Mid-summer and members of Christchurch’s loose-knit Cashmere 4WD Club gathered for another of their epic weekend excursions; to the Avoca and Harper Rivers, with the old retreat as their home base.

If you like getting off the beaten path and staying in (almost certainly) haunted homesteads, this trip is for you! The plan: arrive at the Glenthorne Retreat on Glenthorne Station on Friday evening, explore the Avoca River on Saturday, and then the Harper River on Sunday. 

Our convoy of three full sized rigs, one little but mighty Terrano, and one Subaru Outback left Christchurch on a Friday afternoon. We headed west for Glenthorne, an idyllic place nestled between the Craigieburns, the Southern Alps, and Lake Coleridge. Our mates in the Subie had no problems with the drive in, fording many wide but shallow water crossings much to the annoyance of the rest of the group. 

To access the rivers via Glenthorne Station, drivers must pick up the gate key from the owners. And to stay at the retreat (a fantastic name for fooling one’s wife!), a fee of $25/person/night was paid as well, in exchange for the keys to the manor. 

The drive from Christchurch to the gate was around two hours, leaving plenty of evening light to guide our crew into the valley. Access to the homestead included half a dozen water crossings (puddles really) and at least as many gates to manage. After about 30 minutes on the access road, we drove around a last hillside, which opened upon a stunning sunset view over the Avoca River. A moment later we were descending into a stand of trees, in which the old estate is nestled. 

While everyone unpacked chilly bins, sleeping bags, and throwing axes, I ventured behind the homestead itself to check out the ‘honeymoon suite’, a miniature cabin with a double bed and hundreds of deceased insects. Never have I felt so lucky as the moment I realised this would be my home for the next two nights! 

Being the couple traveling with an 11-month old will earn one such privileges as this. My stomach turned as I brushed out the dust and bugs, but I thought nothing else of it once our own sheets were on and the baby’s portable bed set up. 

Oh dear!

As the sun set over the beautiful Avoca Valley and everyone tucked into refreshing bevvies by candlelight, my stomach turned again – and again. Not from fear of the ghosts definitely joining our wee party, but rather from the spew bug my mini-me had obviously brought home from kindy. 

Our trip leader (my husband) and I spent the next several hours trading off experiencing the romance of vomiting by moonlight.

To the surprise of all of us, we felt relatively normal the next morning. Scared off by ghosts and puke (or perhaps the prospect of doing some actual four-wheel driving) our mates in the Subaru returned to Christchurch, while the rest of us aired down for the day’s drive. 

Navigating across the Avoca River in the summer is very much a choose-your-own-adventure, though sticking to the main line is far less rowdy. Once across the valley we began the drive up-river, further into the big mountains. 

Around each turn in the river, another commanding view of another bush-clad mountain. Peaceful, especially when the little person sleeps through the whole thing. 

We drove past two huts on the way, eventually coming to a washed-out alluvial fan that abruptly stopped any further driving for our convoy. Those keen could happily do a many hour tramp from this point to a (probably very scenic) hut further up-river. 

We chose to rumble on back to the retreat, however, to enjoy some low-key axe throwing and cups of tea.

Saturday night proved to be much more restful, and Sunday morning greeted us with bright blue skies and the ability to keep a whole meal down. In need of a stretch and some vitamin D, we opted for a morning hike. 

The walk to nearby Lake Lillian is short with a bit of uphill, and enough skinny off-camber hillside and navigation skill requirements to make it interesting. The lake itself is one of those places in nature that just demands one take their shoes off and bask a while. 

Back at home base, we packed up and bid Casper adieu before bouncing again across the late-summer level Avoca, this time turning east towards the Harper River.

Gems of Mother Nature

The first kilometre or so of this adventure is easy double track, winding and dipping through meadow and riverbed before joining up with the Harper. We opted for an early and easy detour to take in the sandstone pinnacles rising totally randomly from a hillside beside the river. 

You never know what gems Mother Nature has to offer if you don’t get out there to find them!

The mission was nearly thwarted minutes later, however, by an ominous bog. Several deep ruts in heavy, stinky mud gave us all pause, had one ute shifting into reverse, and everyone worried about an early end to the day. Luckily one driver had the sense to test the ruts by the feel of the bottom instead of by the appearance of the top, reveling a perfectly (well, almost) hard packed track beneath. 

With just enough sliding around to be fun, all four vehicles got across without the need for any assist. 

The Harper Valley narrowed quickly, and the track crossed the river far too many times to count. A bad line through a boulder-heavy crossing resulted in a ripped sidewall, which led to the inevitable decision to have lunch and a cup of tea in the sun and heckle those plugging the flat tyre in question. 

The rest of the track unveiled more stunning scenery, successful navigation through another pretty formidable washout, and a failed hill-climb followed by a moderately terrifying snatch rescue. 

The track ends in a scenic grassy paddock, but continues as single track for as long as one could possibly want. The Hamilton Hut is just 15 minutes of beautiful bushwalk from the end, and it obviously would have been rude not to go see it.

Te Aroroa trampers

We encountered quite a few people walking the Te Araroa route while we were out, as our track also doubled as a large section of theirs. I can say with utmost confidence that four-wheel-driving this part of the country is much more technical and exciting than walking it – and the look on the faces of many trampers tells me they would agree. 

The Harper River adventure is also an out and back drive, so after the meander to Hamilton Hut and general shared smugness about our ability to get out and enjoy nature this way, we hopped back in for the return trip: dodgy washout, many river crossings, bog hole, bumpy riverbed notwithstanding. 

And as the sun got lower in the sky we exited the beautiful Glenthorne Station to head home to Christchurch, contentedly discussing future truck mods, which takeout would get our money tonight, and the likelihood that ghosts really exist.