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    • Childhood holidays at the Log Cabin in 1953
      • The Log Cabin, 1950 (Ian Baine Photo Collection) I had hoped to be back sooner but have failed to find inspiration lately so in the meantime, I've transcribed this Evening Post article from 1952 - the perfect follow-on my my previous post about Nature Deficit Disorder. Over 60 years on and despite the advances in technology, growing up in the outdoors hasn't changed much....and isn't that fantastic? School holidays in bush log cabin were full of delights The Catchpole must be one of the most picturesque spots around Wellington. For many years trampers en route to the Orongorongo have made it a stopping place for a "boil-up " and the little mounds of blackened stones and charred sticks testify to the time-honoured custom. Beside the track in the shade of tall hinau and honeysuckle a quaint old log cabin adds charm to the surroundings. Built back in the depression by Harry Spaulding, an old time bushman, from beech logs and windfalls now bleached and weathered, the cracks are plugged with mud that has baked hard in the intervening years. A stream in constant conversation passes by the door. A great stone fireplace dominates one side of the cabin; a hole in the wall provides both light and ventilation. A name plate and notice reminds that it is private property. It is not a surprise to find parents and youngsters holidaying in out of the way places, yet there are few who know the delights of a real log cabin - they are quite a rarity around Wellington today. I found them sitting at the cabin door kneading clay from the hillside to make a carillon for Dale from Standard I and a row of round clay men for three-year-old Jill. So Much FunI soon learnt there’s lots of fun on a log cabin holiday. There is supplejack nearby, ideal for fashioning a bow and on the stream bank toitoi fronds to make arrows as light as air that sail high over the cabin chimney.There are crawlers, fresh water crayfish, under the stones in the creek and eels that clean the porridge from the 'breakfast billy’. Rata vines they use for swings and fallen logs make natural see-saws. Deer feeding beside the track and the chance of sighting wild pigs that have ploughed up the fern roots near the cabin give youngsters more thrills than a front seat at a movie. Then comes the endless game of gathering firewood and the pleasure of fanning the fire from glowing embers to crackling flame. In sleeping bags on bunks made of manuka poles children need no rocking to sleep. And what of wet days (for there were winter holidays) dubious elders inquire. That is when the insects and beetles crawl out from the logs. You come to know ursus the "bear," the brown hairy beetle searching for sap that exudes from the beech trees, or the grotesque giraffe weevils that live in the logs. There are knuckle bones played with five stones and string games that change from "cat’s cradle" to "fish in the net." Yes, rainy days are all too short. Altogether the simplicity pioneering appeals to the young. Water from a creek instead of a tap. Meals out of a billy or baked on the hearthstones. Apples dried instead of juicy, dehydrated stew with three helpings for each child on their own tin plates. Here, too, there is room for juveniles to run and roam, their bright coloured clothes specially chosen to keep them always in sight. A race to beat the sun to the top of the Baker, a landmark well known to marathon runners, a thousand feet above the cabin. Then there's the view towards Wellington hidden in a maze of wrinkled hills, so like a landscape of the moon. Close at hand the main peal of the Kaikouras looking like Everest itself in a child's imagination. There are stories of the opossum that slid down from the roof when his tail was touched, of the trapper's dog that had just been wounded by a boar's tusk. On the last day of the holiday they returned over the hill, sliding down the greasy clay hillside leading back to Wainui-o-mata. They were going home-back to school; back to Kindergarten. Frank Fitzgerald, Evening Post, 12 September 1953

    • Nature Deficit Disorder
      • My son John exploring the bush outside Tahora HutOk so it's not a medically recognised disorder yet but it's becoming widely accepted as a real problem. Nature Deficit Disorder refers to a hypothesis by Richard Louv in his 2005 book Last Child in the Woods that human beings, especially children, are spending less time outdoors resulting in a wide range of behavioural problems. In a world where screens and organised activities occupy more and more of our children's time, Nature Deficit Disorder is becoming a real concern. Why? Because there is growing evidence to show how much children benefit from nature. The Department of Conservation (DOC) recently published a brochure summarising the research on the benefits of connecting children with nature: Many studies show the positive links between direct experiences in nature and children’s mental, emotional and physical health and well-being.  