Falling into a night in the gorge

When I met my first (and current) husband, he lived in Auckland and owned a house. I lived in Tauranga and owned a fridge and a very nice set of German knives. When we combined our lives, we decided it was easier to move my fridge and knives to Auckland than for him to move his house south. The deal was we’d have 20 years in Auckland, then 20 years where I was born and grew up. 23 years later, we are still in Auckland. The fridge is long gone, but the knives, and the marriage, are still going strong. With my family still in Tauranga, the drive between the two cities is one I could do in my sleep. 

A few days ago, a young friend who I knew was travelling from Mt Maunganui to Auckland, posted an image to her Instagram story of a waterfall and tagged it ‘Owharoa’, a location I hadn’t heard of. I messaged her asking if it was swimmable, and when she responded I searched for it on the map app on my phone, marked it as a favourite location and made a mental note to stop there sometime and satisfy my penchant for river swimming. 

A few days later, I set off for a drive to Tauranga. Usually, I navigate the drive on autopilot, but as I was stopping in Omokora at a friend I hadn’t visited before I plugged her address into the map app. Traffic was light as I cruised down State Highway #1 and onto #2, passing through the farming service towns of Ngatea and Paeroa.

I was confused when my lovely Irish-accented virtual assistant told me to turn right halfway through the Karangahake Gorge, off the main road and onto Waitawheta Road. Ignoring my Irish friend’s advice in the past had seen me caught up in traffic and roadworks, so I decided this time to follow his guidance. It seemed the universe was speaking to me when I immediately passed a sign for the Owharoa Falls and then a sign opposite for The Falls Retreat. While driving on the unfamiliar Old Tauranga Road which circumnavigates Waihi linking back to the main road at the start of the Athenree Gorge, I asked Siri to set a reminder for later in the day to research the retreat. 

After Siri duly issued the reminder I set earlier, I researched The Falls Retreat and decided to break up my return journey to Auckland later in the week by booking a night’s accommodation. The online booking process was straightforward (https://www.fallsretreat.co.nz/) for the resort which describes itself as, ‘a special place where you will reconnect with food, nature and each other.’ As well as accommodation they offer several courses including bread making, pickling and preserving, and a kombucha workshop. Alas, there were no courses available for the random midweek date I had booked so I settled for just a night’s accommodation in the Waterfall Cabin for $225 including a breakfast basket. I probably should have clicked in and looked at the details before committing, as it was only later I learned that the bed is located on a mezzanine accessed via a ladder. This is not great news for my middle-aged bladder, but at least there is an indoor toilet.

Within an hour of my booking, I received an email from the retreat informing me that their restaurant was not open on Thursday and asking if I’d like to order a hamper to enjoy as a meal. The deal looked too good to be true so I confirmed I would like a hamper for one ($40) I was told it included marinated chicken breast, salad, candied cashews, marinated olives, cheese, chutney and pickle, homemade brownie, homemade chocolate truffle and homemade sourdough.

Thursday was a scorcher as I set off from Tauranga towards the Karangahake Gorge. I’d researched walks in the area and plugged into my map app to take me to the start of a cluster of them. Inexplicably my virtual assistant had changed to Australian during my stop in the Bay of Plenty. I don’t like him. I want my Irish man back. My new Australian side-kick got me safely to the Karangahake Gorge information centre where I was fortunate to secure a park among the throngs of tourists. 

After pondering the information board for longer than should have been necessary I opted for the ‘Windows Walk’, a one-hour loop walk which required a torch. I didn’t have a torch but had my trusty iPhone flashlight which I decided would do the trick. For all the walks in the area it’s a good idea to have on sensible walking shoes (tick), take a bottle of water (tick) and use the facilities before hitting the trail (also, tick). I set off energetically across the two swing bridges that led to the start of my chosen walk. Everything started swimmingly, the sun was shining, and the climb up the stairs and through the remains of the Woodstock and Talisman Batteries, used during the hunt for gold in the area from the late 1800’s, was enjoyable. The first couple of restored tramway mine tunnels were short, and although darkish I felt comfortable on my own. My iPhone torch was no match however for the last long, dark, wet, treacherous tunnel. My overactive imagination had serial killers lurking around every bend but I couldn’t walk fast to avoid them in case of slipping in a puddle or tripping on or off the tramway lines. I’m sure Siri could hear the relief in my voice when I directed the torch to be turned off as the light hit my face. I paced down the multiple flights of stairs to the riverside only to discover the rest of the track was closed due to the risk of rockfalls, not so much of a loop as a semi-circle. Not only did I have to clamber all the way back up the flights of stairs but I had to renavigate the tunnel of doom.

