Lake Matiri Hut to plateau rim

After a comfortable and peaceful night at Lake Matiri Hut, I was ready to take on the 800-metre climb to the plateau. About 15 minutes north of the hut is Bay Creek which, apparently, can rise quickly after heavy rain. When I forded it, it was barely knee-deep.

Right across Bay Creek is a track junction with old, wooden signposts from the Forest Service days. “McConchies Hut” points to the right, up Matiri Valley, and “Poor Pete’s Hut” to the left, where I was headed.

Bay Creek

The climb towards the plateau starts there and then—steep and relentless. The well marked tramping track climbs steadily through beech forest, over zillions of tree roots (“slippery when wet”). After 45 minutes or so, at about 700 metres, I was in for the first reward: A small clearing on the edge of a cliff that makes for a tremendous viewpoint over picturesque Lake Matiri and serpentine Matiri River, 350 metres below.

Looking down to Lake Matiri, 350 metres below

Lake Matiri

Serpentine Matiri River, north of Lake Matiri

Soon after the viewpoint, at 800 metres, the track levels off considerably and—with a few ups and downs—meanders through bush that’s dominated by grass trees (Dracophyllum). Then the gradient picks up again, and at about 900 metres the final “assault” to the plateau begins. The track zigzags steeply through (and over) limestone blocks, a sure sign of getting within reach of the plateau’s rim.

Plateau rim to Poor Pete’s Hut

Beyond a sharp turn to the right (northeast) at 1100 metres, the track finally levelled off and there was a different feel to the atmosphere: I knew I had stepped on the Thousand Acre Plateau—yay!

As the bush gave way to the vastness of the plateau I couldn’t help but wonder who came up with such an appropriate name. Although looking at the map, the plateau’s expanse could be as large as 20 km², which converts to almost 5000 acres! Still, Thousand Acre Plateau sounds impressive enough, doesn’t it?

The first glimpse of the Thousand Acre Plateau…

…and of The Needle (left) as well as The Haystack (right)

Panoramic view of the Thousand Acre Plateau; on the horizon you can see the Hundred Acre Plateau, The Needle and The Haystack—view larger version

From here on in, the track officially becomes a poled route where steel fence poles (aka Y-posts or Waratahs), with orange plastic triangles on top, are positioned at regular intervals to mark the way.

Since I struck perfect weather, the 20 minutes across the exposed plateau to Poor Pete’s Hut were a pleasant stroll. Conundrum time: Was Pete a poor fellow or is it his hut that’s poor, or both?

Poor Pete’s Hut—more photos of Poor Pete’s Hut

Thousand Acre Plateau with Poor Pete’s Hut (centre)—you can also see one of those route marker poles I mentioned above

I didn’t stay at Poor Pete’s, but from experience I know that in adverse conditions even a poor roof over one’s head is better than none. Regrettably, Poor Pete’s Hut is up for removal within the next few years.

Poor Pete’s Hut to point 1115 and plateau tarns

From Poor Pete’s the route climbs steadily toward point 1115, where I took a couple of panorama photos. Standing up there, surrounded by seemingly endless stretches of tussock flats was extraordinarily striking. While the adage “a picture is worth a thousand words” may hold some truth, these panorama photos can never convey what it felt like to be up there, that sense of achievement, satisfaction and eternal peace. Nevertheless, they will give you some idea of what the plateau looks like:

Southeastern view of the Thousand Acre Plateau from point 1115—view larger version

Northwestern view from point 1115 to the Hundred Acre Plateau, The Needle and The Haystack—view larger version

Once past point 1115, the poled route slowly descends in a northeasterly direction before it turns north, heading across the undulating plateau. Along the way the route crosses a number of creek beds that are tributaries of Larrikin Creek. Depending on the time of year and the weather conditions, these creeks can be completely dry. On my visit though, they all had a good flow of water through them, and the track was quite boggy in places. This was especially true near several small tarns that obviously formed in poorly drained areas.

