Hemi’s
Track
A 4WD Adventure of Discovery, Mystery, Murder and Romance?
Written
By Graham in OVERSZ
Characters in this book are fictional and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidence only.
Situations are however based on fact and many are the embellished stories (lies) of actual events.
The Reader will have to decide what is fact and what is fiction.
Remember before attempting this portion of Hemi’s Track by 4WD that you must obtain permission from the many property owners.
When the author has a few spare weeks an attempt will be made on driving the mid section of Hemi’s Track. There might even be a 2nd book.
Hemi’s Track is covered by Copyright and no portion can be copied, sold or given away with out the Authors permission.
Most Important.
Enjoy it.
Many years ago an old Maori bloke I met up in the South Island High Country told me about this track his Father had taken him on when he was a young fella. They had gone from Hanging Rock, near Pleasant Point in South Canterbury to the mouth of a large river on the West Coast. It had taken them nearly 12 weeks and they had suffered terribly in the mountains. They had been caught by the weather and spent 10 days on a shingle beach on a river. One of the horses they had used to tow the dray had been injured in a fall and the food she provided was the only thing that saved Hemi and his Father.
Details of starting and finishing points were a bit confused as Hemi hadn’t ventured to the West Coast for more than 60 years and he could only tell me that on the West Coast they had come out through a deserted town. He had no idea of its name and thought that maybe it didn’t even have a name. It was completely set out with houses and Gas lights in the streets. The houses were all painted Olive Green and all the windows were shuttered.
Hemi was old, well he looked old anyway, and nearing 75 I’d guess, but fit. Brown and wrinkled, his face had a permanent smile and frown all at the same time. Not a grey hair in his full head of curly black hair. You could see he was as comfortable in the hills as in the lounge in his house. His brown eyes were bright as he told his story.
He told me that the town was a secret, that the Government didn’t want people to know about it. Now this must have been, well I’m 50, and I would have been 20 when Hemi told me about this place. So 60 years at least since Hemi had been there, so at least 90 years ago. Maybe a bit longer than that even.
An Adventure coming on
Now I have only been 4 wheel driving for a couple of years and I remembered Hemi’s story told so long ago. I got to thinking about it because I’m always trying to find somewhere new to go. I had never heard of a track that crossed the main divide apart from the State Highways and I’ve done a fair amount of Tramping in my days, so I knew my way around the South Island geography. I could think of many places along the main divide that trampers used, indeed the Maori used many of these before the white man came to New Zealand. Maybe it was the Haast before a road was put through, but Hemi had been definite about one thing, they had headed northwards.
For the hell of it I thought I would do a bit more research into this. Is it possible that there is an unknown track that’s maybe suitable for 4WD from one coast to the other? And what’s this secret town? Where is it?
Now I knew that Hemi would have long since passed away and that his own children would be getting on in years. I visited Pleasant Point, a nice little place a few kilometres inland from Timaru. Famous for its Steam Railway and Denheath Custard Squares. The Norwest wind was gusting and it was a warm day when I visited in October 2003. Inquiries took me to a dilapidated A frame house on the edge of the Kakahu Forest. Another few kilometres towards the hills. It sat low down on a bushy ridge with the forestry behind that. The track up to it was steep and full of pot holes. The house hadn’t been painted for years and the wooden fence around it was falling down.
A lady wearing a blue polka dotted apron and an old pink dress opened the door to my knock. Her grey hair was almost covered by a black beanie. It was hard to tell her age but at a guess it was somewhere between 60 and 90. A smoker for sure and were the empty Gordon’s Gin Bottles stacked neatly beside the back door hers or her husbands?
She gazed at me through smudged specs and greeted me like a long lost friend.
“Gidday, You lost?” She wanted to know. A big smile with some wide gaps “Good day for it, warm too.”
The Norwest was sweeping down the valley and it was a pleasant 20 or so degrees.
“My names Gordon and a good few years ago I met an old bloke up in the hills, his name was Hemi. Does this mean any thing to you?”
“You mean Hemi, my father in law? He’s working just now.”
Puzzled I asked, “Doing what?”
“In horticulture” She laughed ‘Grows daisies. Nah, Hemi’s been dead for 22 years. Killed by a tree falling on his tent down in the Catlins. Poor bugger he loved the bush and it killed him, If he was gunna go it was where he would want to go. In the bush. I’m Donna his Daughter in law. Don’s missus”.
“Is Don about, can I talk to him. He might know something about a trip Hemi and his father did 90 odd years ago.”
“Dons not too good. Been crook for weeks and now he’s got pneumonia. Come in.”
“Hi Don, I’m Gordon. Bit crook eh!” I told him why I was there.
Don looked about 80, his breathing laboured, his nose blue from lack of circulation. A bit paler than I remembered Hemi, but the smile frown was like looking at Hemi. Someone must knit beanies as Don had one pulled down over his ears just like the one Donna was wearing.
He was quite fuddled and talked as if his dad Hemi was there in his bed room.
Donna explained that Don was the last living descendent of Hemi and Myrtle and that in recent days Don and Hemi had had some ‘curious conversations.’
I asked Don if he knew about this trip that his Father and Grandfather had undertaken some 90 years previously. He didn’t seem to understand my question or indeed what I was talking about. As he spoke he drifted off to sleep. Donna suggested I come back in the morning as Don was often less confused in the mornings.
