The first challenge with tackling The Heaphy Track is working out the transport logistics. Whilst the track itself is 82km long, the start and finish are 463km apart by road, which makes the task of getting back to your vehicle almost as challenging as the track itself. An enterprising local will drive your car to the other end for $290 and then walk back along the track himself. This means he has now walked the track over 200 times! But somehow that seemed to lessen the challenge of the walk itself – to have him breeze past me in the opposite direction on walk number 237 or whatever it is he is up to this week.
Catching a bus back seemed like a good idea until I discovered that it meant catching 4 buses and it would take over a day – assuming of course that all the connections were made. So surprisingly the simplest and least expensive reliable option was to fly back. For $175 Remote Adventures will pick you up in a Cessena from Karamea which is only a few kilometres from the end of the walk on the West Coast. They also have access to an airstrip on a farm just 4km from the start at the Tasman end.
So I decided to leave the car at the airstrip which I hoped to be more secure than the carpark at Browns Hut which is where the Heaphy starts from the Motuaka end. Not wanting to carry my pack any further than necessary I hid it in the bushes at the start of the track and then ran back after dropping the car at the airfield. So by the time I made the start of the track it was already 5pm. A late start from Motueka compounded by getting lost driving in meant that I would be walking in the dark. All huts and campsites need to be prebooked which means you know you are guaranteed a space but also dictates how far you go have to go each day.
The start of the walk involves a 17km gentle climb. The track is in such good condition that it would not look out of place to see a golf cart coming towards you. Perhaps because it was originally surveyed as a road the gradients are very gentle and whilst you climb nearly 1000 metres it is very gradual and not nearly as tough as that gain in height would normally be. It is also very satisfying knowing that you have reached the highest point of the track on the first day and that it is predominantly downhill from there on. After an uneventful few hours I stopped to put my head torch on. Knowing that I would be walking for several hours in the dark I was not impressed to find the batteries had run flat, the torch having turned itself on inside the pack.
So to save the last set of batteries I decided to walk as long as I could without a torch. It was a new moon so there was no additional light and I was just about to give up stumbling along in the dark when I rounded a corner. Right in front of me I saw something move at the side of the track. It was a Kiwi. And it was huge. I’ve since discovered it was a giant spotted Kiwi and also that I was incredibly lucky to see one in the wild. I froze and at first it did not notice me. Cursing that my camera was all packed away I watched as it snuffled and scurried toward me looking for dinner. Eventually it sensed my presence and dived off the side of the track into the bush. Undeterred I rummaged for a camera and headed down the bank in a slow speed pursuit, hoping for a photo. After a good twenty minutes of stalk, stop and listen – trying to quietly follow the sound of rustling I gave up and returned to the track, without photograph but excited at how lucky I had been.
The rest of the evening was a pleasant walk to the hut at Gouland Downs. With no moon at all the stars numbered in their thousands and were a truely amazing sight. The track underfoot turned to a white sandy like surface which seemed quite surreal given the altitude. Eventually at midnight I arrived at the hut which had lots of character. Sleeping only 8 people it dates back to the 1920’s and features a lovely stone open fire. Many of the newer huts are much bigger and rely on gas for heating which is a lot more efficient but provides about as much ambience as sunburnt English tourists drinking in a Parisian restaurant. The poorly planned late departure had led to a magical night of walking.
The next morning I cooked the previous night’s dinner before heading off around 9am. The track winds along some quite varied terrain; from moss covered forests straight from a movie to exposed sections of track that were absolutely sweltering in the midday heat. As the day wore on so did the level of discomfort. My feet hurt from the boots that I had not properly broken in. But on the occasions that they felt ok then my back ached from the weight of the pack. Or my legs hurt. I think everything hurts when you tramp but it becomes a competition between body parts for the most dominant pain. The challenge becomes to balance the pain as evenly as possible so that no one thing is too excruciating. Before I could feel too sorry for myself I ran into a family of three boys at Mackay Hut where I had stopped for lunch. The youngest was 6 years old and he wasn’t complaining at all. In fact he was off chasing his brothers around with boundless energy. So I told myself to harden up and take some inspiration that if a six year old could walk the Heaphy Track then it should be a walk in the park for me (if you excuse the pun).
