Looking down to the Cape Brett hut. Photo / 123rf
When you’ve committed to tackling that great Northland bucket list hike, you can expect ups and downs, both literally and emotionally, writes Michael Botur.
Most photos of the Cape Brett Track show only the final 5% of the journey – steep grassy mountains, sheer cliffs, towering islands, miles of unbroken ocean, and of course the landmark lighthouse.
What the photos don’t show is the blood, sweat, toil and tears. So, what else can you expect from this all-day 16km ordeal (two days and 32km if you hike back out)?
It’s a leg-exhausting, back-sweating journey that begins beside the beach in the Far North village of Rāwhiti, a 20-minute drive from Russell, the historic Bay of Islands settlement usually reached with a car ferry from Ōpua.
The legendary tramp – a magnet for visitors to Northland – crests a peninsula surrounded by the deep blue Pacific Ocean. Reviews tend to call the hike some variation on “challenging but rewarding”, and Lonely Planet has included Cape Brett in its guides to the best NZ tramping.
If you wonder whether the tough eight-hour hike is worth it, the answer is a resounding yes.
I undertook this longest of hikes on the shortest day of the year, and it threw a few challenges at my girlfriend Heather and me. The first hurdle was overcoming traumatic memories from tackling the hike in 2018, armed with a heavy gas cooker and pots, only to realise the hut has gas stoves, plates and pots. Lesson learned: take as little metal as possible. Same goes for water: two litres is probably enough to get you through. Anything more is a burden.
The next step is choosing a safe car park, and for us, Rāwhiti’s Oke Bay Lodge is the best bet, offering secure, gated parking and gorgeous accommodation right beside the start of the track.
Surviving Cape Brett begins with surviving the first hour, when your pack is at its heaviest and when the track’s at its hardest and muddiest, if it’s been raining the day before. Your muscles will hopefully have adjusted by the time you reach the scenic trig rest stop, an hour into the tramp, which comes with a longdrop toilet facing out to stunning views of innumerable islands (leave the door open if you’re feeling wild).
That first uphill hour is Māori hapū trust land, so don’t be surprised when the DoC ticketing system asks you to pay for a permit to cross the private land – a rather high $50 per adult or $20 for children, on top of hut fees of $25 per adult or $12.50 for kids under 17.
Once the annoyances of the steep fees and steep slopes are surpassed, the trudge should become rewarding. Hikers enjoy the sigh of the ocean slapping against cliffs and the sight of secret indigo coves on either side of a track often carpeted with fallen leaves like a Middle-earth forest.
By the third hour, you can expect your muscles to have adapted and you’ll forget you’re suffering as you collect glimpses of colourful fungi, fantails, tūī and – perhaps – rare kākā parrots.
Not long after halfway is the turnoff to Deep Water Cove, an entry/exit point which cuts 50% of the tramp out for those finding it too tough. Deep Water Cove is a calm bay, ideal for a dip, and thanks to a ban on fishing, I encountered eagle rays, mature snapper and an adorable puffer fish there.
After Deep Water Cove there are two heavenly/hellish hours left as the trail skirts the edge of mountains – which will either make you proud to take selfies, or regret that you ever came.
The need to cut your pack weight is proven here. On the day Heather and I hiked Cape Brett, we were treated to some schadenfreude as we passed a German Aucklander staggering up the final peak, weighed down by a giant pack later revealed to contain a portable 5-litre iKegger beer keg, which made him the toast of the hut when he poured cold lager for his grateful mates at sunset.
Six hours is the minimum time to reach the climax of the hike – a poled peak looking out at three towering rocky islands. Those moving more slowly will only approach the end at about the seven- to eight-hour mark, which is why it’s sensible to set off early-morning to try get it done in no more than the suggested one way time of 8.5 hours (just to rub it in, you’ll see the occasional trail runner with nothing but a hydration pack.)
It all ends with a steep slope down to the picturesque Cape Brett Lighthouse – built in 1910, and still flashing to this day.
After a final calf-busting slope, you’re in for a warm hut with 23 bunks, cookware, gas and pretty good insulation, thanks to renovations in January this year.
Most people – if not recovering in their sleeping bags – use the afternoon/sunset to check out the strange spectacle of a cacti garden growing by the cliff edge, or traipse 100m down to see seals basking (May to September). On our cold midwinter trip, Heather and I snorkelled among schools of bright blue maomao fish in the channel between Cape Brett and offshore islands. Those feeling especially daring can try to find the secret rocky arch under the cape.
As for getting back, if you thought the private land levy was pretty steep, the cost of getting a return boat from Deep Water Cove is fairly high, too. Expect to pay at least $85 per person from Deep Water Cove, or $300 for a small boatload of people from the Cape Brett Hut (Google Cape Brett Water Taxi for a few boat options.) At least you get a brief tour of the Bay of Islands.
If the costs seem too high, there are benefits to hiking 16km back out the way you came in. Your pack will be lighter, you need less water, you can look forward to drink and food at the car, and there’s that curious brain effect whereby a trail seems so much easier once you’ve trod it before. Also, that wicked, hour-long uphill section that punished you so much after you parked your car on the first day becomes blessedly downhill – all thanks to simply walking back the other way.
The day we conquered the cape, there were plenty of tertiary student-looking types who seemed to love socialising all the way there and back, and just a few grey-haired folk. No matter your age, you can find ways to love the experience. Older people appreciate nature more and are good at having a slow, gradual pace – and mature folk will probably set off at a sensibly early time (7-8am), creating a stress-free day. So long as you’re fit, age is no barrier.
The Cape Brett hut has three separate areas of bunks and a door screening off the kitchen, which keeps some of the noise down from those noisy newbies who forget hut etiquette.
The Visitor’s Book tells us that this year, people have seen Bryde’s whales, rails and seals near the hut. The fishing and snorkelling are excellent, though cold.
Many people in Kiwi huts cook dinner at 5.30, play cards with candlelight then head for bed at 7.30. You’ll want to stuff your clothes in a pillowcase, and be prepared to wrap that makeshift pillow around your ears when fellow trampers, suffering the thin hut mattresses, snore all night before getting up at dawn.
The writer travelled at his own expense.