A great walk with a bitter sweet ending

Lake Waikaremona - Untouched and rugged beauty that NZ does so well. 

Lake Waikaremona in the Te Urewera National Park is one of those special places remote and unharmed by humans. The dense bush and clear water make it easy to imagine what the world was like before mankind occupied it bringing with us all our clutter and junk. It’s one of the most beautiful areas of New Zealand that I’ve seen, yet I only heard about it around a month ago when my boyfriend suggested we do a 46km four day hike.

The drive in slowly eased us into the isolated location. We drove on windy gravel roads for an hour and a half passing tiny backwaters where the general store was boarded up and the gas pumps had long gone dry. Cars were burnt out and left rusting on front lawns, and horses, pigs and cows which appeared to be wild wandered the roads, a weary obstacle when already risking turning a narrow blind corner.

We passed the odd camper van or speeding local, but mainly we were on our own. The first day from Onepoto to Panekire hut, was six hours up hill. I am lucky that in our party of seven, including one eight year old, there were four chivalrous men who offered to carry my backpack as I suffered from asthma and lack of general fitness. Thanks so much Guys!

Our group, some of us strangers, all of us friends by the end

After much grumblings and a near breakdown on my behalf at the relentless steep gradient, we got to a rock half way up that jutted over the lake.  There was a sheer drop of around 600 metres down to the water, and we gingerly dangled our legs over the edge, our hearts a flutter at the risk, but all in the name of an ace facebook profile picture... It felt like we were sitting on the edge of the world.

Sitting on the edge of the universe

It gave me energy to carry my pack. We arrived at the hut around the time that most trampers were unwinding and getting ready for bed, and like a true pack of Aucklanders, we pulled out our glamping gear, an ipod and speakers, TWO LITRES of cask wine and proceeded to drink and whisper until around 11 (when you’re tramping without the luxuries of electricity, anytime after dark feels very, very late).

Day two was a leisurely stroll compared to day one, only travelling 7.6 km downhill and getting to Waiopaoa hut early afternoon. We jumped straight in the lake metres away. It was almost like a recovery day, lazing in the sun, relaxing.  

Washing the sweat off

Day three was our longest day tramping 18.3km, mostly on the flat to hut Waiharuru, we broke it up with a swim and a decent break at Marauiti hut but it was a good call not to say there as it was very basic and the visitors book gave renditions of unwanted visits from mice.

The predicted rain that the farmers desperately needed began and the last two and a half hours were slightly wet. Even though the forest was an excellent umbrella, the hut with the fire going was a wonderful sight. Two ladies from Tauranga had lit it and even though they were baking in the heat, they kept it going for our predicted arrival.

Someone had written in the visitor’s book, “reason for hike: self discovery, hiking has made me a better person,” and even though we sniggered at it, I agree.

This theory was somewhat squashed as we entered back into civilisation. We got up early to hike the last leg to meet our water taxi and arrived on time at midday. I was even annoyed as I only had a couple of minutes to dip into the water before getting into semi-acceptable clothes to head back into public.

We waited, and waited, and waited, everyone checking their phones and discovering that none of us had reception. The beautiful beach slowly became our prison and at 2pm we were worried. Gavin turned his phone on, and discovered that reception would come in and out of range and called Home Bay Water Taxis. He briefly spoke to a woman before reception cut out but got across that we had made a booking for 12pm but a taxi hadn’t arrived. The dozens of times we tried to call afterwards, the phone was engaged.

It took getting stroppy with the Department of Conservation (and this is before their budget got cut) before they decided to help us. They sent a ranger to the water taxi company and got them to call us. Instead of apologising profusely, the manager asked when we made the booking, who we spoke to, what time we called, all the questions that made my blood boil. All the while Gavin’s phone is losing precious battery.

 Lucky for them, I wasn’t on the phone otherwise I think I would have ended up screaming something along the lines of, “This is completely beside the point! We are stranded and we need a taxi to take us back to our cars! Help us!”

They eventually arranged for a driver to collect us and we boarded at about 3pm, three hours later than expected. To top it off, because we badly needed the service running low on water and food, and no competitors in sight, we had to pay full price, $50 EACH!

Water taxi - here at last - (and I said semi-acceptable clothes to head back  into public, not acceptable...)

It was a long journey back to Auckland. A beautiful tramp with an unexpected lesson in survival and business ethics.