THREE GO OFF ON A TRAIL
Friends’ well-planned cycling and hiking adventure on the West Coast surpasses expectations, writes Owen Scott
Ihave become a complete fan of the West Coast. After doing the Alps 2 Ocean trail a year ago, this year the West Coast Wilderness Trail beckoned. I teamed up with two friends, Marvel and Mastermind, in the “Cool Little Town” of Hokitika. Sleepy and charming, there is plenty to do and see in its hinterland, not least of which the beautiful Hokitika Gorge with its swing bridge.
Cycle Journeys was the go-to company for the trail. The team is friendly, patient and helpful. You get bike hire (normal or e-bike), a trip plan if required, accommodation bookings and daily luggage shuttles. Marvel had planned the journey down to the last pebble.
Day One (36km)
A group of us was transported to the historic gold-mining town of Ross. The commentary from the driver was magic — full of local knowledge. Ross is a settlement with plenty of atmosphere and history, from the tiny Old Ross Gaol to rusted gold-mining equipment lying around.
We cycled to Hokitika along a track that was once a railway line. The cycling was easy, crossing several old railway bridges, ending on a narrow, undulating track through sun-dappled
trees. Truly beautiful.
Day Two (48km)
A ride to Lake Kaniere and back. This had a moodier feel, through dark forest with the Kaniere water race alongside. The track was narrow and shared by cyclists and walkers.
Day Three (54km)
The biggest and most challenging day, but really it was a breeze and the most diverse in terms of scenery. We were off to the famous little town of Kumara.
As we pedalled, the Arahura River gurgled pounamu. A weka came out of the bushes and danced around our wheels.
The e-bikes came into their own as we climbed a hill alongside the river. I am not a staunch cyclist. Hired e-bikes are not fancy-pants but rugged, and they deal to hills and headwinds. Dear Mastermind had never ridden an e-bike before and did not realise hers was stuck in “eco” setting. That hill must have been a challenge, but she never complained (earning a larger endof-day gin at Reefton’s Little Biddy distillery). This is where Marvel earned her name. She must have had turbos in her pedals, watching her disappear from view up ahead.
The ride from Cowboy to Kumara is a dramatic, downhill twist and turn through the Kawhaka Pass, ancient podocarps and views to die for from a vertiginous suspension bridge.
We’d decided to spend the night in Kumara, the gold-mining town with links to “King Dick” Seddon who was mayor for a time. We were staying in a charming cottage adjoining the classic Theatre Royal Hotel.
Day Four (23km)
The last section of The Wilderness Trail was the short ride from Kumara to Greymouth. After a lovely, airy pedal along the coast, we met the Cycle Journeys shuttle, swapped bikes for our gear, and picked up a hire car. No longer the Cycloteers, we were two trampers and a malingerer.
My companions were booked to walk the Old Ghost Road. I’d politely declined to join them, agreeing to pick up their remains at the end. Witnessing how many times they packed and repacked their bundles, it was a happy decision. Four days of torture (in my mind) or four days to roam? No contest. The thought of an 18km hill climb on day one nearly made me ill.
The three of us had a couple of days of R&R in Punakaiki. I’d always assumed Punakaiki was a bit touristy with a steady parade past Pancake Rocks. There’s a bit of that, but much more. Local markets, homemade marmalade and astounding whitebait fritters. It’s a beautiful little settlement. We set about exploring, walking, swimming and … joining the parade around Pancake Rocks and the blowholes. They have to be seen. We were also blessed with beautiful weather, which made the views sensational.
Marvel and I did a two-hour walk up the Pororari River. The whole thing would have taken eight hours, ending at Woodpecker Bay up the coast. But our two hours were a magical tease.
Back in our motel, my companions indulged in yet another re-pack. Mastermind simultaneously managed to organise a four-day freedom roam for me. There are differences in male and female brains and I was very grateful — online booking is one of my terrors. All our industry attracted attention. A weka marched into the room, took a look at us and marched out. Doesn’t happen in Auckland.
The journey continues
Malingerer dropped Marvel and Mastermind at the start of the Old Ghost Road amid a cloud of sandflies and a flurry of yet more re-packing. The car was now filled with discarded “essentials”. It was an emotional parting but I was excited about what lay ahead.
Mastermind had booked me into The Ghost Lodge in Granity for a bit of parallel “ghosting”. The lodge was built from scratch, the owner sourcing fittings and windows from skips and yards all around. The result is a remarkable, very “local” house on Granity Beach. My bedroom was Gothic-red and large enough to land a microlight. I could happily have stayed a week but there was more to be seen.
Next stop, a cabin at the Little Wanganui Hotel, run by an English family whose kitchen produces the most spectacular pies imaginable, served with twin towers of peas and mashed potato. Boy’s heaven, but some walking was needed to compensate.
I drove to Karamea and the start of the Heaphy. What a shock. Extraordinary avenues of nı¯kau and the best beaches in the country. One in particular, Scott’s Beach. “Your very own,” a friend chortled. I cannot wait to take a tent to the campground there and venture out on day trips. I had six hours of walking that day with unbelievable views of sky, beach and ocean.
It came time for me to venture south again, nervous about whether I would recognise my companions as they staggered out of the bush. Mastermind had booked me into the Seddonville Hotel, a timepiece of NZ history. Nothing happens quickly. I told the solemn publican I’d just managed to coax an escapee lamb back into a field next door. “One of mine,” he said. “Haven’t got around to repairing the fence.” A ghost of a smile.
At the end of The Old Ghost Road, there’s a lodge called Rough & Tumble with five large rooms and an outside shower looking over the river. We were booked in. I started walking from Rough, carrying medical supplies, hoping to find remnants of my friends.
Such a beautiful walk. Even though I was on a mission, my new-found love of weka distracted me. (By now I could imitate their call). One came out of the bushes; my day was made.
About three hours into The Old Ghost Road, I spotted the gait and garb of my two mates. “Dr Scott, I presume,” said Marvel. There were tears as I handed over a can of the finest NZ craft beer to each of the stalwarts in celebration. The tiny trudge l had experienced was amazing.
We gabbled our way to Rough & Tumble, showered outdoors, then indulged in a night of excellent food and company, listening to tales of The Old Ghost Road.
For The Three Ms, it had been a West Coast adventure that was out of this world.