Larrikin Creek tributary

Grass tree (Dracophyllum) on Thousand Acre Plateau

Tarn on Thousand Acre Plateau

Alpine sundew (Drosera arcturi) in flower

These tarns were teaming with life. Carpets of luring insectivorous plants lined the tarn edges, water bugs busied the waters on the hunt for food, while damselflies and dragonflies took to the air doing aerobatics and chasing one another. I found exploring and observing the tarns quite worthwhile, and did so gently, as I was acutely aware of the fact that wherever I put my feet, I stood on some precious flora and fauna.

Before long it became time to push on towards Larrikin Creek Hut, nestled between The Haystack and Hundred Acre Plateau. That trip, however, will be the subject of my next article.

Looking towards the Hundred Acre Plateau, The Needle and The Haystack

Have you been to the Thousand Acre Plateau? What were your impressions?

I always welcome your comments.

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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In this article I am going to tell you about the first leg of a journey I made in December last year.

Overlooking Lake Matiri from Lake Matiri Hut

Matiri Valley Road

The turnoff to Matiri Valley is on State Highway 6, about 6 km northeast of Murchison by the Buller River bridge. The initial 7 km of road are sealed, the remaining 8 km are unsealed. Across the Matiri River bridge follow the Matiri West Bank Road sign. The last kilometre to the Matiri Carpark is on a badly potholed farm road. After rain the potholes fill up to large puddles and their depth is not always apparent. Drive carefully and leave farm gates as you find them (open or shut).

Beyond the Matiri Carpark the farm road continues for another 2 km to the West Branch Matiri River. This stretch is rugged and crosses several streams, and should only be attempted with a four-wheel drive vehicle.

Matiri Carpark to West Branch Matiri River

Since my car is a two-wheel drive, my tramp began at the Matiri Carpark. About a half-an-hour past the carpark I came across a small herd of cattle. Some of the “ladies” were quite friendly and seemed to enjoy having their photo taken—what made me think so? Well, they followed me, obviously keen to check out their photo on my camera…

The farm road was straightforward to follow, albeit quite mucky in places. It had been raining for a few days, and there was a lot of sodden dung all over the road and the potholes filled to the rim.

Nevertheless, the scenery made up for what was underfoot. The views up the valley and of the Matiri River were pleasant to the eye. It was a hot day and I regretted not having carried some extra water. Because of the ever-present dung I was reluctant to drink any water from the streams that run across the road in a few places.

Yet, I wasn’t far away from the waters of the much cleaner West Branch Matiri River, which I reached just under an hour after leaving the carpark.

Matiri Carpark

Cattle in Matiri Valley

Ford along four-wheel-drive track between Matiri Carpark and West Branch

Matiri Valley with Matiri River and Rain Peak (1320 m)

Matiri River (right) with West Branch (left)

West Branch Matiri River to Lake Matiri

I crossed the West Branch Matiri River near its mouth, where it was wide and about knee-deep (for a person of my height at six foot).

Old maps, such as the Kahurangi Parkmap 274–13 Edition 3 1997, show a cableway about 800 metres up the West Branch. This cableway in conjunction with a cage used to allow for a safe crossing when the river was high. Unfortunately this cableway cage has long been removed. The Topo50 map BR23 Murchison still shows the tracks that led to the cableway cage.

Across the West Branch, although still farmland, there was no sign of recent grazing and the track narrowed to a trail. The pastures were in full bloom, with grasses as tall as me, even towering above my head in places! Anyone who is allergic to pollen of introduced European grasses and consequently suffers from asthma or hay fever beware: Make sure you dose up on antihistamine well in advance!

About a kilometre north of the West Branch the valley narrows, and the track—still lined by pollen laden grasses—starts hugging the Matiri River bank. Soon the park boundary with a locked gate and stile is reached. The track then climbs past a waterfall and across a large slip well above a river bend. The track briefly rejoins the river bank before veering off into beech forest (no more grass pollen, yay!) followed by a steady climb towards Lake Matiri (by now you must have gathered that grass pollen are no friend of mine—ah-choo!).

