Friends, family and fungi: Redemption on Te Araroa trail
After learning he had stage four cancer, rookie tramper Martin van Beynen decided to tackle some long walks along Te Araroa trail. His first eight days were a disaster. Then he tried again.
After a fairly agonising first stage of Te Araroa trail, which I recounted for The Press a few weeks ago, some might have wondered if I would ever venture out the door again. Just to recap. On April 6, after a terminal cancer diagnosis, I set out to walk part of Te Araroa trail. The tumours on my lungs were growing slowly, so I had about six months before starting chemotherapy. Why not give my body a little punishment for being such a turncoat, I thought. Hence the trail.
My first leg, from Arthur’s Pass to Lewis Pass, did not go as smoothly as hoped due to a lack of fitness, mistakes and general cluelessness. After eight days (four of those in rain), and three days overdue, I arrived at Windy Point a little wiser and 5kg lighter.
Never again, I thought, but, a week later on April 20, with memories of the pain receding, I started an eight-day section between Lewis Pass and St Arnaud.
The first leg had exposed some shortcomings in my gear so another visit to the outdoor shops was required before I left. I mainly needed a much lighter sleeping bag, new boots to give my dodgy ankle some support and waterproof overtrousers to replace the ones I abandoned at Harper Pass on the previous leg.
After another sizeable cash injection into the Canterbury economy, which should show up in the next GDP figures, I was ready for anything. Despite presenting outdoor companies with a golden opportunity, no-one had accepted my invitation for endorsements, although I did get a discount at Further Faster.
The first good sign for a better walk was that my pack was so much lighter than the previous jaunt that I thought I must have forgotten something.
Another major change was that this time I had companions. My mate James Dixon was joining me for the first three days and then Mrs VB, whose failing knees have ended her tramping career, was driving over the Maling Pass (1308m) to spend a night at Waiau Hut and to drop off daughter Ella, who would finish the section with me.
Good friends Mike White and Nikki Macdonald from Wellington were going to walk in from St Arnaud to join us for the last couple of days.
After the misfortunes of the first leg, they all clearly thought that I would survive another leg only with tight supervision.
James and I set off from Boyle Village. I felt a bit sorry for James. He had been a fine athlete in his day and was usually very fit but the last year had seen more wining and dining than vigorous physical activity. The pain that I experienced in the first leg of the trail now lay ahead of him.
His pack also weighed more than mine and he was only on the trail for three days. What a rookie, I thought, until each night he produced an array of delicious predinner nibbles. What a mate!
That first day we slogged our way through the bush with the autumn sun shining unimpeded overhead and spent the night at Boyle Flat Hut.
Huts and their occupants can vary widely. A good hut is clean, has plenty of firewood and has wellmannered and entertaining fellow travellers. On all these fronts Boyle Flat was exceptional. When we went our separate ways the next day, we were such good friends we had hugs and a new WhatsApp chat group.
Karyn and Jamie, perhaps the fittest and best-equipped trampers in recent New Zealand history, were there when we arrived and later Trev and Jackie trudged in. Outdoor veteran Trev was 77 and despite several bypass operations and a current battle with prostate cancer was walking the St James Walkway with his partner Jackie, also in fine nick for her age.
Well after dark, Ollie and his teenage daughter Jessica piled in, having been delayed by Jessica’s feet, so blistered and patched they looked like she had stood on a mine.
James and I marvelled at Karyn and Jamie’s set-up. They carried a device that provided hot showers at the end of each sweaty day and each morning Jamie made Karyn an Americano (an espresso shot diluted with hot water).
Ollie was one of those salt-of-the-earth trampers who has everyone’s best interests at heart and the morning found him chopping a month’s supply of firewood for the hut. After the already mentioned hugs, James and I headed through the frost to Anne Hut, an eight-hour walk away. It was another beautiful day and the track was manageable except for a grunt up the 1132m Anne Saddle, which surprised both of us.
Anne Hut was full of boisterous teenagers and their parents but they were welcoming and gave us two bunks, conveniently sited for the nightly bladder demands of old codgers.
