down to the Kāpiti Coast.
Nature’s delights just kept coming. Nearing a small saddle I called the advanced party to an abrupt halt. There were murmurs of mutiny in the ranks. What was the meaning of this. I stood transfixed with an alien looking creature that I had almost grabbed as part of a tree trunk.
It was of course a flatworm, an organism from the family geoplanidae. It’s fair to say not everyone in the group shared my enthusiasm for this earth-worm devouring machine. We left him be and continued on our mission. I called yet another stop at a curve in the ridge known as Bushy Corner.
The weather had started to turn by this point, any hints of sunshine disappearing into the mist. We huddled around shouting well-natured abuse at one another until the back of the pack arrived. One successful numbering off later and we set off for the final push to the hut. On the way we passed by the sites of the two previous Waiopehu huts.
The first hut on Waiopehu was built by the Levin-Waiopehu Tramping Club on the ridge leading up to Waiopehu in 1928 but last only 8 years. On Sunday 4 February 1936 the ‘great storm’ obliterated the northern Tararuas. A local newspaper recounted the tragic misadventure of a tramping part from Levin that Sunday: “While going over Butcher’s Saddle they had a terrifying experience. Trees, uprooted by the hurricane, were falling all around them, and none of the party expected to get out alive. Progress was lamentably slow [editors note: relatable]. Coming on to Twin Peak, however, the absence of large trees removed a great deal of the danger, but Wood was seen to be failing and died soon afterwards from exposure and exhaustion […] The other three men succeeded in crossing to where the Waiopehu hut should have been, but it had disappeared.” What they weren’t to have known was that the storm had blown the hut 300 feet down into the valley below. It wasn’t until 1947 that a replacement could be built, this time in a hollow off the ridge. This survived till 2002 when it was replaced by the present hut built by the Department of Conservation.
One of the party members, Marlies, was up in front of me by this point and was setting a cracking pace. I wheezed as I struggled to keep up. There was great motivation to get moving, the weather was indeed packing in, with the first real drops of rain for the whole day beginning to fall as Marlies and I stepped onto the hut porch.
Taking off our exceptionally muddy boots we hauled our packs into the sanctuary of the hut. Inside we found a rather excentric character — a Canadian named Tyler who it turned out had been living in the hut for coming on two weeks. He was nice enough. We warned him that his solitude was about to vanish into the Aether. Slowly but surely the punters emerged from the clouds and made themselves at home in the hut. A billy was put on to boil and the last stragglers arrived just before 4pm. At the same time a heated game of Monopoly Deal was underway, ruining any trust we had built up as a group since the morning in the process. Meanwhile Jacqui just couldn’t help herself, proclaiming over and over various iterations of:
“Isn’t this mist just so COOL! Did you see that mossy forest? That was INCREDIBLE”
It was hard not to be enthused. Dinner was an extravagant affair, with one half of the troops assigned to team salmon pasta while the others made Thai green curry with cashews. Quantities were generous to match our appetites. Despite our hunger, we owe a debt of gratitude to Patrick who I think ate the lion’s share of both meals. During these festivities we were joined in the hut by another eccentric character. This one was slightly more alarming as he came armed with gin traps, a rifle and a few screws loose! Following dinner we all gathered around the table for what was a rather entertaining game of Mafia. This definitely did not help us sleep, especially the flying pasta.
The ‘medium’ part of ‘easy medium’ – Waiopehu Hut to Poads Road via Gable End Ridge
The reversal of daylight savings afforded us an extra hour of sleep, excellent planning on my behalf (definitely not a coincidence). After putting a billy on for the morning brew I stepped outside and was greeted by a different world. The rising cloud was revealing the jagged peaks of the range all around us.
It was just before 9am by the time the troops were all assembled and ready for battle. Tyler took a quick snap of us and then we set off up the hill towards Waiopehu.
