Taming the Tora
Fifteen mums escape for a few days of vigorous exercise, a lot of wine, spectacular views and the best home-cooked meals a tired mum could ask for.
Words Hayley Barnett
I’ve always considered myself a hiker, or a tramper as we’re more commonly known in New Zealand. Growing up, my family holidays consisted of walks through dense native bush, sleeping in tents and run-down cabins. The damp scent of Swanndris and merino socks, as well as the taste of Barley Sugars and trail mix, take me back there in an instant. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I learned not everyone has these same experiences, even Kiwis.
My partner was born and bred in central Auckland and spent his youth tramping the streets, trailing behind his dad who regularly frequented jazz bars. Not a terrible life, but I can’t imagine sitting here now without those fond outdoor memories.
These days, I rarely get out for a hike, given we have young kids and my partner refuses to go anywhere near mud, so I’m limited to a few walks here and there with friends.
When I was invited to hit the Tora Coastal Walk with some mates and their mates and their mates of mates it didn’t take much to convince me.
The Tora trail was the first private walk to be established in the North Island 25 years ago. It’s located in the Southern Wairarapa, a half-hour drive from what is known as the ‘wine town’ of Martinborough. It takes three days to walk across hilly farmland and bush, with stays at three different types of accommodation, located on the farm and along the stunning Tora coast.
The waitlist for groups to walk the Tora is a long one. We booked two years in advance, and just hoped we would all make it. Although a couple of people had to drop out in that time, replacements were easy to find. Our group was made up of 15 mums, all excited about the prospect of heading away, equipped with as much alcohol as we could fit in the hire van. A few of us had tagged on a shopping spree in Wellington the day before and were well acquainted before the one-hour drive to Poppies, our lunch stopover in Martinborough. Poppies makes beautifully hand-crafted wines, which you can sample in their impressive European-style tasting room and restaurant. It makes for a great taste of Martinborough when you’re passing through.
Another half hour’s drive away, we arrived at our accommodation, Whakapata Cottage. The quaint little farm house sleeps 15 people and sits at the entranceway to the Tora Coastal Walk.
We were greeted by owner Kiri Elworthy, a second generation Tora farmer, who has been inviting hikers on to her property for the past 28 years, and created many of the succulent dishes the walk has become well known for. These days she has a team of cooks, but is still actively involved in menu development. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree either. Kiri’s four children have been known to knock out a lemon tart for 14 people, too. That night we were treated to a mean pesto fish dish, and a delicious fruit crumble, all made with fresh, organic ingredients.
Kiri gave us a full rundown on the walk – what to expect each day, recommended leaving times and additional walks and activities to add to our itineraries. The following day is the hardest, she warned, with the steepest inclines and the longest distance. We all agreed to take it easy on the drinks that night.
The next day, we were up and raring to go. You couldn’t have asked for a better day weatherwise. We slapped on our sunscreen, laced up our embarrassingly clean boots and hit the track.
Nothing could have prepared us for the views.
As soon as we hit the top of our first hill, the mountainous landscape was immediately vast and somewhat foreboding. On our first day, grey clouds filled the skyline and threatened to rain at various points. But the sun eventually shone through and we tramped on. We were lucky as the previous week had seen a large rainfall and left behind sticky mud for the hikers to slog through. By the time we arrived it had dried up completely. I still recommend taking hiking sticks, however. I’d say it made the track a good 10 percent easier to tackle, and I can highly recommend them after giving up my stick for a fellow hiker who was five months pregnant. It’s hard to justify a walking stick when a pregnant woman is huffing and puffing and letting out the odd worrisome moan behind you all the way.
Six hours later we arrived at our destination, Stony Bay Lodge. Its luxurious ranch-like vibe is exactly what you need after a six-hour hilly tramp through farmland. A homemade peach shortcake awaited us and it wasn’t long before we were tucking into it on the deck, overlooking the rocky shoreline, our steaming socks lined up to dry in the sun. Thankfully, our boxes of Pals and Poppies vino had arrived before us (the transportation of baggage and alcohol is another luxury included in the package) and we made short work of those too.
We had been left with a leg of lamb to roast and a sizeable pottle each of white chocolate mousse with berry coulis.
An early night meant most of the group was up at the crack of dawn to hike up the hill behind us, then beyond to the end of the road to view the Opua Shipwreck. A handful of ladies stayed behind to natter and “keep the pregnant lady company”, and to make full use of the cosy living area with views of Manurewa Point and the Pacific Ocean.
By 11am we were all at the nearby rocks for some seal spotting, before heading over the hill and along the road to our next accommodation – Greentops Farmhouse. The historic home used to house Return Servicemen in the 1950s and features a cathedral ceiling and a stunning stained glass window.
After we had settled in and recovered from a small bout of rain on our walk over (my jacket proved to be less waterproof than I’d hoped), a bunch of us followed a trail out the back up to the highest point in our journey. This was my favourite part of the trip – the views were even better than the previous day. It’s an optional add-on and is the last thing you want to do if you’ve completed all the optional extras, but if you only add one, let this be it.
That last night was deemed to be “the big night”, where we let loose in all our fluoro glory and partied as long as our middle-aged livers would let us, which was quite far for some, too far for others, and meant the last walk was a lot harder than it should have been.
It was a three-and-a-half-hour journey up and down some gnarly hills, but we all survived back in one piece.
Looking back on our three days, it’s easy to see why there’s a two-year wait for this incredible experience. Despite the sore heads, the group was keen to book another walk somewhere in the next year. Our boots will be well worn by then, and no doubt we’ll all have some hiking sticks at the ready.