The studies show that regular direct access to nature can:  Increase self-esteem and resilience against stress and adversity.Improve concentration, learning, creativity, cognitive development, cooperation, flexibility and self-awareness.Prevent childhood obesity. Research has also shown that through positive experiences in nature, children will develop their love of nature and a foundation for the development of responsible environmental behaviour. Studies of adults who demonstrate a commitment to protect the natural world suggest that childhood experience with nature plays a critical role in determining life attitudes, knowledge or behaviours regarding the environment. Me with my Nana and little sister Aimee For me, connecting with nature was, and still is a huge part of my life. I spent many weekends and school holidays in the Orongorongo Valley running around in the bush, building bivvies, ‘tramping’ up river to visit friends, collecting leaves and bugs and just ‘being’ in nature. They were such simple experiences but they are some of the best memories of my childhood and have had a huge impact on my life. The valley and our hut was a sanctuary away from our busy urban lives; where life slowed down and we spent more time together; where life was simple without TVs, computers and cell phones. I still love that feeling of ‘time-out’ and being ‘disconnected’ from the world. I learnt how to follow tracks, light fires and kerosense lanterns and cook on a coalrange. We listened to children’s stories on the National Radio, read books by torch light, played board games and made up our own. I didn't lose interest in my teenage years either – even if I couldn't find friends who wanted to join me! My love of nature probably helped and from an early age I decided that I wanted to work for DOC one day. It gave me direction and motivation to finish school so I could go to university. I completed a degree in parks management and off I went to work for DOC. Moa Hunt kids at prizegivingI have ended up in a slightly different role now but am still very passionate about kids spending time in nature. Thankfully many others are too. I was very heartened to see Fiordland Kindergarten’s Nature Programme on TVNZ’s Sunday where they take preschoolers out to a local park once a week and let them loose. They can climb trees, jump in the mud, collect leaves and cut up fallen branches – just good old unstructured exploring – my 19 month old would be in his element! I hope we see more of these programmes introduced around the country. The Orongorongo Club has been running its own ‘nature programme’ for the last 16 years – The Annual Kids Easter Moa Hunt. Around 30-40 kids spend the weekend trapping possums and rats and ‘hunting’ for the items on their treasure list like a heart shaped leaf with holes or the oldest hut magazine they can find. They compete in the Billy Boiling Competition at the prize-giving and the adults cheer and clap at their efforts during the Roaring Competition. The kids love it and it’s a great chance for the hut users to get together from all over the valley. Generations of children have grown up in the valley gaining those all important benefits of connecting with nature. Without the private huts currently under threat of removal, we lose opportunities for families to access the outdoors with ease. Me and my Dad - excited to be going for a walkMany families with young children, particularly babies and toddlers, find it difficult to stay overnight in a DOC hut for various reasons – privacy, cost and physical difficulty carrying young children and the gear required. Private huts allow families to overcome these barriers. Private huts are often stocked with all the provisions necessary for young families and vehicle access weekends provide opportunities to re-stock supplies. The use of vehicles also provide opportunities for easier access for those who are less fit and able to carry gear and young children, or those who have more than one child who requires carrying. The great thing about the private huts is seeing children introduced to the outdoors at a young age. I was just six weeks old when I first stayed at our hut. My son was three months and I was still up in the night feeding – not something I want do to in a DOC hut. Our hut now has a portacot and highchair back in action again! I've no doubt, some will say – ‘that’s all very good for the lucky ones who have access to a private hut’ but I could write another page in response so will save it for another post! What I will say is the private huts not only service hut owner’s immediate family, many have wider use and are shared with extended families, friends and caretakers. There are many stories of families who have been introduced to the outdoors via the private huts network – often an opportunity they wouldn't have had otherwise. Unfortunately I don't get to the valley as much as I would like these days. I make do with the local park for my regular dose of nature that I need to feel balanced! Though I start to feel a real yearning and homesickness if I stay away from the valley for too long – I have a deep connection to the place - it’s my Tūrangawaewae and in time, will hopefully become my sons too. So DOC – please keep in mind, that in removing the private huts, you are removing opportunities for generations of children to connect with nature and potentially grow into your future employees like I did...

