IMAGINE THE SCENE … Facing the sea, a couple of Maoris are standing on the top of a small mountain. Dense, lush vegetation surrounds them. The forest noises punctuate the “whoosh” of the wind as it blows through the trees and across their faces. It is a day for the elements to express themselves and for humans to say, as the light fades, “what a good day to have been alive”.

Below them in the distance are many small figures struggling with a very large object. Up to their knees in water with fountains of spray billowing and the sea crashing massive waves not 30 metres behind them, this group are clearly in a spot of bother.

The sky has taken on a troubled, broody grey and later it is definitely going rain with hatred, the wind will blow harder and the sea will pummel the beach with even bigger waves.

Back on the mountainside, one Maori turns to the other and says “What a stupid place to make a film about a piano. I ask you”. The view described is from the opening scenes of “The Piano”, filmed on New Zealand’s mighty Western Bight. It is also the final day’s prize for any adventurous walker who chooses to take on the four-five day, 76km, Heaphy Track.

The Heaphy Track is a bit like the tramper’s version of the Land Rover/Camel Trophy. An all-terrain extravaganza that packs the very best New Zealand has to offer in terms of variety, scenery and personal endurance.

Travelling from the Golden Bay area to the West Coast, it loops over the virtually unpopulated north-western part of the South Island and provides the opportunity to really get away from it all. The rich forests lead to wild, open downs and, further on, drop again into sub-tropical bush, before finally finishing on the booming Tasman Sea’s beaches.

The majority of people begin the trip from Collingwood. Happily it’s easy to reach from Nelson, but patience is needed when you realise you’ve been on the bus for two hours and have another two to go until the first staging post, Brown Hut. If you haven’t already done so, Brown Hut is a good place to take stock of your situation.

The National Park Service recently upgraded the Heaphy Track to Great Walk status. Take note of the words “great” and “walk” as they can have two meanings: 76km over varied terrain in the wilderness for four-five days is no easy stroll. Even if those “outward bound” Kiwis describe it as nothing more than an easy-to-medium walk, the average beer-gutted Londoner will find it altogether different.

The first day is nearly all uphill and it isn’t long before you find yourself alone in the bush, wondering what would happen if you broke a leg halfway along the route. The eerie solitude is best ignored and it is better to suck the fresh air and enjoy the views, the countryside, and all things “nature” around you. In sunny weather, walking through the forest and catching glimpses of the shining river, you hardly notice the gentle climb.

Only when you barge into the first trampers’ huts five or six hours later, absolutely knackered, does your body let on that, maybe, the walking was a bit harder than you thought.

Perry Hut — much like all the other huts en route — is basic but functional; forty odd bunks and some gas rings to cook enormous amounts of pasta. Nearby is the painfully-cold Gorge Creek, a popular spot for bathing. You’ll find everyone in the huts is warm and friendly, and most people end up sharing food, swapping stories, and talking long into the night.

The second day brings on the feeling that, perhaps, you’ve joined the army accidentally. You volunteered for the physical exercise, but who said anything about getting up at the crack of dawn? Some people get up very early and, although they try to be quiet, they nearly always wake up the whole hut on their way out.

Back on the track, the land completely changes from the day before, levelling onto wild grassy downs with little nooks of trees and, primarily, long open views. It’s easy walking and just the tonic from the hardship of the previous day.

Three hours’ later and you’re in front of Saxon Hut. The fit can push on a further four hours to Mackay Hut — making it feasible to complete the walk in four days rather than five — but the tired, simply accept their lot and content themselves that they have an extra day to savour the scenery without added pain.

Onwards to Mackay and the trees return in greater numbers. Not only does the land alter, but so does the weather. At certain times of the year, the full stretch from Saxon, past Mackay and up to Lewis Hut can be enshrouded in a dense mist. This rapidly drops the temperature, and completely obliterates any views.

Lewis to Heaphy Hut is downhill, which signals to the weary that, maybe, they will get out of this alive after all. Descending into the bush it gets warmer and, following the Heaphy River, provides exciting opportunities to cross long wobbling wire bridges that only Indiana Jones has previously been privy to.

After regular glimpses of the Tasman Sea through palm trees surrounding the river, it’s a great relief to discover the gorgeous lagoon that sits next to the Heaphy Hut. Most trampers immediately drop their packs and clothes, and dive headlong into the water, pleased to be near civilisation once again.

The hut is nicely sheltered from the sea’s wind, and makes a wonderful place to just laze, feeling pretty pleased with yourself. Beware though, the Heaphy Track has a nasty surprise for city slickers who think they are “masters of the wilderness”. The sandfly sounds a fairly innocuous beast, but, put simply, it is a nightmare — your worst nightmare. Sandflies leave a desperately painful and irritating itch that remains up to two months. It makes a mozzie bite seem pathetic in comparison. After all this effort, though, there are still five hours of steady walking before you can savour a first beer for half a week. The full distance along the beach, though, is nothing but beautiful; clean, virgin sand accompanied by the sea’s symphonies. When it is calm, the sea is a welcoming crystal blue with a three foot swell. But nobody every surfs or swims here because the rips are so strong that few people come out after going in.

When it is rough — which is most of the time — though, the sea is an explosion of fierce, power-packed malevolence that would live up to the hype of Don King’s big fight promotions. The air crackles with ozone and the thunder rolls as each wave falls. Finally, as you reach the phone booth at the Karamea end of the walk to call a taxi, the sudden hush seems out of place. Your ears need a little time to adapt to what is called “civilisation”, and your senses are already missing nature’s caresses.

No matter. You will remember the delights of what you’ve seen and heard for years to come.

Fact File

ACCOMMODATION
With 10 huts and 10 campsites along the way there are enough places to stay on the track itself. Before starting, however, you need to buy a pass which permits you to use the facilities — $8 for the huts, $6 for the campsites. It’s basically a cover fee for the up-keep of the track.
At the Nelson/Collingwood end there are plenty of backpackers’ hostels and campsites to stay in.
The Karamea end, however, is served only by the “Last Resort”, and a couple of chalet-style homes. Consequently, it is wise to book a bed ahead if you venture on the trail during the school holidays (when many New Zealanders go to see their country). This prevents you from having to get involved in a race with your other trampers on the final leg of the journey.