Matiri River southwest of Lake Matiri

Scars of rockfalls southwest of Lake Matiri

Lake Matiri and Lake Matiri Hut

A landslide caused by the 1929 Murchison earthquake dammed the river and increased the size of Lake Matiri. The scars of some enormous rockfalls are still clearly visible to the southwest of the lake.

I could hear the quacking of ducks well before catching the first glimpse of the lake’s shore through the beech trees. The lake and a section of the river to the north and south are part of the Lake Matiri Wildlife Refuge.

Lake Matiri Hut is located well above the lake, with a nice outlook over part of the lake and straight up Matiri Valley. On my visit the hut was very clean and tidy. There was even a bag coal sitting outside.

Lake Matiri Hut

A cloudy morning at Lake Matiri

Lake Matiri and Bay Creek (about 20 minutes north of the hut) are good spots for a day visit. For experienced and well-prepared trampers, it’s here that the adventure begins: a trip to the Thousand Acre Plateau—and still counting…

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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Flora Carpark taped off.

While I put on my boots and readied myself for my tramp to Lodestone, I heard the crackling noises of radio calls going back and forth. Seeing the ropes draped over the hut, I quickly realised that I was about to witness an aerial hut relocation.

Sure enough, after further radio calls, one of the guys wearing a hard hat asked me to stay behind the line, as a chopper was coming in shortly. Suddenly the peace and quiet was swallowed up by the deep, beating noise of helicopter rotor blades.

Here she comes, straight in over Flora Saddle.

A quick shot before turning the camera away from the dispersing dust.

Lining up for pick-up.

ZK-HEX, an Aérospatiale AS350BA operated by Reid Heslop Helicopters Ltd.

Set, ready…

…and liftoff!

There you have it: huts do fly!

Within seconds she’s gone.

And where was the hut off to? I found out that it was destined for Deep Creek as a DOC staff hut for pest control. (Deep Creek starts at Lake Peel and flows into the Takaka River between Upper Junction and Lower Junction.)

I couldn’t help but wonder how amazing it would be to fly into the wilderness in a hut! Just like in the brilliant movie Up, by Pixar Animation Studios and Walt Disney Pictures.

Perhaps I should start stockpiling balloons…

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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The prospect of climbing and descending more than 1400 metres in one day may sound daunting. However, the good news is that over 60% of it (930 metres) can be done by car. From the Motueka River West Bank Road an unsealed road leads up Graham Valley where it branches off into Graham Valley South Branch Road. This road is narrow and very steep, climbing over 700 metres within four kilometres. As a sign at the bottom of the valley rightly points out: “Drive with extreme caution”. At the end of the road is Flora Carpark, simply referred to as “Flora” by locals.

Shelter at Flora Carpark.

Lodestone reference/overview.

Flora is the gateway to a number of fantastic tramps in Kahurangi National Park, one of which is the climb to Lodestone. It can be done as a there-and-back via the south ridge (2 to 3 hours return) or as a loop by returning via the southwest ridge, Flora Hut and Flora Saddle (3 to 4 hours). A good level of fitness, adequate gear (wet weather, wind) and footwear (tramping boots) are essential. Carry water as well, as there are no streams or tarns along the way.

Lodestone southeast face, viewed from Graham Valley.

Driving up the winding Graham Valley Road, Lodestone drops in and out of view and looks rather innocuous. The reality, however, is quite different. Right from the start at Flora Carpark, the track climbs steeply to a small ridge 150 metres above the carpark. After traversing an attractive patch of dracophyllum (grass trees), the track levels off for a bit, and Mt Arthur comes into view to the south.

Mt Arthur northeast face.

Lodestone south face.

The gradient increases ahead of the final “assault”.

