Day 1: Rarakau to Okaka Hut - the big climb

The day was still and overcast as we set out from Rarakau on this 19 km stage; a short section through dense coastal forest brought us to a narrow gap in the long cliff-line of Te Waewae Bay, down which we descended to boulder lined Bluecliffs Beach. Heading westward along the beach, we crossed the industrial-strength swing bridge over the Waikoau River, past a small group of cribs (the kiwi term for a beach shack) and along a long isolated stretch of beach beneath low forest-clad cliffs.

Crossing a small swing bridge over Stoney Creek, we followed a vehicle access track slightly inland to arrive at Track Burn and a scroggin break on the verandah of the nearby hut. Once across the swingbridge, it was walkers only, as the track undulated through increasingly beautiful coastal forest, with magnificent specimens of giant rimu, matai and kahikatea rising high above the fern and moss-covered forest floor.

Occasionally gaps opened up to offer glimpses out over Te Waewae Bay to the distant cloud-covered silhouette of Stewart Island. One more swingbridge over Flat Creek and the Hump Ridge Track started in earnest, the narrow path soon transforming into a boardwalk highway that meandered its way for several kilometres over a broad forest terrace, the fragile boggy surface carpeted with ground-covering ferns.

At the end of the boardwalk, the track took us through a series of short steep climbs and flatter traverses of higher terraces, as well as a series of ankle deep muddy stretches; the soft squelching sound of our feet often the only sound in the forest, apart from the harsh screech of kakas high in the forest canopy. As we climbed, the trees became shorter and more moss-covered, until a final steep 200m ascent up the ridge of Stag Point brought us into the realm of the subalpine cloud forest, with its dwarfed, gnarly, lichen-covered trees and knobbly green carpet of mosses and dwarf ferns covering every boulder and stump.

As we reached Stag Point, we broke through the swirling clouds to see the distant shape of Okaka Hut, another 130m above us on Hump Ridge. We continued on, gradually climbing up through this almost surreal dwarf forest landscape; from 40m high trees in the coastal forest, we were passing through beeches that barely reached 3m. Finally we stepped up onto another long stretch of boardwalk that continued to slowly climb the ridge, the first yellow and white flowers of alpine herbs appearing on either side, until, in a series of elegant curves the boardwalk brought us down to the very large, modern, comfortable and solar-lit Okaka Hut, nestled above a grassy bowl on the leeward side of the ridge.

Finally the mist won and we descended back down to Okaka Hut to enjoy our dinner as a lone kea arrived on the balcony railing, either to entertain the 12 trampers staying the night with its antics and chatter or, more likely, to amuse itself with its ability to draw a crowd of strange humans whenever it wanted.

Wisps of cloud began to rise up over the ridge line from the east as we approached the viewpoint at Luncheon Rock and, by the time we had arrived, the cloud to the east was finally breaking up to uncover a glorious view out over Te Waewae Bay. Out to sea, the silhouette of Stewart Island emerged from the clouds on the horizon.

We had donned gaiters for the first time in anticipation of a muddy descent down through the forest; this began in earnest as we started the 5km long, 600m descent from Luncheon Rock. Apart from some early boarding of steeper sections, this is one long narrow band of mud, varying from quite firm to verging on liquid, but, with judicious stepping and the use of walking poles, never really more than ankle deep. At first it was almost fun as we squished our way down the steeper slopes, but the incessant mud gradually ground down our wills, particularly across the lower flatter terraces where the water did not drain as freely. It was a great relief to finally emerge onto the broad solid trace of an old forest tramway. We had reached the old wooden viaduct across Edwin Burn and the route from here would follow the flat course of the tramline to Port Craig.

This tramline was built in the early 1920s as part of the infrastructure of a failed logging venture on the South Coast. To cross the rugged terrain, a series of wooden viaducts was built above the steep watercourses flowing off Hump Ridge. The track followed the tramline, crossing three restored viaducts, including one at Percy Burn, which at 36m above the stream bed is the highest remaining wooden viaduct in the world.

Leaving the viaducts behind, we followed the old tram track for another 4km, past the dense, spindly trunks of regenerating forest and through the occasional dark, damp cutting, until we eventually emerged at the hut complex at Port Craig. This ghost town was the hub of the logging venture and once was a thriving community based around a huge sawmill and port complex. Today, little remains but a few rusting boilers, winches, train wagons, the decaying posts of the old wharf and the occasional dead 1920s shoe. The bush has reclaimed the land from the failed ambitions of men and the sandflies inhabit this coastline in their thousands to ensure that now we only pass by.

After demudding our boots and cleaning up, we wondered down to the beach where we finally saw a small pod of the elusive Hector's dolphin swimming around the old wharf pylons. This is the smallest and rarest dolphin species and it was great to be finally able to sit and watch them in the evening sun at the end of a hard day at the office.

It was with regret that we finally left the beach to rejoin our outward path and reach the hut at Track Burn. It was a good place for a hut as the rain had begun to fall in earnest. We sat in the shelter for an hour in the company of other trampers, some returning like us, others heading out into the rain (and mud). Eager to get back, we did not wait for the rain to stop, but donned wet weather gear for the last 2 hour trek, retracing our footsteps of the first day back along Bluecliffs Beach to the car park ar Rarakau.

The beach near Ohoka

At 55 km in 3 days with a 1000m climb and descent on muddy paths, the Hump Ridge Track is not an easy walk, but it does take you through some of the most remote, pristine and beautiful forest of New Zealand and those who complete it will feel a real sense of achievement. It will become easier as the track is developed further and more boardwalking added and the Track Trust is to be commended for their efforts. My only criticism is that one A4 sheet of paper with a few brief notes and hand-drawn, scale-free map (dare I say "mud map") of the area is not good enough. Trampers like to be informed about the flora, fauna, geology and history of the areas they pass through; much of this is on the track website or in hut posters and could easily be transformed into a small guidebook (like the excellent one produced for the Banks Peninsula Track). The map particularly needs improving with proper topographic features and waypoints indicated; the fair Nello commented that it would be easy to get lost following such a map - a pair of Israeli trampers proved her right the very next day! We heard about their adventures and wet night in the bush at the backpackers after returning from the walk.

With this "wee" addition, the Hump Ridge tramp would be an even better experience.

"Foot" note: The Hump Ridge Track has recently found itself the centre of controversy in the newspapers over the state of certain sections of the track, with vigorous criticism by some trampers and equally vigorous defence by others. It had not rained for 2 days when we passed through the notorious muddy descent of Hump Ridge and, expecting worse, were surprised not to be sinking up to our knees. The mud is ever present, an inevitability in this wet climate, and occasionally there are quagmirish sections, but nothing more than ankle deep when we passed. Given the length of sections already having solid raised boardwalks and the amount of new boardwalk about to go in, the Track Trust is tackling the problem. While it is essential to protect the more fragile areas from walker's erosion, it would be a sad day if there were no muddy sections left for this quintessential New Zealand tramping experience.