Looking south from the northern end of Nukuhakari Station’s Back Bay.
New Zealand Outdoor Instructors’ Association Bush Leader and senior writer Chris Gardner was among a group of St Valentine’s Day trampers on the King Country’s Nuku Walk as the devastating storm raged to the north.
Chris and Liz Gardner prepare to set off on the Nuku Walk. Photo: Chris Gardner
A gentle rain fell softly on my weary face as I tramped into Back Bay at Nukuhakari Station.
The Nuku Nine had successfully completed the first 13km leg of the Nuku Walk across an extensive sheep and beef station in Waikawau in without a soaking.
Our group consisted of five Upper North Island friends enjoying a weekend break, a retired English couple, my wife Liz and myself.
We had all met for the first time the night before at Red Cottage where our host Bridget St George welcomed us fresh from her Mōkau yoga class. She took the time to ask each of us how we had ended up in her cottage preparing for a three-day walk.
Chris Gardner rests in front of Mount Whareorino as a storm brews to the north. Photo: Chris Gardner
Bridget and her husband Hamish Nelson opened the private walk for the first time this summer and had hosted more than 700 people.
With an early afternoon thunderstorm forecast on Friday, we decided over Thursday dinner to get on the track early the next morning and try and beat the worst of the weather to our coastal accommodation.
The next morning Bridget handed a VHF radio and Personal Locator Beacon to our tail end Charlie and briefed us on how to use them. The radio proved useful hours later when one of our group realised they had left something in their cabin.
Rainstorm clouds gathered to the north of Mount Whareorino as we set off, reminding us of the received wisdom that if you can see the mountain it’s going to rain and if you can’t see the mountain, it’s already raining.
The first day of the Nuku Walk descends down to Nukuhakari Station’s Back Bay. Photo: Chris Gardner
Despite the clouds it was warm, and the gradual climb up farmland towards the mountain was thirsty work so I sipped on the straw of my water bladder. We went up until we reached the base of the unspoiled native bush clad extinct volcano.
Some of the group rushed on, following the track marked by posts and arrows, while some took a more considered approach to the walk.
The bush was prehistorically beautiful; the new walking track still being established. It was interesting to see it through the eyes of our British visitors.
We were prepared for rain, wearing quick dry clothes, and I carried a waterproof jacket and emergency shelter should the weather surprise us. And surprise us it did. The forecast thunderstorm arrived much later in the day than anticipated, when we were safely under cover cooking dinner, and returned overnight waking only a few of us. Little did we know of the carnage unfolding up the road. It wasn’t until the next day, when we got fleeting cell phone coverage, that we learned of the death of a driver in floodwaters and the closure of roads.
It took us six hours, including an estimated hour for breaks and lunch, to walk the first leg to the bay where our bags were waiting for us in a good, old A-frame style bach.
The drizzle evaporated while some of the group went for a dip in the sea while Liz and I took a long stroll along the beach in a northerly direction.
Then the rain arrived. Not too heavy, but damp enough to warrant a change of shirt when we got back to our accommodation.
There we whiled away the evening, sharing jokes and stories and making friends.
Looking south from the northern end of Nukuhakari Station’s Back Bay. Photo: Chris Gardner
