Take the kids, too
Date: 20 Dec 2003, The Press, Christchurch, page D14
Captions: Dads and their kids: tramping in the Hawdon Valley.

Not too far, not too hard. PAT BARRETT goes camping in the Hawdon Valley, in Arthurs Pass National Park.

FACT FILE The Hawdon Shelter is reached on a gravel road about 4km from the Mount White turn-off on SH73 (Arthurs Pass highway). Excellent camping can be found on the western side of the Hawdon about 1km above the confluence with Sudden Valley Stream. Grade: Easy. Time to campsites: 30-45 minutes. Map: K33

The weather was forecast to be settled for the weekend and I was keen to get out tramping and camping with my daughter and her friend Ben, both five, and Tim, Ben's father.

We had done several trips together, and a short tramp and camp before the Christmas rush would be very relaxing.

Pick a place, I thought, make it easy to reach, and let the tent site have all the necessary prerequisites of a classic Kiwi camp - a flat, soft place to lie in tussock or grass, a stream nearby, an interface of forest and flats, and a beautiful backdrop of mountains providing that all-important aspect.

Arthurs Pass National Park, especially the Hawdon Valley, offers all of these requirements and I could recall a place not far from the road where idyllic camping terrain abounds. A place through which I had often marched, heading for the distant mountains, ruing the fact that I could not pause longer and enjoy its tranquil pleasures.

Hefting our packs at Hawdon Shelter we passed briefly through the forest margin and out onto the stony riverbed of the Hawdon over which arched a flawless blue sky and promise of a warm day.

An easy ford of the river allowed us to gain the grassy flats of the west bank and wander upstream to where I remembered the camping sites lay.

They were not hard to find; in fact the abundance of suitable spots made choosing the best one a rather long process, especially when Anna-Marie and Ben offered their preferences.

Yet this was part of the attraction of such a short trip - time to discuss the merits of various camps without the restrictions imposed by limited hours and the pressure to reach a destination.

Soon the tents were up and sleeping bags, mats, books, a few soft toys and assorted paraphernalia either employed or scattered about in the soft grass as the day warmed and a gentle breeze discouraged the sandflies. It was time to explore.

Heading off up valley we followed the old flood track in through the beech forest where the silvery waters of mountain streams whisper past banks of mosses and ferns.

The subdued light reaching the forest floor revealed patterned tree trunks and leaf litter scattered by the wind.

Everything was explored and marvelled at, and as the afternoon waned we returned to camp to read, play, and cook a tasty meal of salmon and pasta as evening light caressed the valley.

No camp with children is, I believe, complete without a robust campfire and toasted marshmallows.

We all had our share before retiring to the comfort of the tent and sleeping bag.

Morning returned another spectacular mountain day and time to trek to the far side of the valley, ford the streams, throw rocks in the river, hunt for honeydew, and relax in the sun as the billy steamed on the primus.

Idyllic? Yes indeed, but so often overlooked when so close to hand and so easily reached.

The cicadas filled the day with their soporific chorus as we broke camp and headed across the golden flats to the roadhead with two contented children and memories of a camp not too far from home.