Following a brief dip across a saddle, the track sidles point 1262, gains the south ridge and meanders along to the foot of Lodestone’s south slope, where the final “assault” begins. Once again the gradient increases rapidly. Along the way are several viewpoints. At a rocky outcrop the views range 180 degrees, from Arthur Range in the south, to the Waimea Basin, the Nelson Lakes, Richmond Ranges, Nelson and Tasman Bay to the north.

Graham Valley South Branch with the road to Flora Carpark partly visible; Sugar Loaf in the centre.

Waimea Basin and Tasman Bay.

Lodestone’s very own icicle cove.

“Look at me, look at me!”

“What are you doing on my mountain?”, wonders the South Island robin.

At the bushline the gradient eases off quickly and the summit is finally within reach. At the top, next to a radio repeater antenna, a spectacular 360-degree panorama unfolds. In addition to the 180-degree vista mentioned above, there are views of the Arthur Range to the north (Mt McMahon, Mt Crusader, Hoary Head, Hailes Knob), Abel Tasman National Park, Golden Bay and Farewell Spit; towards the west are Devil Range, Snowdon Range, Lockett Range, Cobb Valley, Peel Range and Tableland. Whether you are familiar with the area or not, carrying the extra weight of binoculars (and a map for reference) is well worth the effort. On a good day you can see deep into Kahurangi National Park and spot many a peak!

Arthur Range to the north with Hoary Head, Mt Crusader and Mt McMahon.

The bush-clad valleys of Grecian Stream, north of Lodestone.

Mt Hodder.

Peel Range (left), Cobb Valley and Peat Flat (centre), Iron Hill (right).

Western view to Gordons Pyramid (left), Tableland (top centre) and Flora Valley.

Southern view to Mt Arthur, Gordons Pyramid (right) and Quartz Creek (centre).

Descending the southwest ridge is a little bit more challenging than the south ridge, in particular the initial part below the summit. Iron poles lead the way down through rocky outcrops and tussock to the bushline, where a marked track follows the ridge all the way down to Flora Hut. Again, there are some steep sections with level bits in between.

Once in the bush, there are very few viewpoints. Instead, keep an eye on the bush, watch out for the giant beech tree half way down, and listen to the birds. On one of my Lodestone trips (yes, I’ve done it more than once), while having a rest, I noticed some movement in the tree right above where I was sitting. It was a morepork or ruru. Unfortunately it was camera shy.

Insect feeding on the nectar of a native flower.

Track on Lodestone’s southwest ridge.

Flora Stream waterfall at Flora Hut.

When you hear the sound of water you know you’re getting close to Flora Stream and Flora Hut. Right above the ford are some attractive little waterfalls.

Flora Hut.

Flora Hut is quite special, as it dates back to 1928. It consists of two six-bunk huts (or rooms) joined by a woodshed. Because of strong community support, the hut has been retained (see DOC’s media release Flora Hut to stay says DOC).

From Flora Hut it’s an easy 30-minute stroll back to Flora Carpark via Flora Saddle.

Lodestone is definitely well worth a visit. Make sure it’s a fine day to catch the panoramic views, and be prepared for adverse weather at any time of the year. On my last visit the picture-perfect, clear blue skies were swallowed up by whiteout within less than a half an hour.

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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Indeed, the mountains looked rather beautiful, calling for a panorama shot. Unfortunately I left my tripod at home, and the best I could do was a handheld photo shoot, trying to keep the camera level with the horizon and estimating the scene overlap. 50 seconds and 16 shutter releases later, I had digitalised the view.

Combining the photos to a panorama was next (after a nice lunch at the Beach Café). There are a lot of photo stitching programmes out there, among them Tobias Hüllmandel’s PanoramaStudio which I find excellent and fast.

What are we looking at?

Over the years I’ve managed to climb most prominent peaks that surround Nelson, and was able to name them and point them out to Ian.

Since the result of my handheld photo shoot is viewable, I thought it would be nice to produce an online reference, and here it is:

The mountain panorama’s viewing angle stretches roughly over 100°, from the Lookout Range in Kahurangi National Park all the way to Abel Tasman National Park, with Tasman Bay in the foreground.