    • Tainui Hut - a bygone era
      • Tainui Hut, John Farrell - 2nd from right, Don Oliver - middle (Amanda Farrell Photo Collection) Tainui Hut Warming 1939 (Ross Kerr Photo Collection)The late Joanna Lane-Taylor was a regular visitor to the valley and Tainui Hut in the 60s. At the time Joanna was a reporter for the Evening Post and thankfully for us, published a few stories about the valley which are a fantastic asset to our archive. I would like to share this one about old Tainui Hut. I've highlighted my favourite part. Joanna writes so poetically here and it describes the essence of tramping during a time when it was a popular and social activity - an era I've always been a little envious off when growing up when I was lacking friends interested in the outdoors! End of the road near – Orongorongo’s Tainui soon to disappear, 16 November 1968 Over in the Orongorongo Valley, a couple of hours’ tramp east of Wainuiomata, a select band take up weekend residence in a colony of privately-built huts nestling in the dense bush on both sides of the river. Rum Jungle, Journey’s End, Erewhon, Boar In, Stag Lodge are some of the delightful addresses of these retreats. Soon one of the earliest and best-known huts, Tainui is to disappear. Tainui is a true bush hut, built in 1938-39 to house the then newly-formed Customs Tramping Club, later affiliated as the Tainui Tramping Club. Long SlogOctagonal-shaped with free-standing roof, the frame-work is entirely of Manuka, cut from a stand across the river, and covered with flattened sheet iron which was brought through the 5-Mile Track a two hour slog from Wainuiomata, by reaching teams of two men, each carrying bundles of 50 to 75 lb. When they arrived they dumped the tin and dived thankfully into a pool beneath a nearby spring, while another team trudged back over the hill to take their turn as pack-horses and the girls somehow managed to produce meals to feed the hungry horde. The hut is 36 feet across, and up to 42 trampers, unable to cross the river in flood, have squeezed themselves into Tainui’s ten bunks. AmbitiousIn its brief heyday, the club weekend in full force, and usually the 40lb of meat carried over had to be supplemented with game. As members swung into the high gear of track cutting and maintenance, trips became more ambitious under the watchful eye of the chief guide, Eric Hambleton. During these years the club participated in the annual trampers’ sports weekend in the valley, winning the Tararua Tramping Club’s marathon in 1938 (R H Dyson) and again in 1941 (A G Stewart). Many were the days when the hut was full of laughter, carefree young people, raising the dust to the tune of an old harmonica and the wheezing gramophone; and many the winter night spent before a blazing rata fire, with the rain pounding on the roof, and the river running a ‘bunker,’ rushing by, and the carbide lamps flickering, wet boots steaming, toast burning while someone rescued a sock which had fallen into the fire, and the big black kettle boiling for a cup of tea. So, through the 30 years that have passed, those who have come and gone have left a part of their youth and dreams with the old hut, and perhaps she has given them something too. When the club went into recess some years ago, the hut remained under the control of ex-chief guide Eric Hambleton, well known to the valley today as “Ham.” But the river, over the past few years, has become Tainui’s enemy biting away at the bank on which the hut stood so securely until now 300 feet of I has gone and Tainui stands on the edge of a thirty foot cliff. Rise AgainBut not for her an ignominious plunge down to the seas her namesake sailed; careful hands had built her so careful hands will take her down and the heart of her will rise again to welcome all, in another hut. Already, a new site has been selected, and plans are well under way for a new hut. Vale, Tainui! Joanna Lane-Taylor, The Evening Post, 16 November 1968

    • Huts Photo Gallery
      • In 2012 Allan Sheppard undertook a massive project - photographing 50+ huts in the Orongorongo Valley. The project took him many long weekends and multiple attempts to locate the elusive Wai Whare. I'm not sure we have ever had a full collection of professional hut photos so we are very grateful to Allan for his efforts. You can view the huts photos along with a fledgling collection of historic photos at the link below. Enjoy! www.flickr.com/photos/orongorongohuts/

    • Wildnesss Article
      • The issue of private huts on public land is a hot topic and an emotive subject for many hut owners and caretakers. One day I'll share my thoughts - maybe once I've prepared a submission on the draft Wellington Conservation Management Strategy when it finally comes out! In the meantime, Ricky French, wrote a great article on the issue for the Wilderness Magazine earlier this year. You can buy a digital copy or read the article on Ricky's blog.

