Stewart Island - Part 5

I was restless all night and awake early on the morning of day five. The hunters had started their day before dawn again and I was up heading for the outhouse shortly after they left the hut. I hadn’t planned on an early morning kiwi search but as I wandered back up the trail I spotted the mottled brown back stomping through the bracken beside the trail. I stalked the oblivious bird as it bobbed in and out of view; I couldn’t help but be thrilled to be so close to the rare species. It was marvelous!

Iain and I got packed up and hit the trail by mid morning, sad to leave the beautiful spot but excited to see the upcoming trail. An hour through the primordial jungle brought us to the sand dunes that mark the entrance to West Ruggedy beach. I went on ahead of Iain so I could get some epic photos of him navigating the shifting sands. The last push downhill was a steep sandy slope that must be a raging river during heavy rains. The water was visible at random spots through the sand and there were rocks littering the sides of the slope, it was a beautiful spot. We played around with the camera until the sand flies drove us onward.

We smelled the beach before we saw it, we had been told about the beached whales at the DOC office before we started hiking, but I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of them. Close to 30 pilot whales had inexplicably beached themselves on the sandy beach a week before Iain and I got there. Sadly, because of heavy weather DOC employees couldn’t get people in to drag them back to sea and had to euthanize all of the whales. By the time Iain and I got to West Ruggedy the whales were either rotting above the high tide line or half buried in the sands along the beach. We had also been warned to stay out of the water as the sharks were swimming in the surf at high tide to tear chunks from the whales they could reach. It was a gruesome sight and I was grateful for the stiff breeze that kept the worst of the smell away from us. We chatted briefly about the tragedy with a hunter we met on the beach but the smell and the flies soon pushed us on.

The morning and afternoon was cool and there was a lingering fog wreathing the hills on either side of the beach. Walking along the beach I felt like I had stepped out of time, the location seemed otherworldly and timeless. The feeling of mystery and awe lingered with me throughout the day.

We enjoyed a short side hike up to another stunning viewpoint and caught our breaths while enjoying the breathtaking views. The high mist lingered over the islands in the distance and we could see strings of golden beaches and lush forestland up and down the coast.

The hike from East Ruggedy hut to Big Hellfire hut was one of the longest of the trip, seven hours of the deepest, longest stretches of muddy trail we had seen yet. The frequent gullies were also steeper and we had a few fun creek crossings. I began to think of it as a climbing trip rather than a hiking trip. By mid afternoon Iain and I were beginning to loose steam and were looking forward to scraping off the mud and having a hot fire and a hot dinner.

In typical Stuart Island fashion our flagging spirits were lifted by a magical moment in the late afternoon. In the deep shadows of the giant ferns and colossal trees Iain spotted the now familiar stumping motions of a Giant Brown Kiwi bird as it searched for tasty grubs. Iain motioned for me to move slowly and quietly as he removed his pack and armed himself with his camera, and then he was in full National Geographic mode. I sat back hoping he would get ‘The Photo’ but eventually I had to do some peeking of my own. The bird seemed completely oblivious to us as we moved gracelessly around it. Our movements became more blatant when we realized the bird couldn’t care less about us. The kiwi appeared to move in a grid pattern leaving no branch, stump or pile of leaves unturned as it searched out a plethora of bugs and other juicy food. I had moved forward with my pack on and Iain caught the kiwi as it clomped in front of me through the muddy trail. I was fascinated as it dove into the mud with its long, strong beak. It wrenched at something with the vigor of a terrier after a rat, shaking and tugging ferociously with its whole head. It slowly moved on, never deviating from it’s set parameters, always moving parallel to the trail gradually working down slope until we could no longer see it through the thick underbrush.

After the kiwi had faded into the distance Iain and I sat staring at each other…what an amazing experience! We had been a hand-span away from a bird that most New Zealanders had never seen. It was a rush that propelled us through the last few hours of the climb to Big Hellfire hut.

We arrived to an empty hut and set to the task of scraping the pounds of mud and sand off our lower bodies. The hut was just under 400m elevation and the fog we had seen lingering all day had surrounded us with its damp embrace when we arrived. We unpacked, selected bunks, washed up and started dinner before the first of the hikers arrived. It was a friendly bunch, mostly women in the hut that night and the first place we didn’t share a space with hunters. There were a number of card games, catching up on the journaling, some yoga stretching and around sunset the fog cleared off and we got a dramatic view into the swampy valley at the center of the island.

Iain and I finished off the day with a walk out to the vast sand dunes that had been pushed all the way up the hill side from sea level. The fog swirled around us in an opaque miasma, briefly clearing at dusk and granting us a hazy view of an elemental coastline. We snuggled in the sand until the chill chased us inside, followed by the sounds of the kiwis haunting the dunes around us.