Instant Karamea – West Coast, Part Two (Mar. 1-3)

Leaving the Old Slaughterhouse, we left northward for Karamea, described as a “real end-of-the-road town”, which is a funny concept in a country that seems to consist largely of similar small towns such as NZ. In fact, you can’t even describe most small towns in NZ as a “one-stoplight town,” as roundabouts are the traffic-routing mechanism of choice here. I have to say, it’s a concept I can get behind, since they do seem to be more efficient than traffic lights, and they allow you to act like a Formula One driver and cruise around them at a good rate of speed.

Oparara Arch in Karamea

Karamea is a small town though, with not a lot going on. It’s like the west coast version of Collingwood, which is fitting since both towns bookend the Heaphy Track, a Great Walk in NZ that we briefly considered walking. I say briefly because we don’t have the gear to do a trip like that now, sleeping bags and such, as they would suck up the little remaining room that isn’t taken up yet in Ron Burgundy. Also, there’s no good way to get from Collingwood back to Karamea, so after walking for 4 days you need to take a 6-7 hr bus ride back through winding mountain roads; not exactly an appealing idea. Or maybe we’re just rationalizing not doing it ‘cause we’re lazy. I guess we’ll never know…

Morias Gate in Karamea

We decided to stay in Rongo Lodge, which Grae at Beaconstone described as “pretty hippie.” This was funny to us because after meeting Grae, a guy who built an eco-friendly lodge in the bush of the west coast of New Zealand complete with composting toilets, we had trouble envisioning people who could be hippier than Grae, yet functional enough to run a successful backpackers. Turns out he was right, though.

The exterior of Rongo Lodge

Rongo is pretty easy to spot while you’re driving through Karamea, as it’s the only house in town that’s painted like a rainbow. At that point we decided Grae was probably right about the hippie thing. We had tried to call ahead and reserve beds at Rongo, but no one had answered our 3 calls, so we had made other accommodations at the Last Resort. However, after we went to the Last Resort, we found it was a pretty sad motel with a dorm room, no kitchen, and a depressing vibe. We stopped by Rongo, found out they had room, so Becky went back to Last Resort and made up a lame story about me being sick. Sorry Last Resort, but you really need a kitchen! Well, that and about a half dozen other things that make up a decent hostel. I may have to make a list sometime.

Andrew, professional cave explorer

Rongo it was then. On the whole, we really enjoyed it there, as the rooms were fine, the vibe was excellent with lots of friendly travelers, and best of all, free WiFi! If you could gorge yourself on WiFi, then I did our first evening there, spending about 4 hours reading the internet. Good ol’ internet. Interestingly, Rongo also operates its own little radio station out of a garage, broadcasting an endearingly eclectic selection of music around Karamea. Perhaps unsurprisingly, bands like Sublime, Bob Marley, and the Allman Brothers seemed to be most popular on RongoFM, possibly because they go well with sitting around the nightly fire in the parking lot.

On our second night at Rongo, there was plenty of face-painting and they were throwing a Mexican feast in honor of one of the woofer’s birthdays, to which all were invited, making for a nice evening of food and conversation. Later, a group was leaving to make a midnight bonfire on the beach under a full moon, so we thought why not?, and went along for the ride.

We packed about ten of us into the back of an old truck, and headed down to the beach, where we cruised through a few rivers to get to the site. I should note that beaches on the west coast are basically uniformly covered in driftwood, and that it burns excellently, giving us heaps (to pronounce like a Kiwi, say hapes) of ready fuel. In about 5 minutes we had a full-scale conflagration going, which was great for the cool night in this part of the world. We spent most of the night chatting with other travelers, but it quickly became apparent that we should’ve brought alcohol along, as to have a great bonfire requires a certain amount of social lubrication. This is an inarguable point, though we still enjoyed the hippies with the guitar and bongos who entertained the rest of the group with some impromptu fire dancing.

Still, we had a quite excellent time, and when is the next time we’ll have a bonfire on a beach on the Tasman Sea? Around 3 in the morning, however, we started to have a sneaking suspicion that our driver wasn’t really interested in driving back that night, so most of us hoofed it on back to Rongo. Since we had driven through rivers to get there, we had no idea how we got to the bonfire, so we thought it had to have been a long walk. However, we found out it was only about 30-40 minutes, and under the moonlight, the serious moonlight, it was a terrific and easy walk. Had we known that we probably would’ve left hours earlier. In any event, in the morning we were glad we walked back when we did, as we found out the rest of the group stayed out on the beach until after sunrise, yikes.

Not that we didn’t get out and about in Karamea, much to the contrary. On our first day we did some day hikes to see the Oparara Arch, a natural limestone arch, some caves, and other cool geological features in the area. On our second day we went out to the first portion of the Heaphy Track, reputed to be the best part of it. We’re inclined to believe that, as the track stretches past some excellent beaches, nikau palms, and even has a cool swing bridge. As with everywhere else on the west coast, the surf crashes into the shore incessantly and violently, and if you stop for more than a few minutes, the sandflies start to devour you alive.

Swing bridge across the Heaphy Track

I don’t think I’ve mentioned sandflies before, but no description of the west coast would be complete without detailing what little vicious bastards they are. They’re basically little black flies that look like gnats, but are much more harmful and infinitely more annoying. In our week on the west coast, we’ve found that no beach is without them and that they have a special fondness for ankles and feet (we decided to spare everyone and not include pictures), leaving behind ridiculously itchy puffy red welts. They’re a lot like mosquitoes, except smaller, less bothered by insect repellent, and seem to attack in bigger groups. I’ve gotten no small pleasure from killing a few dozen of them this past week. A pyrrhic victory I know, but you take ‘em where you can get ‘em against sandflies.

Scott's Beach on the Heaphy Track - look out for the sandflies!

Though sandflies can be found throughout the North Island, the west coast of the South Island is where the buggers are notorious for ruining it for everyone. The west coast has a somewhat ironic fate in that it has some gorgeous beaches, but that hardly anyone visits them because of the sandflies and dangerous rips and undertows that seem to be at more beaches than not. On the other hand, those factors are probably the only reasons that keep it wild, which is the trade-off I suppose. Anyway, enough of that, we’re headed south back along the coast from here…