If New Zealand feels a world apart, Great Barrier Island feels even more so with its craggy tipped central peaks, expansive freshwater wetland, steaming hot pools, and rises giving way to sweeping, un-crowded beaches. The 4.5 hour ferry trip emphasizes that Great Barrier Island, 100km from downtown Auckland, is a fairly isolated place. Halfway through the boat ride the city slips out of sight and is replaced by a perfectly circular view of ocean studded with a few rocky islands and the tip of the Coromandel Peninsula. Great Barrier Island shelters the Hauraki Gulf to the east and looks out upon the vast Pacific Ocean to the west. Great Barrier Island didn’t always used to be the last island outpost for thousands of kilometres. During the last ice age when sea levels were lower it was connected to the Coromandel Peninsula and mainland New Zealand. The rise in ocean levels has created a maze of inlets, rocky islets, and drowned river valleys complete with estuaries and mudflats. Since New Zealand sits on the boundary of the Pacific Ocean and Australian tectonic plates it’s no surprise that Great Barrier Island has a volcanic past. The island is largely made up of three igneous rocks - andesite, dacite, and rhyolite. Because of the unique mineral content of the soil several rare and threatened plants occur on the peaks on Great Barrier Island.
What better place to start our Easter-weekend exploration than at the Kaitoke Stream hot pools, another indicator of the island's volcanic history. The hot pools discharge at five locations along the stream after being heated up to 55°C in a deep fissure below the earth’s surface. The geothermal stream is lined by ferns and mosses and occasionally a threatened orchid, all of which thrive in this warm, moist environment where steam continually rises from the hot pools. The warm water creates thick mats of intensely green colored algae which coat submerged rocks and delicate white mineral crystals are sprinkled across the tops of exposed rocks, making it appear as it they’ve been dusted in salt. Even after a hike on a warm day a dip is the hot pools was surprisingly refreshing.
European settlers found Great Barrier Island rich in resources – silver and copper to mine, whales to hunt, kauri timber to fell. Several large kauri trees seem to have escaped the cut and saplings and seedlings abound – evidence that these giants are able to re-establish themselves. The best medicine we can give these trees is a large dose of time – about 1,000 to 2,000 years for them to reach their former glory, complete with a crown of epiphytes.
In the mean time a regenerating forest of 10-15m tall manuka stands in areas hardest hit by kauri extraction. The manuka towers over us with its wispy leaves and thick, twisted trunks. The sheltered understory abounds with nikau, kohekohe, and mapou – making their start for the light where they will eventually replace manuka. This regenerating forest has its beauty as well – once you know what to look for it doesn’t seem scrubby and scrawny at all.
As we neared our campsite for the night we spotted two mated wood pigeon pairs fat and plump from a summer of feeding on nikau and pururi berries. They continued to preen themselves, showing off their deep green, purple, and white plumage and were not the least bit interested in us, the two onlookers. Shortly after dinner the almost full moon rose above the hill and lit up the night sky and the Whangaparoa estuary. When I first saw the southern hemisphere night sky seven years ago in Australia it seemed alien, like I was looking up at the sky from another planet. But now it was comforting to see the Southern Cross and Orion standing upside down. We fell asleep to the sounds of waves lapping at the shore and owls calling out ‘more-pork’ in the distance.
The trail up Te Ahumata - one of the many extinct, heavily eroded volcanoes present on Great Barrier Island – is what every trail would look like if you were up above the tree canopy. The stunted, wind-swept vegetation of Te Ahumata really gave us a feel for the geology of the surrounding landscape. The adjacent peaks appeared as spires, reaching up liked gnarled, knobby fingers towards the sky. It’s immediately obvious how Te Ahumata got its European name, Whitecliffs. The pale white rocks looked like they had been bleached by the sun. Boulders which had tumbled down the cliffs had a maze of holes running through them – like moon rock. The gradual climb to the top provided numerous lookout points over Kaitoke Swamp and we could clearly see where the vegetation changed from forested slopes to lowland shrubs, rushes, and sedges. Up ahead the towering white cliffs caught the sun and my imagination as I wondered what this place looked like when it was an active volcano. But instead of flowing lava, we came across a freshwater wetland and stream in Te Ahumata’s much eroded crater, which provided both a surprise and delight. Jet black moss growing along the path offered strongly contrasted with the white rocks.
At the top of Te Ahumata we were greeted by a trigonometric station battered by 27 years of salt laden winds as well as spectacular views of Kaitoke and Medlands beaches, the southern portion of Great Barrier Island, the Coromandel peninsula, Little Barrier Island, the Hen and Chicken islands, and the Mokohinau Islands. I wondered how prospectors who came to Great Barrier Island 100 years ago had figured out that of all the surrounding mountains, Te Ahumata contained silver. And then, how did the prospectors know where to dig mine shafts in order to intercept the ore?
