Turere Lodge is a family favourite for Wellingtonians. The annual pilgrimage comprised 17 in total, with nine adults and eight children, aged 5 to 9. My friend assured me the entire lodge had been booked, so there was plenty of room for tagalongs like me.
I find it hard to turn down a tramp—better still with friends—so joined in. I was the only adult in the party who wasn’t a parent themselves.
Our group gathered in the carpark and started making our way along the gentle Orongorongo Track, catching up on the year that had been. The children walked or ran, depending on their whim.
Familiar features were checked off along the way. Every year the children have their photo at a particular distinctive tree—it’ll make for an interesting time series.
We arrived at Turere Lodge at 12.30pm and discarded our boots and shoes. We stepped in to claim bunks.
By now it had started to rain.
A couple of boys immediately had the bright idea to light the wood burner. They then went to the woodshed to check the supply of firewood… of which there was practically none.
I sat down to my sandwiches and a cup of soup.
“The fire will be all over by 3pm,” I lamented to my friend, abandoning hope of any evening ambience.
The boys got stuck in to stoke the fire. With naked toenails for protection, they grabbed tomahawks and axes and chopped up the remaining firewood. I couldn’t bear to look—or should that be ‘bare’ to look?
Soon the fire crackled. More sticks went on. Doors and windows remained open to the cool, strengthening southerly, as the boys darted in and out carrying whatever wood they could find.
Meanwhile, younger children chased each other in all directions. Turere Lodge’s many wooden benches turned into train carriages hurtling through the hut at record speed, visiting every bunk room and picking up excited passengers along the way. The noise was deafening.
After temporarily adjourning to a quieter bunk, I settled into a game with other adults and older children in the social area.
It was at this point the boys who’d been chopping wood outside dashed in and made for a bunk room where the younger children were playing, tomahawks and saws in hand.
I wasn’t surprised when the younger children ran out screaming. But I was surprised this was due to a game of ‘Zombies’ rather than anything untoward—let alone terrifying—about axe-wielding boys appearing in a bunk room! It was equally hysterical and farcical.
As the weather closed in, kids surrounded the wood burner, entranced by candles and melting wax. Wax dripped onto tabletops, the wood burner, and maybe other places. But I must eat my words, for it was after 3 o’clock and the fire crackled on. Turere Lodge was getting happily warm.
And then….
‘Beep, beep, beep, beep!’ screeched the smoke alarm. Doors and windows were thrown open. Outside, it was pissing down. I don’t exactly know what happened but suspect a fascination with flames from a certain demographic may have been a contributing factor.
The situation was brought under control and a round of roasting marshmallows followed. The children’s faces glowed like the fire—as did their parents’, watching the experience.
And then, it was time to get to work on a delicious meal of sausages, peas and potatoes. Despite many mouths to feed, feeding time at the zoo was fast and remarkably civil. A dessert of instant pud and heated stewed fruit followed… so good!
After dinner, the kids lit twigs on tabletop candles and stuck them between their lips. Apparently smoking is cool again!
“Don’t play with things that create a fire risk, you’ve already set off the smoke alarm once!” scolded a parent who’d scraped candle wax from the tables for the past hour.
“Casual life lessons,” I joked with one of the others.
As the night wore on, children turned in and chaos subsided. The hut took on a contented warmth as the adults caught up over games. Occasionally, little eyes too excited to sleep peeped from the bunk rooms. Gradually the oldies slunk off to their sleeping bags, too.
And still the rain came down.
The first child woke at the respectable hour of 6am, starting a domino effect. A mass of porridge and stewed fruit was whipped up for breakfast. Afterwards, the candlewax culprits scraped and scraped at the hut’s metal tabletops. And, when they thought they were done and could make a break for it, were soundly rounded up to scrape some more.
Dishes were done, floors were swept. We left the lodge spick and span.
Come 8 o’clock it was boots and jackets on, and we were goneburgers. There was new windfall where last night’s storm had taken a toll. The heavy rain had eased but it was still wet, providing impetus not to dilly-dally as we made our way back to the carpark. But there were no complaints from the children. Instead, they cheerfully counted off bridges, receiving M&Ms at every crossing. Hooray for incentives!
We were back at the cars within two hours.
The annual trip to Turere Lodge was something of an education for me. Although not exactly a relaxing getaway, I love it that children get to experience tramping and it was my privilege to share the 2023 instalment of the Turere Lodge trip with them and their parents.
In time, I hope the children look back on their annual pilgrimage as some of their most memorable and formative childhood experiences.
Need to know
Access: Drive to Catchpool carpark, Remutaka Forest Park
Grade: Easy.
Accommodation: Turere Lodge. Four bunk rooms at $100 per night, each sleeping 8. Bunks rooms are exclusive and must be booked separately.
Distance and ascent: 6.6km one way, 214m ascent
Time: 1.5–2 hours
NZ Topo 50: BQ32 Lower Hutt
Excellent writeup.