Helz Adventures

Out in our NZ backcountry -tackling missions

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I am a kiwi gal , out there in the NZ back country , having adventures and creating missions that test the spirit . A passion for all things huts and trails and all that nature has to offer us .
  • ERNIES CREEK

    ERNIES CREEK

    Ernie’s Creek Block          East Taupo Lands Trust                                               1st January 2026

    Summer bush perfection

    • A-frame from the outside (Bivvy style INTERIOR) approx. 24m2
    • 4 Slab sleeping benches
    • 4 mattress
    • 3 burner stove stop
    • Astro turf floor
    • Heavy duty tarpaulin installation
    • old telephone poles base of structure
    • Solid table and benches, plenty of chairs
    • All the cooking equipment and utensils
    • Large modern ‘metro’ fire place
    • No sink space and water tank -Water is collected by nearby streams
    • Tidy Meat safe
    • Long drop toilet
    • Tussocks flats
    • Scrub sidlings.
    • Pockets of native

    Day 1

     1st January 2026        

    Happy New Year

    Midnight on the 31st 2025, we are kept up by the sound of fireworks cracking all around town. Setting the alarm, the phone tells me we are to be up in 3 and a half hours.

    0400- an early start but a reason to get out of bed. Red eyed and bushy tailed we are up.

    The ute is loaded up , and we are south bound to the plateau from Whangarei. Our ideal new year celebration is always spent in the hills. This year is a slight contrast to last year’s 100km fast pack mission through a mountainous navigation loop via Kaimanawa high point -Makorako summit again with access permission from Helisika to travel through private land. This year we take advantage of exploring another Helisika block we hadn’t been to. Being 20 weeks pregnant the goal of covering ground quickly has been temporally put on hold and thus a helicopter trip was again our choice of travel.

    While the rest of the motu was either still up partying or dead asleep avoiding the unavoidable hangover, we travel silently through the dark and quiet roads into the dawn of the first day of 2026. Arriving at Helisika , the carpark definitely is not empty suggesting others share similar thoughts of a preferred bush holiday.

    The usual chit chat with pilots and weigh in and we are sky high before we know it. A smooth flight (much to my delight). Dan flies us past ‘Big Ben’ high point and we circle our block boundary. A ten-minute flight and we are landing right on the door step of Ernie’s hut

    Within 30 minutes of arriving at the hanger we are soon left with a noticeable silence. As the sound of the hughes 500 thumps into the distance and only the sound of the birds and nearby stream can be heard. Bliss. We are here. Suddenly we are aware of our surroundings. Hills stretch up high all-around us. The same familiar thick scrub conditions you would find at Managroa block except there are beech forest pockets that sprinkle the tops and ridges. The Te Matai highpoint (Ernie’s boundary) stands behind the hut begging the summit chaser to attempt to conquer her and on a day like today it is not hard to imagine the view you would get up there if you were successful.

    Ernies hut, wow what a place. This is an unusual hut full of character. Instantly you can tell this hut has been loved and has seen a few seasons. On first appearance you would call it an A-frame styled hut. The corrugated iron roof almost meets the ground but as you enter this unique hut, you step down and onto an astro turf floor. The base has been built in the ground by approximately a foot. The hut is held up by old telephone poles. The same markings left by previous hut goers dating back to the 90’s.the difference this time since my last trip in October (Tauranga-Taupo solo trip) is that the pilots have been tasked with placing hut books in all the blocks -how good! So straight to the book we go, and unfortunately much to our surprise but not to the pilots there have been no entries. Sharing hunting spots and wins not always the preferred option. How ever in this case we luck out with 5 trip recaps left in a school book tucked away. Dating from April 2025- august 2025 there is some good stuff in there that all helps towards making a plan of attack whilst here. Making the trip to the stream behind the meat safe to fill up the 20l container of water, later learning the track in front of the hut is easier to use to access the stream.

    This has to be the warmest hut I have been in. Today is a hot summers day and the Kestrel (little hand-held portable weather station) tells me it is 23 degrees. The hut is stifling hot. Opening the window and door to create airflow is a must. It is too hot to be in-doors. A quick snack of apple, cheese and nuts and we are too eager to wait. We gear up to explore the North West part of the block, essentially you just head up stream from the flats in front of the hut.

    The clearings are littered with deer droppings, some old some fresh. Deer-heaven here it seems. Following the stream and the familiar faded electrical tape around tree branches marking old routes, some used Speights low carb beer cans also mark preferred routes. We stalk, ever so quietly. This time Chris walks ahead with the shooter. The sound of the stream trickling and plenty of birds sing out this afternoon welcoming us back.      

    Spooked! There is heavy thump through the scrub and we have stumbled on our first encounter with a local sika. We stay quiet and push on, covering ground approximately 1km an hour. There is noticeable handy work that has been done around the place. A lot of tracks clearing and cutting of scrub which is really great to see such passion for the block. Coming to a sizeable patch, we place ourselves high up on a good view point. We have a muesli bar and enjoy the afternoon sun. Chris whispers with urgency. “Animal!”. We go still. A stag in velvet and a beautiful shiny red coat meanders out and not at all worried about being out in the open at 3pm. We eye him up. Block rules state clearly no stags in velvet to be shot. To be honest even if we were in public land we would have made the same decision not to shoot. Saving the animal for future hunters/hunting adventures. The stag looked to be growing a good stack of antlers and being day 1 of our 4-day trip we watched him with different intentions. It wasn’t to long before he came across our scent only 80 yards away. His body stiffened and he jumped at the unusual smell of human and before we knew it he was gone followed by squeals to alert all his mates. Well ..smiles on our faces. If this was the omen of the next few days, this trip was going to be an awesome one with plenty of wildlife encounters.

    We call it a day once we reach the beautiful beech forest which looked like an awesome place to explore. It was about 1.2km from the hut.

    We take no time at all to walk back. Little 3-hour trip on the legs and animals seen, not bad, not bad.

    The heat in the hut remained, and it didn’t take much time before we were snoring. The 3 hours sleep leading up to now had caught up with us. Waking at 5pm. We hustle a lovely hut dinner of steak and packet vege and mash before heading back out to a look out about 100m from the hut over looking some clearings. Nothing moving and we eventually loose shooting light at 9pm, we decide to call it an evening. With a full moon appearing we can assume that the night life would be up at all hours.

    A cracker night sky and a clear night. How good for the soul to be in this place. A great start to 2026

    Day 2   

    2nd January 2026

    Nature show

    Visitors in the night didn’t disturb us from a 9-hour sleep. Possums came and went. The local mice tried their best to wake us. 0830 and the heat of the day was already warming the hut up again.

    Stove top coffee a must, eggs on toast and it all had to be enjoyed outside. What a day we wake to. 18 degrees by 9am and not a breath of wind. It was an absolute scorcher!

    We hang about till mid-morning before packing the essentials for a day trip and this time in a North East direction (following the tracks downstream) with the goal of reaching the Ripia River.

    Leaving at 1130, the heat of the day was very present. Drinking from the stream at every crossing was needed. The tracks via this route were not obvious. Very old markings were barely visible. Taking note of man-made cuttings of scrub was sometimes the only way to know you were on the right path. Quite a bit of bush-whacking, frustrating entanglements with bush lawyer and thick over growth was common, making the travel tedious and slow. Opting to travel in the stream sometimes worth it. How ever this was almost just as slow due to how slippery the river rocks were.

