Heaphy Track (2015)
From dense forest across vast heather land to the spectacular Tasman Sea
New Zealand’s nine most beautiful hikes are known as Great Walks. Located in Kahurangi National Park, the Heaphy Track offers a variety of landscapes. In 83 kilometers and three or four days you will pass through green forests, wide moors and finally to the coast with its palm trees. The path is not difficult or arduous, but well worth the effort.
Day 1: Brownhut - Saxonhut, 30 km
The Heaphy track is said to be a four to five day hikes. I don't really understand why, because I do it in 2.5. Long days, yes, but it’s doable. Because of the distance, I get up early in the Brown Hut at the start of the trail. The clouds have just lost their pink color as I leave the cozy cabin with its log fire and take my first steps on the path along the Brown River. Not much further is a solid bridge and I cross the river. The trail wide gravel path and for a change I don't have to worry about a sprained ankle if I want to look around. For the time being there is not much to see yet, because the path winds along the mountain through the forest. It rises, but so gradually that I barely notice and never get out of breath. The forest is constantly changing in character, sometimes dark with tree ferns, then a light, open forest of trunks and greenery. For the first time I come across benches, strategically placed in places where an opening in the trees provides a valley view. I pass the first two, it’s still too early. When I feel like a break, there is of course no bench to be seen. Fortunately, a large, flat rock also serves as a place to take a break. The valley is a sea of green peaks. No naked rock here, the mountains are not so high that trees have given up on growing. Far in the distance I see a few cultivated fields, but that is the only sign of civilization. That's the way I like it. Strengthened by a few handfuls of raisins, I pick up the trail again. Only after a while do I notice there are not no ermine or possum traps, the first time on a Great Walk. The abundance of birds shows that in the past a lot has been done with regards to pest control. Fantails come to take a curious peek, tui's sing to each other and there is a tiny, bullet-round gray bird flying up at my feet. That must be the gray warbler or the rifleman. Deep down I hear the rumble of a river, the Aorere. The path follows its course from a great height through the valley. It is only when I turn the curve of a mountain that I suddenly notice how quiet it is without the sound of water. Then I hear the sound of a engine, something I certainly did not expect here. It turns out to be a ranger on a tool-laden quad, who laboriously works his way up to the place where the track is being worked on. After about an hour and a half there is an turn to Shakespeare Flats, but I continue to the Aorere shelter. Even for someone who loves the forest as much as I do, the limit of what I can absorb has now pretty much been reached. I still enjoy it, but I am looking forward to what else New Zealand has to offer. Yet I do stop for a moment when I discover a climbing plant which blooms beautifully red. A bellbird, a green bird with a yellow stripe on its wings which can sing so beautifully, visits the flowers one by one and drinks the nectar with its curved beak. Just before the Perry Saddle Hut there’s a side trail to Flanagan's Corner, a viewpoint across the Aorere Valley and the highest point on the track at 915 meters. That you still have to climb quite a bit for it, is only a minor setback. I work my way up across tree roots and rocks, until I reach a picnic bench. It's a brilliant place to have lunch, but still on the early side. Moreover, I am distracted by the beautiful rainbow across the valley. It cannot be caused by the modest waterfall I see among the greenery. Apparently there is water in the air. There’s a hut on my right. Not even that far away, I am pleased to see. At the open viewpoint the wind cools me down quickly and after a few pictures I head back to the shelter of the trees. Back on the trail I quickly hike towards the hut. For encouragement there is a way marking 1 km from the hut. The fact that it comes with a sign with a snail on it could be misunderstood if you don't know that the carnivorous snail Powelliphanta is found here. Apparently that’s some kind of mascot. At half past twelve I am at the hut. It went pretty fast and I do deserve a break now. From my backpack I dig up a few muesli bars and from the terrace, out of the wind, I enjoy my snacks. Apparently mountain biking is also allowed here, but so far I have not encountered any cyclists. While I am puzzling on a sudoku it starts to drizzle. To be on the safe side, I pack my backpack in its rain cover, but it's not serious enough to bundle up myself as well. After half an hour I think it’s time to continue. According to the guidebook, the landscape changes dramatically from this point. That is a bit of an exaggeration. The first kilometers I just hike through forest again, although the quality of the path just past the hut is a lot less. Plenty of stones, so I have to watch how I put my feet down. Spoiled as I am after the first kilometers, this disappoints me a bit. Fortunately, the path is indeed being worked on. Soon I come across machinery, the now empty quad bike, an excavator and a flat cart on crawlers. A thick layer of gray earth is now on the path