28 December 2016 - Lake Mahinapua DOC Camp, Westland

Two days on and we have not travelled far. Yesterday morning we woke to drizzly rain and I assumed, incorrectly, that the forecasted rain had arrived early and that we would have the afternoon to do the planned walk. I also put off topping up the water tanks, sure that soon there would be a break and the exercise would be altogether more pleasant. How wrong I was!

By midday the rain was falling in great torrents and I was duty bound to fiddle about with hose and related fittings in the pouring rain. Worse still we had to attend to full effluent tanks; they would not go another day. So we drove back into Hokitika and beyond where the dump point lies adjacent to the sewerage ponds, and worked away in even heavier rain. Despite our raincoats which normally prove to be effective, we were drenched through to our underwear. We headed back to our lakeside camp, ploughing through the now ankle deep water to find another spot to park our wheels, our previous night’s posse already comandeered by another party.

The wetlands of Lake Mahinapua

Amazingly, despite the rain, the camp filled up in the late afternoon with even more parties that the night before, and few looked too happy about their camping experience. We were glad to have all our home comforts under the one roof and settled in to polish off more of the leftovers, including the last of the Christmas wine.

This morning the rain had gone, and by mid-morning the skies were clear and the sun was shining its warmth upon the bedraggled possessions of the campers, including our still soggy raincoats. We decided that it was a good morning to do that walk, the Mahinapua Walkway also known as the Mananui Tramline, a six kilometre walk from the the coastal highway through to the inland road to Rimu, at the northern end of Lake Mahinapua. Instead of walking right through to the Rimu end, we detoured to the lakeside, Picnic Point just twenty minutes from the tramway, making our return journey within two and a half hours.

Creek weed

The first part of the walk takes one down past a private farm, then across the Mahinapua Creek to the remains of the Mananui sawmill. There was once a small settlement here too, but all that remains are a few large concrete walls and bits and pieces of iron machinery. There is a large interpretative board that explains the scene and DOC keeps the grass down to an acceptable level. In fact here is the only appropriate picnic spot on the whole walkway unless there is one at the Rimu end which we did not get to.

This actual spot was first taken up by the Hokitika and Greymouth Tramway Company in 1877 so they obviously saw the potential of the wetlands as did John Maher who purchased the land eight years later. He established a flax mill, harvesting the flax from the Creek to the sea beach. Later it was all turned into a timber mill and remained so right until 1967 when Fletcher Timber Company closed its doors. Given that one tends to consider the rape of the West Coast forests as part of the 19^th and early 20^th centuries, it came as a surprise that this was still operating so late in the piece. In its day, the Mananui Mill processed about 90% rimu which was favoured as a building material as well as for furniture, and the remaining 10% was kahikatea, much of which was turned into cheese crates and butter boxes. 

The mill ruins

Beyond the ruins, the tramway descends to the edge of the lake, and crosses what is essentially a wetland broken by creeks. Now there is a boardwalk path through this but once there must have been a substantial bridge arrangement. Views across the lake and over this watery scene are just lovely, or at least early in the day before the sandflies and mosquitos have woken up.

Then the route follows up through regenerating native forest, the logging route cut through the sloping ground to make for the gentlest of walks. Further on the forest opens out to pines and eucalypt, surprising except for another interpretive board which removes the mystery.

Boardwalks across the wetlands

In 1921 the State Forestry Department set up experimental planting, the first trial of “exotics” planted out two years later; eight different species and 85,000 trees, mostly pines, which surely would have provided welcome employment. In 1978 much of the area was logged out, and new species planted during the 1980s, this time eucalypt and Tasmanian blackwoods. 

Plunging back into the native forest reserve, we soon came to the signed turn to Picnic Point, which appealed to Chris more than pressing on to the other road. This little track was constructed in 1937 to appeal to the tourists, and certainly the descriptive name is appealing, just half an hour return for views of the lake. But the track is uneven and entails the clambering up and down over tree roots and today was wet and muddy in many spots. It is only a route for the sure footed, wearing sturdy shoes and with at least one upper limb to  use as a balance as one clambers around to avoid the most hazardous of obstacles. Arriving at the lakeside (rather than an ellevated view point which we had expected) there is a tiny little beach and a grassy knoll that would easily accommodate a couple who are intimate with one another, because they would need to huddle tightly to keep out of the cold wind blowing across the lake. But from here you can see right across to the open space where the camp is located, and elsewhere, the “drowned” Westland Forest about the shore.

The beach at Picnic Point

Despite this negative description, we did enjoy our walk, and were ready for our late lunch when we arrived back at the carpark. We had met several cycling parties on our return, one nearly knocking us off the path. Chris remarked that the cyclist should have used his bell, but I know from experience that neither of us actually recognise the direction or sound of such devices. I suggested we have shirts or vests on with a message across the back; ”Yell to let us know you are behind us” or similar. He asked, “What?” to which I said, “Exactly!” Such deaf-eggs, the two of us!

After lunch we drove into town to get the day’s paper which incidentally had the most wonderful picture of Uluru covered in waterfalls. What a sight that would be! We decided that we may as well return to this DOC camp, as we were not wanting to travel north of Hokitika today; we had other plans for tomorrow and needed to leave from this far south. We agreed that the DOC camp, even with its motley collection of tourists and local holiday makers is far more attracive that the little NZMCA park over spot on the southern bank of the Hokitika River.