Molesworth Station

It’s satisfying to drive past the sign that says the road is closed.  Although many people travel through the iconic high country Molesworth Station, not many get to experience it as I did – as a guest of the Molesworth Tour Company. No other vehicles, local information and good company – what more can one want?  

Leaving Blenheim, we head off on the old state highway, past the old port where the first local Europeans arrived as sealers and whalers, and on through the Redwood Pass.

It was around here that Lee and Geoff Swift (owner-operators of this tour company) were farming, and after his career in the air force, this teller of tales decided tourism was the next big thing in the area and they wanted to be involved.

Its hard to summarise the three days but let me paint a little picture:  Autumn colours, reds, yellows, the silver and white of tree trunks; past the Taylor Pass cemetery with graves dating from 1864-1909 them on to Alton Downs for morning tea  with locals Judith and Trevor.

Meeting locals is an integral part of the trip – this is not just a quick drive through but also a chance to get to meet the people of the land; people who are passionate about their corner of New Zealand and happy to share it with others.

At 400 metres above seal level, Linda and Simon Harvey serve us a lunch of roast merino and salad from their farm and garden.  Merino farmers, they explain the process, about the crimp in the wool, and I hear that a third of their clip goes to Icebreaker for their fashion items.

And still we continue to meet locals.  The first night we sleep at Duntroon, which has been in the family for 100 years.  Trish and Robert Oswald almost seem to have the land to themselves its so quiet.

Displayed in the homestead are sashes of purple for best prime steer, red for a single steer and a blue one for pair of steers.  We spend the evening watching rugby on TV, and discussing DOC policy, family history, and high country changes over the years, then wake to a pale glow in morning sky and dogs barking when they hear their boss came outside.

Also on this boutique tour is an Auckland couple who had driven through the same road 2 years earlier: they said, “We wanted to see the lot, both ways.  Can’t do that when we’re driving and with no background information – this is just great.”

Day two, after a hearty farm breakfast, sees us passing some of the thousand bee hives in the area, cattle,  the red rosehips on the briar rose, cattle stops, rabbits, spur-winged plovers, tussock, flocks of finches, tennis courts, a home school house, and a cob house.  Finally, we reach the northern entrance to Molesworth – 122-ks from Blenheim

Originally a route used by Maori, from the 1850s  it became the main inland route between Marlborough  and North Canterbury and the old cob accommodation houses at Tophouse, Rainbow, Tarndale and Acheron are reminders of this era.

In parts, this high country station is certainly high – the altitude ranges from 549 metres to over 2100 metres and this legendary, New Zealand high-country station could accommodate Banks Peninsula with room to spare.  It's also where untold numbers of stockmen have worked on this station - including one of my grandfathers in the 1920s.

Over-grazing, infestations of rabbits, and the burning of native flora in its tawny hills saw the land decline and the leases of a number of stations were finally given back to the government in 1938 ( according to the  DoC website, the 180,476-hectare station now runs the country's biggest herd of beef cattle, numbering up to 10,000.)

After two nights of country hospitality, on the third night we stay at Hanmer Springs - the South Islands wonderful thermal resort - before returning to Blenheim via St James Station, which incidentally, in the past, bred horses for Christchurch tramways.

This area was an easy summer route to the West Coast by way of the Upper Wairau or Awatere valleys, Tarndale and Lake Tennyson.  The 1437 metre Island Saddle is the highest point on a publicly accessed road in New Zealand.

Cattle, their thick, curly winter coats, foraging on the tussock covered hills gaze at us, some turn and walk away, calling to their calves to follow.

Past the old rabbit proof fence, and a tin hut with a crop of gooseberries and red and blackcurrants and a display of daffodils we continue past Lake Tennyson and its glacial valley at the start of the Clarence River.  Heather and hebes, Marlborough Rock Daisy, mosses and ferns, over the Rag and Famish Creek (ford).  No one knows what happened to the two men whose condition gave it its name.

We have a banquet picnic at Hells Gate and our group feels sad that soon we will be back on public highways.  plunger coffee and home-made ginger slice and yoyos help ease the reluctance we are feeling as our trip comes to an end and we know we’ll soon be back in phone range.

As we eat and drink, we talk of the trip: majestic, intense, awe-inspiring, diverse, powerful, silence, different landscapes and land forms are some of the words used.  ‘Not intimidating but lets you know your own size.’

Although the five of us on this trip were kiwis, an email sent by a satisfied overseas guest seems to sum up the tour.

“I have been back in the UK three weeks now and looking back on my time in NZ I thought it fair to tell you that your tour was the highlight of my stay.  I have visited NZ five times and think I have been to most of the much lauded tourist places but Molesworth was something else.  It gave the opportunity to see a part of NZ off the beaten track and meet some of the people who make their living by farming sheep or cattle, and sample their hospitality.  

Your input to the tour was of prime importance; not only were you an excellent driver on sometimes difficult terrain but you were able, through your knowledge of the area and the people, to put it all in an interesting historical perspective.  You are an excellent raconteur though I have to say I had some doubts about your ghost stories!”  Many thanks from my sister and myself.  Jim P.

By Heather Hapeta the passionate nomad & author of Naked in Budapest: travels with a passionate nomad.

print