Just above the hut we entered a short section of goblin forest. The trees dripped with moss. Jacqui lost her mind. As we climbed higher things just kept getting better and better. Leaving the forest behind the snaking Waiopehu Ridge was laid out before us, cotton ball clouds floating above the treetops.
We were soon sloshing through the mud on Waiopehu before beginning our descent to the saddle prior to Twin Peak.
The slope up to the peak was steep and slippery, a taster of things to come. As we climbed a fresh bank of cloud rolled in, quickly submerging the landscape in a sea of foaming mist. Near the top we passed the humble wooden cross marking the spot poor Ralph Wood expired from exhaustion that fateful day in 1936. A much less humble memorial trig stood on at the summit (on a good day it is visible from Levin). Here we waited in the clag for our tail to catch up.
This was not a quick endeavour, the toll of the previous day being felt by some of the punters. Despite this, there were no groans and sour squirms were happily accepted by all. From the trig we began dropping elevation once again to reach the track junction at Richards Knob. On the way a large amount of deer poo was observed by Michael, followed by a good startling of the culprit himself.
Once again we waited on Richards Knob, attempting to find some semi-dry spots to rest our backsides. From here the track turned into a bit more of a slush-fest as it dropped towards Gable End through sub-alpine scrub and short sections of enchanted forest.
Some of the mud holes on the track were deceptively deep, catching the odd punter by surprise, much to my amusement. Closer to Gable End the forest claustrophobically closed over the track. From Gable End the track dropped steeply so we decided it would be best to stop here for lunch and let everyone regroup. We found a nice hollow and soon our friends began to arrive to join us.
This time Micheal decided to join in on the tomato paste action, significantly decreasing the spoonfuls I had to endure. It was a good 40 minutes by the time Elizabeth who was tail-end charlie caught up to us.
By this time a good number of the party were getting cold and so we made the decision to press on, agreeing to reassemble at the bottom next to the Ōhau River. The descent was swift but pleasant. Birdsong filled the forest around us and, without impetus to go faster, we had the time to enjoy the small details of the forest.
The descent was made without major event except for startling a scruffy looking kererū and one little awkward rocky ledge. Following one last exceptionally steep drop we arrived in a heap at the junction with the Ōhau River route. With time on our side we dropped packs here and wandered up the track to check out the river.
We relaxed here for a while, enjoying the pleasant water and lack of sandflies. I then returned to the packs to ensure that no one got concerned at our whereabouts. Reclining on the leaf litter next to the junction I slumbered as punters arrived one by one. The water babies rejoined me eventually as the last of the pack arrived.
From the junction we headed downriver, soon crossing the bridge over Blackwater Stream to reach Blackwater Junction. A faded warning sign lay in the grass next to our chosen path, cautioning trampers to take the Six Discs Track rather than traversing above the Ōhau Gorge. I quietly ignored this, sure that the climb up the Six Disc might prove fatal for several of the party. Instead, we continued along above the gorge, soon reaching the warning’s subject. A slip cut across the track, with a worn footpad and a rope to aid in its traverse. I shepherded my flock across this, taking care to ensure no one had difficulties.
A second slip was crossed in the same fashion and soon we were making good progress towards Poads Road. By this point weary legs were beginning to give out, with the odd slip and slide here and there. Still, no complaints. It was a relatively easy walk out and we soon caught sight of the rolling pasture we had stomped through the day before.
Regrouping here, we made the final plod to the van together as a team. At the carpark muddy boots were flung off and the ritual we had undertaken on Saturday morning was carried out in reverse. Just like that the punters emptied out of the van at platform 10 and disappeared into the evening, another tramp under their belts.
So often I seek out the remotest routes, the hardest climbs and the most punishing tracks. Yet, this ‘easy medium’ tramp to Waiopehu was a reminder of the value of slowing down, for it reveals the intricate wonder of the forest. Not only that, but there is a certain joy in helping others to discover the bountiful offering of our wild places for mind, body and soul.
