Looking back on a splendid long weekend in the Clarence Valley.
Bring back summer! As the third “one-in-100-year storm” in about eight years hit Christchurch last weekend, I found myself reminiscing about our Waitangi weekend adventure in the Clarence River Valley. The theme of the long weekend was sunshine and river vibes, tied together by brilliant driving and a great group of people... and then covered in a thick layer of dust. In addition to the weather turning it on and none of the mechanical issues being ours, I think the trip was one of the best yet due to our refined set-up. So, in addition to gloating about the awesome weekend, I wanted to include a nod to some recent modifications that have enhanced off-road life.
Our plan was to keep the crew on the smaller side. Five or six trucks felt like the perfect convoy for this exploration. But everyone can sense a good plan when it’s presented. And thus, ten vehicles (and 24 humans!) showed up for the adventure. The universe intervened quickly however, and we lost Andy’s short wheelbase Pajero before we even hit the dirt. A blown gearbox one kilometer from the start of the track set us back an hour, as Andy and family redistributed themselves amongst two of the other trucks. While they managed ‘camping Tetris’, Little Josh tended to a sudden and random flat tyre on his Safari. Great start!
The Clarence Valley is a huge swath of land just west of the Kaikoura Range. Though DOC is involved, much of it is private and we obtained permission from the landowner and paid a modest entry fee. I felt the price of entry paid for itself immediately as we drove inland and up, up, and up into the clouds and over the Kaikouras. The road is meticulously maintained and steep. While I love a bit of adventure, I wouldn’t have wanted to come across this pass in disrepair. This was the first point that I felt quite pleased about the low range transfer case gears we gifted the old girl for Christmas.
As the road crested and then meandered lazily down the backside of the mountains, the clouds dispersed, and the temperature rose about 15 degrees. The convoy turned south, ambling past some unimpressed cows before finding the only mud in the barren Clarence River Valley. We came upon a sloppy muddy rut at the bottom of a pretty full-on steep and long climb. A few lighter vehicles led the way and made a mess of it, but eventually danced their way to the top. Our Pajero was the first of the long wheelbase to approach the feature, and let’s just say there was a lot of back and forth between us and the mud. Eventually low range took us through the mire. The next up was our buddy Jamie, who is an excellent driver but has a penchant for pushing his Prado to the absolute limit, and occasionally past it. And over the limit he went, getting sideways in a cross-rut near the top with a back-wheel almost on its side and a front wheel waving in the air like Miss America.
A bit of head scratching, a lot of photos taken, and a double-vehicle winch got the truck unstuck. It was not the only recovery of the weekend, but it may have been the most exciting! The rest of the day was spent enjoying radio nonsense and breathtaking views. We pulled up to the Palmer Hut as the sun set and enjoyed a dip in the Clarence and the rarity of a warm New Zealand evening. We also felt smug and refreshed by the ice-cold beer and fresh veggies retrieved from the new 12v fridge set up we had gifted the truck for the New Year. As astute readers may recall, installing a sturdy base and the fridge slider was a technical marriage-building exercise, but we reaped the rewards as one of three vehicles with crisp cold bevvies.
In the morning half of the convoy opted for a lazy morning enjoying swimming and achieving coffee while four vehicles went for an exploration up the Palmer Stream. In addition to the mighty Pajero, we had Big Dave in his trusty Prado, Little Josh in his Safari, and newcomer Liam “Scuba Steve” and family in their Hilux. The Palmer stream narrowed in on us quickly, with the squeezes between rock features going from ‘wow that’s scenic’, to ‘oooooh this is even cooler,’ to ‘oh a wee bit tight’, to a four-man spot required to get the Pajero around a sharp, off camber bend in the stream.
At an arbitrary point where turning around was actually an option, the small group reversed direction to meander back. The radio began crackling with, “Where are you guys?” and we noted our exploration had taken an hour or so longer than planned. Funny that. Instead of finding a grumpy crowd, however, we came back to find everyone else laughing like kids as they took turns diving in the water and riding down a natural waterslide in the river. With all of us refreshed in our own ways, we set off north to retrace our tracks from the day before, in search of adventure and camp spots.
My tummy began rumbling around the time we arrived at a shallow riverbank. With no destination in mind we crisscrossed the river a few times with the 4WDs before we realised we’d rather be in the river ourselves. We pulled out the awning we’d fitted to the truck – was it for her birthday? Lunch beside the river.
A few trucks headed on upriver in search of the perfect camp spot. Instead we came to a bit of a dead end at a bend in the river with a truck swallowing whirlpool. The current swirled in front of us, but just downstream appeared a bit shallower. Kayakers parked up for the night watched us dubiously from the other side; I felt willing us not to cross. Regardless of the sceptics (in kayaks and in trucks), Liam went full steam into the river, making the crossing look easy… until we realised he was more of a boat than a truck. He floated helplessly to shallower water where Jamie snatched him to shore (the same shore on which he started) and the Hilux doors opened to become a beautiful water fountain.
Suffering just a few minor electrical glitches and a re-organisation of everything in the cab, the Hilux crew were ready to resume in 10 minutes flat. Undeterred, we attempted the crossing again down-river a bit, and successfully got across… well Little Josh was successful after five attempts up the riverbank and with no less than 20 kayakers watching and discussing. Just up-river we discovered the most beautiful flat patch amongst towering poplars and knew the next campsite had been found. We called out over the radio and the others took the longer scenic way to the campsite, claiming route choice had nothing to do with drowning vehicles.
This spot was truly one for the books, with space for everyone to spread out, an incredible swirling swimming hole, and perfect fire-pit for times when there’s not a fire ban in place. Before the sun went down, we got to test out the newest feature of all, a truck-run hot water shower: a chance for the Pajero to give back to us! With a heat exchanger installed adjacent to the coolant system, a bucket full of river water, and a pump and hose to connect the two, we enjoyed a truly hot shower, prepared in the time it takes to get undressed and ready to wash. Who needs a shower when you’re at the river? There is no reason a 4WD trip can’t include a few modest luxuries – and the sooner blokes realise this, the more their lady friends will get behind their 4WD “investment”.
That evening we watched the show put on by the Milky Way. Dom and Jamie (much more talented photographers than I) took some unreal photos of our wee spot. Totally relaxed but also pretty exhausted, no one made midnight before crawling into tents, rooftop tents, trucks and bivvies.
The final day saw a split in the crew, with some heading out for longer journeys home. Big Dave, Bagel in his Defender, and Jamie joined us for a jaunt up Limestone Hill; another steep adventure but this one narrow and unforgiving. So unforgiving in fact, that Big Dave’s Prado felt the pressure and began overheating. With a few cool-down stops factored in, we eventually made it to the peak for lunch and some more sweeping vista views.
Our last destination for the weekend was Goose Flat, coincidently the spot where a DOC hut had recently burned down. Our permission to enter into the Clarence River Valley had included a promise not to have a fire. We ambled down the north side of Limestone Hill and immediately saw the massive burn scar from the fire. The 400-hectare blaze took out the modern hut at Goose Flat, but spared the old historic hut, which I discovered was so full of wasps that the fire was probably afraid of it.
We savoured one last river stop; awning out, ice cold beer in, feet dipped, and then began the long dusty trip out of the valley. Slowly we drove up over the mountains, commenting on the stunning scenery one last time, and taking bets on when Big Dave’s Prado would overheat again or conk out for good.
He made it out but had to drive from Goose Flat, up the valley, over the mountain pass, down the other side, and back to Christchurch with the windows down and heat blasting on a 28-degree day. This was also the last big trip for the Prado, as Big D has traded up.