    • 1930s Tramping Memories
      • Early trampers in the valley, 1922 (Ian Baine Collection)I spent some time a few years ago researching the tramping history of the valley. I came across Ross Kerr’s files in the National Library and what a find! Ross is the author of the Chronology of the Rimutaka and Tararua Ranges and in collating the chronology Ross gathered some fantastic material detailing the valley’s history. A number of valley stalwarts wrote to Ross with their memoirs including the late Tony Nolan. Tony's letter details the clothing and equipment used in the 1930s which makes you appreciate the comfortable gear we have today! 29 August 1991 Dear Ross, Wellington in the mid-1930s was still little more than a big colonial town, its tallest building only seven stories high, its dwellings heated by coal fires, and horses and carts still mingling with the electric trams and the few motor vehicles. The country’s population was only one and a half million, less than half of today’s. Trampers were far from numerous and still (especially the women) viewed with some suspicion. To a colonial people, hunters, although just as smelly and unsightly and Sabbath-breaking, were understandable but tramping was idle and had no point. Moreover it was whispered that women and men slept in the same tents and huts – well! The country was still very hard-up. By 1935 the worst of the great Slump was over and the dismal queues with billies and sugarbags at the soup kitchens had almost faded away, but jobs were still hard to find and everybody was still poor. Savings had all been spent on survival, and New Zealand’s gross national product, the measure of a nation’s wealth, was only $270 million, at $180 per head of population, less than one-fortieth of what it is today. Prices were low, but so was the basic wage of around $4 per week. In relation to wages, most things were actually more expensive then. The shortage of money placed two big limitations of tramping and hunting, namely, in respect of transportation and equipment. Motor cars were available but very few could afford them. Take for example the dance and picnic held at Wainuiomta after the trampers’ annual football and hockey matches in 1935. At this major social function of the two largest tramping clubs, plus local population, there arrived four motor cars (two of them [had] babies), two taxies, one motor-cycle, and one motor lorry. Compare this with the sight at the Catchpole on a fine summer weekend today. Access to the hills was therefore difficult. The tramping club’s did sometimes hire Railway buses or motor lorries but most people had to walk all the way from the nearest Ferry Wharf, or rail or bus terminus. This tended to limit tramping to the older and fitter and the very enthusiastic. Many people had to make their own packs, tents and sleeping bags or sleep in a blanket, for the cost of proper equipment was beyond them. Billies were frequently treacle tins fitted with wire handles. For clothing, the men usually wore old flannel shirts and football jerseys, with old patched trousers, cut-down slacks or football shorts. In 1935 you could still see advertisements for “Ladies’ tramping breeches” but in fact, although some women wore knickerbockers, most by then had adopted shorts, sometimes under cover of gym skirts. For storm protection, many hunters and trampers used voluminous waterproof capes and later a few parka-like garments appeared, but for years the standard items were the sailor’s sou-wester hat with neck and ear flaps and the short oilskin coast called a slicker. Slickers, sou-westers, groundsheets, sleeping bag covers, and waterproof food bags, all had to be re-oiled frequently with linseed oil, usually with whale oil or neetsfoot oil, the trampers of those days emitted a distinctly oily odour. Packs were almost without exception of the frameless “kidney-rotter” kind. Like many others, my first was made of sacking sewn up on a sewing machine, my second being also home-made but of oiled japara. Proper canvas kidney-rotters could be bought at Hutcheson and Wilson’s for about $2.50. Bergan frame packs were available at a higher price but being designed for Scandinavian skiing and climbing they were too small for weekend trips. Tramping boots, which cost about $1.50, were always of leather, with thick soles studded with triple hobnails, often with the winged climbing nails called “clinkers” around the edges. For the hard-up, the more usual footwear was the cheap Japanese tennis shoes costing about 15 cents. Proper tramping socks were available bur ordinary working or football socks were more commonly seen. In those needy days, boots, shoes and socks were worn to disintegration, sot that road-ends and track-sides were often littered