Another clear sunrise the next day suggested the good weather would hold and we headed off bright and early to walk the 27km to Waiau Hut. We smashed the first 20km and waited for Mrs VB to come over the Maling Pass in the Toyota Surf.
Neither of us thought the rendezvous would actually happen but a glint of something through the trees turned into a blue Toyota Surf going strong. Thank goodness. Mrs VB was bringing dinner and hopefully a good bottle of shiraz.
About two hours later we were happily ensconced in Waiau Hut, a little charmer with six bunks and a mini log burner, which was soon crackling.
We had a lovely curry brought by Mrs VB but alas she had forgotten the dessert and hadn’t felt like lugging in a heavy bottle of wine. I think I hid my disappointment well.
James left the next day with Mrs VB, and Ella and I looked forward (with dread on my part) to a big effort that would take us over the Waiau Pass (1870m) and to Blue Lake Hut.
The walk took us through magnificent country and impressive waterfalls but all relentlessly uphill. The climb up Waiau Pass would challenge a wiry mountain goat and although Ella forged on, I stumbled and crawled my way up, always meeting the tramper’s curse – a further climb just when you think you have reached the top. Anyway I got there finally, only to confront a treacherous descent down a scree slope.
I was already beyond exhausted when we got to Lake Constance and my heart plunged when I realised we had two high bluffs to overcome before we got anywhere near the hut. We did the last bit through the bush with our head torches and at last arrived at Blue Lake Hut, a blessed vision from the night.
Buoyed by the thought of a rest day and a short walk (about 3.5 hours) to West Sabine Hut (about 800m), I felt a new man the next day. I had a lovely morning sitting in the sun, pottering around the hut and walking to Blue Lake, which lived up to its legendary status.
West Sabine Hut was pretty full and we met a young guy called Matt who was racing along Te Araroa at a pace that seemed inhuman. He was eating some powdery muck for dinner so we gave him a dehydrated beef teriyaki meal and some other goodies. He scoffed them straightaway like a starving man.
I had a nice chat with some Canadians, one of whom recently did the Camino trail, which starts in France and travels about 825km to Galacia in Spain. She talked about an Italian gentleman who walked the whole trail with an empty wheelchair, as a gesture to his ill mother, who was unable to make the trip. I could have done with the wheelchair on Waiau Pass.
Lucas was on a mission to find New Zealand’s best pie. Boy had he found the right guy. I made some recommendations and pointed him to the classic New Zealand pie video Crust to Crust.
Another day of hard yakka lay ahead going over Travers Saddle (1767m but about 1000m up from West Sabine Hut). High winds and rain were forecast for later in the day so we had to get a move on. The sign said six hours to Upper Travers Hut but didn’t say the first five hours would be a gut-busting uphill.
We got there through the rain and wind on schedule but not after I had drained whatever reserves I had. We took a selfie at the saddle and I look like the survivor of a terrible ordeal.
Relief was in store after we negotiated the descent to Upper Travers Hut, where Mike and Nikki were already in residence with the fire going and a cup of tea ready. They had brought enough supplies and treats to keep us going for several months and had more waiting at the next hut on the way to Lake Rotoiti. Their packs must have weighed a tonne. What an
effort! Terminal illnesses bring out the best in people.
Despite not having much appetite, I couldn’t resist the six different cheeses they had brought and the chocolate mint biscuits.
In the evening we saw two lights coming towards us and eventually Jackie and Merlin joined us. Both were super-fit, adventure-racing types and Jackie soon told us her life story, an incredible tale of survival and hardship overcome.
We bonded over fungi. Since the first tramp, I had become a fungi fancier (so was James by the way) or, more correctly, a major bore who likes taking photos of fungi in situ and then forcing others to look at them. With leaves and different plants as a backdrop, I think they look like nature’s ikebana but others can’t get nearly as excited.
Jackie was not one of them. She had a gallery of lovely fungi pics to show off. She loved mine too.
Snow greeted us in the morning and Ella, Mike and Nikki decided to walk up to the saddle to experience the weather. I wasn’t going anywhere near the place and stayed back at the hut just faffing around.
