2019-05-01 Wilderness

14
MAY 2019

PAUL HOSKIN didn’t know there

was quicksand at Farewell Spit until it

squelched up past his knees.

Surprised, but prepared by child-

hood movies, he leaned forwards and

let instinct take over.

“I watched Tarzan movies when I

was younger, so I knew to lie down and

distribute my weight,” he said.

“God knows how deep it could have

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the Christchurch earthquakes.

“If I had dropped my camera or

phone, it would have been be gone.”

It was an early afternoon in July, and

the Wellingtonian was exploring New

Zealand’s largest spit. The forecast was

for cool temperatures and light show-

ers, but this – as he quickly discovered

• was an understatement.
  “It was easy going for about 30 min-
  utes and then I got caught in freezing
  rain and had to shelter behind a small
  dune,” Hoskin said.
  The icy rain, which lashed Hoskin’s
  exposed skin like needles, lasted about
  10 minutes, but wasn’t enough to deter
  him from his walk.
  And nor was the quicksand, which
  he encountered shortly after, crawling
  determinedly on hands and knees for
  around 150m to get to its far edge.
  “It was such an effort to get out
  there, that I wanted to keep going – but
  it’s the worst decision you can make.”
  And as if on cue to nail the message
  home, it began to storm.

NEAR MISSES

Heavy winds whipped up the sand

dunes to blast Hoskin’s face, and the

rain – now unfrozen – pelted down.

“I couldn’t lift my head because

the sand was blasting my eyes and

nostrils at gale force,” he says.

“I didn’t have glasses or goggles

with me, so I had to walk with my

head down, slightly sideways or

backwards.”

Hoskin’s supplies had by now run

out. His food – which was more sand

than sandwiches – was gone, and

his water too. With no extra layers

to put on, he realised his predica-

ment – get out, or spend a night on

the spit and risk hypothermia, and

worse.

“I was about 4km from the

parking lot, in a storm, with sunset

approaching and surrounded by

quicksand.”

He decided to call it quits, and

started the journey back, only to

discover his return route to be now

blocked by the rising tide.

With few other options, he

decided to bush bash to the other

side of the spit, setting off through

foliage so thick, it took him an hour

to cover around 400m.

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plants were matted together so

densely that my boots only ever

touched their roots, and never the

ground,” he said.

Bursting into a small clearing,

Hoskin got the fright of his life as he

stumbled into a whale graveyard,

littered with the bones of three or

four whales.

$ZHGE\KLVĆQGKHZDVFRP-

pelled to speak his regards to the

whales before pressing on.

“It wasn’t the best way to end the

day, but it was poignant,” Hoskin

said.

“They were put there out of

respect, and there was probably a

ritual performed by local iwi – you

could sense that.”

Within an hour, Hoskin was back

at his car, hungry and cold, but

injury-free. He drove to a Takaka

pub for a revitalising meal and a

beer, happy to be out of the storm,

and away from the quicksand.

He hopes his experience will

encourage visitors to research areas

more thoroughly before they visit,

and in particular seek recent reviews

of the areas online.

“I’m not proud of having to tell

this story, but if it helps someone

it’s worth it,” he said.

HOSKIN’S SUPPLIES

HADRUNOUT.

HISFOOD –WHICH

WASMORESAND

THAN SANDWICHES –

WAS GONE,

HIS WATER TOO.

Quicksand, frozen rain

and sandstorms took

Paul Hoskin by surprise

on a memorable trip

to Farewell Spit.

By Matthew Cattin

The fury of

Far ewell

Spit

An afternoon of exploring

Farewell Spit turned quickly

south for Paul Hoskin

PAUL HOSKIN