Mike
I stayed the night in the Pleasant Point Pub and it was there that I met up with a friend Michael; I hadn’t seen Michael for many many years. He was still as I remember him, tall and lean. We’d been on a few tramping trips together and he was very fit. I always had to catch up. He’d be sitting on his pack or on a log waiting for me as I came huffing and puffing up the hill. As soon as I got there he was ready to go. We had kind of drifted apart when he started climbing mountains. I preferred it below the bush line.
I told him about my quest and amazingly he said “I remember, I was there when that old bloke told you about it. Remember we were in that hut up in the Hopkins and the old bloke wandered in just after dark?”
It was all coming back to me now. Hemi was revisiting his old hunting block and arrived at the hut with the back steaks from a Chamois. He had shot it on a shingle Scree and just a few yards from the track.
Hemi cooked it fresh on the poker over the glowing embers of the fire. We had already eaten but Hemi insisted that Mike and I share the 2nd steak. It was the first time I had tasted Chamois and it was delicious. Tender and very tasty it was many years before I was lucky enough to try it again.
In front of the fire we had shared stories of our experiences of the hills and it was late in the evening that Hemi had told us about his journey with his father all those years ago.
Mike’s eyes narrowed more as he remembered, “I had the impression that this town was somewhere between Greymouth and Westport or somewhere inland from there anyway.” He couldn’t say why he had got that impression but at least it was another starting point.
We shouted each other jugs of Macs Gold until the Bar Manager said it was past his bed time. Mike and I made plans for the morning as he too had become interested in “Hemi’s Track” as we now called it.
Don
Neither of us should have been driving when we headed off in my Toyota Prado next morning. If Geoff Smith, the local cop had got me to blow the bag I would have been in allsorts of shit. There was no sign of Geoff as we headed up to Dons old place near the bush. Mike was fairly quiet and I was wondering if his interest last night was more to do with the Jugs of Macs Gold we had consumed.
As we pulled into the steep track heading up to Don’s place I could see Donna waving to us and as we parked up she beckoned to us to hurry.
I introduced Mike as we headed quickly to Dons bed room. Amazingly Don was sitting up and looking quite bright.
“Morning Gordon, morning Mike” he said.
Now this really blew me away. He had remembered my name from the day before but I had no idea how he knew Mike. Mike looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.
“Have we met?” Mike asked.
“Of course, you must remember that night up the back of Ohau” Don replied” I shot the Chamois and we cooked it over the fire.”
Donna went a bit pale “That’s not his voice, he sounds like his Father.” She sat down on the only chair in the room.
Mike looked like he needed a seat and I knew I did too.
My hangover hammered away and I was wondering if this was some strange dream. I don’t believe in this hokus pokus stuff. The spirits visiting or speaking through someone else is just an act. In my opinion it’s all make believe.
But I was seeing this for myself. Don was very ill yesterday, Donna looks like she has seen a ghost and Mike and Don have never met before.
I sat down, still shaking a bit on the edge of the bed. Don looked at me and I shivered right down my spine.
“Well Gordon” he said “You were here yesterday and wanted to learn more about that track Dad and I used back in 1908.”
Incredibly I was able to confirm, “Yes that was why I had come.”
Mike had left the bed room and I could hear him outside, he was quite ill. This had really shaken him up.
Nervously I began, “You told us about the horse you ate and the terrible weather and how you almost died.” I wasn’t talking to Don now, I was talking to Hemi.” Can you remember more about where you went?”
He began, “We had a load of Flax from the Pa at Kaiapoia and my Father had some Greenstone to collect from down the coast. We weren’t meant to be doing this, it was not meant to be.” He went on “My Father had upset the Queen of our tribe and had been sent from the Pa in disgrace and wanted to prove himself to the tribe.”
He faltered here, not knowing if he should tell us more. Eventually he said “you will need to swear to tell no one about what I am to tell you.”
I considered this carefully. I was no longer sure I wanted to know more. This was scary stuff. I hesitated, and he said “I’ll tell you of the track freely, but you must keep this other that I tell you secret.”
“Okay.” I agreed.
I can’t tell you all that was spoken about in the next 2 hours, but can say if this had been public in 1908, history would have been changed. Hemi had taken a huge secret to his grave when he had died and “Hemi’s Track” was just a tiny part of it.
I pretty much knew about where to start and thought I knew where it finished, or at least thought that I could find it. The South Island’s not such a big place. Not anywhere near as big as Australia and it should be possible to sort out.
Donna and I went out to see how Mike was and found him snoring in the Prado.
Donna invited us to lunch and as we entered the kitchen we heard a thump come from the front of the house. It seemed the whole house had bounced on its foundations.
We rushed down the hall to find Don on the floor beside his bed. I would find out no more about Hemi’s Track from Don. He had breathed his last breath and fallen to the floor from his bed.
Mike and I comforted Donna and made contact with her niece who lived at Burkes Pass.
Donna had a cuppa and calmed down a bit. “It’s for the best you know” she told us. “Don’s been unwell for weeks. He’s suffered so long. It was really tough on everyone. But I will miss him.”
Already Donna was getting on with her life and I felt we were now intruding.
We said our goodbyes and Mike and I headed back down to Pleasant Point in the Prado.
Mike was quiet as we pulled up outside the pub. Neither of us felt like drinking so I had a Ginger Beer and Mike a Coke.
“Well what do you think?” I asked Mike “I wouldn’t mind finding this track.”
“I don’t think we have enough info” I could see Mike was reluctant. He had had a huge scare, so had I, but strangely I felt a bit more comfortable with it. Maybe it was because I had heard the whole story while Mike was sleeping off his hangover.
