The Tramping Life

In this episode of The Tramping Life, we head somewhere few people associate with overnight tramping — Auckland. Just 25 minutes by ferry from the city lies Rangitoto and neighbouring Motutapu Island — two contrasting islands that combine volcanic geology, conservation success, military history and classic Kiwi bach culture.

Rangitoto, Auckland’s youngest and largest volcano, erupted around 600 years ago, forming a 23km² island of jagged lava fields and pōhutukawa forest — the largest pōhutukawa forest in the world. Scattered along its shores are more than 100 historic baches, built mainly in the 1920s and 30s. Three have been restored by the Rangitoto Island Historic Conservation Trust, including Bach 78 at Islington Bay — a simple, character-filled place to spend the night.

From the 259m summit of Rangitoto there are expansive views across the Hauraki Gulf and back to Auckland’s skyline. Staying overnight transforms the experience — sunset without the ferry crowds, ruru calling in the dark, and birdsong on the walk back down Summit Road.

Across the causeway lies Motutapu — older, farmed, and historically rich. Once occupied by Māori prior to Rangitoto’s eruption, later a venue for large Victorian-era picnics, and heavily fortified during World War II, it now hosts extensive native restoration led by the Motutapu Restoration Trust. Over 500,000 trees have been planted, and both islands are now pest-free sanctuaries supporting takahē, saddleback, kererū, pīwakawaka and ruru.

On this trip I stayed twice at Bach 78, walking the more rugged Coastal Track to Islington Bay, watching sunset from a deserted summit, and exploring Motutapu’s rolling hills, WWII remains, Home Bay campsite, and Emu Point. The contrast between Rangitoto’s raw volcanic terrain and Motutapu’s pastoral hills is striking — two distinct landscapes joined by a narrow causeway.

Rangitoto and Motutapu offer a rare combination: accessible, affordable, logistically simple — yet quiet, scenic and historically layered. An overnight here feels far removed from the city, despite being within sight of it.

Adam Currie is one of Aotearoa New Zealand’s leading young voices in the climate movement. We explore his love of wild, remote trips — from hauling surfboards through native bush to packrafting the Gillespie Pass circuit — and how time outdoors has shaped his activism.
 
Adam shares his thoughts on mentorship in the mountains, why accessibility matters more than fancy gear, and how tramping can help bridge our political divides. He also opens up about optimism, activism, and why he still believes we can emerge from the climate emergency together.
 
From butter puddings to bush politics, this is a conversation about nature, community, and hope.
https://www.instagram.com/adam_currie_nz/
https://350.org.nz/

In this episode of The Tramping Life, we return to Nelson Lakes National Park for one of New Zealand’s classic backcountry circuits — the 80km Travers–Sabine Circuit — with a demanding side trip to Rotomairewhenua / Blue Lake, regarded as one of the clearest natural freshwater lakes in the world.

Starting from St Arnaud on the shores of Lake Rotoiti, the Travers–Sabine Circuit typically takes 4–7 days and traverses a broad cross-section of Nelson Lakes terrain: beech forest, braided river valleys, open tussock basins and high alpine passes. The high point is Poukirikiri / Travers Saddle at 1,787m — a 450m climb followed by a steep 1,000m descent into the Sabine Valley.

Along the way I pass Lakehead and John Tait Huts, climb toward Upper Travers, descend to West Sabine, and push on to Blue Lake Hut near Rotomairewhenua. Please note: Blue Lake is a wāhi tapu (sacred site). Visitors must not enter or contaminate the water.

This was my thirteenth multi-day tramp — and one of the more eventful. Torrential rain turned tracks into streams. I faced my first flooded river crossing and waited two hours for water levels to drop before committing. A broken hiking pole, hail, thunder, and a long, punishing 23km day tested judgment and pacing. I arrived at Blue Lake Hut in darkness and exhaustion — then woke to perfectly clear water, blue ducks, and mountains reflected in stillness.

The Travers–Sabine Circuit rewards preparation, patience and sound decision-making. It is not technical mountaineering, but it is serious tramping — with real exposure to weather, terrain and fatigue.

Lydia Brady is a mountaineer, guide, and author, best known as the first woman to climb Mount Everest without supplementary oxygen.
In this episode, Lydia shares her remarkable journey from teenage tramping trips in the Lewis Pass to record-setting Himalayan ascents. She talks about the “James Bond day” that nearly ended in disaster, how she found confidence in the mountains, and what she’s learned guiding others at high altitude.
 
We also discuss how climate change is reshaping Aoraki / Mount Cook, the evolving culture of New Zealand’s alpine huts, and why reconnecting with wild places is essential for our wellbeing and our planet.
 
It’s a conversation about resilience, risk, and the deep rewards of living close to the edge.
https://lydiabradey.com/

In this episode of The Tramping Life, we head to Northland for a rugged coastal overnighter along the Cape Brett Peninsula in the Bay of Islands — finishing at one of DOC’s most unusual and historic huts.

The 16km one-way Cape Brett Track follows an old Māori trail through regenerating bush and along exposed ridgelines, with constant climbs and descents along the spine of the peninsula. On paper it’s moderate. In reality, it’s physically demanding — particularly in summer heat, with limited shade and often scarce water.

At the far end of the peninsula sits Cape Brett Hut, a converted 1909 lighthouse keeper’s house — the last remaining dwelling of what was once a small, isolated community. Nearby stands the Cape Brett Lighthouse (first lit in 1910), one of the last complete original lighthouse complexes remaining on site in New Zealand. Staying here feels less like a typical backcountry hut and more like stepping into a remote slice of maritime history.

I walked this in mid-summer, carrying nine litres of water in drought conditions — pushing my pack to 20kg over relentless, undulating terrain. Along the way were panoramic views from 345m above sea level, pest control lines and electric fencing, a detour to Deep Water Cove, and the dramatic final stretch along wave-battered cliffs. I even had a slightly unsettling night alone in the hut — accompanied by an inquisitive seagull that found its way inside.

On the return, I extended the trip via the Te Toro Track to Whangamumu Harbour, visiting the haunting remains of the Whangamumu whaling station — the only land-based whaling station in the world to use nets to capture whales. Rusted boilers and oil vats remain scattered across a now peaceful harbour accessible only by foot or boat.

Sixteen kilometres may not sound far, but the Cape Brett Track has a reputation for testing walkers more than expected. It’s a short tramp with a big feel — historic, exposed, and deeply atmospheric.