    1.2 km and we break through to where the stream runs into the big Ripia river. On arrival we surprise two brown trout. We made the poor decision of attempting to scamper up the scrub to get to a better section of the river, in hindsight we should have just committed to crossing there, as it was only hip deep in calm water. We battled through thick uphill bush and came to rocky outcrops and what looked like bluff systems. We ended up back down to the river and decided not to return that way.

    Finding a lunch spot was easy. Beautiful sandy beaches line the clear river. We make a coffee and a “real meals” dehydrated nacho. We watch an eel swim past us, the first of 4 sightings. We strip layers off as the day is at its hottest being 2pm and in no hurry to head back we decide to check out up river  wading up through the calm waters. Much more time could have been spent here. What a neat place. Stunning is an understatement. We play with a hungry eel that jumps on to a bit of salami we hooked and released. Heading back, we take time to watch 2 pair of Whio(native blue duck) whom weren’t worried about us at all. River travel was cooling; water temps were delightful. We weren’t surprised to come across old campsites as we could have easily stayed here.

    Heading back seemed much quicker, and making the decision to stay in the stream was the better option, which lead us right to a good-sized water fall. It was an impressive cave section with a 10m drop; made it feel like we had stumbled onto a secret spot. How ever there is actually mention of this waterfall by previous block goers in the ‘school book’ collection left in the hut.

    It is hard to miss the sound of the falling water from the old tracks as well. Taking stock of how cool this block and this day was, Ernies Block was fast becoming our favourite pick of the lot.

    We eventually hooked back onto the obvious track and take a turn up the hill where the track has an intersection leading back to the clearings and eventually the hut or you can choose the lower track (stream travel) which we had just been on. This track was a single trail, well cut into the hillside and was steep. Straight up to some great look outs over the valley. Eventually winding all the way up and into some impressive open beech forest and some steep ridges. We sigh; this of course would be the more travelled route over to the river (yet to confirm) Taking note of a 5-hour day on the legs, this pregnant lass carrying an additional 9kg was feeling the days effort. Tiredness was scratching at me, reminding me I was at a different stage of my out-door exploration tolerance. Still a lot of the day left and knowing there was a weather system to push through tomorrow. Chris and I part ways. He makes the most the approaching evening, stalking his way up and off into the distance. I enjoy a slow trip back to the hut. Taking in every last bit of the afternoons summer day and the bird life around me. Back at the hut I change into shorts and bra, apple and cheese again for afternoon tea and forced outside by the hut sauna. This is absolute bliss.

    530pm not long after my arrival, I hear something hit the ground outside and look to see a happy husband looking through the window at me. As I come out to meet him, I notice the blood on the back of his legs.

    Chris will tell you the rest of this story …..

    “As I left Helen, I said, I’ll see you at around 6: 30pm.My plan was to head up into the open beech forest, find a good ridge and climb to the top, circle around the high point anticlockwise and then back down a ridge to the Hut.

    As I head back to my previous vantage point to look up a gut to my left, what looked like a good area to stalk, however the wind was definitely not in my favour coming up from the creek below and that would have carried my scent up to where I was looking. I decided to hold a contour (height) and travel across the faces in a North East direction looking down below and looking up ahead of my direction of travel.

    Picking a path, I made my way around to large old fallen beech tree and thought that this is something I could tuck in behind for 5min and look down into a small gully and up into clear beech. After 5 mins I decided to start moving and my next plan was to start gaining some elevation. After taking 10 steps out into the open I catch movement out to my right, I pause…. I take a good look and see a Sika hind feeding across the face towards me at about 70 yards! I take cover behind what little cover I could find; a small patch of fern will do.  I guess my only saving grace here in this moment, the wind was actually working in my favour. I load the rifle carefully and crouch waiting for the hind to walk out from behind some foliage.

    It all happens so quickly. The hind now presents herself. She stops broadside and now at 40 yards, I take the shot…. and to my relief the hind drops on the spot, rolls 10 metres down the hill until she comes to her final resting place. STOKED!!!!  All in the space of what feels like 15min since Helz left, and we have venison!

    I was pretty confident Helen would have heard the shot and would be back to see what was going on but not to be. I gutted the animal on the spot and (as I do) hang the Heart (what was left) and lungs in a nearby tree and proceed to carry the hind back to the Hut to bone out so we can take all the meat we could home. Once I had taken all the meat of the carcass and I must say she was in good condition, I proceed to take the Jaw out and on very limited knowledge and the aid of the well-placed hunting magazine left in the hut by a previous party and that had a “how to “guide in it so at an attempt we ‘age’ the hind at approx. 4 – 5 years old (will find out later the actual age) Jaw is now in a Orange Sika Foundation Jaw Collection box back at base .

    Finally secured another Sika all adding to the experience of the continued hunt here in the Kaweka and Kaimanawa backcountry.  This trip certainly is one to remember”

    *Chris Newson

    I thought he was joking when he casually said “I got you a deer babe” .

    Sure, enough there she was, a good-sized sika hind with a kill shot through the heart. Absolutely stoked for him, well and us. Successful hunting trips for us when it comes to these animals are few and far between. We have had to hunt long and hard just for one successful story and this trip has certainly made it all worth it . Hanging her up and we are elated. Thank goodness for the fly spray left in the hut , this was a game changer at this time of year the flies are in the hundreds and a constant.

     A brutal couple of games of last card, another yummy hut dinner this time venison stew from a previous hunt. An early night and much needed sleep finds us .

    Day 3

    3rd of January 2026

    Hut bound and rained out

    We wake to rain , the forecast had proven true. The day as we knew it was going to be a hut day. Perfect. The excuse not to go anywhere is just what we needed. In fact I believe everyone needs to experience a hut day . Cards, Chess, reading, and in my case writing. This is forced rest. Of course we have wet weather gear and it is by far not cold even in the slightest. Being a SE change still allows us to light the fire more out of comfort and something to do more than anything. The temptation to doze is there and also to eat all you rations but before you know the day will be gone and we will only dream of having a hut day again when we are back in the busyness of the real world.

    The afternoon rolled round quick and the rain wasn’t letting up. Eventually we fund our selves seeking fresh air regardless of the weather. We chucked on our wet weather gear and heading back towards where all of yesterdays action went down. Chris took me to the native pockets of bush on the high track where he had shot the deer. Here you will need to pick your poison in regards to route choice to the Ripia River. There was a very old track marked and you would have to look very closely to get your eye on dated electrical tape faded with time. It isn’t hard to pick an animal track and follow single trails along a contour line and eventually you will drop down to the River . I would advise caution up here, the terrain is steep , narrow and requires some side saddling and concentration. If you are here for the hunt then this bush seems like it would be very productive. Plenty of fresh ‘sign’ and plenty of feed as well as being NE facing , there is opportunity to find deer sunning themselves also

    1800 and the Southerly was very present and had bite about it. We decided that most living things would be bedded up in this and waiting for it to clear. We decide to do the same , the thought of the warm hut we had left pulling us back.

    Day 4

    4th January 2026

    Bitter Sweet departure

    The idea of stove top coffee was the only thing that was getting us out of bed this morning. The weather was still misbehaving and a good chill was still around. The surrounding hills were lost to the cloud on and off and for a second we wondered if our afternoon flight out would be delayed.