“I’m going to see what I can find out anyway” I told him “I’ll let you know what I find.”
We hadn’t talked much about what we had been doing with our lives lately and I asked Mike how his family were.
“Kids are great, Jim works at Mataura works as a Slaughter man and in the off season has a job with a landscaper. Does a bit of fencing too. Jenny’s a home girl. Helps Bruce a bit on the farm but likes to be there for the kids”
“How’s the missus?” I asked innocently
“Don’t talk to me about that bitch. Walked out on me when Jenny got married. Cleaned me out. She’s living over on the Coast somewhere. Don’t want to ever see her again, nor do the kids”
That left a bit of a dent in the day. I hadn’t met her but she had been a keen tramper and had headed for the mountain tops with Mike. I remember she was quite a few years younger than him. The guys in the tramping club reckoned he would need to take a pram tramping to put her in.
Things were a bit morbid so I decided to head home to fire up the computer. Mike was heading home to Gore
As I drove home I wondered if the best place to start was this town in the Bush on the West Coast. It must be easy enough to sort out. Just ask. There are no secrets in New Zealand. And after all it was 95 years ago. Official information Act and all that stuff, it shouldn’t be too hard to get the exact spot the track finishes, well near the end anyway. Then I can work back to where Don said they had started.
Murray
Back home I made a few calls to mates that had done a huge amount of 4 Wheel Driving. Murray especially had been every where. Where ever we went he knew about tracks no one else seemed to know about.
“You heard of a town on the Coast that’s deserted, Murray?” I asked him.
“Yea it’s called Shanty Town” was his quick reply.
“No not Shanty Town, this one’s a secret” I wasn’t making sense.
“If it’s a secret then how would I know about it?” Murray was laughing at me.
I told him as much as I thought he should know. I didn’t want everyone knowing about it just yet. I wanted to get it sorted first.
“Yeah, I remember this guy in the pub one night over in Reefton.” Murray said, getting a bit serious now. “He was quite pissed and we were there on a trip with the Guys into Big River. I’d had a few Macs Gold too. This bloke was going on about a secret track into a secret town that no one was supposed to know about” Murray was silent for a moment. “You know how when you’re at the Pub on a 4WD trip, how every body knows places and when it comes down to it you can’t go there anyway? Well that’s how I treated this bloke. I can’t remember much more than that.”
Well now that’s two. Hemi and now this pissed bloke in the pub. Where there’s smoke there’s fire.
I had to wait until next morning before ringing DOC in Reefton so I got on the computer. I searched Google and came up with this bloke that’s been to every hut in the hills he can find. It seemed that if the hut was in the South Island then he had been there. If anyone knew about this town I felt sure that he would.
I sent him an email, not sure if I would catch him home. Surprisingly I got an email straight back. It seemed that he was in the hills at a hut way down on the Southern Coast. He had his Satellite Phone and his lap top he was keeping in touch with the World.
His reply didn’t do me a lot of good though, but, it wasn’t a NO. It was “why do you want to know?”
I figured he knew about it but wasn’t saying so just yet. I emailed back, not telling him everything as I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell him. He knew something I was sure. Did that make 3? I didn’t hear back from him for almost 2 months. His news was old by then.
By midnight I had poured over my maps and had a very rough idea of the route Hemi’s Father had used.
If I was going to phone DOC in the morning, it wouldn’t be Reefton. I reckoned I had narrowed it down to either Westport or Punakaiki.
I rang DOC in Westport first and not knowing who to talk to, spoke to the receptionist. I asked her about the town, silence. Then “I’ll put you through to Barry”
Well Barry’s voice message said he was away from the office for the next 21 days. Was I being fobbed off? I rang back and more silence. I’m onto something here I thought. So I asked to speak to the area manager. Barry was away from his office for the next 21 days.
I’m onto something here, I can just feel it. There is some kind of conspiracy going on.
I tried the DOC centre at Punakaiki and spoke to a very helpful lady, but it turned out she was just a volunteer and was happy to tell me all about the Pancake Rocks. Barry would be the best one to talk to in Westport.
Dead end! No not yet.
I rang my boss to say I was taking a few days leave. Mary wasn’t too happy with me but I was owed weeks in leave. This had become important to me.
Murray rang later that day. He had been thinking about this secret town and while he wasn’t too sure, he had the impression that this bloke had talked about Charlestown. “I remember him telling me about Charlestown and this monkey that was in a movie being shot there. He reckoned they should shoot the monkey.”
“I’m keen to find out more Gordon” he said “I’ve been most places and an adventure wouldn’t go amiss.”
“I’m heading for the Coast in the morning.” Thinking maybe I could put the hunt off a few days until Murray could go.
“Pick me up on the way. I’m coming too” Murray was enthusiastic.
I arrived to pick Murray up in the Prado at 8.30 next morning. He had his Prado on the road and all packed and ready to go. Murray was all nervous excitement. He had been 4 wheel driving for 20 odd years. Land Rovers, Jeeps, he even had a Ford once. Blue eyes, always clean shaven, a bit of a ladies man. Tall and well built with that distinguished greying hair. He didn’t really look like the type that loves the mud and the river valleys our hobby takes us to. Happy and a go lucky type he was a quiet thinker too.
“If we go off road it’s better to have more than one truck” was his good advice. We headed towards Westport talking on the UHF radios about our plans. I wanted to call in at DOC in Westport before it closed for the day.
My instincts told me I was on the right track, that if it was there, I would find Hemi’s secret town, that we would find “Hemi’s Track”
We arrived at Springs Junction and stopped for a bite to eat and as we got into the truck Murray gave me a call on the Radio. He had a flat tyre, Bugger!
