Lady and the tramp: ‘Some areas are being hammered with too many people in one fragile area’

Instagram helps share some of New Zealand’s great outdoors to the world. But a keen tramper tells Hamish McNeilly she has seen first-hand the downside when locations were shared online.

HIKING to a supposed secluded location, only to find rubbish, toilet paper, human excrement and, of course, people posing for photos – it’s not the ideal way to experience New Zealand.

‘‘One person shares a picture and the next thing you know everyone is there,’’ Debbie Pettinger said.

The 53-year-old knows a thing or two about hiking – she has been going off the beaten track since joining the Otago Tramping and Mountaineering Club as a teen in 1987.

It is through that club – one of the oldest in New Zealand and celebrating its centenary this year – where she met her eventual husband, hiked through remote parts of southern New Zealand, and slept in the likes of an ice cave.

The couple’s daughter has also joined the club – the fourth generation to do so.

One of the biggest changes

over her more than three decades of exploring the far flung corners of Otago and Southland was the rapid rise in sharing some of those locations on social media – a double-edged sword for outdoor enthusiasts.

‘‘It’s great to show people the beauty of our country and get people out into the hills to discover it for themselves,’’ Pettinger said.

‘‘The downside is that everyone wants to get ‘that photo’ at the same spot, so some areas are being hammered with too many people in one fragile area.’’

Those places include the likes of the Instafamous view point of Roy’s Peak, in Wanaka, or Lake Wilson, off the Routeburn Track, which used to be a tranquil spot.

In addition to that old adage

of taking photos and leaving just footprints, some of those on social media quests were leaving toilet paper and human waste in plain sight.

Pettinger said she preferred not to post pictures on social media, and to explore the back country through the likes of the local tramping club, where you could learn valuable skills like reading a map and snow craft.

‘‘You get to discover places you never would have if you were on your own.’’

Keeping fit and being in nature were drawcards for Pettinger: ‘‘You solve all the world’s problems when you are walking . . . there are no distractions’’.

She preferred camping to staying in a hut, and avoiding the country’s more popular walks ‘‘which were getting hammered’’.

That included people blasting their music via portable speakers, spoiling the sounds of nature, such as running water or the call of native birds.

In the lead-up to the tramping club’s centenary weekend in October, dozens of members were celebrating by scheduling 100 walks, with Pettinger and her family aiming to complete up to 70.

Completed trips for the club included the Greenstone and Routeburn, and later this month they will complete the Milford Track, which is the club’s ‘Celebration of Freedom Walk’.

In 1965, 43 trampers from the club went to hike the Milford Track, which at the time was limited to guided trips. That act of rebellion led to additional huts and facilities for independent walkers, and a year later the track was opened for all.