Leader: Pat Holland

The re-elected mayor of Buller, Garry Howard, is lamenting the loss of some 600 jobs on the West Coast, due to a slump in the coal industry. Understandably, this is a dilemma that needs addressing. But his silver bullet is to build a road-link from Tapawera to Karamea, halving the travel time up to Nelson. He reckons it will provide employment for hundreds, and attract thousands of paying tourists to the region north of Westport. Easy peasy.

Except there’s a little problem. The proposed 59km road will slice Kahurangi National Park in two, totally destroying the Wangapeka Track. (Not to mention security sites for blue duck and the endangered rock wren colony.)

So, during Queens Birthday Weekend, our club has decided to give the mayor a helping hand. We will walk over his proposed highway to test the feasibility of such an ambitious political agenda. Our mandate is to answer the question: ‘is the Wangapeka worth saving?’

Here we stand, at Rolling River, assembled in our polyprop, beanies and mittens; donning leather boots and gaiters and backpacks that have seen better days. Our average age is 64. I’m the youngest, and perhaps the most stupid, hauling a hefty 25kg pack which includes home-made street signs and a hammer. My crazy idea is to install a few road signs along the route – perhaps this ‘boring wasteland’ can be enhanced with some brightly-coloured, geometrically-shaped pictograms?

Off we go, crossing the first of many swing bridges, and striding out along the first of many frozen river flats. Craning our necks at the stupendous, triple-spired summit of Mt Patriarch, crowned in white, dominating the valley ahead.

An hour’s jaunt up the benched track, then it becomes a rough route, scrambling over debris from the 2012 landslide. The skeletons of drowned trees punctuate a one-kilometre-long lake, as yet un-named. Beyond this natural dam, we regain the old gold diggers’ trail, skirting above small gorges where the Wangapeka River squeezes through the granite, emptying into pools of deep green. In one of these we discover a trio of whio. Grabbing my telephoto lens and DSLR, I stealthily creep into position. Click! Click! I get all my ducks in a row.

The whio population in these parts totals about 60 birds – the Wangapeka/Fyffe is one of eight strategic sites developed nationwide to protect this threatened species.

The sunless winter has arrived at Kings Creek; both huts are giant freezers, locked into a world of white permafrost. We crunch through ice-encrusted puddles along the easy but greasy track.

The beanies stay on our heads, as we push on toward Stone Hut at the valley head. Darkness falls quickly as we gather around the bush telly, absorbing its warmth and inhaling woodsmoke.

At some ungodly hour our intrepid leader rouses us, urging our aching bodies into action. Hours before sunrise, we stumble around in the frigid cold to eat breakfast. By torchlight we walk, silent, in single file, wrapped up like Egyptian mummies.

Soon we are climbing to the pass, somewhere ahead in the pre-dawn murk. The ascent is mercifully gentle, and we barely sweat in this single-digit climate. At Wangapeka Saddle there is no decent view, so we pose for a group photograph in the dim half-light.

Now below the pass, the track spits us out onto the Karamea River headwaters, frozen in time like a scene from Narnia. The chill air is sucked into our lungs. When we exhale, our warm breath is vaporised and visible – we look like a gang of chain-smokers.

Recent weather events have wrought havoc in this corner of Kahurangi. We opt for the high-sidle track, to keep our feet from frostbite. But this route is torturous and time-consuming. When we traverse the high-wire bridge over to Helicopter Flat Hut, lunch is long overdue. I boil the billy.

The weak, winter sunlight gives feeble heat, then leaves us chilled to the bone when it disappears behind the mountains. We scramble for our gloves and hats, somberly discussing the mission ahead. Only half-way to our destination, it is inevitable that we’ll run out of daylight. Our group is then divided into an advance party of faster folks, and a party of plodders.

Hours pass, as we traverse the valley wall on a good, benched path to a junction. Here, remnants of Jonathan Brough’s tabernacle lay testament to his track-building efforts in the late 1890s. Rusted shovels and picks have been left here, trackside, as a reminder of the back-breaking slog that is still required to build and maintain this track, now more than 150 years old.

It’s nearly night time when I lead my two septuagenarian colleagues over a swing bridge and up the Taipo River. This section of trail is almost benign, cutting a path through forest over ancient river flats. Except it is cold, wet and dark. I search intently for the orange markers, and then glance behind for the jiggling headlamps of those following. Our pace has slowed to a crawl.