Karl
The big surprise though was another voice on the Radio. “What are you blokes up to?”
“Who’s that” I asked.
“Karl. Is that you Gordon?”
“Yep. What are you doing here?” I asked. A bit suspicious that Murray might have jacked this up. Karl’s not a bad bloke. In on everything 4 wheel driving and handy to have around at a breakdown. He had helped me out of some awkward places in the past.
“Missus has dragged me over here. Got a sick Aunt in Westport” came his reply “What are you doing?”
“Doing a bit of exploring” I was cautious, I didn’t want to say too much over the Radio.
‘I’m staying at the Motor Camp in Westport, not sure for how long, could be a week or so” Karl said as he drove into Springs Junction in his Prado.
Well that’s 3 Toyota Land Cruiser Prados. On club trips we’re known as the 3 Prados. Couldn’t be 3 better trucks together or 2 better blokes to have around. Maybe I’ll fill Karl in when we get to Westport.
We got Murray’s Highlift Jack out and while Karl jacked it up Murray took the flat off. I had the spare ready to go on and in 5 minutes we were on our way. Team work.
We drove in convoy up through the Shanondoah and over O’Sullivans bridge across the Buller River. Through the Buller Gorge Karl was getting inquisitive about our exploring. He wasn’t too keen on the idea of sitting around a motor camp for days waiting for Kitty to finish her duties to her Aunt. “Her Aunts a bitch anyway” Karl reported “She hit me, Kits just given me a hiding!”
“Maybe you deserved that.” Murray replied. Things were lightening up amongst us and by the time we drove into Westport I was ready to tell Karl all I knew about Hemi’s Track, Well maybe not all but enough.
All the Motels were full. There was an international car rally due through soon and Motels were booked solid. Karl was happy to have some mates staying at the camp with him.
I left them to get things sorted at the camp and headed off to the DOC office.
Maria
“I’m looking for some answers” I told the uniformed DOC officer behind the counter.
“How can I help Sir?” Very pleasant.
“There’s a town up in the hills near here” I told her “I would like to know more about it”
Silence.
“Who can I talk to about it?” I asked.
“You will need to talk to Barry” she hadn’t denied the existence of the town just wasn’t going to tell me anything.
“And Barry’s away for the next 3 weeks right?”
“I’m afraid so” she said quietly.
I had the idea that maybe she wasn’t that happy about fobbing me off. That this was not the way she liked to do things. That she was acting on instructions. Whose instructions? Why? What could be so secret for so long?
I decided to come clean with her. She was really a very pleasant young lady, Maria on her name badge. “Look, let me tell you a story, at the end either tell me to go away or tell me what I want to know.”
I started to tell her the story of the old Maori bloke in the hills, about his trip over the main divide, and the story he told me about the secret town.
“No more, not here” Maria had fear in her eyes. “Here’s my number” she wrote on a scrap of paper. “Call me tonight.”
I was getting somewhere, it seemed Maria might become a help rather than a hindrance. But why? What was so secret out there in the bush that nobody was to know about? Maybe we were to find out tonight.
I went back to the Motor Camp to find Murray and Karl under the bonnet of Murray’s Prado. Thinking something was amiss I called, “What’s up?”
“Nothing” Karl replied “just admiring the way Toyota put these together”
“That’s a great truck eh Gordon? Bet you’re pleased with yours.” observed Murray.
“Glad I got one of these, instead of a Pig” I laughed. We call all Nissans, Pigs. Especially the Patrols and Safaris. It’s the way they wallow in the mud. I used to have a wee Terrano, someone nick named it piglet. There are some hard cases in the club and I was thinking that if this got a bit sticky over here then there were a few blokes who would be keen on an adventure.
“How’d you get on with DOC?” Murray was keen to know.
“What’s going on?” Karl asked. “You two got some secrets?”
“Lets have a beer and I’ll fill you in.” We headed for our Cabin while Murray grabbed a 6 pack of Macs Gold from the 12 volt fridge in his truck.
“It all started years ago.” as I ripped the top off a condensation covered bottle.
Karl listened to the whole story, well as much as I wanted to tell him. Karl was enthralled. He had been to many places but had never heard of this town or a track all the way over the Main Divide.
“I’ve got a call to make.” realising that it was near 7 and that the 6 pack was long gone.
I rang the number Maria had given me and a bloke answered the phone. “Barry speaking.” What the hells going on I thought. I asked for Maria and he said “Are you the bloke that came in this afternoon.”
I thought ‘here we go, another fobbing off’, I’d been block walled. But my fears were soon allayed.
“We need to meet.” Barry said. “But we can’t be seen in public.”
This was getting a bit odd, was my safety at risk? I was thinking about daggers and dark alleyways. But hey this is New Zealand. That sort of stuff doesn’t happen in New Zealand. Does it?
His next words had me going a bit shaky. “There is an alleyway between the DOC centre and the Real Estate office next door. Come round the back, there’s a door at the far corner, it’ll be unlocked.
I wasn’t too keen on this but with the three of us we would be okay. “What time?”
“Anytime, I’m there now.”
I told Karl and Murray. We all got a bit concerned. Karl reckoned that there were some pretty deep Tomo’s around Punakaiki that we would never be found in.
“Let’s think about this” Murray suggested. “If one of us stays outside and something goes wrong then, we can get help.”