and that is already a lot easier. Around a bend there is someone with a walkie-talkie and a little further someone holding a few wires in the classic pose of someone about to blow something up. The wires protrude from a rock, which has to make way for a channel that will drain water along the trail. When I am a few hundred meters further, I hear the enormous thunder of the explosion. The sound echoes along the green walls of the valley. Maybe they blew up more than that one rock alone, because the blast sounds much bigger than that one little rock. In a short time I cross three creeks, the Sheep, Quintina and Fawn Creek. At the first I am unsure for a moment, because the water is high and flows quickly. Then I use the stepping stones in the ford to get to the other side and in the end the water doesn't get higher than my soles. Only on the other side do I see that there is a bridge slightly lower for when the water is really high. At the Fawn Creek I don't act stubborn and immediately walk across the boardwalk to the other side. Suddenly the forest gives way to the Downs, an area where all nutrients have disappeared from the soil and trees have no business growing. Only grass grows here, long and brown. A whole valley full, sloping as if I were in England. Here the Maori hunted the Moa, a land bird even bigger than an ostrich, as early as the 16th century. The Haast eagle must have also roamed these parts, which in turn was the eagle with the greatest wingspan and for whom the Moa was the main prey. I follow the path down, past a pole on which hikers have hung their old shoes. Most are worn out, almost decomposing, but a sports shoe still looks surprisingly good. Unfortunately it is only one and not in my size. I can well imagine someone hanging up a boot with a high heel. If you want to walk the Heaphy on that, you will tire of it quickly. Soon after I start to hear water. I thought I was already down, but in a deep, steep valley much lower flows a river that I can only hear. The walls of the valley are covered with trees and only in the round shape of their growth can I see how the river meanders. A little later I descend a little further to a bridge, where I cross the Cave Brook. The water is strangely brown, very different from the crystal clear water that I am used to from New Zealand so far. A kilometer further I reach the Gouland Downs hut. When I see the beautiful surroundings, I regret having changed my plans in order to continue to the next cabin, six kilometers away. But it is a small cabin, without gas and it looks like I would have slept here alone. I don't need that much privacy. After a few gulps of clear rainwater, I close the door behind me and return to the trail. Almost immediately the path plunges into a forest and this one makes me incomprehensibly happy. This is the kind of forest where fairytales are born. The green light, the moss, the ferns. It's a treat. A tree turns out to be on an overhanging rock, which towers over a stream. Here I suspect the soft blue light of glow worms at night. The brown path leads me through the forest, until I face open grassland again on the other side. Strengthened and with a springy step I trek into the open range. I arrive at Shiner Brook, where hikers are urged to use the bridge at high tide. I'm take a peek at the ford, but crossing the water doesn't seem feasible. While a New Zealander may not take a stream seriously until the water reaches his knees, wet feet are more charming in stories than in reality. I choose cowardly… er, sensibly, for the bridge. But when I get to the foot of the bridge, I start to wonder if that choice was the wise one. This is a suspension bridge. A real suspension bridge. Not the standard model with wooden planks, which bounces nicely with your footsteps. This one looks like an improvised model that temporarily guides hikers across, while the Department of Conservation is saving for a real one. Four steel cables, covered with sturdy mesh and an iron bar every 60 cm form the surface. As a handrail there are again steel cables, covered with nets so that you don’t fall. The whole thing wobbles and sways and this time when it says the maximum load is one person I immediately believe them. I do wonder: how on earth do you get a mountain bike across this? I venture the crossing and am happy to be back on solid ground on the other side. A little further on, at the brook inappropriately named Big River, there is another such contraption. This time I'm cross it quickly, swaying in the wind. The Saxon hut is not very far anymore, but it is so beautiful here that start to hike ever slower. A drizzle sweeps across the Downs and because the sun is shining, a beautiful rainbow is created again. You don't just pass something like that, do you? Numerous nameless streams flow across the trail and I happily splash through them without getting wet. Slowly I climb out of the valley and the trees are beginning to grow bolder in their ambition towards heaven. Along the path is an old, gnarled trunk that brings me to an acute halt. So beautiful. The shapes, the lines. Why would you still go to the Rijksmuseum when nature produces such works of art? Then the cabin appears, with a beautiful view of the Downs and the cloudy mountains beyond. I don't have to regret not staying at the Goulands Down Hut. This is actually even more beautiful. And I share it with a German hiker, so company is also provided.