You can view/download the panorama as a small or (very) large file, free for private, non-commercial use:

• nelsons-western-vista-small.jpg [size 7200×585 px, 72 ppi, 515 KB]
• nelsons-western-vista-large.jpg [size 20000×1625 px, 300 ppi, 3.3 MB]

(To download the panorama right-click on the link and select Save Link As [in Firefox] or Save Target As [in Explorer].)

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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I have also learnt that unless I keep an eye out for them, most plants go unnoticed, usually because they are quite small and at the same time blend in well with the surroundings.

However, now and then a plant seeks attention: “Hello there, come and have a look at my pretty flowers!” As happened with the plant portrayed in this article. It called out to me from below Kakapo Peak, which is a well-known day trip from Fenella Hut.

The pretty white flowers happily posed in front of my camera lens. Upon my return home, I was faced with the quest of finding out the name of the plant. None of my books and online searches gave me any answers. It was time to ask an expert, such as Nelson botanist Shannel Courtney:

Shannel’s verdict: “Your plant is Lobelia macrodon—one of twelve named species of native lobelia. This one is confined to scree margins and bare ground of the northern South Island down to about Mt Hutt in South Canterbury, and it is the most fragrant of all of them. John Salmon has it illustrated on page 244 of his field guide—he calls it mountain pratia as it used to be called Pratia macrodon (all the Pratia are now Lobelia). But there are about six species of mountain lobelia so this isn’t a good common name.”

Thank you Shannel!

(Shannel Courtney works for the Department of Conservation in Nelson, and is a committee member of the New Zealand Plant Conservation Network. In 2008 he was presented with the Loder Cup, New Zealand’s premier conservation award.)

Lobelia macrodon flowering below Kakapo Peak in March.

What’s in a name? French botanist Charles Plumier (1646–1704) named the plant genus Lobelia and the botanical family Lobeliaceae in honour of Flemish botanist Matthias de L’Obel (1538–1616).

There’s that bear again! (See Bear sightings in Kahurangi National Park.) For size reference, the bear’s height is a mere 0.4 foot (130 mm).

Kakapo Peak (south face, 1783 m).

Southwestern view from Kakapo Peak.

To view my other Kakapo Peak photos please browse my gallery or view the slideshow.

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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When I traversed the Upper Nuggety Creek Flat in the Marino Mountains, I noticed a large number of small trees scattered throughout the flat’s eastern slope. Their soft, bright green leaves were flapping in the wind, and my immediate thought was, “these are deciduous trees—are they native?”

Upper Nuggety Creek catchment

Mountain ribbonwoods on the eastern slope of Upper Nuggety Creek Flat

Indeed they are! Mountain ribbonwoods (aka Mountain lacebark and houhere in Māori) comes in two “flavours”: Hoheria lyallii and Hoheria glabrata. The former grows up to six metres high, mainly on the eastern side of the South Island’s main divide, and the latter up to ten metres high primarily on the western side. Both are found along forest margins, stream terraces and in shrublands from 600 to 1050 metres altitude. In late summer they produce a spectacular display of cherrytree-like, sweetly fragranced blossoms.

Mountain ribbonwoods—Hoheria glabrata

Mountain ribbonwoods blossom

On my quest to find other deciduous trees that are native to New Zealand, I found only two other ones:

• Tree fuchsia—Kōtukutuku—Fuchsia excorticata
• Hectors tree daisy—Olearia hectorii

If you know any deciduous trees that are native to New Zealand, that I haven’t mentioned above, I would appreciate your comment below.

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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Former Stag Flat Hut

View from the window of the former Stag Flat Hut

Four years later, in October 2002, I tramped up the Leslie–Karamea Track en route to Helicopter Hut, and decided to do a side trip up the Taipo Valley to Stag Flat. The wee hut was still there, shining in the sun, as if it been awaiting my arrival.