The next three hours involved a gentle downhill with tantalising glimpses of the West Coast through the towering beech trees. Eventually I arrived at Lewis Hutt and thankfully swung my pack onto the floor. Whilst I was tramping on my own I very much enjoyed the randomness of the social interaction. I never knew whether I would be alone in a hut or squeezed in with a rowdy group. This could mean constantly being kept awake by the snoring and early morning bathroom visits almost guaranteed when a hut is well occupied. As I was one of the first to arrive at The Lewis I was witness to a sporadic stream of weary trampers crashing through the door as the afternoon wore into evening. The only consistency was the absolute look of relief that their sore feet and aching back were to be afforded a few hours respite. Each had their own story of aching muscles, broken gear, and distance travelled. Some had walked huge distances – all at least 24km but for everyone there was a huge sense of achievement of overcoming their own challenges to finally arrive. It was also nice that the holiday break had brought a few New Zealanders onto the track which is not always the case.
The Lewis Hutt sits almost at sea level in a picturesque setting alongside the Lewis River. Being the West Coast there are sand flies. Not a few annoying flies here or there – but black clouds so thick that they get in your mouth if you happen to leave it open. Which you learn not to do pretty quickly. For this reason I stayed inside until well after 10pm before venturing out. The flies had gone and the sound of the river became a soothing companion. The bush at night takes on another life and is well worth experiencing. For some reason most trampers hit the sleeping bag at nightfall which makes for some very early nights. After dark though and the nightlife is pretty special. It is hard to beat the sound of numerous Moreporks calling over the sound of a gentle river whilst you marvel at glorious night sky. There is every chance you’ll see a shooting star or three. A nice way to reflect and to end a weary day.
With a 5 – 7 hour walk the next morning to make the transport plane I needed an early start. Feeling pretty guilty as my alarm woke the bunkroom at 5.15am, I was relieved when two others decided to start their day early also. Not that three people eating breakfast and packing to leave early provided much of a sleep in for the others. Still, they were in bed early, so they hardly needed the sleep.
The first hut I reached that morning was the Heaphy and it was well alive with activity when I arrived around 7.30. Located at the mouth of the spectacular Heaphy River it was fully booked in both the hut and the campsite. I reapplied the bug spray as the swarms here seemed even more persistent than at the Lewis Hutt. They do tend to leave you alone when moving but as soon as you stop they are all over you like a street hawker in Bangkok. I learnt the hard way that bug spray is well worth taking to the toilet given the unsprayed bits that are suddenly exposed.
The remaining few hours walk were along the rugged but beautiful west coast. There’s plenty of variety with the track weaving between thick forest cover and along the sandy beaches. The wire bridges across rivers and streams make the track a lot safer in times of rain. For the first time on the trip my feet, legs and back all seemed ok and it was actually quite a pleasant walk out. There is a short sharp climb just before the finish but other than that it is pretty good terrain. I hitched a ride to the airstrip where I had time for a little snooze in the sun before the plane dropped out of the sky to pick me up. Just 15 minutes later I was unlocking my car at the start of the track. It almost seemed to belittle the achievement to return to the start so quickly but the flight back over the track certainly reinforced that it was a credible walk.
Having covered 82km in three days there is an enormous sense of achievement in reaching the end. The scenery is stunning and varied and the track and facilities are excellent. Many huts now even have flush toilets and DOC clearly puts a lot of effort into maintaining the track. It makes a big difference to sore feet when tree roots and sharp rocks are not constantly pushing through the soles of your boots. It is a hard walk but should be on the ‘to do’ list of every New Zealander. With a little training and a little discomfort the rewards are immense.
This trip was made possible with the support of The Interislander and made safer with an emergency locator beacon courtesy of www.brightideas.co.nz