    Chris processed the deer and in this case was grateful for the cooler temperatures because the meat has set quick nicely. We ready the hut , leaving it better than we found it. Pack , sit and wait.

    The last few moments are left to the thoughts that start as you are about to leave the back country. Trying to hold on to the feeling one gets from having spent time decompressing in nature. Getting back to basics and appreciating the little things, simple things like warmth of a fire , a hot meal , dry clothes , and shelter. This time my thoughts went to , gosh when would be my next trip ?…

    Will this be my last one with out a kid in tow? What does that new world look like ? How young is to young to bring a baby into the hills? All these thoughts only made me savour the here and now . The quiet and the views, the opportunity to have had all these years in the NZ Back-Country and now to turn attention to the fast approaching new era , teaching the next generation how to love and appreciate it as much as we do.

    Ernies Creek you get a top score from us , made it very easy to promote !

    *Learnings -check your gear still fits! hunting and bush apparel wasn’t at all maternity friendly (Stoney Creek camo tights for the win). Had to wear some of the husbands shirts 🙂

    * More time or a better weather window- Summit Te Matai High Point 1235m

    *Top meal -Packet mash , Wagyu beef Sausages , tinned peas, watties canned Mexican diced tomatoes -delish

  • Mangaroa Block

    MANGAROA BLOCK

    East Taupo Lands Trust                                                                                   13–17 August 2025

    🏠 Mangaroa Hut

    Heating • Metro fireplace — excellent burner • Plenty of dry wood available around the hut Sleeping • Two-level sleeper bunks on Upper level: 2 beds on Lower level: 3 beds • Good-quality mattresses throughout Kitchen & Cooking • Gas BBQ + 2-burner stove • Sink (no tap) • Full basic kitchenware provided Water Supply • 4 × 40-gallon drums • Likely to freeze in colder months ❄️ Facilities • Long drop toilet — basic, no door • Plastic table + 4 chairs • Fire extinguisher

    HONEYMOON HUNT

    Where do couples go on their honeymoon? For us, the answer was obvious — the backcountry.

    Most would assume we’d pick a block we had been to before. Most hunters would. Knowing the topography, the travel, the habits, the season — all of that stacks the odds in your favour in the tricky game of Sika hunting but Chris and I hadn’t been into the hills since our ANZAC adventure at Gorge Tops back in April, and that roar was always going to be a hard one to beat. Another cheeky flight in with our friends at Helisika Poronui was calling our names.

    This time the reception was very different — dead quiet. One vehicle in the carpark, one pilot, one chopper waiting for us on Wednesday afternoon. With Chris due for surgery on a torn meniscus, heli access was our only option. To be honest, we weren’t complaining — there are worse ways to get into the backcountry. Honeymoon, you say? Well… this trip was heavily snack-focused. Plenty of fancy cheeses, cured meats, and platter goodness. After an extremely busy eight months, we were desperate to reunite with a hut and soak up that quiet simplicity: the birds, the breeze, the Mohaka River and its feeder streams weaving through the block. Hunting was always in the back of our minds, but sleep-ins and decompressing were the true agenda. Still… add a rifle, camouflage, and two adventurous spirits, and it doesn’t take long before you want to explore every inch of new country.

    DAY 1 — Wednesday 13 August 2025

     A smooth, scenic 10-minute flight carried us over the dated-but-obvious airstrip — kanuka, manuka and scrub merging into the straight line of open ground. We were greeted by the typical A-frame private hut tucked just beyond a short path in the foliage. Opening the hut door to trapped warmth from the skylights was a lovely surprise. The space was tidy, clearly respected by previous hunters. A dry woodpile — always a mood-setter — had been left behind. Cheers to whoever you are. With hours of daylight left, we headed northwest for a quick look around the block. Very little sign and not much feed — pumice and manuka as far as the eye could see. Not wanting to scent up the place on Day 1, we turned back before dark to light the fire and indulge in our antipasto dinner spread.

    DAY 2 — Thursday 14 August 2025

    A fresh morning — and a visit from some cheeky rats overnight — woke us early. Coffee on the stovetop and a quick fire to take the chill off, and we were off. This was our “recce day.” South of the hut we ventured… into what quickly became unproductive travel. No trails. Loud bush-bashing. Scrub thick enough to raise tempers, broken only by the occasional patch of scree and the kind of view that recharges you instantly. The weather was outstanding — sub-zero nights, single-digit days, and clear winter sunshine. After a couple of hours of wrestling the thick scrub, we tried to drop to the river, hoping for better sign and a loop back to the hut. But the country only got worse. Slow going. Two hours for a single kilometre. Progress became no progress. We surrendered to the terrain and retreated for a late lunch.

    Afternoon Session — East to the Mohaka River. Fed and caffeinated, we headed east towards the river. Again, not much sign. Wrong place, wrong time — or simply a block where animals moved differently. The Mohaka River lifted the spirits. We watched Whio (native blue duck)weave through the cold, clear water and reminded ourselves that being out here — really out here — is the whole point. Back at the hut for another brew, hail started to fall while the sun lingered, painting the block in surreal colours. As it cleared, we laced up again and explored the track behind the hut — west. Private huts don’t have DOC intention books, and while that makes sense logistically, you do miss out on the intel left by previous wanderers. Instead, people leave carvings and etchings — paleo-style graffiti. The track climbed sharply. Old electrical tape markers clung to branches, faded with time. The instant reward was in the views — valleys opening beneath us, the airstrip and hut shrinking, sunset colours spilling over distant Poronui Station…..just then something big crashed through the thick scrub beside the narrow trail. We froze. There are deer here. And… yep, we just spooked one. Up here, there’s no way to hunt quietly — deer would hear you miles off. Darkness chased us back to the hut, this time with a spark of curiosity. There wereeee animals around.

    DAY 3 — Friday 15 August 2025

    We woke to ice and a jaw-dropping frost: –9°C. Winter perfection.

    The clearest skies all week. Today was our big day — an adventure loop via Mangaroa Stream to the old biv at bush line, then up the ridge toward the high point of the block, eventually navigating back to the hut. Unsure if the circuit had ever really been done. For us, missions like this are nostalgic. More “adventure first, hunting second.” But hunting is a skill you only sharpen by doing. And today, we wanted both. Layered up Two pairs of pants, two sets of gloves, buffs, gaiters — the lot.

