Heaphy Track

My daughter, Hayley, is touring New Zealand and several countries in the Far East, which is the perfect opportunity to join her for a couple of weeks on the South Island to hike two trails from 100 Hikes of a Lifetime, the first being the Heaphy Track, one of 10 Great Walks maintained by the Department of Conservation (“DOC”) to save the national parks from damage due to unrestricted tourism. The trail runs west from the rainforest mountains down to the beaches on the shore of the Tasman Sea.

Day 1: 11 miles to Perry Saddle Hut

Our hire car bounces along the rough road to the start of the track, where it will be picked up and driven 288 miles via a shuttle service to the finish. The difficult logistics make this one of the quieter Great Walks, which suits us. A light rain falls and a car sits on the side of the narrow road. Three young women with backpacks flag us down and ask for a jack to replace their flat tyre. I’ve no interest in cars beyond transporting me from A to B so remain in the vehicle looking suitably clueless while they change the tyre before giving us the thumbs up and we carry on to the trailhead. Would I have stopped for three men in the middle of nowhere?

Unloading our backpacks in the car park, a fearless weka approaches. Crouching down to take a picture, it moves toward me relentlessly, forcing me to back away to keep it in the frame. They are the bane of campers, sneaking Artful Dodger-like into open tents to steal food and other items.

We step into the dense rainforest. On our road trip from Christchurch up the East Coast, I was struck by the lush landscape, with trees carpeting the hills and mountains, rising to the summits. A profusion of different trees and shades of green rather than regimented rows of conifers. Perhaps parts of Scotland will someday return to this, thanks to rewilding efforts.

Moisture drips from the trees. Mist drifts across the hillside — silent apart from the buzz of cicadas and the unfamiliar calls of birds — so many birds. We are explorers in a tropical jungle.

Traps are spread along the trail. The DOC aims to eradicate invasive predators (stoats, ferrets, weasels, possums and rats) from the entire country by 2050 to restore their native species. Presumably, this is why we hear so many birds, including flightless species with vulnerable eggs such as kiwis, wekas and takahēs.

Robins are as friendly and curious as our red cousins, hopping around our feet in the hope that we will disturb the earth and rustle up a few tasty insects. We talk to them all — it’s only polite.

Kiwis refer to tramping rather than hiking. We are trampers now. Hayley leads and sets a challenging pace. I’m more of an endurance athlete. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

We listened to Howard Shore’s wonderful Lord of the Rings soundtrack again on the car journey north — misty mountains indeed.

A fantail flutters around our heads like a drunken helicopter pilot.

A short diversion leads to a viewing point at 3,002 feet, the highest point on the track. The DOC does not seem to believe in cutting back trees to provide a view.

Arriving at the hut, a makeshift sign points to the Mountain Spa. There are no showers in the huts. We dump our packs and grab our towels, or rather my shared towel and follow the sign. It’s much harder than the trail — a muddy, steep descent over tree roots and rocks. A quick plunge into the freezing pool at the bottom of the gully is our wash for the day.

The hut is busy, with all 28 bunks taken by an international mix of weary hikers. We settle down at a table next to three older Kiwi women, two of whom are farmers. They are great company with dry humour and colourful tales, like a female version of Last of the Summer Wine.

Gathering our drying gear before climbing into our welcome bunks, Hayley’s waterproof jacket has vanished from the peg and we search the hut. A somewhat confused older woman is convinced it is hers until her companions gently point out that hers is black and Hayley’s is purple. A happy ending and apologies all round.

Day 2: 15 miles to Mackay Hut

I sleep through most things, but a buzzsaw snorer wakes me at 2 am. I lie awake trying to block out the noise. I’m not alone.

THWACK!

Someone has thrown an object across the room in the dark with practised precision. That shuts him up for a while.

There’s excited chatter over breakfast. One of the campers went down to the stream before sunrise and almost stepped on a kiwi. It’s rare to see them in the wild. Photos on his phone are passed round the room.

Today will be an easier day, mainly downhill, and we have an early opportunity to trade up our boots.

The “enchanted forest” is muffled with moss.

A small cairn marks a path down to a limestone cave. My headtorch is broken, so I leave Hayley to explore the nooks and crannies.

The mist sinks lower, obscuring the hills surrounding the boggy valley floor.

The landscape opens up, with tiny islands of stone. The largest offers the opportunity to sit and eat, but vicious, biting sandflies, antipodean relatives of the Scottish midge, have other plans. We make a hasty retreat.

The sub-alpine tussock grasslands lead to our second hut.

The Kiwi ladies entertain us again. They’d speculated on whether Hayley and I were father and daughter or if I was on my second wife. Thankfully, they plumped for the former. The whisky appears in plastic bottles and tales from the farm continue. A ram stud services eight ewes an hour. Those not up to scratch are culled. It brings tears to my eyes. We retire early to our bunks to catch up on well-earned sleep.

Day 3: 13 miles to Heaphy Hut

This is a day of river crossings down to the sea. The first river is wide and seductive, cool water rippling on a sweltering day — then again.

There are two long swing bridges, swaying as we cross, the water far below.

The closer we get to the beach, the more tropical our surroundings become, with the fused roots of giant rata trees towering overhead.

The Heaphy River flows into the sea below the hut — paradise.

Risking the eels, the water is lovely. I’m not much of a swimmer, and there are warnings of dangerous rip tides so don’t venture far.

Back in my coastal element, I can’t resist walking barefoot in the sand down to the sea.

Benches in front of the hut look across the grassy bank down to the river. Enjoying a cup of tea, a thieving weka bolts from the trees to the left and scuttles across the grass as fast as its little legs will go, clutching a bag of food in its mouth, followed a few seconds later by an irate camper. It’s like a scene from The Benny Hill Show and everyone falls about laughing.

Day 4: 10 miles

Our final day and the sun arrives with perfect timing to guide us along the sandy shore.

The nikau is a palm tree endemic to New Zealand.

We follow Gandalf’s footsteps.

The beaches are magnificent, pristine and empty of human life.

The track is a little busier as we approach the car park marking the end of our first multi-day hike together.

Our car sits waiting and we jump in for an air-conditioned scenic drive along the coast to a motel at Cape Foulwind – named for the treacherous rocks, not any unpleasant smells. After replenishing our calories with steak and beer, or pasta and cider, we enjoy an evening stroll down the cliffs to a small cove.

The rock formations are great for scrambling — home from home.

Standing on the top, Hayley explores the beach below before the incoming tide cuts her off.

A beautiful end to a magical hike. It was everything I hoped it would be and special to share it.

Date of walk: Tuesday 11 to Friday 14 February 2025.

Walk distance: 49 miles.