Around Taranaki
Hiking New Zealand's Sleeping Giant
April 3, 2006

Cairns Photo Courtesy of Double Cabin

Long ago, before we were born, the fiery fingers of Ruamoko, God of volcanoes, pushed through the Earth mother in a fit of rage. Throwing boiling mud and rock into the air the land was formed and with it a reason for being for so many people. Ngati Mutunga, Ngati Maru, Ngati Tama, Nga Rauruf. Irish, English, Scots; Mount Taranaki's last temper tantrum was in 1755, the most recent in a long line of volcanic episodes that started over 70,000 years ago.

The mountain is perfect—a beautiful cone, distinctive from all angles. Seen from many miles inland as a stunning silhouette, seen from the roaming eye of a satellite camera as a dark areola on a sea of cultivation, it's a mountain we all know something about. Taranaki's famous fight with the Central North Island mountains and the long mournful walk down the Wanganui is one of the best known Maori legends. Others know the mountain for its record rainfall and a regular spate of accidents. Many a tramper will tell you Taranaki is perfect for walking around, 55 kilometers of varied terrain that has you clambering over the mountain's legs, knees, feet and toes, back to where you began.

We started our Easter circumnavigation at Dawson Falls on the mountain's south eastern flank. Late on a Friday afternoon we leave the damp carpark and enter the eerie forest of fuchsias, miro, lawyer, and kamahi. Having experienced a wet, late-evening walk from Dawson Falls to Lake Dive before, we opt for the high route that sidles around the mountain above the bushline. There's certainly more light out of Taranaki's dense underworld, and in a light drizzle we clomp down the oversized steps to Lake Dive hut.

The Beehive, a bush covered mound on Taranaki's southern side, contains Lake Dive and was born in the same eruptions as Fanthams Peak 1,300 years ago. The Beehives, Fanthams peak, Taranaki's summit and the peaks to the north, Pouakai and Patuha form a curious longitudinal line, one that runs parallel to the north south line of Ruapehu, Ngauruhoe and Tongariro—the fingers of Ruamoko at work I wonder, biding their time on the landscape.

The following day we bet on the mist clearing and head for the high route to Waiaua Gorge hut. Trudging back up the track we had descended the previous evening we regain the tussock, rock and daisies. The trail traverses under Skeet Ridge and then tucks close to a band of dripping cliffs before dropping down to Brames Falls Track. The bush offers wonderful peep shows of Brames Falls and Taranaki bathed in the late afternoon light.

A network of five seismometers around the mountain is monitored on a daily basis by civil defense staff at the Egmont National Park headquarters. Early warning of a volcanic event will probably save lives, as there are people in every direction of Taranaki's fiery spew. Ash, mud flow, pyroclastic blows and volcanic landslides will mean the end of an era for many of the district's folk. And, with an official status of dormant rather than extinct, eruption is more a question of "when" rather than "if.”

In the meantime I'm happy to enjoy a days tramping from Waiaua Gorge hut to Holly hut. For the first few hours the track winds through mud, thick mud—a sludgy composite of volcanic soil and organic matter. Over tree roots, through puddles and fern glens the track's roughness adds to the fun. From Kahui Hut (half way between Waiaua Gorge and Holly hut) the trail breaks into the sub alpine tussock, hebe and coprosma. The top looks tantalizingly close; the prominent "Turtle" clings to the slope above us. As I grunt uphill my bowed head seems appropriate reverence to the tapu summit.

We walk into Holly hut and a thick evening mist closes in. It's probably the wet breath of the Ahukawakawa swamp which lies a stones throw to the north. The swamp separates Taranaki from its brother Pouakai and is an expanse of flax, moss, red tussock and a few rare shrubs. The North Egmont- Holly hut-Pouakai circuit makes a great weekend tramp and, on a clear day, has some of the best views of Taranaki in the National Park.

From Holly hut to North Egmont the character of the track changes yet again. The trail cuts a striking line through shoulder height bush, crosses boomerang slip and ducks below the Dieffenbach bluffs. The bluffs were named after the German Naturalist Ernst Dieffenbach who, along with whaler James Heberly in 1839 were the first Europeans to step on the summit. One hundred and thirty-six years later I made my first climb of the mountain. In fact, it was the first mountain I'd ever climbed, all 2,518 meters of it.

We pass by the north ridge, the way most people climb Taranaki. The route has a different start from when I first climbed it, avoiding fragile soil and plants. Slowly but surely the mountain is submitting to gravity. Like some giant wheat stack, piece-by-piece it is rolling down the hill—people's feet aren't helping the process.

From the huge communications tower below north ridge it's only a couple of hours to Dawson falls. A mist rolls in so we see little of the ski field, or what the Maunganui Monster (a notorious avalanche gully) might have in store for us. No matter, as we're back into the twisted forest of fuchsias, lichens and bush lawyer for a short spell before the car park.

And so, back to where we started. It has been a journey full of the park's many characters. There's few mountains you can walk around in quite the same satisfying way as Taranaki. As we drive home the mountain recedes into the distance—banished, perfect, alone.

Author Graham Charles is part of the Adventure Philsophy team. Check out their website at www.adventurephilosophy.com

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