As we headed back to our campsite we noticed that the tide was out. A banded rail manoeuvred around the mangrove numataphores, searching for food. A group of variable oystercatchers were also poking around the exposed mudflat. Salt marsh ribbonwood formed a small patch of salt marsh behind the mangroves. That night instead of the Easter bunny coming to visit us we had at least two adult pateke (brown teal), walk onto our campsite along with their two chicks which quickly darted into leaf litter for safety. The full moon rising above the hill once again provided a beautiful backdrop to the southern hemisphere constellations.
After two nights at the Green campsite we packed up our gear and headed towards Kaiaraara hut. Just a half an hour into our hike we stopped at Kauri Falls, an idyllic cold mountain stream and great swimming hole. The 3m high falls must have gotten their name from the good-sized kauri tree growing near the waterfall’s lip. We lingered at this tranquil spot and enjoyed the sound of water rushing over the smooth rocks of the stream bed. We then took the Pack Track which crossed a stream and rose sharply towards the ridgeline. Once we got to the ridge it was worth it – we were treated to an impressive stand of kauri rickers (juvenile trees) and dense growth of kauri grass. The trail was littered with kauri needles and cones. At the end of the Pack Track we got onto Forest Road – and tried to imagine how, in its heyday, this dirt road served as a major artery for hauling workers and supplies across the island. As we turned a corner we both shared a gasp of excitement – towering in front of us was the rocky Hog’s Back with sides so shear that no plants could gain a foothold. We took a short side trail to Maungapiko and at the top had great views of the Hog’s Back and surrounding islands. There we so many tall peaks that we wondered which one was Mt Hobson, the tallest peak on the island, which we planned to climb the next day. Further along Forest Road we came across a short side trail, the Kauri Trail.
Due to the steep angle of the trail we really got a good look at the crown and jutting branches of two large kauri trees. Considering how big these trees were and how close they were to the road we wondered why the forestry company left them standing. The ground was covered in a thick layer of bark and leaf sprigs. As we were peering into the crown, feeling so lucky to get such a close, intimate look, we heard and soon afterwards saw a playful pair of kaka. This acrobatic pair of forest parrots treated us to a real show as they flew from tree to tree whistling all the way. Along the remaining portion of Forest Road we saw numerous kauri trees just starting to poke their crowns above the broadleaf species. Standing on this path of red, almost purple soil and looking through the low, shrubby vegetation towards adjacent peaks made us feel like we were on another world, as if we were the only two people on the island.
The next day we began our hike to the top of Mt Hobson by crossing Kaiaraara stream on foot. Clear cold water danced over a rainbow of red, orange, grey, and white rocks. Boulders 4m in diameter littered the stream side and forest floodplain indicating that the water isn’t always this calm.
We stopped for lunch at a kauri dam. Even though I don’t like the idea of felling kauri trees, this massive dam deserved respect. It was designed and built by people who had no formal education but a lot of bush sense. They used large picks to haul kauri trees to the site of the dam and then cut and assembled them into a series of planks and supports. Several kauri dams were built along the length of the stream. Once enough water and felled trees built up behind the dams, which could take up to two years, the workers sequentially triggered the dams seconds apart. A thunder-like roar spread over the valley as the massive logs gauged out huge chunks of streamside earth and vegetation.
After we passed a second kauri dam, the trail became so steep that we could see the ecology change in front of our eyes. After scrambling over a series of rocks and spongy, humus soil the beach trees had given way to cloud forest complete with wetlands. The whole time we kept wondering how people had managed to build such a steep and long series of boardwalks and stairs that literally cling to the side of the mountain. At the top of Mt Hobson we were rewarded by seeing a pair of kakas from above, soaring along the valley and then disappearing into a tree to roost. As we admired the 360 degree view, incoming mist wrapped around us reminding us of Great Barrier’s Maori name, Aotea, meaning cloud.
Our last day on the island included the inevitable hike out of the bush. While waiting in the tiny hamlet of Port Fitzroy for our ride back to the ferry we saw a glimpse of small-town island life. A steady trickle of locals gathered at the general store to chat and mill around, but with no obvious purpose. When the van from the ferry arrived the group sprang into action collecting newly-arrived mail, buying newspapers and bread fresh from the mainland. This must be one of the last true general stores serving as a community’s commercial and social hub. A windy hour’s ride along the full length of the island’s only paved road returned us to the ferry.
