New Zealand Diaries.

Oct - Nov 2024.

Journaling through New Zealand's huts and hikes.

This blog is a heartfelt reflection on New Zealand’s backcountry huts and hikes – alongside life on the move. Woven with diary entries written by yours truly, here’s a few stories from my road-trip through the beautiful Aotearoa.

How it started...

After spending a whole year in sunny Australia, it was certainly on my bucket list to fly across the pond and experience all the beauty that New Zealand has to offer. As an avid mountain enthusiast, it would be rude to come this far from home and not pay Aotearoa a visit. Accompanying me on this trip would be the beautiful Dylan Angwin; my Melbourne housemate turned devotee and certified Australian adventurer. Without him, this trip wouldn’t have been even a fraction of what it ended up being. Most the planning we did was over brief phone calls, he was living and working full-time in Victoria while I was indulging in backpacker escapades in Western Australia. Over 4,000 km stood between us, yet we were both committed to bringing our plan to fruition.

I vividly remember laying on my back and staring up at the dark sky of the Australian outback, 7pm, humidity clinging to my skin, with Dylan on loudspeaker discussing the logistics of our endeavour. With my lifestyle at the time, living in a hostel and all that comes with that (working, volunteering, partying, etc) I never had much time to think about the future, I was all about the here and now, so these moments were few and far between. It all felt very surreal to me, as if we weren’t talking about something that, in a matter of weeks, would become our reality.

I don’t think it truly set in until I touched down in Auckland. This was the next stage of my adventure, and albeit, the next chapter of my life.

In hindsight, having completed a full road trip spanning the two islands of this epic country, I feel Dylan and I achieved a lot. Some highlights include living out our much-desired van life, sleeping in different camps around the country, surviving a freak snowstorm and experiencing firsthand all the famous beauty New Zealand has to offer; Nelson Lakes, Milford Sound, Franz Josef, Akaroa and Queenstown to name just a few. However, I think we both agree, our favourite memories must be the treks. In this blog, I’ll share my experiences staying in some of New Zealand’s most memorable huts – the rustic, the charming, the utterly remote, and discuss my own thoughts and feelings that stuck out to me on these journeys. This is an ode to New Zealand’s wonderful trails.

04.10.24 – Tongariro Alpine Crossing (19.4km, 1,195m)

The much anticipated, and first notable trek of our trip.

One of my favourite takeaways from this adventure was, surprisingly, the communal kitchen in our campsite the night before we set off on this hike. Nestled within the outskirts of the forest, the wooden, rustic kitchen felt like a real log cabin. There was a quiet energy as all sorts of hikers chopped, stirred, and prepared their meals; pasta bubbling, eggs sizzling, kettles boiling into the perfect fuel for the miles ahead. I love the unspoken camaraderie of a communal kitchen, knowing that tomorrow, everyone would be out on the trail.

And what an ambitious trail it was, we passed through various other-worldly backdrops including alpine valley, ancient lava flows, volcanic craters and more. It really felt as though we were trekking through conditions frozen in time. Vast barren expanses were reminiscent of lunar landscapes, each step a passage through geological history. This time was also beneficial in helping us refine our understanding of essential layers, ideal snacks, and other key aspects of preparation, habits that became second nature as our journey progressed.

05.10.24 – Failed mission to Holly Hut (6.9km 975m)

The almighty Mt. Taranaki, or perhaps it’s more appropriate to point out the lack of.

Although we couldn’t see the peak of Mt Taranaki, the climb started with promise – boots crunching against damp earth and distant mist curling around us. I felt excited about the idea of staying in a mountain hut, this was one of the main reasons I had come to New Zealand after all. Holly Hut was meant to be a refuge, a reliable shelter for us to collapse into, but only a few km in, this idea began to dwindle. Around the same time that our visibility became compromised, we came across a sign that stated ‘Rapidly changing weather conditions. Check official forecast’ in hindsight, passing this sign without much of a thought probably wasn’t the smartest idea. Neither me nor Dylan wanted to face defeat before we had even started. We pushed on. At first, it was just a few scattered drops, cool against our flushed skin, but within minutes, the rain came down in torrents, drumming against our jackets, turning the path into a river of slick stones. Visibility shrank; every step forward felt more uncertain. We bounced the idea of turning back on ourselves, but once again, we were too stubborn to give in. The whole hike we were guessing how far off we must be. We must be over halfway now. We must. But the relentless rain wouldn’t ease, we were fighting a losing battle.

