Coming Round the Mountain

Three days of hard walking are rewarded with native birdsong, heart-stopping views and the constant presence of New Zealand’s perfect peak.

Words & photographs: Steve Sole

If Mt Taranaki doesn't throw a tantrum for three days (which is a big ask), instead of flooded rivers, zero visibility and gale force winds, walkers of the Pouakai Circuit will enjoy sun-baked paths through yellow buttercups and uninterrupted views of a volcanic cone reaching 2.5km into the blue sky. They’ll hear the fragile songs of the grey warbler, shining cuckoo, chaffinch, and – if they’re very lucky – the brittle call of the North Island brown kiwi.

The trick is in the timing and one of the advantages of living in Taranaki is being able to wait for ideal weather predictions. That is why my partner and I are at the North Egmont Visitor Centre, the start/finish of the Pouakai Circuit, each carrying a house on our back that will, long after we return, torture our begging shoulders. North Egmont often has an annual rainfall greater than Milford Sound’s, turning its tracks into torrents, but today as we climb the wide, even steps under a searing sun we are thankful for the shade from kamahi, totara and pahautea trees.

A chap strides past wearing nothing more than sneakers, shorts, T-shirt, small daypack and hat and carrying an ice axe. We presume he knows what he’s doing, he walks as if he does, but we are aware that Mt Taranaki’s easy looks are deceivingly deadly, the mountain having claimed more than 60 lives.

Thirty minutes into the walk at Razorback Ridge (at 1360m the highest point on this walk) a sign warns "Danger – do not proceed under adverse conditions unless properly equipped and with an experienced leader". Previously, strong winds had obliged us to cross this ridge on all fours but on this windless day we dawdle past lava remnants The Lizard, Flounder and Shark’s Tooth. Altitude replaces rainforest with leatherwood, a waist-high unyielding shrub, protecting lines of yellow buttercups, white mountain daisies and the notorious tutu. This nitrogen-fixing plant prepares barren soil for colonization but is also poisonous and guilty, so a sign tells us, of killing a circus elephant some years back. Suicide perhaps?

For most people the scariest part of this walk is the 30m-wide and don’t-look-down-long Boomerang Slip. We cross one at a time and, unintentionally, I dislodge a small rock that bounces its way into oblivion. Hundreds of metres of boardwalk drop 200m in altitude to Holly Hut on Holly Flat, once prolific with holly. After four hours of walking we almost float away as we ease packs from shoulders and liberate feet from sweaty socks and claustrophobic boots, savour a cup of hot soup in the sun and let the tomtits and riflemen do the talking. It’s only a 30-minute walk to the 31m-high Bell Falls on the other side of The Dome, a large lump of rapidly cooled lava in front of Holly Hut and, without a pack, it’s a joy.

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