While I cooled my feet in the river at the end of my hike I decided I still had some walking in me. I drove a few minutes further down the road to the Karangahake Hall. This was much quieter than the information centre but still with plenty of parking, public toilets and a water fountain to fill drink bottles. It is also situated a 2-minute walk from an entrance to the Karangahake Tunnel. A walk through the nearly 1 km long tunnel and back, where the temperature was markedly less than outside, there were no trip hazards and lighting was provided, was just what the doctor ordered and filled in the time I had left before my 2pm check-in to the Falls Retreat.

Do not stay at the Falls Retreat if you don’t appreciate rustic vibes. The place is too wonderful to be weighed down with the disappointment of patrons who can’t cope without wifi, televisions and overly sweetened food. 

I easily found the parking spot for the Waterfall Cabin and within 5 minutes I was shown to my digs, told everything I needed to know and handed my pre-ordered hamper. The beauty of only having 3 cabins available at any time at a place is the personal touch, like having a welcome message on the blackboard inside and an old-style glass bottle of milk in the fridge to have with the provided filter coffee or a variety of teas, each with their benefits explained on an information sheet.

After unpacking my hamper into the fridge I threw a towel over my shoulder and wandered back down the driveway, across the road, and descended the marked dirt track to the Owharoa Falls. It was blissful to sink into the cool water of the falls pool at my comfort level, i.e. never letting go of the rocks on the side or putting my feet in the firing line of any eels. The handily submerged rock ledge was perfect for lounging on, keeping me cool, but out of the way of the current at the same time. 

A tepid bubble soak in my cabin’s outdoor bath seemed like a good way to wash any river scum off my bathing costume. After enjoying the sounds of the native bush while I soothed my aching muscles my stomach dictated the time to get out and wrap myself in a towel. A glass of chardonnay poured and I was ready to enjoy the antipasto platters from my hamper while sitting at the table outside enjoying the view back to the river.

Late afternoon, with my bathing costume still damp, I tested out the ladder to the mezzanine bed for the first time. I face-planted onto the mattress to test for comfiness and the next thing I knew I was awakened by a staff member dropping off my breakfast basket ready for the morning.

Shaking off my afternoon slumber I descended tentatively back to ground level. Hunger hadn’t yet made its presence known but the thought of the chicken breast and salad was too hard to resist, so I didn’t. The chicken was delicious, and the salad garden fresh, crisp and accented with herbs.

After the sun sagged in the sky and I indulged in a twilight outdoor bath, hotter this time, I settled in for the night with a book from the trove of literary treasures I had stumbled upon. As I read a short romantic comedy about a girl in Paris it took me about an hour to eat my chocolate brownie dessert. Not because it was bad, it was anything but. The brownie was muddy, the cherry compote just the right amount of tart, the quenelles of cream the perfect accompaniment and the sweet sesame crackers were out of this world. Every mouthful deserved to be given time to be savoured so I did. 

I carried the book with me back up the ladder to bed and tucked in for the night. Hindsight being a wonderful thing I should have asked for the couch to be made up as the bed (this is an option) as I proved a health and safety risk to the cabin with my need to use the downstairs facilities during the night. The fact that I didn’t plummet off the ladder and make a crater in the rug-covered wooden floor was more good luck than good management. 

The Falls Retreat is more than just accommodation. It offers a ‘unique dining experience focusing on seasonality, sustainability and food made from scratch’, ‘tailoring for functions and weddings’, ‘regular cooking workshops and gardening courses that are designed to give you top tips and lots of knowledge’, and packages which combine accommodation with some pampering, dining or workshops. The next time I come, and there will be a next time, I might try them all.

If you don’t like rustic, don’t stay, if you do, this gem is not to be missed.