A quirk of history has seen dozens of private huts built in the Orongorongo Valley in Rimutaka Forest Park. Ricky French examines what will happen when occupancy licences expire in 2050
There’s something quite strange about opening the door to a bush hut in New Zealand and knowing it’s yours exclusively for the night. Booking a hut is usually something that only happens when venturing into Great Walk huts in peak season, but even then you are only guaranteed a sleeping spot, not run of the roost. We are taught to make late-comers welcome and not spread our gear everywhere; to be aware that huts are shared spaces where strangers huddle under one roof. But there’s a pocket of bush near Wellington where this doesn’t happen. There’s a place where you can spill an array of luxury items from your pack onto the floor and settle into your private holiday house for a night or two, knowing that no unknown clomps at the door will be heard as you’re preparing dinner, or stacking the furniture for a game of hut-cricket. The walk in is easy; an undulating stroll of not much more than an hour. Think of it as a reward for all the long ordeals you’ve endured in the bush, or think of it as a gentle introduction to tramping for children or outdoor novices; free of hardships, taking the good with the good. It’s tramping, but not as we know it. It’s tramping Orongorongo-style. But amongst the ferns, the beeches, the huts and the river rocks a grand stoush is brewing. The Orongorongos, as the area inside Rimutaka Forest Park over the eastern hills of Wellington is commonly known, remains one of the only areas in New Zealand offering sole-occupancy of Department of Conservation huts. It’s an area popular with the public, and especially school groups, and the department has spent a large amount of money recently constructing three new huts. Herb Christophers from DOC says the risk of vandalism, due to the easy access, is one reason DOC decided to make the huts sole-occupancy. Tradition is another. “The Orongorongo huts were always locked, except Baine-iti,” he says. “As the Forestry Service, and then DOC, took them over, this tradition remained and allowed for a different experience from the usual regime.” DOC operates six huts in the Orongorongo Valley as sole-occupancy, but this is only a small fraction of the huts that are standing on the land. You won’t spot them from the river bed, but nestled amongst the bush are at least another 50. The doors are locked and no one is handing out a key. Most visitors would never know they exist, let alone set a muddy foot inside. They are all privately owned, and their future is currently hinging on a tussle between DOC and their owners that could culminate in nearly all being demolished. There have been huts in the Orongorongo Valley since the 1910s, with one of the earliest huts, Baine-iti, still standing. Wellingtonians flocked to the nearby, secluded valley to build huts for recreation or weekend getaways, or even as cheap long-term accommodation during the depression. Tramping clubs also got in on the action and by the 1970s there were more than 70 huts clustered upon the river, at which point the building of further huts was curtailed by the water board. Times were changing for the private hut owners as the New Zealand Forestry Service, and later DOC, tightened their grip. In 1988, DOC increased licensing fees for the huts and insisted the private huts meet fire regulations and safety standards. DOC felt compelled to do this because the huts fell on conservation land. Red tape started to tie up time and resources. Put simply, the privately owned huts were a niggle that DOC would rather be rid of. In the late 1990s, DOC formalised its current policy. All privately owned huts on public conservation land in the Orongorongo Valley would have occupancy licences until 2050 or the death of the current owner. No other people could be added to the licence, ownership could not be transferred and no hut could be sold. Christophers says it’s the responsibility of the licensee to remove the hut once the term expires, and they are welcome to dismantle the hut and rebuild it on private land. If the hut is not removed though, it appears unlikely to live out its days in the Orongorongos. “There is no need for any further publicly available accommodation in the Orongorongo Valley and any decision about the fate of huts not removed by the owner would be made on a case by case basis,” says Christophers. But the hut owners believe they have a weapon up their sleeve: history. The private huts are now undoubtably an integral part of the valley’s history and heritage, and part of DOC’s legislative role is to preserve this. It’s a point not lost on the hut owners, who in 1978 formed a coalition called the Orongorongo Club, to present a cohesive voice and lobby their position. The club quickly set about recording the valley’s history, with a focus on the huts and the people who built them. With this historical record the club hopes to influence DOC into changing its policies and allowing the huts to remain in private ownership. [caption id="attachment_4784" align="aligncenter" width="1280"]