I was glad now that we had bought Karl into this and wished that a few of the others had been here as well. Dazzer would have been handy and I knew he had a way of just taking time away from his job whenever he wanted. Chris the hard case Dutchman would be really enjoying himself too. I’ll see how it goes tonight and maybe make a few calls later.
Barry
Karl went down town in his Prado and parked up 50 Metres or so down the road from the DOC office. Murray and I approached from the south end of town and could see a dim light on in the back of the office. We parked the Prado right outside and set the alarm. If we were dealt to and they tried to get rid of the truck then the alarm would go off.
Cautiously we walked down the alley, our senses working overtime. Were they waiting with a Ministry of Works crow bar?
There was no one else in the alley and no one in behind the DOC office. Light crept out under the door on the far corner of the building. I tried the door, it opened silently.
“Come in quickly.” Maria said urgently.
There were three people in the office, Maria and two blokes. Maria introduced them. “This is our Manager, Barry and this is our Bully Creek Conservation Area manager, Barry.”
“I’m Gordon and this is Murray.” We all shook hands and settled around the table as Maria made coffees.
The plot, well maybe just a bit of innocent confusion was becoming clearer. It seemed there were the two Barrie’s and I thought I was being fobbed off, but why this clandestine meeting? Why all the secrecy?
Once we were all settled Maria started. “Gordon, can you tell us the entire story you started to tell me this afternoon. I’ve told the managers a little of it, or at least what you told me.”
“Many years ago I met this old Maori bloke in the hills behind Lake Ohau.” I told them all about my meeting with Don and the strange voice of Hemi. I told them as much as I wanted them to know.
In the silence that followed we all heard a noise out the back and someone coughed. Barry the manager sprung up from his seat like a coiled spring and wrenched the door open. Karl was standing there red faced. “I thought you guys had been kidnapped.” he blurted out. “What’s going on? You’ve been in here more than 3 hours.”
I introduced Karl and felt a bit silly when I told them that Karl was our backup outside.
Bully Town
“Well guys it seems you’ve stumbled onto a fairly well kept secret. Yes the town does exist, but I don’t think that tracks there anymore. Bully Creek.” Barry began.
We listened intently as Barry told us the story.
Barry did and didn’t work for DOC; he was sort of on the payroll, but not really. He worked directly out of the Prime Ministers Office in Wellington and had flown down that evening by helicopter especially for this meeting.
In 1899 Richard John Seddon was New Zealand’s Prime Minister. He was a Coaster and an engineer in mining before that. He lived on the Coast and was fanatical about the region. At various times he was a Councillor and a Mayor of Kumara. He had been Minister for Public Works, Mines and Defence.
This story looked like it could become very interesting.
Barry stopped here. “What I’m about to tell you is secret, top secret in fact. I need your word that you’ll never tell a living soul about it.”
“I can’t promise that” I told him. After all by now I had enough information to find the secret town and the beginnings of the track. That was what I was really interested in.
“Well at least keep the Government out of it and if you do find Bully Town and take others through you will know the true history, but make up some sort of story, an old mining town restored for tourists but never opened. Something like that anyway”
We agreed for the sake of 4WDing. If we could pick up Hemi’s Track and force our way over the main divide we could turn it into a great 4WD trip.
Barry went on. “New Zealand Troops were fighting in Africa and War was threatened elsewhere. Seddon was a man of vision; he knew the vast wealth of New Zealand. It’s gold and coal reserves and with much of the fighting in Africa to do with gold he felt New Zealand may be a target. He had Bully Town built secretly late in 1899. Engineers from the Army sealed off the area and by March 1900 the Town was completed.”
“But why, how would this help the Government?” Karl asked.
“Well just like today there is a command centre under the beehive, so this was to become Seddon’s Command Centre.” Barry told us.
It all started to fall into place, but why keep it a secret still? Did I really care why anymore? Did anybody really care?
Murray did, “Whys it still a secret then?”
“The Government still maintains it; in fact it’s very much improved since Hemi saw it. It has its own nuclear power system” I gasped at that “and a state of the art communication system. It’s big enough to house all 120 MP’s.”
“How could the Government keep that quiet?” I wondered aloud.
“The PM is the only one in the know apart from us in this room and a couple of Generals in the army. That’s it.”
“The land it’s on must be recorded somewhere?” I asked. “Surely there are records?”
“It’s actually Government owned but looks privately owned. We have made out for years that its land disputed inside Paparoa National Park. The land owner won’t let anyone on the property for any reason.” Barry explained.
“That’s you people. Right? I asked.
Maria spoke for the first time in 5 hours. “Look it’s after midnight, how about we meet in the morning and I will take you three in.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The start of Hemi’s Track.
We arranged to meet at the Motor Camp at 9 the next morning.
Wolf River
Maria arrived in the DOC Toyota ute just before 9 the next morning. We had decided to travel in the three Prados. If we could we would explore further up the valley, further up Bully Creek, Hemi’s Track.
Karl, Murray and I had sat up most of the night talking about how we would handle this and had decided that as few people as possible would be involved in this. That we would tell nobody the true location until we had everything worked out and been through the complete track ourselves.
For this reason I’m going to change a few names in this story, although anybody with a sound knowledge of the South Island shouldn’t have too much difficulty working it out roughly anyway.
We set off South and turned away from the Coast at a fairly large river, Wolf River I’ll call it. After a short while the going became quite rough. Large boulders had to be negotiated and there were many river crossings.
“The rivers a bit higher than normal.” came Maria’s voice over the radio. We had given Maria a hand held UHF radio. “The next crossing can be a bit difficult.”
