Driving back from Otago, having just finished a Christmas trip through the Caples-Greenstone, Nicola and I found ourselves with a few days up our sleeve. It was finally a chance to explore the country beyond Lake Ohau: specifically the Hopkins and Huxley river valleys, a place I’d read about in enough hunting, tramping and alpine accounts to feel like I already knew.
Our loose plan was to get to Brodrick Hut, and maybe the pass of the same name for a peek into the Landsborough, and then home. Three days, we reckoned, would be ample.
After a long, slow drive up the Hopkins as far as our 4WD could reasonably take us, we parked near the bush edge around midday and set our sights on Huxley Forks Hut, six hours away by the guidebook’s reckoning. The river was running higher than usual after recent rain, but we’d parked on the western side and the track to the Huxley stayed on that bank, so no crossing was needed.

Hopkins River.
We quickly turned west into the Huxley and climbed out of the river to cross the bridge to the north side. Forty-five minutes in, Nicola was struggling. She soon confirmed she was feeling really crook and wasn’t going to manage the hours still ahead to Huxley Forks.

It was our trip to enjoy as we liked, so instead of turning straight back for the ute, we pushed on a little, hoping for a decent camp spot to see out the afternoon. Good call: we soon dropped onto the flats overlooking the upper Huxley Valley, the Huxley Range rising behind. Not long after hitting the flat we found a superb spot for an evening (GR: E-1342559, N-5122906) with an inviting but cold stream enticing me in for a very quick dip.

A relaxed start the next morning had us packed for the short walk back to the vehicle, then the drive north to Christchurch and the ferry home.

One of the many Hokpins River braids.

Hopkins River Valley.
Ruataniwha, I looked up later, translates roughly as “two strong people.” We were not two strong people this time.

Our short trip into the Huxley (shown in red).

Leave a comment