This really came to fruition when we reached a waterfall which tore through the path, washing away the trail, along with any hope of us skirting this edge. It was unpassable. Reality set in that our time had come. Soaked to the bone, we exchanged a glance – reluctant but knowing, we had to turn around. Retreating to our van we finally admitted defeat, the rain continued to lash against our hoods, forcing our eyes to the ground, and our feet squelched with each step down. The only positivity in the air was the slight relief that we weren’t spending the night on the edge of a mountain in these conditions.

We were able to change into dry clothes in a freezing-cold public toilet block at the foot of Taranaki to avoid inevitably contaminating our van with water. We put our soaked-through items (which was literally everything, including our underwear) into a big black bin bag. A lesson was learnt this day.

Despite this whole ordeal, the journey ended up being a blessing in disguise. As our plan was to sleep in the hut this night, we had to find last minute accommodation, or at least somewhere to park the van. After browsing google maps we came across a farm-stay for only $70 a night (for us to split) in the middle of Egmont National Park. The views at this point were still non-existent even down in the valleys, but what we did get was an expanse of private land, a warm shower and a radiator. Oh, and 2 huge cozy beds dressed in floral linen like something you would find at your nans house. We were living.

‘Seeing the mountains is never guaranteed – it’s a privilege. For nearly a week, Mt Taranaki remained hidden to us, only as we were leaving, it started to emerge through the diminishing cloud, almost like a farewell as we drove into the distance. That moment, so short, served as a stubborn reminder that nature reveals itself on its own terms.’

14.10.24 – Aspiring Hut and Asp. National Park (9km 415m)

The sun had finally broken through, and the universe was aligning. Thinking back now, this was probably the turning point of our trip; our first week was spent desperately trying to avoid the rain and saying ‘this would be lovely in summer’ but from this moment forth everyday was an abundance of adventures and we really made the most of our time.

After driving 30km from Wanaka through farmland and fords we arrived at Aspiring National Park. The meadow ahead stretched into a lush green expanse, sliced by a dry, winding mud track guiding our path. Sheep grazed contentedly with their lambs never too far away, and the mountain tops were coated with snow. A river meandered through the valley; we would follow this all the way up to Aspiring Hut for the night. Occasionally the path would cross with the stream forcing us to shed our shoes and roll up our trousers to cross. This glacial water was sharp and shocking but provided a pleasant contrast to the warmth of the sun above. I kept my shoes off for as long as I could soaking up the feeling of this ground beneath my feet. This was the New Zealand I had both imagined and dreamed of.

It was a pleasant and easy walk, allowing us to take our time to reach the end destination. Aspiring hut itself was modern and clean; it was large and open plan with one wall made almost entirely of glass windows. There was a long smooth wooden bench where we sat and ate dinner, looking out to the display of mountain peaks in front of us. In the evening the temperature dropped rapidly, despite this I insisted on drinking our hot chocolate outside. I could never grow tired of this view.

‘I am so grateful to be somewhere as beautiful as here, on the complete other side of the world from my home. I didn’t realise how gorgeous the walk up would be – but I was amazed the whole time. Doing things like this inspire me to see more, do more, there are so many adventures to be had. Curiosity is a great trait to have, and I am extremely blessed to be able to act on it. It was a dream of mine to stay in a hut in New Zealand and now we have done it. It is a lovely feeling.’

