Hiking the Karangahake Gorge

November has been unseasonably wet in the North Island, which is why when the clouds cleared on Saturday morning, it was cause for celebration. Surely this was a sign that the weekend ahead would be smooth sailing.

Mt Karangahake towers above the western end of Karangahake Gorge in the Coromandel. It’s a two-hour drive from Auckland, nestled between Paeroa and Waihi. Entering the valley, one is struck by its wilderness. On one side, tall cliff covered in dense bush rise above State Highway 2, and on the other, a sudden drop into rapids. But it was what was beneath the imposing landscape that attracted hundreds to the region in the 1870s. Over the weekend, we traversed over twenty kilometres of track deep into the gorge, following the path forged by those early pioneers.

Visitors to the gorge have access to the DOC Dickeys Flat Campsite. Adjacent to the public site,  the Dickeys Flat Adventure Camp is more secluded, but has easy access to tracks leading into the valley. It’s basic, but perfectly adequate, with a sheltered common area, a couple of lavatories, a fireplace, and several old tractor tyres which act as make-shift seats.

On the first day, we completed a three-hour hike along the Daly’s Clearing Track. The weather was fine, and it was a great way to ease into the weekend of hiking. A short break at the Daly’s Clearing Hut, and we descended back down the valley.

Nothing ends a day of hiking better than a dip in a frigid stream. Once you acclimate to the temperature, it’s not too bad, and lying down in the water is a great way to enjoy the sunset. Eventually though, it does get uncomfortably cold, and you start to wander how your campmate is getting along with cooking dinner.

I originally had a group of three to camp with, but one caught Covid a couple days prior and the other was leaving early to attend an exam on Monday. For now, though, he was preparing a casserole.

As night fell, campers huddled in games of cards in little circles of light. Everything was shrouded in a foreign, intense darkness. At the far end, a group gathered in a game of manhunt. Soon after, they sprinted off as a tagger counted down. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”

I believe that one should take full advantage of school camps, so I took the time to learn Blackjack and Last Call (which, my fellow campers explained, is like Uno but with normal playing cards). And, in true school camp fashion, the stakes were high: carrot sticks and half melted Whittaker's milk chocolate were two of the prized possessions up for grabs. I made sure to lose.

By Sunday morning, when it was time for our six-hour hike to the top of Mt Karangahake, the imposing peaks were shrouded in fog and the forest tracks muddied. Turns out Saturday was a fluke.

The weather did little to dampen spirits. We marched along the gorge to the beat of “Ants Went Marching” and off-tune renditions of “Sweet Caroline”. But no school trip is complete without parodies of the school song that would horrify senior leadership.

We paused often to consult our map, eat trail mix, put on our rain jackets, and then take them off again. The problem was that the showers were intermittent, and between the showers it was far too warm to wear a jacket. Seasoned hikers, amused by our conundrum, informed us that the number-one rule for hiking in New Zealand is to never take off your rain jacket. The moment you do, it will start raining again.

There are three peaks on Mt Karangahake. The most prominent has a trig station on top and has an official elevation of 544m. Another has a communication mast and is a few metres lower than the tallest peak, which isn’t nearly as accessible. We made the trip anyway, though for what reason I'm unsure, for the peak was completed shrouded in cloud. A small clearing give way suddenly to cliff and a refulgent white.

So far, I had done a good job of keeping myself clean, but my streak was dashed by muddy swamps hidden amongst thick foliage on the descent. Another visit to the frigid stream was necessary, though it was another couple of hours away.

Consolation for insect bites, cramps and sore ankles and toes was given in the form of a campfire and blackened marshmallows. More singing, and the odd horror story, completed the evening.