So far the Prado hadn’t had any bother but the Hilux Ute was only on 31” tyres and hadn’t been lifted.
Without fear Maria took on the next crossing. Only part way across I could see that this was big water for the Ute. Then the front rose as the front diff rode up on a bolder. The back swung around and the truck was facing upstream. Water was forming a decent wave at the front and breaking over the bonnet. Maria’s gumboots looked like they would come in handy even sitting in the truck.
“Stay there” I called over the radio, needlessly. She wasn’t going anywhere. This was sure proof that you needed to travel in a group. If Maria had gone on her own likely she would have drowned trying to escape from the DOC truck.
We got our heads together and decided that best we get a rope on the back of the truck first. If she came off the rock she could be washed down river. Murray would keep a little tension on the rope ready to pull backwards, quickly if needed.
But first to get the rope out there. Murray carefully drove his truck to the back of the Ute. The Prado being a heavy truck had no problem. Karl climbed out through the sunroof and a 10 Metre rope was attached to the tow hook on the Ute. Karl didn’t even get wet.
Now it was my turn, I had to cross in front of Maria being very careful not to be swept into her. I also had to stop in a spot that broke the force of the water a bit so Karl could hook a rope onto the front of the Ute. Karl got a bit wet.
“I’ll get Maria to massage behind my ears when we get her out of here. That waters bloody cold” Karl looked serious.
I had to ask. “Why?”
“That’s where I put my nuts when I’m in cold water” Karl’s humour broke the tension and we relaxed a bit.
My Prado was soon on the dry on the other side of the river. No worries.
Murray was to pull and I had to keep tension on and once clear of the rock get her out smartly. I had seen trucks tipped over in a river when the shingle gets washed out from under the wheels. A disaster in here on our first trip could close it up to us for ever.
Another few minutes and all the plans came together. And Maria in the DOC Hilux was on the dry.
She opened the door and hundreds of litres of water came gushing out.
I had to cross again to get Karl over to his truck and as we arrived Maria was emptying her gumboots.
“It didn’t get up to the dash did it? I asked.
“No just above the top of my gumboots. No damage to the electrics but I’ll get the diffs checked for water when we get back” Maria obviously knew a thing or two about 4 Wheel Drives.
We decided that Maria would leave the DOC Hilux on the bank and hop in with Karl.
Maybe he would get the back of his ears massaged after all.
“Remember you’re a happily married man Karl.” Murray’s voice came over the radio. “It’s normally my job to pick up hitch hikers remember.”
Stories of Murray’s hitch hikers were legendary. Every one remembers this female hitchy with her thumb out on the way back from a coast trip. Murray picked her up but it wasn’t a chick. It was a funny looking bloke heading for Christchurch to check himself into Sunny Side.
“I think you’d be safer to go searching on the internet for a woman.” Karl gave it back.
“My god these are great trucks” Maria’s voice came over the radio. “No problem crossing that in these.”
Maria was clearly impressed in the Prados.
We made our way up river slowly. It was fairly rough and we would have walked quicker. But hey why walk when you can drive, eh! The gorge got narrower and the cliffs higher.
Tomo
“There’s some major cave systems up there” Maria informed us “I remember abseiling down a Tomo a few years ago. I was on a 30 Metre rope. Luckily I had a big knot in the end because when I hit it I still couldn’t see the bottom. Took me 2 hours to prussic out of there. We went back the next week and couldn’t even find the opening”
This sent a chill down my spine as I remembered back to yesterday. God was it only yesterday.
We turned off the main river into a side stream. “Just up there a bit is the Dance Hall. It is a huge cliff all washed out under it. Been like it for millions of years. People camp in there. A stream runs along the back and when it’s raining you can have a cold shower with the water running off the front of the cliff.” Maria certainly knew the area well.
“Can you drive in there?” Murray wanted to know.
Leek Creek was amazing. The cliffs towered above us and huge trees had fallen and lodged crossways high above us. Gardens of ferns hung from the trees.
“We should be able to drive under all the hanging gardens” Maria was full of information.” When it rains in here the river can rise 10 Metres and the trees that get lodged lower down get washed away.”
We followed a mob of feral goats up the river, which was fairly easy going in fine shingle. The odd soft spot but no problems with the Lockrite Diff lockers front and back. Murray’s truck was set up the same while Karl had Lockrite front and electric lockers in the back. We were all on 33” tyres. I had Kuhmo MT’s and was glad I wasn’t wearing the 14” wide Super Swamper Boggers that I normally have on for a coast trip. They just dig holes in loose gravel. Karl had a near new set of BFG’s and Murray had a worn set under him. His new Simex tyres were at home. Maybe we would wish later that we were better shod.
We weren’t far up Leek Creek when Maria had us turn off the river and onto a track that wasn’t easy to see. In fact I reckon that even if I had been walking I would have missed it.
There was a large rock sloping into the creek and it was up here we climbed. At the top you could make out a rough track winding through the trees.
“Not far now” Maria on the radio again. “I can see Bully Town up ahead.”
I strained my eyes but couldn’t see anything but trees. I was just 20 Metres from the first house when I spotted it. No longer were they painted a drab Olive Green. An artist had been in and everything was painted the same as the surrounding bush. Even the main road through the town of 70 houses and a giant hall was the same. The old light standards were gone. No need for light if you are trying to hide yourself away.
“It’s all been painted in special paints that reflect their own colour from the bush.”
The crimson of the Rata, the dappled green of the Beach Trees, the light green lines of the Flax, the flowing green of the Rimu, the giant Kahikatea trunks. Ferns of different shades of green reflected back from the paint work.