16.10.24 – Breast Hill and Pakituhi Hut (4.2km 950m)

Breast Hill stands at an elevation of 1,577m, offering panoramic views over the stunning expanse of Lake Hāwea, but reaching those breathtaking sights is no easy feat. I found the hike to Pakituhi Hut to be a relentless challenge, with a steep ascent that demands an elevation gain of 950 to 1,000m over less than 5 kilometres. I was already exhausted after the first 10 minutes of grassy switchbacks; little did I know this was only the beginning. As you push higher, the track narrows, skirting along a ridge where every step requires focus. Loose scree and rocky terrain make footing difficult which adds to the physical and mental demand. One side of the path drops steeply away, while the other leads upward toward the summit, seemingly never ending. Toward the second half, there were stretches of hands-on scrambling, we could at least take this as a sign that we were approaching the peak. Step, after step, after step, I still refuse to believe we only covered 5k, but I guess that goes to show the sheer severity of the ascent.

Reaching Pakituhi was a blessing, we turned away from the mountain edge and headed east into the swooping valley that sat behind. Pakituhi is a modest hut with just 4 beds and no sort of cooking or heating facilities, it was one of the more rustic huts we came across over our time in New Zealand (yet saying that it was still much cleaner and more modern comparatively to shelters you get elsewhere in the world). It was colder inside the hut than it was out in the surrounding highlands, and there was a single old candle waiting to be lit sat on the table. A lone drop dunny stood a couple meters away.

In the hut book, most entries were brief – hikers passing through on their way to the next leg of their journey, stopping only to rest before moving on. Despite its sparse offerings, Pakituhi Hut held a quiet charm, there was something fitting about its simplicity, its lack of amenities only deepened our immersion into the untamed landscapes outside of its four walls. These views are what you trek for after all. The hut felt somewhat of a relic of the landscape itself.

21.10.24 – Mt. Luxmore Hut (8km 1,085m)

Brod Bay to Luxmore Hut is a stunning section of the Kepler Track in Fiordland National Park. It took us about around 3-4 hours to climb 8k up to Luxmore hut, which sits at 1,085m and it might just be my favourite hike of all time. After a quiet first stretch ambling alongside Lake Te Anu, it became more of a challenge. The path starts to zigzag through beech forest, and continues this way much of the way up, yet, once we passed the bush line, we were rewarded with the reveal of a somewhat desolate, open expanse of 360-degree views. After being engulfed by trees for the most part, this was a reveal like no other. I was on top of the world.

From here we were only 45 minutes from Luxmore. The hut itself was simply whimsical; her colours were muted so she blended in with the side of the mountain. She stood in solidarity against the highlands. And the best part – there were Kea, the only alpine parrot in the world, who also used this hut as a base. In this wild, untamed place, there was no divide between the hikers and the birds, we were just creatures drawn together by curiosity and adventure. If anything, it was more their hut than ours, they would establish this by swooping, stealing food, pecking at packs and boots. We were their playground. There was one particular Kea named Melsby (although wild, conservation keeps an eye on, and names, these birds) whom we kept ‘bumping’ into. We still talk a lot about Melsby and his cheeky mannerisms.

The other hikers we encountered here (and there were a few!) were extremely friendly, some of which we passed on the trail. We shared cups of herbal tea and discussed our adventures. The fire was already burning, and people had started to settle in for the night. The hut features 54 bunk beds split into just two sleeping areas, each equipped with a thin mattress. The bunks are stacked in two-tier formations, allowing space for multiple hikers in one sturdy structure, and there was a warm, community feel. Other than the overflowing toilet as it was coming to the end of off-season, I couldn’t fault this hut. I would move in if I could.