    Gourmet lunch, snacks and the Jetboil in the pack. Excitement through the roof. The morning was stunning. The track followed above the stream and into the catchment, winding gently until the bush thickened. Hearing the soft trickle of water below us, we instinctively slipped into stalking mode. Fresh sign appeared. No wind. Everything was aligning. Then: the clearing. The “front lawn” of the old biv. The Bivvy Weathered. Open. Two bunks. A hut only the hardiest would choose to stay in — exactly the type of place with character stitched into its bones. We ate an early lunch in the sun, stripping off layers. From here, we were all-in on hunting mode. And it was clear why the bivvy was built where it was: grassy clearings, beech forest, open stream edges, big hills — a deer paradise. Then — crash! Splash! Something bolted along the river rocks right beside us. A sigh escaped both of us. Probably winded us. From then on, we were silent. Ghosts. For hours we moved like shadows, climbing steadily up the ridge, deeper into mature beech. We hit 1000m without realising — the day was so still and blue you couldn’t feel the altitude. Then a loud territorial call shattered the quiet — only 100m away. I hit the ground. Chris froze ahead of me. He later told me he’d seen the stag. The animal bolted but stopped to call again — seemingly talking to another stag. For 20 minutes they vocalised back and forth before disappearing. A very cool encounter — unusual for August. Less aggression than the roar, more like two deer trying to reunite. High Point Reward We continued on to our high point and were rewarded with an unbelievable afternoon tea spot — a clay outcrop with steep drop-offs on every side. Jetboil on. Silence, sun, views forever. It felt like we might be the only two humans ever to sit there. But the day wasn’t over. A big descent and climb remained. The downhill was hectic — wet, slippery, unseen by sun. Ferns, debris, steep terrain. Uphill was hand-over-hand, Fiordland-style grunt work. No trails. No animal tracks. Just the path of least resistance. Eventually, a faded strip of pink electrical tape appeared — a blessed sign of marked route. We knew this was the beginning of “home territory.” We fist-pumped — again. Circuit complete. Hut-bound, nearly dark, fire glowing. A day of highs, lows, and everything in between. These are the missions that stay with you.

    DAY 4 — Saturday 16 August 2025

    Only –4°C this morning. Low cloud settled into the valley. A slow start — yesterday’s mission had taken its toll. Two coffees and one of Noose’s (The husbands nickname) special bacon sandwiches later, we reluctantly committed to a “chilled walk.” Wrong. Our bodies protested as the climb began. We burnt layers faster than expected and soon reached yesterday’s intersection. One last attempt at spotting a deer — we stalked upwards, back into thick, unrelenting terrain. Breaking foliage, crawling on animal-sized tunnels, doing our best to maintain patience. The goal: lunch on the high point.

    We reached a precarious rock formation — the outcrop that had caught our eye since Day 1 — scrambled up, and perched ourselves to feast. Smoked salmon, sheep’s cheese, crackers, coffee. Warm sun. A snoozy sort of peace. We earned this. Descending was a “just get it done” mission. Back at the hut, we enjoyed our first non–bush-bashing afternoon. We debated finishing the block by navigating another section home, but lack of supplies — and uncertainty — made the decision easy. I tucked into writing the story of our honeymoon hunt-turned-honeymoon adventure. Evening brought one last hikoi, just in case something would reveal itself. Sika 1 — Us 0. This time. Dinner was gourmet — steak, mash, salad, brie, and tomato-fig paste. Honestly? I could get used to this. No deer taken, but plenty gained: encounters, lessons, highs, lows, views, memories. If you head into Mangaroa Block — go straight to the biv. Park up there.

    DAY 5 — Sunday 17 August 2025

    Temperature: 10°C Weather: Rain Time: 12pm Chopper departure: 2 hours ago, three coffees, three games of Last Card, one game of chess, nail cutting, eyebrow plucking, and one Sudoku later… Here we are. Rain arrived at 9pm last night and hasn’t let up. Low cloud. Warmish temps. We’re held hostage for a fifth day at Mangaroa Hut. People crave this kind of forced pause… until it actually happens. Then it becomes a waiting game. A coiled spring. Ears pricked for anything that sounds remotely like a Hughes 500. We’re fully packed. The hut is cleaner than we found it. Hours pass, snug against the cold, flicking through hunting mags, and putting pen to paper. If this is the last line, it means we made it out

    — farewelling Kaweka once again…

    until the next adventure.

  • Gorge Tops Block

    Gorge Tops – A First, But Not the Last

    ANZAC Sika Hunt, 23–27 April 2025
    Owhaoko BD Trust Block – Kaweka / Kaimanawa Ranges

    A first, but not the last. This is the story of how we finally succeeded in hunting Sika deer.

    The Hut in the Clouds – Gorge Tops

    Gorge Tops hut sits about 30 metres from the heli pad, perched at roughly 1360m where the Kaweka meets the Kaimanawa, separated by the Ngaruroro River. It’s a classic backcountry gem:

    • 4 bunks with mattresses
    • Stainless sink and bench
    • 9kg gas bottle and two-burner cooker
    • A gas heater with its own 9kg bottle – our favourite piece of “furniture” this time of year

    There’s a good water tank and the obligatory long drop, just as you’d expect in the central North Island backcountry. One of the perks of private huts is the little luxuries: pots, pans, cutlery and the basics of a kitchen already in place.

    Leftovers from previous parties fill the shelves: tinned goods, tea, salt, oil, candles, cards, toilet paper, matches. Instead of the DOC hut book, there are old maps of the block and boundaries, plus a healthy supply of hunting mags – more than enough for hut reading.

    Thursday 24 April – In the Mist, Back with the Pen

    I’m in the hut at Gorge Tops. One bar glowing on the heater. It’s 5°C outside and I can’t get any closer to this gas lifesaver. We’re in the clouds today, mist wrapped around the hut, the views below completely hidden.

    And I am WRITING.

    It’s been three years since I last put pen to paper – Antarctica in 2022. Life, kids, work, running – they’ve all filled the space. But with no cell service and time on our side, the words start to come. It’s 4:45pm on a Saturday afternoon. Chris slips quietly out the door, eager to chase that elusive Sika.

    It hasn’t been long since our last visits to the Kaweka and Kaimanawa Forest Parks. Recently we’d headed in unarmed and at pace, pushing through a 100km off-track circuit to reach Makorako (1724m) – the North Island’s 6th highest peak and a complete pain in the arse to get to. That New Year trip, just shy of four days, deserves its own write-up.

    Before that, there was a family mission with the three boys (7, 9, 11) via Heli Sika, into the Footy Field block – East Taupo Lands Trust land. Manuka faces, gullies, small grassy flats, a cableway across the river for those with decent arm strength, all set against the grand Mohaka River, cheeky trout included. The Sika were present and well onto our little crew of five, but we tried our luck on trout instead. No venison, no fish—but one of our most wholesome trips and a memory that’s here to stay.

    Another adventure saw Chris and me swap trail shoes for rifle and heavy packs, this time into the North Arm hut (East Taupo Lands Trust block) via Clements Road, past Cascade Hut and onto private land (access granted). It’s about 8.5km from Cascade, with ~677m of climbing. An A-frame hut with open grassy river flats (expect wet feet), native beech slopes and, between December and February, a chance at those same cunning trout.

    Again, Sika vs us… and Sika won.

    We started to joke that maybe we should just stick to fast-packing. But the truth is, we’re stubborn. Our “extreme amateur hunter” status became motivation to get smarter:

    • Ditch the black clothing and embrace camo
    • Learn to stalk and sit
    • Practice patience
    • Read, learn, talk to others
    • Then go again

    We got very good at watching “fluffy white bums” bouncing off, accompanied by that classic bark, as if to say, “Snapped you!” Sika are notoriously cunning. We’d often see them between 9am–2pm, refusing to play by the dawn-and-dusk rulebook, or waiting until full darkness to move. Bloody Sika.

    Joining the Roar Madness

    So here we are: a private hut and a helicopter ride into Sika country during the roar – our first time hunting this period. We’re not necessarily chasing antlers; venison is the goal, along with playing our part in conservation and turning the long-held Sika dream into reality.

    We roll into the Helisika hangar on Wednesday at lunchtime to find the carpark absolutely chocka. Roar madness. And now we’re officially part of it. We sign in, catch up with the crew, and laugh hearing that Chris and I are known as “the trail runners”. We’ll take that.