That was until I had to fill the wood box. Firewood is a real bone of contention with trampers. Some trampers seem to think there is some kind of firewood fairy who miraculously fills the wood box without them having to lift a finger.
Some dead trees behind the hut looked like fertile ground and I spotted one that someone had tried to chop down but had managed only a half-hearted nibble.
What they started I intended to finish. With the aid of a sharp handsaw and a blunt axe I set to work. My plan for a relaxed morning went out the window.
After a couple of hours the tree was still standing and worryingly presented a real danger. I imagined someone going to the toilet and being squashed by the tree I had left in a dangerous position. I had to keep going.
Finally and with a crash the others heard as they were coming back to the hut from the saddle, the tree, to my great relief, toppled.
It landed right next to the woodshed and yielded copious firewood.
In the afternoon we headed down to John Tait Hut in the snow. Mike and I took a long time. He indulged me as I took pics of all the impressive fungi and I had a sneaking suspicion he was ripe for conversion.
Unfortunately two were false alarms. I spotted what I thought was a splendid fungus on a bed of moss near a waterfall and took a picture. The grainy texture of the fungus puzzled me and when I handled it I realised someone had sicked up their porridge.
Another beautiful fungus with delicate white petals turned out to be a used tissue.
We had our last night at the John Tait, making a small dent in the truckload of supplies Mike and Nikki had brought.
We then walked the seven hours to St Arnaud along the shores of Lake Rotoiti. I forced myself to ignore fungi picture opportunities so we would get to St Arnaud before dark.
After eight days on the trail it was a happy tramper who emerged from the bush. Overall it had been tough but brilliant trip, very different to the previous eightday slog. I was fitter, the weather was better and I was a little less clueless.
But what really made this latest hike was family, friends, fellow trampers and, yes, fungi.
A day in court is hours of work hardly anyone sees. DeborahMorris, who has been covering proceedings from the media bench for years, tags along with a judge to see how it all works.
It’s 4pm on a Wednesday and Judge Andy Nicholls has just finished four sentencings. Back in his office – called a chambers – he sheds his robe. Soft music is playing and on a table are the first of the files he needs for Thursday.
Eight files to start with, applications for bail and some applications for a limited driving licence – from those who had previously been disqualified but need a licence for work and bail applications.
“A lot of those licences are precious to them for work and family and I need to really process them,” he says.
Each case has different demands and each one comes with its own set of factors the judge has to consider.
It is an important part of the job, to get some time to prepare. “That can vary wildly as to how much time you get to prepare for the day ahead.”
While Wednesday’s court is over, work on Thursday is just about to begin.
District Court judges are mostly seen on the bench, working their way through whatever case is before them. But it is very much the tip of the iceberg.
Behind the courtroom are a multitude of people working, sometimes into the night, Nicholls says, to get ready for the next day.
Court files can be made up of conviction lists, summary of facts, witness statements, victim impact statements, probation reports, lawyers’ submissions, reports from various organisations or people like doctors and mental health experts.
When someone wants bail, it might also include a bail assessor’s reports and opposition from police.
There can be lots of voices involved, the more the better as far as Nicholls is concerned, to give him the best picture.
It all needs to be read and considered, hopefully before the judge has to go to the courtroom.
There’s a balancing act involved, especially with bail applications.
Nicholls will have read them all before he finishes for the day.
“Bail oppositions are not straightforward,” he says.
“For example, surprises come up. Can you deal with it on the spot and in a quality way? Or do you need to hit the pause button and give everybody a chance to unpack?”
He says there is a need to stay curious and humble about what information could still come in.
Thursday, 9.15am
Thursday morning and back in his office, casually dressed – he has yet to change into his suit for the day – he’s going through the files that arrived this morning.
The soft music is back, the office is calm but without a single law book in sight. Instead it’s plants and an Avengers poster – a gift from former colleagues.
He’s received files for four overnight arrests. As yet, those files have little in them and he won’t get all the information until he’s in court.
Once he’s there, he’ll get even more cases. Those that come out of the registrar’s list when people appear for the first time, mostly wanting to plead guilty or for bail conditions to be considered. He’s very conscious of time.
