Waitangi Weekend, 3–6 February 2024
We spent a night at the DOC campsite cooking shelter, Lake Taylor
The carrot that dangled was the promise of an ‘easy 3–4 day riverside ramble ... a good leg-stretcher.’ By the time Waitangi Weekend arrived, our party had dwindled to just five intrepid trampers – the perfect number of people to shoehorn into Ken Ridley’s ancient Subaru Legacy. He and his partner Yumi drove it to the small settlement of Hawarden where we met with Kath who was touring in her campervan. Our ages ranged from mid-50s to early 80s.
An hour’s torturous travel over Jack’s Saddle brought us up the tumultuous Hurunui River, where burnt hills once held thousands of sheep, and the land was heavily modified. In truth, ours was not an adventure into the wilderness; rather, it was a leisurely excursion into the backcountry of Northern Canterbury.
On arrival at the DOC campsite beside Lake Taylor, the sun was shining. However, a gusty wind funnelling up the lake had us searching for refuge. We pitched tents in the lee of the cooking shelter as the campground filled up with fishermen, boaties, their families and their dogs. By late afternoon the forecast southerly arrived with a vengeance, dusting the hills in summer snow. Thunder echoed, lightning flashed across the sky above, cattle moaned in the fields below. Before dusk the sky cleared, the wind died, and we were treated to pink candyfloss clouds after sunset. We fell asleep under a vast canopy of stars.
Three Sisters cross the Sisters Stream
On Sunday we crawled out of dew-soaked tents later than desirable. Away by 9am, Ken shuttled us down the road to the trackhead. Shouldering light packs, we used a footbridge to access a muddy trail that sidled above Sisters Stream. We were soon crossing a swingbridge that dangled us over the swollen Hurunui River, still pumping with recent rainfall. During the first hour, travel was an effortless stroll along grassy river flats punctuated with thickets of matagouri. The river bank was lined in kowhai trees and flowering kanuka.
Era on the Sisters swingbridge
Arriving at a boggy swamp, the marked trail led us up onto a higher shelf which followed a fenceline. Three terraces were climbed and as we gradually gained height, expansive views opened up before us. A stiff wind burned our faces but we made steady progress towards the top where we could see Lake Sumner, shimmering blue in the distance.
Passing a horse paddock, we cut through a lush corridor of tall kanuka trees to reach a clearing where the rustic Gabriel Hut stood, dark and uninviting. Almost all trampers recorded in the visitor book were from Christchurch – the only exception was our club treasurer and intrepid hut bagger, Ian Morris. Lunch was consumed sitting on logs around the fire pit.
Two Old-Timers: Ken at Gabriel Hut
Next on Ray’s agenda was a venturous detour – sans packs – to visit Lake Sumner, twenty minutes to the west. The track was sketchy with lots of windfall.
Era braved the waves for a chilly immersion, while Kath and Ray explored the Hurunui River outlet. Ken and Yumi lay down to keep out of the incessant wind.
Kath at Hurunui River mouth at Lake Sumner
Returning to the hut, we set off on a pleasant track through beautiful beech forest, the residence of a thousand wasps. A gradual climb to a bush saddle then dropped steadily into Jollie Brook, sidling a few slips, splashing across the stream. A swingbridge was crossed to reach the seven-berth hut, an unusual design sporting two bunkrooms separated by a large kitchen. Jollie Brook Hut was in excellent condition and we enjoyed our sojourn there.
Jollie Brook Hut sports seven bunks. There is fantastic camping here
We must have set a new club record for the laziest start – at 10am. Within minutes of our departure we made our first wet-boot crossing, the first of sixteen. Era was initiated into the art of fording a mountain stream, and despite her protests, her socks soon warmed up.
The first hour’s walk was delightful as sunlight filtered through mature forest. The second hour’s walk had us searching for track markers amongst the ubiquitious copses of matagouri. Navigation was straight-forward along the wide valley floor. In the late 1970s or early 80s, deer cullers drove 4WD vehicles upriver to the original Jollie Brook huts, both of which burned down.
Past the confluence of Cold Stream, we climbed over a bluff to a DOC signpost indicating the rough route up to Cold Stream Hut, a typical NZFS six-bunker sited high on a grassy terrace. Getting to this hut required locating hard-to-find leads across the banks, or resigning ourselves to tramping up the stream bed itself. A glaring summer sun sapped our energy and slowed progress. The final hundred metres was along a gravel terrace.
At Cold Stream Hut, sunburnt bodies were cooled under a waterfall; books were read; billies were boiled; food was eaten. We all enjoyed wasting an afternoon in this remote backwater. As evening wore on, the last two bunks were taken by a local hunter and his teenage son. Ray did not hear them return from a recce upriver during the night. He most certainly did hear them slide off the top bunks, crash onto the hut floor and wake up all hut residents who were understandably upset. Heck, it was 4am! The men headed off on a dawn mission and the 15-year-old shot a red deer.
Sleep deprived, our party departed early, halving the previous day’s track time out to Jollie Brook. Our pace was unrelenting as we were determined to finish strong, criss-crossing the river, punching through a couple of small gorges, ambling along stony flats, dodging matagouri. A marked trail on the true left made travel very efficient.
Splashing down Jollie Brook on Day 4
At the mouth of Jollie Brook we sidled above the Hurunui River for an hour up an unkempt cattle track. When we re-crossed the Sisters swingbridge, we had beaten the official DOC time. To his credit, old Ken arrived at the trackhead first. He carefully manoevred his Subaru over Jacks’ Saddle to the fleshpots of Culverden where we indulged our appetites at the local bakery.
All in all, this leisurely loop in the Canterbury hinterland was both memorable and refreshing. We returned to Nelson scratched, burnt and grinning.
Happy hikers were: Ray Salisbury (leader), Kath, Ken, Yumi and Era.
Distance: 36km. Time: 12 hours over 3 days.