    We weigh our gear and are quietly chuffed to be well within our limit. Other hunters look at our pile and go, “Geeeeez, you guys ain’t taking much.” To us, accustomed to 7–10kg fast-packing loads, the chilly bin, extra food and hunting paraphernalia feels excessive. Still, with everything – including the trolley – we tip the scales at 147kg. Crickey.

    Choppers come and go. Camouflaged humans pile in and out, all chasing antlers, a few clearly battling hangovers. The pilots are efficient and organised, shuttling parties in and out with a Hughes 500 that we’ve come to know well.

    Our turn finally comes. It’s a decent wind and the flight in is bumpy. I grip tight, planning my survival strategy if the whole thing goes sideways, while Chris chats easily with the pilot. As we near the tops, we’re thinking the same thing the pilot soon confirms:

    “There’s no chance of getting in there, sorry team.”

    Low cloud hangs stubbornly at about 1200m and we need it to lift another 100m. No dice. We head back to the hangar. It’s an anticlimax, sure, but that’s the risk when you’re relying on heli access. We do briefly wonder: Should we just head in on foot?

    Instead, we re-check the weather with the team and postpone. Plan B leads us to the Sika Lodge on Clements Road – a hidden gem we’d never heard of. For $40pp, this old shearers’ quarters-turned-accommodation is full of character:

    • Animal heads on the walls
    • A big lounge with a roaring fire
    • Communal kitchen
    • Bunk rooms and, to our delight, a double bed

    We quickly realise that if we’d known about this place earlier, we would’ve saved a lot of money on Taupo motels pre- and post-missions.

    A Warm-Up Hunt – Clements Road

    With evening approaching, we’re too keen to simply wait for tomorrow’s second flight attempt. So we decide to try our luck up Clements Road. At worst, it’s an armed hike.

    Mid-roar, public holiday looming, weekend incoming – Clements is just as busy as the hangar. We park at the Te Iringa track entrance, knowing we’ve only got one to two hours of daylight. We hustle, then slip quietly off-track into promising deer country.

    There’s sign everywhere: animal trails in all directions, black pellets (days old, but still encouraging). We move carefully, each step placed with intention, pressing ourselves against logs and trees. With two of us, we’ve got to work hard to stay undetected as the light fades.

    God, it’s good to be out here. I feel myself dropping fully into the wild again.

    Then Chris suddenly drops lower. I hold my breath. What has he seen? He points ahead, lowers his buff and mouths, “Hind.”

    We’re almost hugging the ground. I check the wind using a little chalk-dust bottle – it’s in our favour, but the angle isn’t right for a clean head shot. We let her wander away.

    We exhale and relax. As omens go, we’ll take it. It feels like a good sign for the days to come. And it’s a reminder: hunters don’t always need to head deep, deep into the backcountry. Sometimes, the deer really are just around the corner.

    Thursday’s Flight – At Last

    Fresh-eyed and bushy-tailed, we line up again for the morning flight. It’s a crisp, bluebird day – the first proper cold snap of the season. We’d heard our first Sika “hee-haw” behind the lodge that morning and our heart rates haven’t really come down since.

    No wind, smooth air – I mentally celebrate the dreamy flight ahead. Fifteen minutes later, we dip and buzz over the Gorge Tops block. Sharp rock faces pierce the forest, with beech crowns clinging to ridgelines. Mammoth slopes fall from sky to river, sexy ridges stretching in every direction. It feels like the land is whispering, Come and explore.

    We land in what feels like the world’s smallest clearing. The helipad. We’re here.

    It’s cold. The southerly lingers. Layers go on, we grab a quick bite, another coffee (why not), and then dress for war.

    We don’t want to stink up the whole block on day one, so we keep it close to home, scouting options and getting a feel for the place. Somewhere nearby, a red stag roars. To our delight, a local Sika stag answers in his own language. Even if luck doesn’t go our way, the unknown is half the thrill. This is why we’re here.

    Friday 25 April – ANZAC Day Hind

    ANZAC Day. The 6:00am alarm goes off. The horizon glows with promise, signalling a stunning day ahead.

    We light a candle and tuck ourselves beside the heater – our first hut without a fireplace. We take a minute of silence for those who fought at Gallipoli, knowing that across New Zealand and Australia people are doing the same in their own way.

    Then it’s game time:

    • Camo
    • Binos
    • Knives
    • Daypacks, snacks, meat sack
    • AJ caller (with a Sika SD card)
    • Gaiters, buffs, hats
    • Chris’s Tikka T3 7mm-08 with suppressor (barrel cut down especially for bush hunting)

    We leave the hut at 7:30am, accepting that we’ve probably missed some early movement, but we’re planning a full day out.

    The wind has swung NE, perfect for dropping into catchments and sneaking off the usual routes. A party had left on Monday and we don’t know which lines they hammered or what they shot. We decide to go deep, into the untravelled bits – a decision that pays off later.

    We slide down, down, down off the tops. After about 300m of descent, we decide to sidle and pick up the main ridge that runs to the river.

    Right then, we hit nettle. Lots of it.

    Among the nettle and matagouri-like scrub, something brown catches my eye. Then another flash of brown. In a shaft of sunlight: deer. No doubt.

    I freeze, spin softly towards Chris and mouth, “Deer!” He drops behind a tree, quiet but quick. I’m only about 50m from three Sika hinds, lazily enjoying a late breakfast.

    We wait. No stag. Chris eyes up a shot. Shoot, and we’ve got guaranteed venison – but we risk spooking the whole area. Is this our only chance this trip? Who knows.

    We’ve already decided we’re not totally fixated on taking a head home. We want hunting wins – learning to read deer, to understand habits and habitat. That said, if a stag presents himself, we wouldn’t be arguing.

    Chris mimics a trigger pull. I brace, eyes locked on the clearest hind.

    BANG.

    The sound echoes around the valley. The hind drops instantly. Relief and elation wash through me. Chris’s first deer – and a Sika hind. After so many failed attempts, his grin says it all.

    It’s only 9:00am.

    She’s a smaller animal, probably from a tough, dry summer with limited feed. We honour her by taking all the meat we can. Then, to my surprise, Chris takes the heart and lungs and hangs them in a nearby tree – a Māori custom, he explains, to show respect to the land and the animal. I like that. I think I’ll keep that practice going.

    We climb back up to the ridge that leads to the Ngaruroro boundary, staying in full hunt mode: slow, quiet, pausing whenever it “feels right”. We spook a stag and hind, and he calls for her as they go. We hang around a while, but the wind has turned, our scent is on the trail, and it’s unlikely we’ll see them again.

    One thing is clear: there are plenty of deer here.

    The views are outrageous – vast forest park, tussock flats, red clay slips. It’s an absolute playground for anyone who finds joy in the outdoors. Mist still clings to the valley floor, making us feel as if we’re above the clouds. Totally and utterly alone in this magnificent place. This is home.

    Lunch on the Ngaruroro

    At the river, the temperature drops sharply. Layers come off as we settle into a surprisingly civilised riverside camp. Someone has built a proper setup: sink, bench, BBQ table on a flat above the stunning Ngaruroro.