Day 2: Saxon Hut - Heaphy Hut, 36 km
While the sun turns a single cloud pink in the east, gray clouds float across the mountain tops in the west. And I’m hiking towards them, leaving the blue sky behind me. It makes little difference, because the forest surrounds me again and through the branches I only see a gray nothing. A single tree stands out ominously black against the blank canvas of the fog. Shortly after the hut I cross the Saxon River and enter a nice, flat area too humid for trees, the Saxon Flats. The sun makes frantic attempts to break through and lights the red grass up to a deep brown. In a wall full of moss I discover sundew, the carnivorous plant which can do so much good in rivers by eating sand flies. There are numerous streams which find their way along the path. I cross the Blue Duck Creek, Blue Shirt Creek and Monument Creek with fortunately ‘normal’ wooden bridges. A number of hikers meet me on the board walks, on their way to Saxon hut or further. It's three hours to the MacKay hut and I get there a little earlier than expected. From the porch I can see the Tasman Sea far in the distance. After quite a few handfuls of raisins, I am sufficiently rested to continue hiking. The trail plunges into a thick, damp forest, where nameless streams find their way down. After so many Great Walks I have had my share of forest, but there is still plenty to enjoy. A conifer with drooping branches like a weeping willow, the birds. There are so many colors of moss. The deep red spagnum moss grows the lowest, dark and light green moss a little higher. Very nice. Through the trees I begin to catch glimpses of the Heaphy River, a brown ribbon in a white river bed. There are also signs warning of poison spread from helicopters, the ‘1080’, infamous in New Zealand. The poison, which is spread from a helicopter in small capsules, is very effective. First it kills the rats that eat the bait. Then, when possums come to the dead rats, they die too. This allows birds to rear their young and maintain their species. However, the poison is quite controversial, as it is also distributed in residential areas. People are afraid for the water quality, livestock and pets have already died from it. Although the DOC claims the poison is biodegradable and you could drink 60,000 liters before receiving a lethal dose, conservationists are skeptical. The studies proving 1080's innocence were funded by the government, they claim, which has an interest in positive outcomes. One anonymous activist has threatened to add 1080 to baby food if the government doesn't stop using it before April 1, causing a lot of unrest in New Zealand. Although the trail has been checked, hikers are warned that there may still be capsules. I don't see any and since the last drop was in November 2014 I'm not worried.
I am expecting to descend, but the path clings to the mountain wall, following the contours of the valley. Almost as far as the Lewis Hut the trail remains in the woods, but then unexpectedly I find myself at the hut, which is practically on the Lewis River’s bank just before it joins the Heaphy. While I munch on my muesli bars, two wekas scurry around, expectantly waiting for a crumb. However, it seems wise not to feed them and they have to make do with envy. I can't sit still for long and fifteen minutes later I'm on the trail again. I cross the Lewis River and a little later the Heaphy. As the guidebook predicted, the forest on this side of the water is completely different from what I've seen before. It starts with the palm trees, real ones this time. They have a soft, almost rubbery bark and huge leaves. In addition, a side trail leads to a tree like an apartment building. When I walk around it, I count 25 imprecise steps. Thick vines hang down. A second giant is a world in itself. Numerous other plants use it’s strong shoulders to grow, until it is hard to tell where the tree ends and the rest begins. Another weka rummages between the dead leaves. First one, later I meet a mother with two young. Or are they two parents with one young? Then I come to the Gunner River, across which another steel cable suspension bridge is stretched. This is no exception, I understand from two New Zealand hikers. Outside the Great Walks, all suspension bridges are of this model, so I am getting authentic New Zealand experience. The trail now follows the Heaphy River, of which I occasionally catch a glimpse through the trees. Palm trees line the path, with an occasional giant in between. The palms clearly show signs autumn is coming. The forest takes on a sadness from all those shed palm leaves, with a rubbery piece of bark on it. As if soldiers are waiting to be buried after a battle. Every now and then rocks start to appear next to the path, weathered in a special way, as if they have been under water. I didn't expect a nasty climb anymore, at the end of the day. According to the guidebook the trail is easy and flat, but my legs think different. When I splash through a stream which flows across the trail from a waterfall, I see a fish fleeing from a shallow pool to the deep pool below the waterfall. A fish, here? How can it survive in this tiny pool? Or am I to believe it swam up from the river to spawn here? It remains a mystery. When I cross the last river, I see real cliffs in the distance. Overgrown, of course, as everything is green here. And then I come to the hut, where the river flows into the Tasman Sea. It is an idyllic spot. A lawn leads to the beach where I bury my toes in the soft sand. A kind of cormorant, with a very white belly and neck, flies over. On the other side of the river there’s a forest on a high rock wall. The water has cut into it, so the rocks have fascinating holes and cracks. The rough surf of the Tasman Sea hits the sand. The wide beach is covered with washed-up wood, slowly fading in the sun. When I look back towards the hills, it looks like bad weather is coming. The distant hills are vague, as if it’s already raining there. I quickly return to the hut and spot enormous vertebrae under the porch, no doubt whale, found among the debris. They are the size of a ship's propellers and give a small impression of how big the animal itself must be. The hut faces west and as I munch on my tuna pasta, I see the sun sinking into the cloud layer just above the horizon.