Unfortunately there was some bad news. A warning sign nailed to one of the walls indicated that the hut’s life was soon to come to an end. Evidently it was established that the hut’s location was in the path of potential rockfalls in case of an earthquake.

Warning sign at former Stag Flat Hut

Stag Flat Hut, as it was originally called, had four bunks. On more recent maps the name was changed to Stag Flat Shelter. When I visited, the number of bunks had been reduced to two, and the fireplace decommissioned.

Former Stag Flat Hut interior

I ended up staying two nights and spent an enjoyable day roaming Stag Flat and the ridge off Little Wanganui Saddle. With its charming character, the hut seemed to ‘fit in’ really well and suit the environment. The thought of seeing it go was a bit sad.

Stag Flat with former Stag Flat Hut

View from Stag Flat down Taipo Valley with Mt Luna (in distance) and Mt Dean (on right)

Little Wanganui Saddle (lower centre) with Saddle Lakes

View from Little Wanganui Saddle to former Stag Flat Hut

New location of Stag Flat Shelter

Never mind, let’s take a look at the new shelter before nostalgia sets in too much! As the above mentioned warning sign suggested, the replacement shelter was put in a new, safer location, away from possible rockfalls.

The new shelter was flown in on 23 March 2007. It is very compact with a floor area of roughly two by three metres, which gives it a bit of boxy feel and just enough space for two bunks and a small bench. Next to the shelter is a water tank, fed by rain from the roof. There is no toilet though, which is not uncommon with shelters.

New Stag Flat Shelter

New Stag Flat Shelter

New Stag Flat Shelter interior

Once again, I spent a couple of nights at Stag Flat. This time in the new shelter and without any sunshine. Instead it rained with heavy falls and gusty westerlies. I could have sworn the old hut was still hiding somewhere out there on the flat…

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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Overview of my four-day trip to the Mt Owen massif

Day 1: Courthouse Flat–Granity Pass

The starting point of my trip was Courthouse Flat at the end of the Wangapeka River Road. There are two options to gain the first 500 metres in altitude: Via the Ridge Track or the Blue Creek Track. The latter was my choice, meandering along an easy walking track next to Blue Creek for the first half hour or so. A few hundred metres before the Blue Creek Resurgence, the track branches off and becomes a tramping track. It follows Blue Creek for a bit before relentlessly and steadily climbing out of the valley. After some heavy rain the day before, a few showers kept on sweeping through from the west, making the track slippery and muddy in parts.

Once the junction with the Ridge Track is reached, the track climbs for another 400 metres to a clearing caused by fire quite some time ago. The track then levels off and leads to a saddle north of Billies Knob, from where I got the first glimpse of Mt Owen and its neighbour, Replica Hill.

View from Billies Saddle to Mt Owen (left) and Replica Hill (right)

From the saddle the track drops steeply down the Staircase to eventually regain Blue Creek. It’s not a staircase as such (we are talking wild country here), but there is certainly a resemblance in parts, with steps of varying heights.

At the bottom of the Staircase the track drops more gently towards the floor of Ghost Valley. There was no evidence of any ghosts, not even at the remains of Taplins Shelter, a former prospector’s hut. Perhaps they sought an abode that’s in better condition?

Remains of Taplins Shelter, a former prospector’s hut

Track in Ghost Valley

For a short time the track follows a gentle, well-trodden path up Ghost Valley.

The last kilometre to Granity Pass Hut must be earned though, as it mostly follows the—usually dry—Blue Creek bed. Fellow trampers, who walked the track the day before, told me that there was enough water in the creek to get their feet wet.

Author on the ‘track’ in Ghost Valley’s dry Blue Creek

After a sharp turn to the west, the new Granity Pass Hut came into sight, my destination on day 1.

Day 2: Granity Pass–Branch Creek

Right behind Granity Pass Hut, an unmarked track follows what’s known as the Railway Embankment, leading out of Ghost Valley. At about 1400 metres I veered off the cairned route that heads towards Mt Owen, marking the beginning of my wilderness adventure.