“As a judge I am acutely aware that people can be waiting a long time.
“Each day has a distinct character in terms of the nature of the conversations that you’re having with defendants and their lawyers in what they want to achieve in the courtroom that day.”
Nicholls came to the District Court bench after being Wellington’s managing partner at Chapman Tripp – one of the country’s biggest law firms. He had no criminal work background but it was time for a change, he says.
And he arrived at a time of upheaval – fresh out of the Covid lockdowns and with protesters occupying Parliament grounds, arrests from the scene were some of the earliest criminal cases he dealt with.
A judge’s day is determined by a roster. Some weeks it’s the main criminal list in Courtroom One, on others it’s a trial or he might be heading out of town to the Hutt Valley or Porirua courts.
And it’s definitely not predictable. “On a day where we’re doing the criminal list, which is a busy, busy court day, a variety of things can be presented to the judge to move matters along for people.
“You will have done some preparation and you will have an expectation about what it is that the lawyers want to achieve and what the lay of the land looks like. For other matters you will not have seen the file before it’s handed up to you. And so you do live by your wits.
“Some surprises can come up even in the files that you think you’ve prepared for, that you haven’t seen until the moment that they handed up to you, so you do have to be prepared to adjust your thoughts or your take on what it is that you’re going to achieve that morning or that afternoon.”
He needs those appearing in his court to know that he can see them, can appreciate where they have come from and that everyone in the room has worked hard to understand how they got there and where they go from here.
9.50am
Just before court starts and the courtroom is teeming. Lawyers come and go, mostly waiting to talk to the prosecutor, a probation officer or the registrar. The public gallery has a small group already taking up seats. Out in the foyer are more. One chap, wearing work gear, settles in, he doesn’t know how long he’s going to be here.
The door to the courtroom swings open and the registrar announces the arrival of the judge. Nicholls welcomes everyone and the day kicks off.
First up is one of the limited-licence applications – for someone wanting to keep their job and look after their grandmother. It’s one of the files he had read the night before.
He grants it and wishes them good luck with their grandmother and to look after the licence.
With that, the list is under way. Nicholls thanks everyone who comes forward, asking them to wait for a moment while he talks to the lawyers and saying he’ll come back and talk to them.
The old hands with a few court appearances under their belts give him a nod. Those in court for the first time relax a fraction. It’s clear his greeting takes a bit of the sting out of the scariness of court.
Courtroom One is an endless procession of defendants, lawyers, probation officers and prosecutors. They move about in what looks like chaos but it’s all about pushing cases forward.
Nicholls says that behind the scenes police are working as fast as they can to get the information to him if they are opposing bail for people who have been picked up overnight and brought to court.
“There also needs to be time for them to talk to a duty lawyer, it’s not pleasant in the cells.
“We are hamstrung without the information. It can slow the process down and put additional pressure on.”
Court staff also come in and out, bringing more files from other courts.
11am
In the first hour he’s dealt with four limited licences, three people from the cells who are able to be given bail, an impromptu sentencing and a couple of guilty pleas.
It’s not him doing whatever he likes. “There is a balance. I get the file for any appearance. A lot has happened to get to this point [of appearing in court]. It means a lot of work to do to understand all the individual circumstances.
“Nevertheless I am still conscious a judge might not have all the information. It’s an imperfect way of managing risk.”
In court he reminds one chap that it was important to keep his court dates, then thanks the brother of another for turning up to support him.
A student who had a few beers on the ferry is called. He was over the alcohol driving limit. Today is his first appearance and he wants to plead guilty on the spot.
Nicholls disqualifies him for six months.
“I’m not going to lecture you, you know it was the wrong thing to do and easily avoidable,” he tells him. “It’s the first time you have stumbled like this, just don’t drink when you are going to drive.”
Nicholls is very aware that for everyone who appears before him it’s a serious matter to them.
“There’s a lot of people in New Zealand waiting to have their matter aired in court. And you’re very aware of that and that right now, this conversation with this New Zealander in front of me is really important for them.”
Among the cases he is hearing are bail breaches. Police often check bail conditions, especially curfews.