‘I never want to take my notebook up to the huts as its additional space in my pack that I simply don’t have, yet every time I have regretted it and ended up writing on whatever else I can find whether that’s the hut-book, a rogue magazine or my notes app. Waking up in this hut is a unique feeling, after a tiring day of walking, and for us weeks of travel now, you naturally go to sleep with the sun, and therefore wake up with it also. As the first light crept through the windows this morning, I arose with some other weary adventures, immediately putting on coats, hats, all sorts of outdoor gear as we clamber out of bed. I tried to be quiet so not to disturb Dylan, or anyone else in the room for that matter. Down in the common areas there are more early risers dotted about, starting breakfast, boiling water for coffee, some even putting on their boots to set off for the next leg of their journey already. There is scatted chatter about how well everyone slept, and the conditions outside. My favourite part of the mornings is the air- there is stillness, especially in the mountains that is intangible yet so prevalent, the air is so cold and unbelievably fresh. I am grateful that this is where I woke up today. I am so in awe of, not just the natural surrounds, but the fact that this is my life.’

07.11.24 – Ben Lomond via Tiki Trail (14km 1,748m)

It was hard facing that this was going to be my last hike in this beautiful country. Dylan had already left to fly home to Australia and continue his work, so I was solo once again. I felt sick to my stomach parting ways at the airport, but I had to fly to Queenstown to end this adventure alone, just like how it had started in Sydney 14 months earlier. I love solo travel more than anything else in the world but that isn’t enough to make saying goodbye any easier.

It felt extremely fitting that Ben Lomond was going to be my highest elevation and most ambitious climb considering it was near enough my last day. On the way up I tried using my headphones to fuel me with some music, but nothing hit quite right – I ended up hiking in silence, occupied by my own thoughts the whole way up. My head replayed everything I had experienced over the last year, all the people, places, memories, I don’t know how all these chapters of my life fit into just one year. From backpacking the East coast, living in Melbourne, road tripping through the red centre to living in remote WA. And after all this I was about to fly to South Korea. Its very rare you get these moments of reflection when you’re moving around so frequently, life is changing all the time, and you just get on with it. But I think that’s why I like hiking so much. It allows for introspection. It gives you time, it gives you space, and you only need to focus on what is directly in front of you.

‘I am so lucky to be on the same planet as them (the mountains). They make me feel like I have the world at my fingertips yet simultaneously reduce me to insignificance.’

How we were left...

It is clear from afar that New Zealand’s landscapes are breathtaking, however, it takes getting amongst them to realise that it’s not just for their grandeur, but also for their fleeting, delicate nature. Every ridge, lake, and valley is shaped by the elements more so than other places on earth. Learning about the earthquakes and their dramatic impact on both the people and the environment felt extremely profound and it’s admirable how the communities have delt and moved forward upon this.

In addition, the Kiwi culture towards the great outdoors is equally inspiring; their attitude is all about embracing the wild. They value adventure, resilience, and respect for nature, encouraging everyone to be active and experience their beautiful landscapes whether that’s through hiking, camping, surfing, fishing or mountain biking. You can see this in action through their sense of accessibility and inclusivity – many outdoor spaces are free to explore, and conservation efforts ensure that future generations can enjoy them too. The huts we stayed in also embodied this, the Department of Conservation (DOC) and volunteers maintain nearly 1,000 huts across the country and from our experience I am led to believe they are all in immaculate condition and accessible to all. People follow the rule of, not just leave-no-trace, but of leaving huts better than what you found them e.g. cleaning up, replacing firewood, and respecting fellow hikers. Despite their lack of luxury, they provide you with everything you could possibly need. Every second spent hiking these trails and staying in these shelters was a gift.

‘We arrived in New Zealand with very little plan and the intention to hike as much as we could. This posed more challenges than expected when coming during the spring- we had to navigate road and track closures, avalanche warnings, having to turn back on trails due to weather conditions and a whole lot of ‘I wouldn’t recommend that’. Despite this we managed to hike sections of both the Kepler and Routeburn track, stay in some gorgeous huts and complete some solid day missions. We have been shown how precious this landscape is and were constantly reminded of its fragility which comes from being centred in this part of the world. However, it is also this that curates such beauty in our surroundings, all of which making it that touch more special.’

This post is dedicated to Dylan.

Peace and love, Evie.