New Zealand's wild West coast
The West Coast air smells of sea salt and woodsmoke, hot butter and bacon fat; the kettle whistles out of tune and Simply Red plays on the radio. Sinking my shoulders low into the smoky, toasty warm water of our wood fired hot tub perched at the edge of the earth, all of yesterday’s trepidations - about sandflies and moths and navigating an outdoor toilet in the dark - melt away, entranced as I am by the never-ending succession of waves lapping at the shore below.
It had been late at night when my husband and I arrived in Punakaiki, our final stop on our honeymoon across New Zealand’s incredible South Island. We drove the Great Coast Highway in the dark, wending our way north of Greymouth, barely seeing another car along the way. Having shared the drive from Queenstown - a full 560km and seven hours on the road - I was tired, my eyes straining to focus and keep up with the back and forth rhythm of the steering wheel - left, right, left, left again as we snaked our way up the coast.
Woodpecker Hut is lit up on our arrival, and we dump our bags in the bedroom, which tonight we’re sharing with some local moths and what I hope aren’t sandflies, New Zealand’s resident bloodsuckers. Collapsing into bed to the roar of the ocean, it’s not until we wake the next morning, the rising sun bathing us both in a dusty pink lustre that we can truly appreciate this special, rugged spot; perched on the hillside, the wild, open beach at its feet, Woodpecker Hut is simple, barefoot luxury. Two waney edge weatherboard huts serve as a lounge and a bedroom respectively, with a camp-style kitchen - covered, although somewhat exposed to any prevailing winds - slung between. The cabin is propped up by chunky, solid timber beams which travel way above our heads and provide solid reassurance against the elements. A sweeping north-facing sun deck is the amphitheatre to the glittering Tasman Sea, whose waves will become a constant dependable companion in the days that follow, contemplated from the sanctuary of the cedar wood tub.
Built by a local builder and artist, no detail at Woodpecker Hut has been spared; soft furs mingle alongside natural fibres - a plush rug underfoot, the bedroom curtain softly billowing in the breeze - and a fully stocked kitchen means we can get straight into the important business of breakfast. And yet, it’s the absolute simplicity of it that brings the most peace. In that unhurried state that only being on holiday (and not just a holiday - our honeymoon) can bring, we took the days as they came; slow, languid mornings punctuated by coffee, loosely mulling over whether we planned to explore the local area or instead curl up with a book to the roar of the the waves crashing below.
Woodpecker Hut encapsulates everything New Zealand ‘baches’ have come to be known for. Short for ‘bachelor pad’, the word bach is deeply embedded in the Kiwi psyche and has come to be symbolic with holidays centred around relaxation, the great outdoors and the simpler things in life. While locations may vary - a bach can be located by the ocean, a river, lake or forest - certain elements of bach life are common to all; for many, spending summers ‘at the bach’ conjures up memories of mid-afternoon naps, sand in every crevice, running errands in your swimmer, fish tacos with sticky fingers, bushwalks and the smell of SPF.
While baches have existed since the early 1900s, it wasn’t until post-World War II when the New Zealand government invested in improvements to roads and infrastructure which made remote places more accessible, and saw a flurry of baches being built around the country. In the decades that followed, a dramatic reimagining recast the coast as a place to escape city life during summers or weekends when most shops and businesses were closed. Not incomparable to the Aussie love affair with shacks or the Nordic tradition of hyttes, the baches lifestyle exerted a gravitational pull on the Kiwis’ imagination, inspiring week-long holidays at the coast where all you needed was a bucket and spade, your swimmers and some mosquito repellent (for those aforementioned sandflies).
Today many baches are available for short term lets through sites such as Booking.com and AirBnb, providing a new generation with nostalgia and deep affection for these slices of coastal paradise.
Punakaiki itself enjoys less of a high billing when it comes to popular tourist destinations, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t deliver on things to see and do. Just a short 20 minute drive away from Woodpecker Hut is the famed Pancake Rocks, a collection of limestone rock formations, impressive blowholes and powerful surge pools. The Fox River runs throughout the Punakaiki region and is a popular spot for kayaking, underwater rafting and paddleboarding. You’ll also find the famous Paparoa Track, a 55km multi day experience and somewhat of a mecca for both mountain biking and trampers alike. The track moves through the breathtaking alpine terrain of the Paparoa Ranges, with glimpses of limestone gorges and subtropical rainforest as you travel from Blackball in the north to Punakaiki in the south. Down the road in the old gold mining town of Charleston, you can travel deep into the Metro (Te Ananui) Caves to find glow worms, one of the most breathtaking and unique experiences the South Island has to offer.
On our final day it is warm, with barely a whisper of a breeze; the heat is thick and of viscous quality - unctuous, like a good olive oil. After a walk along the nearby Pororari River Loop - a 10km loop which wends past nikau palms and limestone rock walls, but which we cut short due to recent rain causing it to be quite wet underfoot - we instead retire to the pub, the Punakaiki Rocks Hotel. Here we tuck into fish chips in their beer garden, washed down by a handle from Montieth’s, the local craft brewer and reflect on the simple things in life; nature, exploration and a world full of awe and wonder. How lucky are we.