A breastfeeding mother went out to get food and came back later than her curfew allowed.
Her going back on bail is not opposed by police, but the judge tells her she’s going to have to make it work until her next court appearance.
Another breach from a chap who didn’t have the key to get back into his home and had to go and get one. He gets bail too.
“Cheers boss,” he tells the judge as he’s sent back out to sign a new bail bond.
11.45am
Shortly after the morning break a woman appears by phone. The courts allow remote appearances by audiovisual link or phone – especially if people are living and working at a distance from Wellington. Then it’s on to an application for electronic bail. Nicholls, however, is worried about where the bail address is and whether the others in the building know what the defendant is charged with.
“If you hop on Google Maps, there are four units in a building,” he says. He stands the case down until the afternoon for some inquiries to be made.
2.15pm
A brother and sister appear for assaulting a bouncer outside Wellington’s Mermaid Bar. Each has a previous conviction for violence.
Their lawyer, Blake Dawson, says they did not start the fracas and asks Nicholls to consider convicting them and getting them to make an emotional harm payment.
“Given the history, I am hesitating here,” Nicholls tells him. “It was a bouncer and he was hit in the face and stomach.”
Instead he gives them 40 hours of community work – the least he’s able to impose.
3.15pm
By mid-afternoon a man is appearing for a family-harm incident on the Chatham Islands.
He appears in the audiovisual screen in the tiny court there, beamed right into the main Wellington court.
There is a bit of figuring out to do. He is being brought over on a flight the next day and going to stay at an address in New Plymouth.
4.20pm
The last case of the day comes after a short delay. It’s called a late arrest – meaning the man was arrested in the morning and brought down to court for the afternoon session. There also appears to be an active warrant for his arrest from 1993.
It’s a file that Nicholls sees only when the registrar hands it to him. His everpresent glasses, on the top of his head when he’s talking, come down to read it.
The man’s lawyer, Hugo Porter, arrives and still has to talk to him, having been assigned to him only minutes ago.
The short break gives Nicholls time to read the file.
Usually late arrests are just desperate to get bail but the guy wants to plead guilty.
The offence – a stupid burglary of commercial premises committed on methamphetamine while he was deep in grief over the loss of his mother – has been bothering the man badly. He even still has most of the goods and has waited for weeks for police to turn up.
He wants to give it all back if he can. Police are opposing bail and Nicholls runs through his past history and the circumstances behind how he ended up offending.
Bail is granted.
“You’ve led a hell of a life, constantly in the criminal justice system,” the judge says.
He says he can see why police were cautious about the man being back on the street.
“It was helpful to hear about your attempts to get off meth, it’s the right thing to do and you are going to have to deal with it.”
The judge puts him off to a sentencing date.
Considering bail, a sentence or name suppression is not random. Judges have to follow a set of rules just like anyone else. “There are statutory tests to be met, we have them to guide judges – we don’t have unrestrained discretion,” Nicholls says.
During sentencing, judges have some options but they cannot go outside those. There is a hierarchy of sentences, jail at the top down to no conviction and no punishment. But judges can’t decide to make up their own sentence outside those mandated by law.
“We don't just exercise judgment out of nowhere,” he says.
And within those restrictions are a series of guidelines handed down from higher courts about how a sentence should be structured.
If someone pleads guilty, they qualify for a 25% discount on the sentence. It’s designed to encourage appropriate guilty pleas before a trial or hearing. A late guilty plea, for example the day before a trial, would get a lesser discount.
There are other things that judges have to take into account. Remorse, willingness to consider restorative justice, to pay reparation and make amends, previous good character among others.
All sentencings are a series of pluses and minuses – or, as they are called in court, aggravating and mitigating features.
Judges do have to consider what is called the least restrictive outcome, which means whether a sentence in the community works rather than something more like a prison sentence.
Even then judges don’t get things right every time. And, as Nicholls says, there is an appeal process waiting if necessary.
With the last case of the day over, just before 5pm and more than 30 cases dealt with, he gets up and thanks everyone before court is adjourned.
When he gets upstairs to his office, Friday’s files will be waiting for him.