Mt Pirongia | Waikato | Part two

Kendyl & Rick
Sep 23, 2024
2 min read

Updated: Apr 26

Finding Refuge and Resilience at Pahautea Hut

Part Two: The Descent from Mt Pirongia

After hours of climbing through thick forest, navigating mud-soaked roots, and pushing through the darkness with nothing but fading torchlight to guide us — reaching Pahautea Hut felt like salvation.

Perched high on the flanks of Mt Pirongia, the hut isn’t just a shelter. It’s a symbol. Of survival. Of resilience. Of making it through.

And when we arrived, soaked in effort and silence, we found it completely empty.

Alone on the Mountain

Though our booking had suggested others might be joining us, no one came. Perhaps the incoming weather had turned them back. Perhaps they were never real to begin with.

Either way, it was just us — two tired hikers, alone on a mountain, in a hut that felt both eerie and comforting at the same time. The cold seeped through the timber walls, but so did the stories. You could feel them lingering in the air — memories from those who had come before, whispered into the wood.

Boots came off. Wet socks peeled away. We exhaled.

The Jetboil Betrayal

Just when we thought it was time for hot noodles and warm bellies, the Jetboil wouldn’t ignite. Typical.

No reception. No Google. No fix. We laughed, because what else can you do?Dinner was cold — but deeply satisfying. Hunger makes a gourmet of the simplest meals, especially when shared in a place earned through grit.

A Shelter, a Sanctuary

That night, the hut became more than a place to rest. It became a space to breathe again. To reflect on the climb. To be still with the moment.

Wrapped in sleeping bags, the world outside faded into mist and wind. The mountain, no longer testing us, held us gently. And we slept.

Into the Forest Once More: Tirohanga Track

At dawn, we lingered — watching the first light creep through the trees before lacing up again for the descent via the Tirohanga Track. A different route, with different challenges, but every bit as rewarding.

Where the Mahaukura side had been steep and dramatic, this path was lush, textured, and full of life. We crossed ridgelines, scrambled down rocky ledges using chains, and watched kererū burst through the canopy, heavy and graceful.

The air grew warmer. The track began to level out. That bittersweet feeling crept in — the one you get when you know the adventure is almost over.