    She’s showing off today – deep blue-green, almost emerald. In another season I’d be straight in for a swim. Chris spots a good-looking trout, but like the Sika, these guys are cunning. As a Hawke’s Bay-born girl, I really want this Northlander to nail a trout one day. Today isn’t that day.

    We share a Radix meal, a coffee, and check the time: 2pm. We plan to slowly climb the ~500m ridge back to the hut, stalking as we go.

    About an hour later, we enter a scrub-clearing and spot a fresh rut pad – the ground churned where a stag has been working. Fresh droppings everywhere. It’s obvious we’ve stumbled into a local hangout; there’s been a full-on deer party here recently.

    We set up with the AJ caller. Chris tucks himself out of sight. I perch about 5m away behind a lone tree, almost dead centre in the clearing. We start gentle: a hind mew, not wanting to intimidate anything nearby. Nothing. We wait, careful not to overcall, leaving long quiet patches between sounds.

    4:15pm. We’ve been there for over an hour – a solid dose of “Sika patience”. We look at each other. “Shall we walk?” we whisper, starting to stand.

    The second I straighten up, I lock eyes with a six-point Sika stag stepping out of the treeline, no more than 5m away.

    I freeze. We stare at each other. It feels like forever but is probably only seconds. I turn to signal “stag!!!” to Chris, praying he’s already seen him. But there’s no chance to set up a shot. The moment I move, the stag wheels and bolts. I “mew” desperately, hoping he’ll stop or swing back.

    He doesn’t. BUGGER.

    There’s some colourful language. It’s heartbreak and awesomeness all at once. On one hand, we called in a stag for the first time. The method works. It really can take an hour or more. On the other hand, we blew it by not waiting 5 more minutes.

    That’s hunting.

    We buzz all the way back to the hut – Chris’s first Sika hind, a river lunch, and a six-point close encounter that we’ll be retelling for years.

    Saturday 26 April – Lessons in the Mist

    We wake to thick cloud cover. Visibility is poor, but mist can give deer a false sense of security. No way are we staying hut-bound.

    We head back towards the catchment where the six-pointer lives. The bush reveals hidden “deer highways” – tunnels carved through thick scrub. We follow big prints and steaming fresh pellets, constantly one step behind, spooking animals we never quite see. It feels too still and we suspect our wet-weather gear sounds like a marching band.

    By dark we’re back at the hut, hungry and cold. A very different day from yesterday, but still, a day in the hills is never a waste.

    We’ve learned more about how deer use this block, the way they move with wind, terrain and cover. I go back to pen and paper. Chris heads out for one last glassing session in the fading light.

    Our final night is bittersweet: craving a shower and a real bed, but already mourning the end of this simple, wild routine. The only comfort is knowing there’s always another trip to plan.

    Sunday 27 April – The Stag

    We wake to a perfect day: mist clinging to valleys, only the tops poking through. Birds sing. Dew drips steadily from the trees.

    As usual, it’s 6am coffee, a quick breakfast, and layering up. But today we’re only planning a 3-hour hunt before the heli pick-up. The plan is to drop down to where we know the six-pointer lives; we’ve seen him there twice now.

    We barely get 100m from the hut before we meet our first deer – a hind meandering up towards us at about 15m. How she hasn’t winded us after the last few days is beyond me. Maybe they’re less bothered than we think.

    The wind is in our favour, and it all feels right. We debate it, then decide not to shoot. We don’t want to blow the area when there’s still a chance of seeing that stag.

    Eventually she catches our scent, sees us, and takes off. We push on. Fresh sign keeps us motivated – they’re here, and they’re close.

    About a kilometre from the hut, we start quietly descending from the top. I’m in front when I catch the backside of a big hind. Before I can fully turn to alert Chris, he’s already locked onto her.

    He doesn’t shoot. It’s 8:30am. The looming heli pick-up weighs on the decision: take a solid hind for the freezer and pest control, or hold out and hope a stag appears.

    We choose to follow her instead.

    We stalk tree to tree, each step deliberate, avoiding sticks. Even the drip of water onto our jackets sounds like it might give us away.

    The hind moves out of my sightline, but Chris still has her. I go to move up to the next tree for a better view when he signals again: “Stag.”

    I freeze.

    Twenty metres from Chris, a four-point Sika stag steps out to meet the hind. I still can’t see what’s happening, only imagining them disappearing into thicker cover. Then:

    BANG.

    The Tikka roars and the spell of the quiet forest lifts. We’re suddenly full volume – eyes wide, hearts thumping.

    On our last morning. On pick-up day. Not far from the hut. Just over an hour into the hunt. Chris has taken his first Sika stag.

    We exchange a few breathless “did that just happen?” whispers, then step forward.

    It’s a clean, ethical shot. The stag hasn’t suffered and likely never knew what hit him. Chris takes his time, doing right by the animal. I leave him in peace to process and appreciate everything that led to this moment.

    I take the rifle and slip away to see if the six-pointer might still be around, thinking he might not have been close enough to be spooked by the shot. Twenty minutes later, I’m in his territory again. I start calling. Something big moves higher up. I silently beg that it isn’t him leaving for good.

    I sit for 30 minutes, calling and waiting, but he never shows. Chris catches up. It’s 9:30am. With a decent climb back to the hut and meat and a head to carry, we call time on this adventure.

    Express Pick-Up & Back to Reality

    We reach the hut, confirm a lunchtime pickup and feel pretty pleased with ourselves. Time for coffee, a proper breakfast and a bit of processing. We fry up bacon, eggs, tomato and toast, brew two plunger coffees and collapse into that perfect hut satisfaction.

    Then we hear it: the thud-thud-thud of the Hughes 500 echoing up the valley.

    No way.

    We look at each other – insert swear word here – and launch into full scramble mode. Breakfast is abandoned, coffee tipped, hut cleaned at race pace.

    The pilot lands, laughing. “Express pickup,” he jokes, as if we’d ordered an Uber.

    In minutes we’re airborne, looking down on the block we’ve come to know intimately on foot. The ridges, gullies and slips we sweated over now slide past beneath the skids, the whole landscape re-framed in one sweeping view.

    Hours later, after a long drive back to Northland, that first shower is everything we hoped it would be.

    And now, pen in hand, I get to relive it all – step by step – our ANZAC Hunt. A first, but definitely not the last.

    — Helz

    Postscript & Notes

    • We later learn from far more experienced hunters that you never hunt the morning of pick-up day. Noted.
    • On closer inspection, our Sika stag has a twisted nose – a condition called campylognathia, a maxillary jaw distortion. Our special stag, with his bent nose, now has pride of place on the wall.
    • Next up: Mangaroa Block honeymoon escape.
    • Still to come:
      • Kaweka DOC hut mission
      • Makorako 100km circuit write-up
      • North Arm block – access by foot
      • Footy Field block – the kids take over

  • Tauranga Taupo Block

    Spring reconnaissance

    27.10.2025

    Hut and Block Summary:

    The hut is nestled beside the Tauranga-Taupo River on an open grassy flat on the bush edge. Easy access for the helicopter to land. A cabin of about 20m2 boasts 7 bunks with the classic blue mattress. Small table and 4 chairs, bench space and running tap inside with stainless steel sink. Masport fire place. Two burner gas stovetop, 9kg gas bottle. Pots, pans, cups, plates, bowls, utensils and “hut toaster’. Hunting magazines and puzzles left behind by the folk before makes for some good indoor time.  Rainwater tank, small wood shelter, meat safe and door-less long drop toilet. BBQ table on porch.

