“I am everybody’s nightmare,” says tramper Paul Brewer.
“I snore on my stomach, on my back, on my side, standing up – I’m just a loud snorer.”
The clamorous condition has affected Brewer – and his neighbours – since he was a young boy and he’s yet to find a solution.
“I had the back of my throat operated on, and it just had the effect of increasing the volume,” he says. “I’m louder than a D9 bulldozer. I’ve got a guy who lives three houses away who regularly comments on my snoring.”
Brewer, 64, tries to get out tramping once a month with his brother, and he leaves a trail of earplugs in his wake.
“Usually women will take the plugs but the guys won’t, and the next morning you’ll see more than a few shattered looks and comments,” he says.
Being a sonorous snorer has provided Brewer plenty of anecdotes, which he tells in good humour.
He recalls waking to an empty bunk room at a youth hostel in Switzerland, and – thinking he had slept past his 10am check out time – he jumped out of bed, only to find his bunkmates all sleeping in the hallway.
Brewer apologised, and asked why nobody had tried to wake him.
“Then a guy with a black eye stepped forward and said ‘I did’ – I’d punched him in my sleep,” he says.
While Brewer is considerate to honest hut-users, his graciousness only extends so far.
One cold night in the Tararua Ranges, he shared Alpha Hut with a group of university students.
“There was a little room off to one side, so I decided I would sleep in there until I realised I was the only person there with a hut pass,” he says. “I thought, bugger it, I’m not going to sleep in an icebox, so I slept in their room. The next morning, these budding lawyers all went off at me, until I quietly pointed out I was the only one who paid.”
Though his night noises have deprived many of sleep over the years, Brewer has rarely been met with aggression.
“I’m big enough that people just talk to me nicely,” he says.