When we walk into the huge 16-bunk cabin, we have been on our bruised feet for 11 hours. It is a welcome relief to reunite with our cross-over party who are walking the Wangapeka in the reverse direction. Graeme has the woodstove cranked up, and Sue gives us warm tea to drink. After swapping stories and car keys, we collapse into our bunks.

On the third day we depart Taipo Hut at 7am. By torchlight we reach a bridge, a bottleneck where we regather. A second alpine pass is today’s objective. The initial climb is soon dispensed with, and we arrive at the two-berth bivouac in good spirits. Here at Stag Flat, the tussock clearing is a giant white blanket. Each plant is freeze-blasted in ice; each puddle is frosted like plate glass.

Atop Little Wanganui Saddle, we snap obligatory photos, before the biting breeze sends my party scampering down to warmer climes. I decide to wait for the sun to crest the range. I can see the distant Tasman Sea, framed by the valley walls ahead; the twin Saddle Lakes providing some foreground interest. The highest point on the Wangapeka Track is also the best vantage point. I erect my DIY street sign in a prominent position, and then snap a few photographs. I really do think some well-placed road signs enhance the landscape; the red and yellow primary colours contrast well with the cool blue and green hues of nature.

Our party rendezvous in the open sunshine at Little Wanganui Gorge Shelter. This is a relatively new two-bunk portacom just off the track. Another swing bridge sends us into the dark shadows of the north bank. The old pack track spits us out riverside, before returning us to the eternal dampness of our muddy footpath. DOC have downgraded this western section of the Wangapeka into a ‘marked route’ because of recent weather events which have dramatically damaged the valley. A trifecta of landslides, treefall and erosion have created a ‘perfect storm’ of obstacles that we cautiously negotiate.

The hours tick by. Above Tangent Creek we totter, admiring a mossy green waterfall from the footbridge above. At McHarrie Creek there is no such amenity. We are forced to descend a frightening rock face with dubious handholds. From here on, innumerable blockages impede our forward progress, as we struggle on in the impending darkness. Over trees. Under trees. Around trees.

The night envelopes us like a shroud. We are walking through our own nightmare, prodding the bogs ahead with trekking poles, searching for markers with fading headlamps.

Afther another 11-hour epic, we reach the safety of Belltown Manunui Hut, dead on our feet.

On our final day, a deserved sleep-in sees us hit the track after 9am. Our legs are aching, our feet our swollen, but our spirits are high, now the worst is over. The Little Wanganui tumbles toward the Tasman, sandwiched between the river banks. The track has now lost its notoriety; being level and easy underfoot, it’s almost delightful.

In three leisurely hours we arrive at our vehicles, about 16km south of Karamea. Within an hour we are huddled around steaming lattes inside the sunlit porch of the Denniston Dog in Westport. Mission accomplished.

In retrospect, we believe this proposed road will never eventuate. It appears to be a knee-jerk solution to a problem that can be solved with more ingenuity, and more long-term consideration for the environmental impact and historical preservation. The Wangapeka road-link will go the way of the Heaphy and the Hollyford roads, which never got off the ground.

The rugged terrain is so torturous – in places – that building, let alone maintaining, a two-lane highway is fraught with difficulties. Heck, even DOC are finding it too hard to maintain a narrow footpath!

Therefore, I find it somewhat ironic that the mayor’s pre-election promise of a $500-million-dollar road is popular with his constituents.

So, to repeat my original question: is the Wangapeka really worth preserving? I believe it is. While some of the track is clearly in urgent need of some TLC, the eight huts are in good order and the birdlife is thriving.

Extra funding in this neck of the woods could upgrade the Wangapeka to its former glory days as a loop option with the Heaphy Track. This would help solve the transport issue in getting Great Walkers back up to Nelson, and give opportunity for Coasters to provide a shuttle service and accommodation around Karamea Regular maintenance of the track and hut network will also supply ongoing jobs for the Coasters who desperately need it.

Long live the Wangapeka!

West-bound Wangapeka Trekkers were: Pat Holland (Tail-end Charlie), Ray Salisbury (Scribe), & Marie Lenting, David Rae, Barry James, Annette le Cren & Kath Ballantine. Jane Minto and Paul Shipley came courtesy of the Marlborough Tramping Club.

See the September Newsletter for a full report from the East-bound Trekkers led by Mike Drake.