Queueing up in Picton or Wellington for the Inter-island ferry has to mark the beginning of the greatest adventure any Kiwi Overland enthusiast could have. Whether you are driving North or South, the hunt for the unknown and an unforgettable journey has begun.

Good mate Shannon and I had wanted to tick off a North Island adventure for years. That day had finally come upon us. With a rough itinerary, lots of driving hours and a plan to tackle some of the more well-known tracks of the North Island, we were off.

Two weeks of gear, recovery kits, tools and spare parts were all loaded into our vehicles, and we hit the road in convoy for the North Island. When we finally docked into Wellington (at 1.00am and a story for another time) we checked into the closest hotel and got some rest before the early start that same day. Vehicles warmed up and coffee in hand, we hit the road for Taranaki. Our goal that day; to complete the Whangamomona Road from Aotuhia to Whangamomona. A few hours’ drive later, and we are winding our way through the beginning of the Forgotten Highway, edging ever closer to the beginning of the trail. 

The road to Aotuhia winds its way through rolling hills, green farmlands and bush covered gullies, but the best sight along the road must be the Makahu tunnel. Originally constructed in 1907 using timber lining, it later collapsed in 1919 closing it for two years before reconstruction took place using solid concrete pillars, making it one of the most attractive tunnels today due to its perfect shape. 

Not long after, we come across the gate to the Whanga Road. As I took a moment to air down our tyres and prep the camera gear to film the trail for my YouTube channel, Lost Sheep Adventures, a local farmer roams past on her quad bike, slows down, stops, and strikes up a conversation with us. 

She informs us that the road had been recently cleared and looked after by the local 4WD club, which is always awesome to hear. She still warns us though that rain and winds have more than likely bought down a few trees over the road and kindly lets us know of a few hard lines off the main track. With this new knowledge our eagerness to get the trucks dirty increases. 

Originally a bridle track

The Whanga-road, as we learned it was known as, was originally a bridle track cut through the hillsides to access remote farming regions. These days the track isn’t used in the same fashion it once was, however, the steel bridges and narrow cut tunnels still stand and the road still carves its way through from town to republic, meaning it can make for an awesome overlanding journey through history or a wicked weekend four-wheeling. For us, it was both. 

Shannon and I are both eager four-wheel-drivers who enjoy the serenity of the back country. Growing up in the tramping world we have a heartfelt love for the outdoors and huge respect for it. As we grew older our interest moved into 4WDs but didn’t veer from our love for the outdoors. Today, we enjoy a good hard, technical, and challenging trail which tests both driver and vehicle but, in the end, brings us into the back country, away from civilisation and into the heart of New Zealand’s bush. 

That’s not to say every trail needs to be hard, no. New Zealand has some amazing scenery and all of it can be accessed with a 4WD and a bit of knowledge.

In the case of the Whanga ‘Road’ the track starts out as a set of worn tyre marks through the farmland, winding along adjacent to, but high above the river. Once clear of the farmland it squeezes between the cliff edge and hillside, where – cut into the mud and dirt it quickly deteriorates from a worn road into a slippery track. As usual, there was one mud hole that ended up being a little trickier than expected. The mud here seems slipperier than it is in the south (welcome Jono, to Papa Rock, aka Grease Mud. Ed). It’s not often we encounter clay and so even Shannon’s GQ Patrol (known as ‘Yeti’) was struggling to clamber out. 

Front and rear lockers in, turbo whistling it eventually was able to find enough traction to haul its 3.5 tonne weight outta’ the mud. Me however, with my smaller tyres and no lockers, had a couple of attempts by bouncing it on the limiter but eventually folded to the whim of the mud and threw down a set of MaxTrax Xtremes to get me through. 

Long way down

Back when the track had first been built and upgraded, the council invested a bit of money into constructing multiple bridges that cross the steep ravines cut through the hillsides here. On the Jonathan Hitchcox North Island – Whanga Road 1/4/2021 Youtube vid, the first bridge crossing we made, the bush was so overgrown around it that it was difficult to establish the drop beneath us. We could hear the distant sound of a trickle of water running through the rocks beneath us and caught glimpses of moss-covered canyon walls but no idea on distance. 

The next bridge was of solid steel construction; large beams criss-crossed each other on either side supporting the weight of our trucks. This time the ravine was far wider and less overgrown, and we could see the creek beneath us now. A sheer 30m drop fell away beneath the old bridge making my heart skip a beat. I edged my truck across the wooden platform listening to the creaks and moans emanating from the old timber. It felt good to hit solid ground on the other side. The local farmer had told us of ‘tough tracks’ just off the main track. So far along our journey we hadn’t encountered any, although we weren’t even halfway yet. 

In saying that, not long after finding a perfect campsite and marking it down on my topo-maps we did, indeed, find a ‘tough track’. It dropped muddily down from the main road into a creek bed where the water had eroded away at the rock creating a flat platform for the river to run over and a 2ft tall rock step to clamber up. This led into a narrow, rutted muddy track that dug back up to the main road. This was the challenge we had been waiting for, with Shannon bringing Yeti down first. 

With low gearing and the big diesel, it crawled down the muddy slope with ease and into the creek bed. This was a rather tight trail, however, and his is a rather large rig, so Shannon made a couple of three point turns and lined his truck up with the step. Slowly creeping forward his 37” tyres were able to grip the step and pull the front up with ease. A few stamps on the throttle but the rear refused to follow. The added weight of a week trip was probably holding him back. 

A little bit of track building though and some MaxTrax laid down he was able to bring his hefty truck up the step. Not that he got much further along the rutted gully before all four wheels were spinning and going nowhere. Cue my turn to kick into action, quickly running the winch line out and shackling it to a nearby tree, before slinging the winch dampener over the line, standing well back as winching begins and Shannon is able to slowly drag his truck up this very narrow track, both sides scraping as it went.

As it turned out, however, this was just the beginning of our dramas that afternoon/evening.

‘Ppssshhhh.’ We both knew what that sound was. But never before had we had to deal with a tyre coming off the bead; particularly not at around 6.00pm in the middle of a track in the middle of the North Island. Fortunately, we both decided that it was as good a time and place as any to learn.  

When the going gets tough, etc.

So, we relined the winch for a straight on pull and continued to haul him up the track. Without much choice on where to go we had to continue forward. 

Then, suddenly, our ears pick up another ‘Ppssshhhh.’ We both sighed… that’s both rear tyres now off their rims. Time to take the fast-deteriorating situation seriously.

Double lining the winch as well as hooking my truck up in a snatch recovery, we are able to finally haul him up and out onto flat ground. We could now assess the damage. Both rear tyres had come off their rims, the wheels full of clay and mud and it is getting dark. We grab the jack out and Shannon goes about replacing with his spare while I reseat the bead, then replace the second. Before long its 9:30pm, it’s dark and we are both tired from a day of travel and four-wheeling.

Luckily, I had previously marked a nice looking camp spot on my topo-maps. We lock that in as our destination and hit the track back for camp. The swags are rolled out and we crash for the evening, resting up for another big day come the morning.