Day 3: Heaphy hut - Kohaihai, 17 km
I am so used to being lucky and yet it amazes me every time. Tonight I was supposed to spend the night in Karamea and have two days of forced rest there, because I couldn't figure out how to get from there to the start of the Abel Tasman Coast Track. It turns out to be possible to get there from Nelson and in the Heaphy hut I meet two New Zealanders, Chris and his father, who will drive from Kohaihai to Picton, via Nelson. I ask for and get a lift and that is why I set off with them around 8 a.m. I descend the lawn and dive back into the forest just before the beach. The path follows the coastline, but does not literally cross the beach. When I see the misty hills, I feel the urge to walk freely on the beach and photograph those blue mountains. I keep walking for a while, but don't see a path to the beach. In a place where the green hedge is only a few plants thin, I push the stiff leaves of flax aside with my trekking poles and squeeze my way to the beach. As the sand makes hiking quite hard, I then return to the path, which undulates along the hills. The beaches here have names like Twenty minute beach and Nettle beach. Sometimes there´s sand, but there are also stretches from the edge of the forest to the surf dotted with large, bullet-shaped rocks. Every now and then there is a large, brown rock a little further out to sea, on which the surf breaks spectacularly. Looking at the waves, I notice they are not parallel to the coast, as I am used to from the North Sea. As we progress, the waves roll in at an increasingly oblique angle, until they are almost perpendicular to the land. Every now and then we cross a stream which flows from the mountains to the sea. Strangely enough, this water is as clear as I am used to from New Zealand streams. Fortunately, this time there are sturdy, wooden suspension bridges. Occasionally we are warned that during high tide or extreme weather hikers are at risk on the trail. However, the water is already receding and I have not yet experienced extreme weather, except at Tongariro. New Zealanders call this their best summer in ages and I'm happy to take advantage of it. And then we come across a small monument. No more than a few stacked rocks with some little mementos. A glass flower, some change, a flyer and a carabiner. A small plaque mentions three youths believed to have drowned. Would they be hikers? Or people who were unwise enough to go swimming here? It does make you think. Gradually I start to think about taking as leak. That's against the New Zealand hiker´s code of honor and I haven't done it before in the past few weeks. Given the amount of public toilets dotting the land, it shouldn't be necessary either, but I can't remember a shelter between the hut and the terminus at Kohaihai. I still haven´t decided when I reach Katipo Creek Shelter, which I had overlooked, and make grateful use of the latrine. This is a refined porta-potty, with the difference that the DOC latrines are always clean and well stocked with toilet paper. When I take off my backpack to grab a muesli bar, a weka immediately comes to see if there is anything to spare. Unfortunately I don't feed birds, so as not to disturb their natural diet, and the little one looks at me disappointed when I hike on. Then the trail leads me to the beach, where I meet Chris and his father again. We reach a point where the path is being worked on. First there’s a sign a horn signal will sound 1 minute before the explosion. In addition, the path is cordoned off with a yellow ribbon that reads ‘danger’ in black letters. We don't see anyone working right now. The beach at this point is rocky and not very attractive. We decide to take the risk and step under the ribbon. Moments later it appears that the explosions have already happened. There are impressive amounts of rock on the path, reduced to manageable pieces. We climb over it, to a point where the beach consists of sand again. With even more stone avalanches ahead, we opt for the safety of the beach after all. It is quite hard, but fortunately it does not take long before we can enter the forest again. We are also led across the beach at another point. That saves us the considerable climb that which has to be taken at high tide. We make steady progress and then the path turns inland, until we don't even hear the sea anymore. It also climbs quite a bit and that slows me down a bit. Once at Scotts Beach there is a viewpoint where we look out across the sea and the hills in the distance. I can't believe we were down there only fifteen minutes ago. And also a pity that the end is now almost here. It is only half an hour to Kohaihai. The path descends and through an opening in the trees we see the parking lot, where a car is waiting next to a river. A little later we cross the Kohaihai ourselves, a wide river confidently heading for the salty sea. A path along a rock wall takes us a few meters further. There, at the camping spot and shelter is the parking lot, the end of this trail. The sand flies are numerous and so we do not stay for long. We get into the gray rental car and leave the beauty of Kahurangi national park behind. On to the next adventure!
View my pictures of this hike here.