with them. Tramping food, because more suitable items were either unavailable or too expensive, was usually rather boring. Typically, breakfast would be oatmeal or macaroni and cheese. Dinner was trampers’ stew or rice and raisons. Fried chops or sausages were also common, but mainly as a wet day pastime. Ordinary white bread or the more durable Bell’s bricks were carried but for the longer trips the hard ships’ biscuits were recommended. Many camps and huts had an iron camp oven for baking bread. The only milk was condensed milk in tins and the only coffee was the sickly canned coffee and milk. Blowflies seemed to be much more prevalent in the bush in those days and all meat and clothing had to be constantly guarded against them. Reference: Kerr, Ross: Papers relating to the Orongorongo and Rimutaka Forest Park areas, National Library, MS-Papers-4572

    • A short history of hut building
      • Baine iti - the oldest hut in the valleyHuts have been built in the Orongorongo Valley since the early 1900s – though they look a little different from today’s modern DOC huts! Early huts were built from materials at hand – manuka poles as framing and totara for piles. Some materials were strapped onto pack frames and carried in. Flattened kerosene tins were used for cladding and in later years roles of malthoid and even bags of concrete were carried through the Five Mile track! After World War II, transport became more available and old army trucks were hired to bring materials up the valley. In the 60s and 70s, home made buggies become popular with hut builders and made the job a little easier. Some builders of this era prebuilt huts out of ply from old car packing cases, dismantled and numbered them before driving the materials in. Though they still had to be carried up tracks to the hut sites, a long slog for some. Why did people build huts in the valley?Many of the first campsites and huts in the valley were used and built by keen hunters in the 1920s. Some were employed by the Wildlife Department and others were undertaking the first scientific research into the habits of possums. In 1919 the first tramping club in New Zealand was set up – the Tararua Tramping Club and in the 1930s tramping took off and became a popular form of recreation for young men and women. During this time the tramping club built Waerenga Hut to accommodate the growing interest. The Orongorongo Valley was easily accessible from the city and became popular for tramping club trips. Trampers caught the ferry from Wellington to Eastbourne, walked over into Gollans Valley, through Jackson’s Farm and over the Guts Buster into the Orongorongo Valley, a trip that took three to four hours, double the time of the well maintained Orongorongo Track today. When transport became more available, tramping and mountaineering groups went further afield to the Tararuas and Ruapehu. Some preferred the ease and community of the Orongorongos so stayed and built their own huts to enjoy with their extended families and friends. A hut licence could be obtained from the Wellington Water Board who managed the valley in the early days. Huts continued to be built until the 1970s with the last one built in 1980. Today there are just over 50 huts in the valley of all shapes and sizes constructed with hard work and discarded materials from friends and family. Not only are the huts unique in look but in name christened with titles like Bedlam, Stonehem, Bushman’s Arms, Tijuana, Boar Inn, Shalimar and Erewhon. In 1987 the Department of Conservation took over management of the valley from the Forestry Service. Some hut owners either left the valley or passed on and these huts were taken over by DOC. Jans and the old Oaks and Haurangi huts all owe their roots to the early tramping fraternity. A Unique CommunitySince huts were first built, the valley has seen families come together to form a friendly community who readily pitch in and give each other a hand when needed. The valley has always been a social place and many good times have been spent visiting other huts, around riverbed campfires, hangis, the Kid’s Moa Hunt Competition and the famous Riverbed Golf Tournament. Children have grown up together enjoying the delights of the great outdoors and acquiring an appreciation for nature. Over the years hundreds of newcomers have begun a keen interest in the outdoors when introduced to the valley through the huts network. Many school and scout groups have spent nights in the huts and even helped build and maintain huts through a teacher’s or student’s connection to the valley. With the recent construction of new DOC huts and the continued presence of private huts, it is hoped that generations of local families will continue to enjoy the valley and it's heritage.

