Life in the wild West

The Long family - Christian, Robin, Catherine and Robert. Photo / Supplied

On the banks of the Gorge River in South Westland, two days' walk from the nearest road, is the small hut Robert Long has called home for the past 30 years. For the first decade he lived in isolation, without even a radio to listen to, living on fern fronds and bread he made from the seed heads of native grasses. Then he married and raised two children in the wilderness.

Now Long has written a book about how he's survived this extraordinary hermit-like existence.

A Life On Gorge River: New Zealand's Remotest Family (Random House, $39.99) is a true-life adventure about a modern-day pioneer. It's also a record of the doughty West Coasters - whitebaiters, hunters, fishermen and helicopter pilots - who have become Long's community over the years.

But mostly it's a tale to make the average latte-drinking, Facebooking, mobile-phone toting, car-driving city dweller shudder.

"I wanted wilderness," explains Long from a borrowed phone in a friend's house. "But in a way I feel as though this life was chosen for me. As though I was pushed that way by fate."

Born in Auckland and raised west of Brisbane, Long had travelled the world and embarked on a medical degree when he became restless for a different sort of life. He was certain there had to be a way to escape the material world and find a healthier, simpler existence and was drawn to the West Coast of the South Island - mainly because he'd heard there were no roads between the ocean and the mountains.

Long's original plan was to live in a bivvy beside the river, but then some local fishermen he'd befriended told him about the empty Forest Service hut that remains his home to this day.

"I'm not at all surprised I'm still here," says Long now. "From the beginning it felt as though I'd found my niche, and I didn't feel the need to go anywhere else."

He had no official permission to live in the hut but Long kept the place tidy, trimmed the flaxes along the air strip and made passing trampers welcome, and the Forestry Service (now DoC) agreed he could remain as an unpaid caretaker.

"I never felt insecure," Long says. "If you're doing the right thing why would anyone stop you? But I'm very diplomatic with everything and everyone. The land doesn't belong to me so I don't do things like chopping down trees. For the fire we use the driftwood that washes up after every flood. Nature provides for us and we respect it."

A walk back to civilisation means crossing rivers, climbing bluffs and boulder hopping, and Long, who has honed his survival skills over the years, admits there have been some risky moments.

"But I've always had a lot of faith in the divine looking after me. If I'm in a situation where I feel concerned then I repeat a prayer I learned as a child. I'm aware of the danger but rather than fearing it I just pray."

He doesn't believe their eccentric existence has been hard on his son and daughter who were raised almost entirely on Gorge River.

"They've also travelled to Australia and we always spent at least a month a year in Haast," he explains. "So in a way I think they've a greater breadth of experience than city kids.

"They've seen both sorts of life."

Since the children came along there have been compromises like a radio, emergency locator beacons and even a computer now so the family can stay in touch with son Christian, 17, who is at polytechnic in Dunedin and daughter Robin, 15, who is heading to Wanaka to complete her final year of schooling.

The only alternative is hearing from them via messages thrown from passing planes, and while Long didn't welcome the computer into his life, he and his wife couldn't bear to contemplate the alternate choice.

In the early days it was whitebaiting or fishing that provided the tiny income Long subsisted on. Now, with greater needs, he supports his family with the proceeds of his paintings and greenstone carving.

His hut has solar panels and a wind generator but it's still a frugal, simple life and any spare time is spent diving for crayfish, walking or simply contemplating the wilderness.

At 54 he's aware he may have to leave the hut and move closer to civilisation at some point.

"But I wouldn't want to leave the West Coast," Long says. "The other evening I was watching the glow of the night sky and the moon coming up and the waves and I thought, I feel perfectly at home here."

His autobiography was written longhand late at night and typed up by his wife Catherine.

He says it's been an emotional experience looking back over his life, fitting events together and retrieving lost memories.

"I only ever wrote if I relished what I was doing. That's the way I am with my artworks too."

Although his existence might seem a privation to some, to Long it has always been a pleasure and he sees A Life On Gorge River as an opportunity to explain why.

"I don't need to be famous but I don't mind sharing myself with people. I feel like I can provide a window into this part of the world, make people appreciate it and maybe see life a little differently as a result."