KEY POINTS:
There was a time, David Bridger cheerfully admits, when he was considered "a half-wit".
He clearly likes telling this story; remembering with a grin how quickly word spread in the tiny seafront settlements of Hector and Granity on the South Island's northern west coast, about his plans to
build a lodge for backpacking travellers - a plan that most folk decided was "madness."
The building site was 100m above sea level, virtually straight up from the Tasman Sea and the highway through Granity and Hector. The bush-clad hillside was - and still is - so steep, it is not accessible by car.
"They reckoned it would never work - that no one would ever want to come and stay if they had to trudge up 500m of winding bush track," Bridger remembers.
Ironically, it was the winding track through native bush, often glistening with sunlit dew or alive with cicada song and adorned in orange karaka berries, which quickly made the budget lodge a huge hit with travellers from all over the world.
He named the lodgings The Old Slaughterhouse - in deference to a small area down by the roadside which, until 1943, was an open-air abattoir. The simple concrete floor and old stone wall became the foundations for a bach where Bridger used to live, earning himself the title of "the man who lives in the old slaughterhouse".
Nowadays, guests arrive at the property to find a carpark and the old bach (now an artist's studio). A weathered sign on a lichen-covered rock points gently upwards and into a wall of native bush.
The pathway is fairytale enchanting - an intriguing walk when you don't quite know how many turns in the path you'll come to and when it will end. Charming - though not everyone has been charmed.
Bridger shudders at the memory of a Christchurch woman who huffed and puffed her way to the top, where she screeched that it was "horrible! - like climbing Mount Everest".
She and her husband spent the night elsewhere, but not before she told Bridger he was "a bastard for putting that pathway there and expecting people to walk up it", and apparently pummelling and poking her husband, insisting he go and "sort that man out!"
Fortunately for Bridger, the husband chose to drive off with his irate wife safely back in their car.
No, the pathway is not wheelchair-friendly either, he says, but there's another, mostly hidden pathway, just wide enough for his quad bike.
Since it opened more than a decade ago, The Old Slaughterhouse has hosted five wheelchair-bound guests, and quite a few woefully unfit travellers, each whisked up the hill on his quad bike, which doubles as a pack-horse for luggage.
If David and his partner, Ina Pape, are not at the top to meet you, sisters Beatrice and Elke surely will be. Between them, they are an 89kg mix of jet black Great Dane, bull mastiff, Rhodesian ridgeback, rottweiler and New Zealand huntaway sheep dog.
Tall, dark and leggy, these girls are the resident couch-surfers.
Bridger has a whole new Goon-like language for talking to his pets, and guests quickly realise if they want to sit on the leather couches, they will most likely have to share with at least one of these enormous dogs.
"Most people really like Beatrice and Elke and are very relaxed about them having the run of the place," David says. "It's definitely not a place to stay if you don't particularly like dogs. They're my kids, my girls."
A black cat, with the name Jefferson, holds a fairly lofty rank in Bridger's household, too.
Extensive decks give grandstand views of spectacular sunsets and regular sightings of the world's smallest and rarest dolphin - the Hector dolphin - for which the settlement is named.
Completed in 1997, David Bridger's home is flanked by a separate bunk bed sleeping quarters and a third building with two private double rooms for couples.
All are batten and board, unpainted timber which is gradually weathering, melding into the hues of the landscape.
Recycled rimu, matai, cedar, kahikatea, Canadian oregon and even ancient Northland kauri have been used to construct everything from the house to the furniture inside it.
If you cannot get by without your electric blanket or prefer to pad down a carpeted hallway to the loo in the middle of the night, then The Old Slaughterhouse is probably a bit basic for you. Here, there's no mains power for such luxuries.
In the kitchen, cooking is with gas, and everything else is micro-hydropower generated from a small creek that runs through the property.
But you will be thoughtfully sent to bed hugging a hot water bottle if it's a cold night.
My summer's night stay didn't require a ``hottie', but I was handed a cyclist's head lamp just in case I needed to venture back to the main house and communal bathrooms on that moonless night.
Despite these hostel-like arrangements, they're not exactly hardships if you're able-bodied and unafraid of the odd nocturnal, clicking bug in the bushes.
Staying at The Old Slaughterhouse didn't feel like being in a hostel - at least not the ones I remember dossing down in.
The lofty setting, David and Ina's relaxed and welcoming manner, the collection of art and quirky driftwood finds from the beach that range from a remarkably Muldoon-like face to a fabulous shark, make The Old Slaughterhouse feel homely and warm in more ways than one.
GETTING THERE
Air New Zealand regularly flies between Auckland and Westport, via Wellington. Follow the signs to Granity, Hector and Karamea, and The Old Slaughterhouse is 6km from Granity. It's well-signposted with various signs, ranging from "Lodge" and the international symbol BBH symbol for hostellers, to an eye-catching creation promoting the artist's gallery and studio, a blacksmith's business and The Old Slaughterhouse.
WHAT TO DO
It's tempting to nurse a glass or cup, lean on the deck railings, and simply stare down at the Tasman Sea.
An excellent way to "chill out", it's also an addictive and mesmerising pastime - and one that is often rewarded with a performance by playful Hector dolphins that frequent this part of the coast. Waiting for the sunset is also pretty-much a given.
Choose a couch and snuggle up with a book (and one of the dogs) on chillier days.
