A mountain of bivvies
Trampers fear the quintessential New Zealand backcountry experience of remote, low-use huts might disappear as the Department of Conservation focuses its resources on more accessible accommodation.
Tramping huts and bivvies are dotted around the New Zealand back country like nowhere else on Earth. At last count there were more than 1000 managed by the Department of Conservation, and dozens of others belong to tramping, climbing, and hunting clubs and farm stations.
They range from tiny shelters little larger than a doll's house, set in the highest basins and ridgetops of the Southern Alps, to the ubiquitous single-room four and six-bunk former Forest Service huts that provide the bulk of back country accommodation, to semi- luxury split-level structures with flush toilets, running water, bunkrooms for 40, gas heaters, and cookers. The latter are found primarily on the Great Walks network, which includes such famous tracks as the Milford, Heaphy, and Abel Tasman.
Although originally constructed for ground-based hunters during the 1950s and 60s, the FS 60 and 70 huts have always allowed for dual usage by successive generations of trampers, climbers, and recreational hunters, grateful for a comfortable hut to rest their weary frames at the end of the day. They remain scattered throughout the alps on ragged ridgetops, in sheltered basins and hanging valleys, alongside flashing rivers and deep in forest recesses, as ubiquitous as beech trees and sandflies.
Other huts have been added as recreational tramping has grown in popularity and in response to the presumed needs of more inexperienced trampers and upmarket ecotourists.
The Department of Conservation uses the term "backcountry comfort seekers" (BCC) to describe these visitors. About half the users of these facilities are New Zealanders and the rest international visitors. For traditional Kiwi trampers, the words "backcountry" and "comfort" have little in common. An authentic tramping experience, they would argue, is one in which facilities are robust, efficient, and minimal to avoid overshadowing natural essence of a trip to the hills.
For me at least, this is why huts are so attractive, especially the smaller, older structures with minimal facilities. They provide a sense of austerity in the midst of dramatic surroundings, and foster the sort of self-reliance that is largely unnecessary in our automated, high-tech world.
Following the tragedy of Cave Creek, in 1995, in which 14 young people lost their lives when a platform collapsed in Paparoa National Park, DOC embarked on an ongoing programme of asset reviews. Huts, tracks, and bridges all come under the scrutiny of this programme. The department looks after 1020 huts and spends $6 million a year on maintenance and servicing, of which only $3 million is recovered from hut fees. About half of all huts, the most basic ones, have no fees at all. For better huts, fees range from $5 per adult per night to $35 per night for huts in the Great Walks category.
DOC claims a chronic lack of funds and inherited deferred maintenance schedules are responsible for huts falling into increasing disrepair. However, the truth is DOC's focus has altered from providing purely recreational facilities, to large tourist-oriented huts and amenities from which it can generate a greater income.
To alleviate its difficulties, DOC considered removing some of the little-used huts. Trampers became concerned that remote, low-use huts might disappear. These fears were compounded when DOC analysts adopted a site-ranking system which blended current and projected visitor numbers and factored in a site's importance as a recreational and educational experience, along with its potential to increase visitor appreciation of New Zealand's natural and historic heritage.
There was considerable unease in tramping circles that in this ranking exercise huts, bridges, and tracks were being viewed in isolation from each other. Removal of any one might effectively close off remote areas which demand extended trips from one catchment to the next.
DOC claims the site rankings were intended for setting maintenance priorities, with little- used huts going to the bottom of the pile, and not as a basis for removing any huts. Yet over the past few years this is exactly what has occurred in several remote catchments throughout the South Island. The Hunter Valley at the head of Lake Hawea is a case in point.
In May 2001, much to the relief of outdoor enthusiasts, DOC received a special allocation of $16 million from the Government to be spent over three years on the upgrading and replacement of huts and toilet facilities.
About $5.5 million of this money will be used on deferred maintenance and to address safety issues and service standards on all huts except the 26 slated for replacement within the next three years. The bottom line for many trampers and climbers is this: can they rest easy in the assurance that their favourite hut will be maintained in a usable condition or replaced? If your favourite haunt happens to be on one of the Great Walks then you can be sure it will be well cared for. There is less certainty about less-frequented huts.
Andrew Turton, vice-president of the Christchurch Tramping Club, believes the department has an unofficial "sinking lid" policy with regard to the older and little-used backcountry bivvies: "Once they become too dilapidated to use, they will not be replaced."
Brian Dobbie of DOC says: "There will be no hut removals without consultation with interested parties. Remember that the existing huts were mostly erected to serve deer cullers, and if we were setting up a network of huts for recreational purposes today, it would be very different. Some areas do seem to have an unnecessarily large number of huts. In the Hokitika River catchment, for instance, there are about 70 huts, most of them very little used. Does every valley there need 10 or 11 huts, often spaced only a short distance apart?"
His candid dismissal of these huts shows a remarkable lack of understanding by DOC of trampers' activities, preferences, and attraction to a large remote catchment like the Hokitika where huts are sited in high valleys often bordered by large, swift, unbridged rivers, sometimes requiring high and challenging routes to reach them. This, and the hut gained, is part of the very essence of the tramping experience.
It is a sad prospect for those who have enjoyed these unique shelters for generations and is a clarion call for the department to heed its mandate to "foster recreation and allow tourism".
It appears as though the nouns are reversed (viz recreation and tourism) and consequently the prospects for backcountry trampers and climbers are diminished.
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