Maria again, with info galore as we stepped from the trucks. ”On dull days or on bright days the paint changes and always looks the same. Amazing eh?”
All the houses were well and truly sealed. No windows to reflect sunlight anywhere. I had become conscious of a slight hum and Maria could see me listening. “It’s the reactor, it can’t be shut down. Runs all the time.”
We wandered about the town; another large building was the command centre with satellite dishes and aerials all over it. All disguised.
King Dick
I had Hemi’s words in my head “We came though a deserted town” and “out a large river”. Chances were that Hemi’s Track was at the other end of town. Gorse had grown over everywhere up there but some was 12 foot high and there was a distinct track of gorse only 8 foot high.
We put the Bull bars against it and pushed. Some of it you could have built houses from but we were making progress.
“How come the track is even here?” I asked Maria.
“Richard Seddon wanted an escape route just in case”
It was starting to get a bit muddy up front. The day was getting on and yes we could come back. Maria needed to get home too as she had a 40th birthday Party to go to that night. Friday nights in Westport eh! Great place.
Getting out was no problem, we picked up Maria’s DOC Hilux at the side of the river. Already it had that unique smell that comes with wet carpets.
We bounced our way back down Wolf River and turned north for Westport.
“I wouldn’t mind a Macs Gold” Murray had been reading my mind.
“1st Pub on the lefts not too bad, hope they have it on tap” Karl was keen too.
The radio comes in real handy.
“Remember guys keep this one quiet. Remember Loose lips stuff trips” Was I being over cautious? Perhaps not.
Kitty, Karl’s Missus met us there; her Aunt wasn’t doing too well. She wasn’t expected to last past Monday or Tuesday.
“Anyway that’s enough about my day, what have you blokes been up to?” Kitty wanted to know.
“Just had a bit of a bash up a river down South a bit with the boys” Karl told her. ”Nothing special. Nice bush, big cliffs. Saw some wild goats.”
“I’m heading home tomorrow, I’ve got some research work to do, what are you doing Murray?” Karl was clearly disappointed and Murray was a bit surprised.
“Dunno, I took a week off work” Murray lamented.
“Help me with my research over the hill” I suggested.
It would be good to have someone do some leg work. I had a few ideas about where Hemi’s Track would go but some Aerial photos might help. I knew just the place to find them. Someone must have surveyed the track. It must have crossed private land even in those early days. There must have been people to cut it through. There had to be records.
“Spend a bit of time at the Westport Museum over the weekend, do a bit of searching. “Can you help Murray, Karl?” I was getting things organised. “You might want to take a look in Greymouth on the way back home.”
“What are you blokes up too?” Kitty demanded.
“Just sorting out a trip for the club honey.” Karl was quick off the mark.
“Is that all you guys talk about?” Kitty getting grumpy. ”I’ve had a big day and I’m off to bed, coming Karl?”
Karl was smiling like he had just won the jackpot on the Pokie Machines behind us as he followed Kitty out the door.
“I’m heading for bed too Murray. I’ve had hardly any sleep for the last two nights and I want to get away bright and early.”
“I’ll have a couple more Macs first then I’ll follow you” Murray looked in the party mood.
I was asleep before my head hit the pillow. I had the best nights sleep ever. The old bladder woke me up just as those bloody sparrows were farting. I got up in a daze and stumbled off to the dunny block over the other side of the camp. “Why are they always so far away from the cabins?” At least it was going to be another brilliant day on the coast.
“Murray I’m off mate” I turned to Murray’s bunk. Empty. Got lucky I expect.
His truck wasn’t outside either. I loaded my gear into the truck and thought I’d drive though town, look for somewhere for breakfast and see if I could spot Murray’s truck somewhere. Lucky bugger. I left a note to get him to phone me.
Westport was closed. Nothing was open, Saturday morning 6am and not even the Caltex was open. I drove around town. It’s bigger than you think but no sign of Murray’s truck. I had enough diesel to get me to Springfield but wanted something to eat. I headed south.
I glanced left as I crossed the one way bridge over Wolf River and slammed on my brakes.
Hitching
Murray’s truck was parked up about 300 Metres up stream from the road. All sorts of things were going on in my head as I did a 3 point turn and headed back over the bridge.
Cautiously, I pulled up a100 Metres short and got my Binoculars out of the glove box. No sign of life but the windows were all fogged up.
I drove a bit closer and tooted. Murray’s head shot up, a big smile on his face. I pulled up behind the truck, got out, Maria was making herself decent.
“Found her on the side of the road with her thumb out” Murray was a happy chap.
“I came back latish and could hear you snoring before I even turned me truck off.” Excuses from Murray? “I decided to go over the other side of the camp and sleep in the back of the truck and then felt like a burger. I was heading into town when I spotted this bird with her thumb out. Couldn’t believe it when it turned out to be Maria.”
What a laugh eh! I chuckled my way down to Rapahoe, grabbed a coffee and a roll from the BP and by 8 was near the Jacksons Pub. Peeler Pete wouldn’t have the bar open but surely he’d have the jug ready to boil for a coffee. I pulled up at the back of the newly renovated pub. Pete had the bacon in the pan and coffee in the cups before he turned to me.
“Gordon me old china, whatcha doing here this early? Where you heading?”
I’d been afraid of questions and had an answer ready. “Been doing a bit of exploring on the coast. Trying to get a track sorted for the boys.” We had stopped there several times for a feed on our way to the coast and Pete was keen for more business.