    Block -Downstream of the hut, there are some marked DOC triangles that lead you along the bush edge to where you would cross the river if the river levels allow. Staying on the hut side following downstream some more, the bush opens up to clear beech pockets with good vantage points of grassy banks and across the river. At times old marked routes can be identified by pink or blue electrical tape.  Becomes gorged and at times, thick with a lot of fallen debris, and further down to the block boundary the hillside comes to meet to the river. Plenty of animal trails to follow. Upstream of the hut there are no obvious routes, but it is possible to move with relative ease, in and out of the riverbed and bush edge. There is the odd marked tree however only a few and they lead to know where in particular.   Some open beech pockets with good visibility. Grass and scrub river flats with plenty of animal tracks. Possible to cross the river if there has been a small amount of rain 2km up to between boundary signs (if there has been no rain, plenty of options to cross along the way). Tramping to Cascade Hut, requires 1 main river crossing and 2 stream crossings before you make Cascade hut. The trip is a 9km return, no marked track until you hit the DOC track. Know your navigation and map. It is also possible to cross the river if water level allows and meet up with the DOC track Hinemaiaia and tramp to the Clements Road end.

    * All possible if you have gained access through private land travel through Helisika.

    Seasonal Weather Averages:

    *Elevation at hut 754m 

    Temperatures in degrees Celsius 

    Summer High: 21   Low: 11 

    Autumn High: 17 Low: 6.5

    Winter High: 11 Low: 3

    Spring High: 15.5 Low: 5.5

    My story  Welcome to the TT. Today is Labour day and in typical spring fashion the weather is unpredictable and threatening here in the Central Plateau. Be that as it may, I’m still excited for the opportunity to be going on a solo mission to the TT and am well prepared for the mountainous country. I’m lucky enough to have an opportunity that sees me putting my previous hut and block adventures to good use. Tying it all together, I hope to do my best by you, to bring all the information I can on the private blocks and their accommodation. This includes The hut info, the location, the block information, where to go, where not to go. What is seen, what to bring, time of year differences, weather, history, and stories that shed a light on the place. Whether you are here for the hunt, the chance of catching a cheeky trout or keen on creating tramping routes, I will aim to cover it all.

    Monday 27th October 2025

     Arriving at Helisika Hangar carpark at Poronui it’s no surprise the park is busy this long weekend. Looking at the low-lying cloud, I’m apprehensive of a successful flight today, and I know the forecast for the next 48 hours isn’t in my favour. But this morning luck is on my side and after a quick goodbye with the husband and catchups with the pilots, I’m air bound. Taking off towards the Kaimanawa and past the Te Iringa track and over the Kaipo saddle. We all know how great a flyer I am! WELL, I’m embarrassed to say I was holding on tight. I had a front row seat to this show. Usually, I opt for the back but being by myself I had to ride shotgun. The pilot, Cam, chatted away, taking each swing of the Heli in his stride. “Bit turbulent today isn’t it,” he casually says, seeing me close my eyes and brace my feet. “Lovely day for flying,” I reply apologetically, trying to change the subject, and I try to enjoy the bumpy ride. A party is likely stuck up on the Maungamingi Saddle and we both confirm looking at the cloud almost engulfing us that they might be enjoying a few additional days up there.  The forecast, a rain warning for the area, and man oh man did that deliver (more on that later).

    Flying down river from the hut was an awesome way to arrive . The landing was really neat, looking over the block that will be my playground over the next few days. After a quick unload of supplies, the sound of the heli is already disappearing into the hills. I am here! Feels like heaven.  WHAT a spot! The cabin is tidy and inviting. Kept clean and well looked after. Children’s drawings stuck on the wall are not the usual but it’s part of this hut’s character. There are puzzles and magazines galore. There’s a small colouring pad that hut goers have taken to leaving their stories in. Wanting to know all the intel, I make a brew and get reading. Dating back to 2022, I’m treated to a couple of good roar stories and some that are a little unnerving, of wild dogs, but thankfully that seems to have been taken care of as I read on. Most people seem to come here from February to May, and as far as I can tell, not many stay here outside of that period. Talk of poachers comes up more often than one would like to read. I guess something to be aware of, as there is the Hinemaiaia track just up the way which is access to Clements Road end, and the popular Cascade Hut.  Here is a poem I copied from Easter 2023 from some Whangarei travellers out of this book.

    ‘We came down from Whangarei

    A smooth ride in on a sunny day

    The deer that evening were out and about 

    It was something to sit at the hut and marvel at

    Full moon rose amid clearing skies

    The sun next day brought out the flies

    The deer they ran 

    They would not roar 

    We could not put them on the floor

    Then the rain came in it began to pour 

    We stuck in the hut more and more

    The poachers down the gorge were most disturbing

    That shit they bring needs some curbing 

    One night of hee haws was all we got

    And one young stag for the pot

    The scrapes are few and far between 

    Pissy little ones they have been

    Nothing much for us to hit 

    Kept stepping in a lot of shit It was everywhere 

    Beers run out 

    Food is low 

    Choppers here 

    Time to go”

    Time check of 09:30hrs, time for a mid-morning exploration. I’m not expecting to see much, but I’m far too eager to make the most of dry skies and get this recce underway. As soon as I leave the hut, I watch a juvenile whio (native blue duck) land in front of me. If that isn’t an awesome omen, I don’t know what is. I made quick work of heading down river, following what seemed like DOC triangles signalling a track, which would eventually lead me to crossing the river. Thinking that was for another day, I then checked what routes might be obvious behind the hut, not much to offer there. The bush becomes tight, and if you are light footed and are great at the stealth work around cracking sticks this could be great territory for bush stalking, as there was plenty of fresh sign, scrape marks (likely from the rutting period?) and fresh deer droppings. Noticing the grass tips had been nibbled and the fresh sign around the hut, it also seems the sika came here as well.  Coming in for a bite and more hut time, it’s not long before dusk approaches and I make a decision to head out again this time choosing to move up river slowly. Here it’s instantly noticeable that there seems to be more deer activity by all the signs, tracks, droppings and fresh prints. As I head further up, I can see there are more deer-friendly spots, grassy flats with manuka scrub for plenty of cover. Seems like a deer highway in places. Yet nothing spooked for me yet.  Not wanting to scent up the entire block day 1, I return back to base via the river, which at this point is only ankle deep, and quite lovely to travel down. Makes for quick travel, and the water temp surprisingly wasn’t too bad.  Wading back, the skies open up, and I mean they OPEN UP.  I had full wet weather gear on and this was still no match for hours travel back in this deluge. I made it back to the hut just before dark on my first outing and it seemed the weather report, true to its warning, was announcing the arrival of the storm. I make quick work of the minimal wood stock, utilise the coal, and get my gear drying in front of the much-needed fire. Hot soup went down a treat. I pick the best of the eight saws here, and spend considerable time cutting up wood to keep the fire stoked.  It was about 22:00hrs when the door blew open for the first time. The storm had only just begun. It was a sleepless night to say the least. While the sound of rain on the hut was really comforting, the thunder and lightning that came until 2am were not. It really was quite impressive to watch how quickly the river rose, but I had to tell myself once or twice this hut had seen worse, and withstood rising rivers plenty of times.

