Heaphy Final Day: 11 Feb 2018

Day 5 – a very wet day

It rained heavily overnight and continued to do so this morning. My fellow travellers – Kate and Ginny – Paul and Evan – Judy, Rowl, and Sue – are all catching the 1:30pm bus from Kohaihai, so are up before dawn packing, repacking, and suiting up in the waterproofs for the long trek out.

Shell of a New Zealand Giant Snail

A mostly flat day the track skirts the coastline, walking along beach edges and ducking back into forest to rise over the occasional bluff. With the overnight rain continuing persistently I was soon pretty soaked, my boots squelching as I trudged on. The first streams to be crossed were rushing by, but I was able to hop over them on stepping stones, or further down the bank. I thought I was doing rather well until I came to a rivulet in full flood – rocks to precarious or distant to risk jumping. The water was only up to about mid-calf, but this was plenty high enough to fill my boots, which no longer squelched but rather sloshed. Really I should be grateful; it is not so long ago that every waterway would have to be forded or swum, and looking at the Katipo River as I crossed it comfortably high on the swing bridge, I think in those days I would have been stuck at the hut.

Though not in my diary a memory that particularly sticks with me is the sound of the West Coast. The beaches here are deceptive - smooth sand that drops away sharply where it meets the waves, creating dangerous undercurrents. In places the beach gives way to loose rock, often where a stream opens out to meet the sea, and here a constant low thunder can be heard - the strength of the waves tumbling and grinding boulders beneath the surface. A reminder of the deadly force of the tides.

Coming to the end of the track requires one last effort; a steady climb over the Kohaihai Bluff, with the carpark in view from the top. I arrived before the bus, so got in a final round of goodbyes in the shelter.

Until we meet again, wanderers.

Heaphy Day 4: 10 Feb 2018

I roused myself for a proper early start today, mostly to prove I could. Up and breakfasted, on the track by 7:45am. The route now finally descends towards the Heaphy River, offering a last glimpse of its dauntingly distant mouth (todays destination) as I leave the hut.

First glimpse of the Heaphy River

This morning Kate and Ginny are ahead of me, and we cross paths a couple of times in the beech forest as each of us pauses for a breather. About 2 hours down the line I spot them ahead of me and assume they have stopped for a rest – powerhouses of speed that they are. However the scene I walk into is slightly different from expected. Kate has tripped and fallen, with a gash above her right eyebrow (she found the only rock on the path to headbutt) and a very sore hand. She insists she feels fine and, unable to fix much on the track, we relent and press on to Lewis Hut, blessedly only 20 minutes on. Here I get to employ much of my first aid kit – cleaning a deep triangular laceration (sterile saline that I included with a laugh), apllying betadine, and a wholly inadequate plaster to hold the skin flap in place. I also bandaged my hand as best I can – uncertain if it is sprained or possibly fractured. Again Kate insists she feels okay, Ginny forces her to take some ibuprofen and paracetamol, and on they go towards Heaphy Hut.

Keeping my bargain of swimming at every hut I scout out the depth of the river, while the others all arrive at Lewis with plans for an early lunch. Laurel and Sam both join me for a quick dip in the Lewis River, very deeply tanniny near its confluence with the Heaphy.

Immediately over the swing bridge the feeling of the forest changes. Nikau palms become more numerous and giant, ancient rata exert their presence over all. I was truly awed by these magnificent trees, estimated to be well over 400 years old, that in places arched right over the track.

The last hut is situated near the Heaphy River mouth, and the roar of the wild west-coast shore in constant. Most spectacular are the cliffs and bluffs glimpsed upriver. With the arrival of Sue, a trauma nurse from the Australian group, Kate found herself the centre of attention again as my slipshod first-aid is replaced with some more professional handiwork – already an impressive black eye is forming. Sue reiterates what I have already said – rest and elevate, and yes get it properly cleaned/stitched/xrayed as soon as possible. A makeshift clinic then forms as first Paul, then myself queue up for blister treatment, and then I braved a quick run, inhaling sandflies, to the river beach to tick of a swim at Heaphy Hut.

This evening I brought out my final secret – a litre bottle of Old Mout Scrumpy – safely transported over 60km in the bottom of my pack. This was brought along primarily as a “test weight” to trial carrying the added weight of my tent, a Christmas present in preparation for my travels next year. I presented the cider with a flourish, much to the disbelief of my fellow travellers, who gratefully shared in the bounty. I took the last out to Case and Sven, and then accompanied them down to the main beach to take in the sunset. Unfortunately my feeling of zen was ruined by the call of nature (I blame the cider) and I missed the end of the sunset. Back on the beach I lingered as the others headed in – I could feel my journey coming to an end already. This would be my last evening spent in such vast isolation, so far from the trappings of civilisation. This would be my last night among my new “track friends”, many of whom I would be unlikely to ever meet again. I sat on a driftwood log, on a desolate West Coast beach, and shed just a few tears as the long-expected rain finally began.

Heaphy Day 3: 9 Feb 2018

A leisurely start, up at 8:30, down for a swim and then breakfast. Last night a small group of us went for an optimistic kiwi search as the light faded. Jenny, a fellow tramper, is also a bird conservationist. She has been on kiwi call recording trips in the region previously, and was happy to guide us around. In the end only 2 kiwi were heard, and none seen, but we also heard morepork calling – of more interest to our international guests than us New Zealanders. As everyone else drifted back to the hut, I took the opportunity to stay out lying under the perfect starscape.

A brisk morning swim

The track now crosses the last arm of the Downs, before following the Saxon River into the rolling ridges that border them. Rising steadily up the sides of the ridges it then meandered through some tussock bogs before finally making its way back to beech forest and the James MacKay Hut. Here I actually crashed after setting up my pack and bed – which I’m going to blame on my late night previously (and definitely not at all due to my general lack of fitness).

Having made something of a habit of it now, I knew I had to get into the local swimming spot; really just a glorified dip in the stream. Not as deep as the other spots along the track, this one did have the benefit of moss covered rocks, and a few sandy “beaches”. I lay half submerged in the current and felt much enlivened by the experience.

I had spotted my German friend from Day 1, who I spoke to at Aorere shelter. He is camping rather than using the huts, and his stay last night was at Gouland. I went in search of him after dinner and he introduced me to another camper – Sven. We chatted for a while on the camping platform braving multiple sandfly bites and thieving weka, until Sven suggested a trip up Mount Otipo to catch the sunset. The summit track took us less than 20 minutes but is a tricky bit of walking given that the poorly-maintained route clambers through tree roots – the view however, was well worth it. Gazing out to the misty ocean we could see the line where the sea met sky. The golden beaches of the Heaphy River-mouth glowed in the sunlight, and the clouds that were starting to move in draped the hills, turning the sky pink and gold.

A spectacular finish to the day.