    • Orongorongo Club new website
      • In 1978 the Orongorongo Club was established by a number of regular users of the valley who shared a common interest in the preservation of the valley’s unique heritage. The club particularly supports the continued presence of huts and their extended use.  Find out more at our new website: www.orongorongoclub.org.nz 

    • Tahora - 40 years on
      • Owner: Maurice & Marg Mitchinson | Built: 1970/71When Tahora turned a respectable 40 years old in 2011 I sat down with Dad to record Tahora’s story…  Dad started exploring the Orongorongo Valley in the early 60s as a young boy. Grandad drove Dad and his mate Dave McGinity down to the park in the little Humber 80 after a cooked breakfast at 5am. They would walk through the Gutsbuster, down to the DSIR and back out to the catchpool for their 5pm pick up. During their college years they would often take overnight trips into the valley, camping down on the manuka flats or bunking in at Baine Iti. Later on Dad stayed at Kiwi Hut along with Dave, Graeme Stenhouse, Wayne Butler and Ashley Briggs. They would walk in after work and arrive in the dark by torch light. Dad said the bunks at Kiwi were a “god send…especially on a Friday night after walking through the track”, despite the door only half opening “because the floor was bowed as the piles were shot on the place”. No doubt Maira’s stew was also a god send at the end of the Gutsbuster. Maira Stenhouse, Graeme’s mother, would cook the boys stew with “everything”. It was carried in, in a small milk churn and heated it up in a pot on the stove when they arrived. In 1969 at 18, Dad decided he wanted a hut of his own so set about obtaining a licence and making plans. Dad and Dave approached Jim Stanton, the Head Ranger at the Wellington Water Board to apply for a hut site. He had to draw a map showing where he wanted to build.  The boys travelled in on Friday nights and worked all day Saturday clearing the site. They would knock off late arvo and go for a walk to check out the other huts to get ideas for the hut design. It took them one year to clear the site without the luxury of chainsaws or loppers – just axes and slashes were used. Meanwhile Dad and Grandad were starting to design and build the hut in their backyard at home. Grandad based the design of the hut on their garage. It was 20x12 with four bunks made of timber and bed springs down one end with a small window between the bunks. Materials for the hut came from various places, mostly for ‘free’. The plywood lining came from a neighbour who worked for Ford - packing cases that the car parts came in. Dad spent the Christmas holidays pulling the nails out. The roof iron came from Lever Brothers in Petone where Grandad worked along with the floor joists from packing cases and even the cutlery from the tea room. Dad said, “You name it, it came from Lever Brothers!” Although most of the materials were free, the hut took up most of Dad’s time. “I was doing my apprenticeship and was getting into trouble because I wasn’t doing any work. My mother was always yelling at me to do my assignments. I stayed up all hours of the night talking nuts and bolts with my father.” Before the materials were taken into the valley to start building, Dad and Grandad erected the hut in the backyard. All the pieces were numbered then dismantled and bundled together so one person could carry them. Once the materials were ready they were loaded up on Dave’s Father’s buggy for the trip into the valley and building to start. Dad, Dave, Graeme, Wayne and Ashley built the hut along with Grandad and other family. “We had all the floor down at Easter 1970…It was hard work and we had quite a few walls still half way up the creek but seeing a wall actually being erected…I don’t know what it did, it just got the adrenaline running and other pieces just flew up the bloody track like nobodies business.” The hut was completed around Easter 1971. Dad said it was a “dark hole” with little light and when family and friends came to stay the hut became too small so it was decided to extend the hut and build a bunk bed on one end. Like the original part, the bunkroom and bunks were built at home before being dismantled and brought into the valley. Once the bunkroom was built in 1972 and the old bunks were taken out, Grandad built the fireplace out of rivers stones. The fireplace not only provided more warmth but toasted marshmallows when we were kids. The new Kent fire is not quite the same but the river stone fireplace surround is still there for posterity.  