    Tuesday 28th October 2025

    An early start was out of the question as the hut became light –  I realised I had slept in. Glancing outside with tired eyes I noticed the river was pumping. No longer crossable.  The day was calm post-storm, but checking my weather intel I had collected from various sources prior to coming in, it seemed it was still going to be a wet day on and off. Spring!  Breakfast was poached eggs (perks of a heli arrival – you can take eggs bush). I assume I’ve most likely missed my hunting moment – I was hoping to catch the odd animal making the most of the dry spell. But I’m on foot in all my gear by 08:00hrs. I decided to go into the wind, by heading down stream. Grateful for the sound of the river masking the rasping sounds from my wet-weather gear, I move ever so quietly. Hours later, I covered only 1.5km, but through what seemed like perfect deer country. I was frustrated, but also enjoying the morning out. The sun trying to poke through the trees was a nice start to the day. Again, I was coming to the conclusion these animals will be out at dawn, dusk and at night – I’ve probably missed the best chance to see anything.  There is a high pitched squeal me. I’ve been spotted. I sigh. I knew they were in here, but there’s not much I can do about this one as it’s very likely a sika has winded me.  I carry on. Time check 10:30am. Knowing another big front is due in at 11:30am, I stop for a macadamia nut on the river bank and looking across the now rapidly- risen river, I spot a yearling Spiker meandering about 200m away on the bush edge. I look through the scope on my gun. Sure enough, an easy shot. However, there are a few things to consider here. One is, I can’t retrieve this animal, there’s no possible way to cross this river. Second is, I’m only to take one animal, according to rules set by the block owners and Helisika, having been put automatically in the Spring challenge( a competition held in October by Stoneycreek and Helisika). The aim is to take (if opportunity allows) an old hind making the decision not to shoot, an instant and easy one. Another sigh. Which is quite often the theme of my trips, but that, my friend, is Sika hunting. The great thing is that I have seen and heard animals.  I make my way back somewhat faster, as I now have the wind at my back, making hunting almost impossible.  I had made it quite close to the boundary and what I thought was the better part of the river edge travel, because it started to become quite gorged and debris-ridden.  I made it back at 12:00pm, and as soon as I de-robe, the rain came like clockwork. Seems the forecasts are still current.  I had a dry run this morning, and was pleased with it. Cheese and crackers, and, of course, another few brews for lunch. Re-assess, park up, put pen to paper and time to write.  18:00hrs I gear up again. The sun is now shining through the damp surroundings. Rainbows are thrown across the hillsides. The last of the low-lying mist lingers around the tops. The weather has cleared. 19:30hrs I am back indoors. Nothing moving yet. Hunger and the cold steer me inside for a dehydrated beef stroganoff. 20:00hrs just on last light, I meander out in front of the hut, crocs still on, opting for quieter steps. I sit by the river’s edge. I look through the scope, and instantly spot a party of four animals moving slowly towards the bush edge out on the river’s shingle, across the water directly in front of me. Excitement levels are replaced with the loss of shooting light. I kept looking for them through the dim light in the hope it could be possible but it was not meant to be. I would not be able to retrieve the animal today, I remind myself, but still very cool to see them.

    Wednesday 29th October 2025

    A quiet night in the hut, aided a better sleep. Temperatures dropped, and it was a fresh start to the day. Blue sky!  Today is my “mission” day, the goal being to tramp to Cascade Hut (DOC) for morning tea and return to the ‘TT’ hut some time after lunch. No real constraint on time, as I wanted to take my time and explore along the way, and at this stage, I was unsure of the travel conditions ahead. I packed enough food and water to last the entire day. Doubled my layers, and was grateful for this. 07:30hrs coffee and poached eggs on board, I take off. I made good pace, as I wasn’t stalking, even though I was carrying the gun in case I ran into an unlucky deer. Rain came almost as soon as I stepped out the door, and continued for much of the journey.  The travel was relatively easy, slow going in places, looking for the clearer sections. It took me some time to make the boundary, which is marked on both sides of the river. I was still on the hut side at this point, and it seemed to be the best place, from the signage, to cross the river here. While the river had dropped considerably since Tuesday’s storm, it still had an incredible current and flow. I made it across slowly, only getting as deep as thigh level, and that was enough for me. Crossing to the other side, I was happy that my mission was looking successful so far. Some interesting features along the way were some neat caves and pumice flats, and it was quite cool to take some time looking around. Watching a pair of whio (Blue Duck) up close, as they weren’t bothered by me, was a real highlight. Some interesting sidling around a steep river section took some concentration and care of foot placement as it was very slippery following goat-like tracks to slowly get through to the stream that meets up with the DOC track Hinemaiaia. Elation! I knew from here it’s a maintained track with those little orange triangles to mark the way to the hut. 2km later and I arrive. By now, I’m completely wet and cold. I light the fire and get the jetboil on. Noting the time at 10:15hrs, this gives me plenty of time to warm up, get some hot food on board, a brew, read and write in the hut book. Bliss. One hour later, and somewhat human again, I’m conscious of the return trip and that river crossing, hopefully it’s not rising, as the rain hasn’t let up. The path, once travelled, is a lot quicker on the return trip, with even the river crossing somewhat enjoyable. Not one animal was seen, or spooked. Not a lot of ‘sign’ about. Murphy’s law would have it that as soon as I made the hut, the sun came out in all its glory. Time to dry everything out! Not bad sitting outside, thawing out, with some cheese and crackers, and it’s only midday.  The trip took a little over 4.5 hours not including the hour at the hut. 9km return and only 200m of elevation gain total. A good day’s hike. I spent the afternoon drying out all the gear, knowing tomorrow is departure day. I make time to write this all up, and there’s a pang of sadness, knowing the trip has almost come to an end.  A late afternoon armed hike close to home is an absolute must. The day has turned into an absolute beaut. No place I’d rather be.

    Thursday 30th October 2025

    Last night I sat on the riverbed about 200m from the hut, hoping to see the deer I had seen at sunset the night before. I waited, thinking I had the prime spot, and that surely something would move. 2 hours pass with nothing but the kaka playing around in the treetops, and a couple of cheeky possums. I am, however, treated to the most incredible sunset, and as I turn the head torch on to walk back, I try to soak it all in. The moon was out last night, and it seems the deer made good use of it. Fresh droppings around the bush edge behind the hut signaled once again the Sika have outsmarted this gal. This morning it’s pack up time. I have a slow coffee and a slow breakfast, and of course, you guessed it, poached eggs. Sika calls sing out high up the hills behind me and across the way.  It’s a stunning morning, but cleaning the hut is a priority. I used to dread this part as a kid, and now I enjoy pottering around the hut, making it cosy, and leaving it better than I found it.  I replace the wood as best I can, sweep, flip the mattress, and get rid of any sign I’ve been here. I shut the door, grab a good book, and wait for the familiar sound of the Hughes 500 thudding in the valley.  Good bye TT, you have been memorable.

    *If I had one more day: I would explore the other side of the river directly in front of the hut – this has been where the deer have been spotted daily. Need low river levels, and there’s a nice-looking hill to climb!

    *Couldn’t live without this trip: Extra socks and good wet weather gear

    *Best meal had: ‘Real Meals’ Dehydrated Wilderness stew

    *Grateful for the item left in the hut by someone else: Coffee!

    @helz_water

    Tauranga-Taupo Hut