Pete was a Jafa, but a good enough actor that most thought he had been bought up way down the coast. His easy going nature made him the perfect publican.
A good bloke to have on your side and there if you needed him.
“Be sure to bring the boys in on the way over next time” he instructed “There’s a jug in it if you do.”
“Better get Macs on tap then.” I put my boots on and climbed into the truck.
“These are bloody great trucks Gordon. Got myself one a few weeks ago. Gunnado some mods soon, be able to come with you blokes.”
“If you need any advice give me a call.” I headed for the road. If I didn’t go now I’d be there for hours admiring his Prado.
An hour or so later I passed Paddy’s “Beware Moa Crossing” sign at the Bealey Pub.
2 hours later, I was home.
Map Work
I had a few calls to make; a bloke I knew up the road had Map Toaster with Hi Resolution photos. I needed them. I rang the software company on the off chance and got an answer. I explained that a cobber had the CD’s and I wanted them on my computer today. If I paid now by credit card would he give me the Access Key?
Very helpful and by 2 o’clock it was all on the screen in front of me.
I found it, Hemi’s Track, well I couldn’t see it but I knew where it was and if you looked real carefully you could see a tiny bit of the track heading into Bully Town. No way could I see Bully Town, it was well camouflaged.
I could see the track in places as it rose onto a ridge but lost it again as it went into the next valley. I picked it up a bit further on when it joined onto a forestry track. It was taking me in the right direction. East generally but heading South too. Where had Hemi and his Father been caught by the river? Where had they spent 10 days? Where had they had to eat the horse?
How could I find out more about the track? How had it been constructed? Who worked on it? There must be something somewhere.
Saturday and The Press archives would be closed. What about the Christchurch Public library. 1899 would they still have a copy? Maybe, just maybe.
The library was still open and an assistant was sorting books to go back on the shelves. She was glorious. Gorgeous, 18, blonde, blue eyed, the hitch hiker I had always dreamed about. Young enough to be my daughter. My missus always reckoned that if I ever caught one I’d be like a dog chasing a car. Wouldn’t know what to do with it.
She looked bored, her name tag said she was Shelly.
“Hi Shelly, any chance at looking back at old copies of The Press?” I asked.
“All on computer now. We used to have it all on Micro film, still have, but its all on disk.” Very helpful. “What date and I’ll bring it up for you.”
“I’m not sure but thought I would start in 1899. I’m doing some research on an old track and trying to find how it was put there.” I explained. “May have even been a year or two later.” This was looking fairly daunting.
“You know about search engines?” Like I know things about computers you old folk have never heard of. “They search for key words and you can narrow down dates.”
I didn’t mind the help. I made out that computers were a bit scary. It was nice to be near my dreams, and if Shelly could drive the computer faster than me all the better.
“I’ve used Google at home but always have trouble sorting the results.” I’m not completely illegitimate!
“Com’on, I’ll help.” Shelly sat down at the key board. “We can search more than one newspaper at a time.”
“Well The Press for starters, was the Westport News going in 1899?”
Shelly tapped away. “1871 it started.”
This girl was quick. “What about Greymouth’s Paper? Dunno what it’s called.”
Shelly tapped away “1866 The Greymouth Star.” Wow this girl was good.
“Okay pop them in too.”
“What key words?” She was using all her fingers on the key board. I can only use one or two.
“Try Track or Roads.” I suggested.
“9348 results. That will take some time going through all those. And that’s just 1899.”
“Let’s try and tighten the search.”
“Can we search just inside the results so far but first broaden it to include through to 1905?”
Click “Easy.”
“Right lets try Men and Gangs.” They had to have men and in those days they worked in Gangs.
“98 results.”
I began reading down the results ‘Roading Gangs Continue to Disappear.’ jumped out. It stood out like dogs balls. “What’s that about?” Pointing to the heading on the screen.
It was an article from The Press dated 1st November 1900.
‘The Constabulary at Methven are concerned about the disappearance of yet another roading gang. Senior Constable McGinty told The Press that a gang working on building the road into Mt Oakden Station inland from Lake Coleridge had simply vanished. Ministry of Manpower Overseers had complained that all Men, horses and machines including steam shovels had disappeared without trace. This was the third such gang to disappear without trace in the last three months. Something very suspicious is happening and we will investigate the matter fully, Senior Constable McGinty assured us.’
“What’s all that about?” Shelly was getting real interested.
“Can you do a related search in these results?”
Click
“Roading Gangs Back at Work.”
The Press dated 15th May 1901.
‘Despite extensive inquiry by the Constabulary nothing was discovered about the disappearance of Road Gangs in the South Island. Five gangs in all went missing, some for 10 months. Ministry of Manpower say all men are accounted for and just 3 horses are missing. All the machinery was returned and now working in various places through out the South Island. Further attempts to interview Manpower Management proved wasteful of our reporters efforts.’
Old Maps
I had a bloody good idea now how they had done it. Old maps. I needed old maps. This was one hell of a secret. How could they keep hundreds of men quiet about what they had been doing for months?
“Any old Maps I can look at?” I asked hopefully.
“Not our thing really, try the Museum.” Shelly was still trying to be helpful. God I wish I was 30 years younger. Then again I wouldn’t trade what I’ve got in a million years. Well maybe a million but not in 999,999 years anyway. Lara was pretty special to me and we had been married nearly 30 years.
The Museum would be closed soon for the day and tomorrow was Sunday. Unlikely anyone could help me dig out stuff from the Archives.