Time: 3.5 hours (2 hours for the Washpen Falls Circuit and then 1.5 hours for the Snowy Peak detour - 1 hour gate to summit, 30 minutes summit to gate)
Distance: 9.5 km
Start: Washpen Falls car park 590 Washpen Road, Windwhistle
Finish: Same place
Date: Friday 9th December 2022
The Washpen Falls Track is a fabulous two hour circuit, nestled into the Rockwood Range, which encompasses not only a gorge with a very impressive waterfall (on a Canterbury scale), but also some interesting geology (89 million years ago a volcano erupted here) and some oldish history (a few hundred years ago Māori people hunted the flightless and now extinct moa bird here).
Two cars and five chicks: we wended our way to Windwhistle and the Washpen Falls car park, tumbled out and headed to the W.C. then wandered over to the Washpen Woolshed information office to pay our $10 pp entrance fee. I feel a bit ho-hum about paying for walking tracks -even when they are are on private land- but this one is well worth coughing up for.
Kim only had a $100 note and the rest of us only had twenties, so we made some complicated financial transactions (100 = 20 x 5) and each ended up with a $10 pot of honey dew honey.
The Old Codger (the owner?) in the Washpen Woolshed took one look at our tramping boots and suggested that we might like to climb Snowy Peak which would be a half hour detour (actually ended up being an hour and a half). He gave us instructions: half way around the circuit go through a gate, follow the fence-line on your right to the "Snowy Peak" sign then follow the farm track up to the summit. He had a map which was a bit cryptic to say the least but the instructions were good. And, rather wonderfully, he then showed us his collection of moa gizzard stones (a.k.a. gastroliths or moa crop stones). Moa ate stones, which would then sit in their gizzard (part of the stomach) to help grind food. Other birds, like ducks and emus for example, do this too. Cool. Although, if the Old Codger's stones hadn't been in a jar labelled "Moa Gizzard Stones" you wouldn't have known.
We grabbed an information pamphlet and set off across the bridge over the Washpen River - quickly so as to get some distance between us and a group of 30 rowdy school kids who had just arrived. The name Washpen comes from the 1800's when the area was first farmed and sheep were washed in pens in the river to clean their wool before shearing.
Our first stop was "number 2" on the pamphlet (we had missed "number 1"): three circular stone-filled depressions in the ground - the remains of Māori umu where the moas were cooked. I can imagine that they might have tasted like chicken or turkey.
From here the track goes up the hill and then levels out past a large rhyolite lava boulder to a lookout and an awesome volcanic overhang/cave which, when you stand in it and look up at the ceiling, feels a bit like being in a cathedral with a domed roof.
Next on the list was Armchair Falls, a cataract tumbling from its own natural spring somewhere up the hills. The stairs go up vertically at its side and then the track exits the bush to great views of the red moss covered rocks and, in the distance, a rocky silhouette that looks a bit like Dorothy the Dinosaur.
We came to the Old Codger's gate. Intense discussions followed because not everyone wanted to climb Snowy Peak. But, nevertheless we all went through the gate, followed the fence-line to our right in an off-piste fashion and a few minutes later we were at the "Snowy Peak" sign which felt somehow reassuring. From here we could see a rocky outcrop on the horizon to the north-west which might be Snowy Peak (it wasn't - but in the right ballpark) and also the farm track on the other side of another farm gate, winding upwards towards it.
As we climbed we lost our companions one by one until it was only the three hardest core of us left and then only two. We could hardly believe our eyes when we stumbled across a cluster of moa gizzard stones lying on the ground. Were they fake? They looked exactly like the Old Codger's so we decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and believe that they had actually, once upon a time, ground food in the gizzard of a moa. How awesome. Enthused, we forgot that we were walking strenuously uphill and powered on - all the while looking (unsuccessfully) for more gizzard stones.
We passed the rocky outcrop that we had seen on the horizon back at the "Snowy Peak" sign. I checked the topo map - we still had a bit further to go to the summit, but we were close now. At the top of the first hill and through the tricky gate we were greeted with a distant landscape so surreal that it looked like one of those exaggerated early New Zealand landscape paintings: the Rakaia Valley with Peak Hill and all the other massive quasi-conical mounds sticking up - morraine deposits formed as the glaciers retreated and advanced multiple times thousands of years ago. In amongst those hills, we could see Lake Coleridge/Whakamatau. The clouds were draped over it all making everything look like a distant wonderland. Another ten minutes of down and up on the farm track and we were finally standing on the summit proper. Snowy Peak. Or perhaps we shall call it "Tussocky Hillock". Or "Grassy Knoll".
We speedily descended to the others who were snacking on a bar of dark sea salt chocolate which they kindly shared and it tasted so good after our unexpected efforts. Next stop - the waterfall. I had brought my togs (rather weirdly no-one else had) and I couldn't resist a swim. It was brief. Oh so brief. But oh so lovely.
The remainder of the walk was a super pleasant amble through the rocky outcrops of the gorge and then the lush (or is it lussssh) bush to Stone Lake. Stone Lake was full of an intense frog green algae which was so thick that no water could be seen. Edel poked it with a stick and confirmed that there was actually water underneath.
We followed the Washpen River back to the car park, dodging the rowdy Bayeley's Real Estate Agent barbecuers (a work-do) and checking out the old hydro power plant which provided electricity to the station for 40 years.
The plan was to return the moa gizzard stones back to the Old Codger (they were on his property after all) but the Washpen Woolshed information office was empty and he was nowhere to be seen so we quietly pocketed them. Without further ado (we were starving), and with a couple of drops of rain hitting the windscreen, we hit the road and drove to the Hororata Cafe where we found out that it is possible to be allergic to caterpillars and that the gold on the Monarch butterfly chrysalis is not actual actual real gold.....or is it??
Our bellies now filled with quiche and fries and ginger slice, we crossed the road to the old Hororata Hotel (currently being renovated) and The Artist's In craft shop for retail therapy. I was so happy because I somehow managed to haphazardly finish my Christmas shopping.....or did I??
The boxes were all ticked and we headed back to Crikers. What a neat day.
Further reading:
1. Hayward, B. (1978) Moas - New Zealands first rockhounds. New Zealand Geological Survey. (pdf)
2. Soons, J.M. (1963) The glacial sequence in part of the Rakaia Valley, Canterbury, New Zealand. New Zealand Journal of Geology and Geophysics. 6:5, pp735-756 (pdf)
3. Putnam, A.E. et al. (2013) Warming and glacier recession in the Rakaia Valley, Southern Alps of New Zealand, during Heinrich Stadial 1. Earth and Planetary Science Letters 382 pp98-110 (pdf).
4. Von Haast, J. (1866) Geology of the provinces of Canterbury and Westland: a report comprising the results of official explorations. Journey to the headwaters of the Rakaia. (pdf)