Tokomaru Bay to Hikurangi Hut

Climbing to the summit of Hikurangi is something akin to a pilgrimage for Ngāti Porou people, but it carries huge signifance for others too. As the first mountain summit in the world to be kissed by sunrise (a quirk of Aotearoa New Zealand’s proximity to the international dateline), it is a great place to see in a New Year. It’s the place to gather during Matariki, Māori New Year. Crowds flooded there on the first day of the millennium in the year 2000. 

Practically speaking, those who wish to be at the summit to see the sunrise will stay a night in an "8-bed hut", get up really early and walk to the summit, 2.5 kms over 600m elevation gain, about 3-4 hours. A tour company drives the farm road up to the hut. If you are not being whisked to the cheat point via 4WD you start near the Pahikihiroa station residences and walk about 10 kms to the hut along a dirt road, climbing 900 m in the process. 

Our trip to Hikurangi was taken on faith. We had emailed Te Rūnanga o Ngāti Porou (TRONP) to book beds in the hut, but had not heard back (we found out later that this was due to bereavement and tangi). We were doing the long walk to the hut, so quite a commitment just to get there, let alone the summit, and/or back down again if we couldn’t find or hustle somewhere to sleep. We had no idea how busy it would be, whether another tour group might have booked it out, or the brilliant day would attract droves of locals and/or tourists. It was a Monday – usually not so busy for leisure activities even during the summer we figured. We weren’t even that worried that that particular Monday turned out to be Auckland Anniversary day. Except for historical reasons that day is observed by the East Coast, thus it was a public holiday. Woops! 

Anyway, it was a perfect, warm and mild day for the long slog. We made our way from Tokomaru Bay, bypassing Ruatoria, crossed the Waiapu and then bumped along te awa Tapuaeroa to get to the carpark at the trailhead. On what other tramp are you greeted by horses and sheep in the shade of a 30 metre waka while inspecting the DoC / TRoNP information sign? We did a stocktake of cars in the car park – with just one other car we figured there might be up to 4 other people out on the track. We decided against bringing a pup tent (it would only sleep 2 of us anyway) and really put ourselves in God’s hands by also leaving our sleeping mats (again, we only had 2). Importantly though, both Pat and I were carrying our rākau. Our uncle had made these walking sticks for us as wedding gifts. He’d found bush vines, dried them, and embellished with his signature weave of harakeke. The head of Pat’s used deer antler. On mine the branches of the vine fold back in on itself. 

Before we left, we linked arms and I said a karakia / prayer for us. I felt exhilarated to finally climb our maunga and was grateful for the benevolence of Tāwhirimātea on this day. Setting off, we first knocked on the door of one of the homes at Pakihiroa station. The man of the house graciously informed us that he doesn’t look after the hut, something we already knew, but in any case, based on the foot traffic going past he reckoned ‘we’d probably be OK’. And if we weren’t, he informed us of a shearer’s hut about 300m back from our destination hut. Chur. 

About an hour into our walk we found some shade off the track for our morning tea break of chocolate muesli bars, bliss balls and water. As we rested we happily noted a group of 4 walkers, their descent back towards their car. Perhaps we might get to the hut first, and get dibs on beds. 

Pat and I usually tramp in National Parks, so it was a bit unusual for us to be crossing farmland, being mindful of leaving gates as found, dodging cow pats, taking deep breaths to pass stinking carcasses without fainting and waving flies away. We were also unused to being so out in open – amazing views all the time, but relentless sun beating upon the ‘the broad shoulders (pākihiroa) of Hikurangi’. We drank loads, and when we found the shearers’ quarters, we took the opportunity to top up on water from its rainwater tank. 

We detoured to see the Māui whakairo, like carved sentinels – stunning – and spent a bit of time there visiting each pou and absorbing and trying to guess the symbolism and stories behind each one. We found out later from Monty that there is a fantastic resource that is shared with people coming to the maunga. Without this we were left with our own interpretations of this unique circle of ‘monodends’ (if I may), like a dendrogenous version of stonehenge, but with the purpose and meanings intact and intended to be shared, used and passed down. 

From the whakairo, we picked our way through scrubby farmland (here it seemed to be transitioning between clearfell and native bush). We had been able to see the hut for miles, but it was a relief and a triumph when it loomed upon us, along with many cows. The hut is at about 1200m above sea level, and we’d taken 4 and a half hours to get to it. We knocked politely on the door, in case anyone was home, and tried to open it. But we couldn’t – not only did we have no booking, the hut was apparently locked. And we had no key!