Down Under January 2014 | Akaroa and Hinewai Hike

Sitting here on my bed, sipping a icey cold white wine, which I'm hoping will ease the pain that prevails throughout my ENTIRE body: feet, ankles, legs, shoulders, butt, hands—it all hurts. The wine is good though. Waipara Hills Pinot Gris. There are smelly hiking tees, shirts, and socks in a pile on the floor, which I do not have the energy to put in the laundry bag, Dishes are in the sink—all this will have to wait for morning.

We headed out to Akaroa today, a 70 km drive up and over a pass on the Banks Peninsula. This is all close to Christchurch and the traffic in was mainly buses; fortunately we were going out. Akaroa, despite its name, is a French-themed village on the south side of the peninsula and sits on a huge inlet with its stunning torquoise blue waters and numerous bays, islands and inlets. The French thing is a bit pretencious, but the history of Akaroa has something to do with France, and the girl in the Info Centre was authentically French, although she may be the only one in town who does. There were two big cruise boats offshore, hence the large number of buses on the road. I had in mind a 4 k walk around town and out along the coast, but Margaret had a different idea so we headed up to the Hinewai Reserve for a (supposedly) 6 hour, 6 k hike through the Reserve.

The drive itself is worthy of note. There are no shoulders, and for the latter half or so, no centre line. The views across the peninsula are spectacular but of course it's almost impossible to see them, totally impossible if you are the driver, which I was. When we finally reached the Info Centre for Hinewai, we discovered a real gem. The reserve is owned by a Trust and the 1250 hectares are managed privately for the protection of the land, flora and fauna. You are allowed to do anything there as long as it doesn't interfere with the goals of the Reserve—the rules include no bikes, no vehicles of any kind, no smoking and no billie-boiling. All of the way-finding signage,which is extensive, is hand carved in old wood, and there are similar signs identifying trees and shrubs throughout the area. The highest point is 806 m. (which we did not attempt) and the lowest is Otanerito Bay where we stopped for lunch.

We started at the Visitor Centre--several buildings including a house for the manager--but we saw no one. We headed out to the west, for a tough 2 hours of downhill—tough because it's steep and the terrain under foot requires a lot of attention. I was grateful that I had thought to bring one hiking stick. There are waterfalls and cataracts, one lane/one-person-at-a-time bridges across streams, a homestead which is nearly abandoned but not entirely, and a constant chorus of bird songs to keep you entertained. There is a white pine estimated to be 600 years old rising to 30 m. The end of the downhill stretch is Otanerito Bay, which is on private land, (a working farm), where you can get up close and personal with the sheep. The beach is rocky but a great resting spot; the headlands are all private—dotted with sheep—and the Bay is as far as you can go.

With our trusted detail map in hand, we explored our options for the return trip. You are already surmising that it was a tough climb up, right?. Well you're spot on as they like to say here. Rather than the route that brought us down, or the one we had originally set out to follow (we estimated it to be the longest) we opted for what we predicted would be shorter but steeper. We were right. The Kereru track is all woodland which, given the heat of the day, was a blessing. As we followed the creek up its path, steps built into the hillside helped us through the steepest parts. But it was unrelenting. You just climb and then you climb some more sometimes over tree stumps, watching always for trees in your pathway (one of which jumped out and hit me in the head!). The Jules Knob, which is just above where we connected with the Mikimi track to take us west again back to the parking lot, is at 370 m so I estimate we climbed about 350 over that section of the homeward lap. It was satisfying to reach the top, but short-lived, because the parking lot is at nearly 500 m so we still had a long climb to go. The final 40 minutes are across the grassy knoll and open to the winds and sun, but afford long views of the bay and the surrounding hills. Except for a short stop when Margaret collapsed on the hillside in need of a break, it's just a slow walk up a long hill.