Like most huts in the valley the hut has been decked out over the years with various bits discarded from homes and other places. The original pot belly came out of an old railways workingman’s hut at the bottom of Gracefield. Dad recalls it coming from Aunty Gillian’s husband who worked for the railways. Some cups and saucers may have made their way to the hut from NZ Rail too! Once the hut was complete, it became a home away from home for Dad and the family. Dad’s sisters Sandra and Kathrine would often come and stay with their parents Owen and Nan who loved the bush. Karen Singleton, who lived next door to the Mitchinsons, was also a regular visitor to the hut and looked after the place when Mum and Dad were overseas. Later, the girlfriends came along and no doubt added a new dimension to the hut and the group. Dad and co also met the ‘upper river crew’ that included Mike Andrews, Jim Hickman, Ken Alexander, Alan Bolland and Ian and John McDonald along with the girls Maggi Wride and Ann Edwards (McDonald). As happens in the valley, this meeting made life connections with Dad marrying Maggi’s friend - Mum (Marg), Mum’s twin sister Liz marrying Alan and Mike marrying Sandra. The 80s brought a new era to Tahora with the arrival of me in 1983 and my sister Aimee in 1986. I was just six weeks old on my first visit to the hut. Sadly Grandad passed away from a heart attack in the valley in 1989 when I was only six. He had enjoyed Nana’s scones and jam and some peace and quiet with Nana by Brown’s Stream just before he went. Nana continued to come up the bush for as long as she could, often looking after my cousin Rochelle and myself when we were young and later keeping the coalrange burning while we went roaming. Some of my favourite memories of my childhood are walks down to the hide and up river to visit the Andrews and McDonalds. The huge swing at Dick’s Hut and my first taste of smoked eel. Swimming in holes over our heads (they have never been as good) and late nights at New Year’s golf tournaments with Peter’s siren and kisses from Diane! Weekends in winter reading, playing cards and listening to children’s programmes on National Radio. Nights listening to moreporks, the rain on the roof and loud thunder during a storm. Teenage years brought good times at the Barnes and upriver at the Kapuas. At 17 I then met an unruly group of young men staying at Oak’s Hut and dated one for a year and a half. This saw late night parties at the DoC huts or camping on the flats and an introduction to Pearl Jam. At 18 it was time for a new era and off to Lincoln University in Christchurch. I missed the valley while away and would regularly tell my new friends I was ‘going bush’ when I got home. After a few stints down south working for DoC I came back to Wellington and worked for the regional council. It was there I met Jason who also had a love of the outdoors and lived in the Wairarapa - only a two hour drive to the catchpool! Funnily enough he is the grandson of John and Nancye Farrell who built Nikau Hut so I guess it was meant to be. And so now it is time for a new era where the kids I grew up with are having their own children and bringing them into the valley so they can enjoy and learn about the great outdoors. We introduced our son to the valley at 3 months old in 2013. I hope we can continue creating happy memories with a new generation.

    • Welcome!
      • My son John exploring the bush behind our hut I'm very excited to welcome you to the Orongorongo Club's new blog! The Orongorongo Valley holds a special place in my heart - I first stayed in the valley at just six weeks old and introduced my son to the valley at three months. Many visitors to the area don't know there are over 50 huts scattered along the valley, hidden amongst the native bush.  I hope to share the hut's histories in this blog, giving readers an appreciation of the rich history the valley holds. First up is my own family's hut Tahora so check back soon to read our story. To find out more about the club, see the about us page or our website: www.orongorongoclub.org.nz  Rebecca Jamieson(nee Mitchinson), Tahora Hut #27

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