Railway Embankment (glacial moraine) leading out of Ghost Valley

Light winds and a few clouds made for perfect conditions with good visibility. I headed west through a tussock basin aptly named Hay Paddock, to the saddle south of point 1552, from where it was a straightforward climb to point 1552. The 180-degree view was spectacular: Culliford Hill in the north, Granity Pass and Lookout Range in the east, Mt Owen to the north, and the Matiri Range and Turks Cap to the west.

Southern view from point 1552 to Mt Owen and Replica Hill

Western view from point 1552 to the Matiri Range with The Haystack (middle)

Granity Pass (centre) and Lookout Range

Northern view from point 1552 to Culliford Hill. The slope on the left leads to Upper Nuggety Creek Flat

On saddle north of point 1552—slopes to Upper Nuggety Creek Flat

What I was most interested in though, was Upper Nuggety Creek Flat, my next goal some 400 metres below. The slopes from the saddle north of point 1552 looked steep, and looking at the map I knew that I had to avoid the bluffs some 200 metres below. From the saddle I descended a steep tussock slope in a west-southwesterly direction. The gradient eased briefly and I couldn’t see an obvious route down. Wherever I looked, I couldn’t see the bottom beyond the steeper and steeper terrain.

There was only one way to find out: Push on down and take it from there. It wasn’t long before I realised that I was a tad too far south, above the northern end of the bluffs. I backtracked a little and sidled north, clambering through the lush, waist deep vegetation. Progress was slow. Eventually I reached a crest clear of the bluffs, offering a manageable and direct descent to Nuggety Creek Flat.

I imagine that going the other way (ascending) would be much easier as you could see the bluffs, being able to give them a wide birth.

Marble bluffs below point 1552 captured from Upper Nuggety Creek Flat

Upper Nuggety Creek Flat with point 1552 (right)

Nuggety Creek Flat with the towering bluffs as a backdrop looked beautiful. As I pushed on westward, slowly climbing out of Nuggety Creek Flat, I was met by a sea of webs of nursery web spiders. They were everywhere! The next thing I noticed was a golden hunting wasp, attacking a nursery web spider, chasing it up, down and through the tussock. While I was watching the amazing spectacle I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. Another nursery web spider climbed up the sleeve of my jacket and disappeared behind my neck—an arachnophobe’s nightmare! Luckily I’m not quite that way inclined. Still, my backpack and jacket came off in no time—with no spider in sight… (here’s a photo of a nursery web spider I spotted in the Mackay Downs).

The next quest was to find the beginning of the Branch Creek Track. It took a bit of hit and miss to eventually spot an old marker on the trunk of a mature beech tree. The descent through beech forest—interspersed with groves of grass trees—was lovely and a welcome contrast to the open country. Soon I reached the tidy Branch Creek Hut which is nicely positioned in a small clearing.

South Island Robin—Toutouwai—Petroica australis australis

Branch Creek Hut

Day 3: Branch Creek–Replica Hill–Granity Pass

I woke to picture perfect weather, ideal conditions to explore the tops. I headed up the same track I came down on the day before, now aiming for the point 1500 ridge. About 100 metres or so before the end of the track, I veered off in a southerly direction and climbed through the open beech forest to the bushline.

Travelling along the ridge to point 1500 and towards Replica Hill was easy and very pleasant—and views galore! The Haystack, Mt Kendall and Mt Patriarch were some of the prominent peaks that came into view. In the vicinity there were good views of Culliford Hill, Billies Knob, Fred and Mt Bell.

View from point 1500 ridge to Turks Cap

Matiri Range (point 1562) and point 1396 (centre)

Nuggety Creek headwaters with Mt Patriarch (far left) and Culliford Hill (right)

Fred and Mt Bell

Point 1500 ridge leading to Replica Hill (middle), Mt Bell (left) and point 1763 (right)

The climb to Replica Hill was straightforward. From the summit, there was a spectacular view straight across to Mt Owen, the highest mountain in Kahurangi National Park, rising to 1822 metres (a mere 53 metres higher than Replica Hill). The weather and visibility was perfect with very little wind—what better lunch stop could there be?

Southwestern view from Replica Hill to points 1732 and 1763

Mt Owen (north face)

Mt Bell (west face)

Culliford Hill (south face)

I have talked to trampers who climbed Replica Hill on a more direct route from the east. Looking at it from the top, it must be a rather steep climb with some possible scrambling towards the top. I opted for an easy descent, backtracking north along the ridge and down a tussock slope into the upper Nuggety Creek catchment basin.

The traverse to the saddle south of point 1552 would be quite challenging in poor visibility. The undulating karst country—tussock interspersed with marble blocks, bluffs and sinkholes—makes for an intricate maze. Since visibility was good, it was easy to keep my bearings, which made the crossing very enjoyable.

Author traversing karst country

From the saddle south of point 1552 it was a pleasant stroll to the Sanctuary Basin. With the sun behind me and low in the sky, the colossal marble range north of point 1764 (aka Fred) was nicely illuminated. A picturesque tarn in Sanctuary Basin was the first water I came across since climbing out of the Branch Creek Valley earlier that day. Beyond the tarn I crossed the stream that drains the area north of Sentinel Hill, and rejoined the route down the Railway Embankment to Granity Pass Hut. Another fantastic day in the Marino Mountains came to an end.

Sanctuary Basin with Fred

Tarn in Sanctuary Basin with point 1416 in the back

Day 4: Granity Pass– Courthouse Flat

In the early hours of the morning, clouds started drifting in, accompanied by strong northerlies. Not long after leaving Granity Pass Hut, the first shower came through. As I made my way up the Staircase and down the ridge, the showers increased in frequency and eventually turned into rain.

Even so, I couldn’t help but keep a smile on my face. I had just spent three amazing, memorable days on the tops, and in the best conditions I could have wished for. New Zealand wilderness at its best!

Illustration on interpretation panel at Courthouse Flat

To view a selection of photos I took on this trip please browse my gallery or view the slideshow.

For information and a fact sheet published by DOC refer to their Mt Owen page.

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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It’s a pleasant hut to stay at, and it has a bit more character than some of the latest, newly built huts. Although the hut is next to the confluence of Drain Creek and Little Wanganui River, there aren’t any views of either of them. Even so, there’s still a nice outlook to native bush and scores of tree ferns that gracefully line the small clearing.

View from Belltown Manunui Hut.

Trampers who refer to the Kahurangi Parkmap 274–13 (edition 4, 2004) will notice that Belltown Manunui Hut was mistakenly printed in the location of Little Wanganui Gorge Shelter, and vice versa.

While staying at Belltown Manunui Hut, a couple of trampers arrived there after walking all the way from Trevor Carter Hut in one day. Upon their descent from Little Wanganui Saddle—and referring to their Kahurangi Parkmap—they expected to arrive at Belltown Manunui Hut, when instead they were greeted by a tiny, red-roofed shelter. Because they were after a more comfortable abode, they pushed on for another three hours to Belltown Manunui Hut.

That “tiny, red-roofed shelter” bears the name of Little Wanganui Gorge Shelter, whereas on maps, signs and in publications it is shown as Little Wanganui Biv, Little Wanganui Emergency Shelter, or simply Emergency Shelter. Whatever its name, I’m sure it has been appreciated by many tramping parties during adverse weather.

Speaking of names, I have not yet found out why the new Belltown Hut was given the second name Manunui, and what it actually means. Going by the Māori Dictionary, I came up with the loose translation “many birds”, from manu meaning bird, and nui meaning plentiful. If you, or anyone you know, could shed any light on this, please leave a comment.

If you would like to find out more about Belltown and its history I invite you to read on. The following text is displayed on an interpretation panel in Belltown Manunui Hut:

© 2001–2009 Markus Baumann, Skylark Productions

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