An Adventurous Trip To Asbestos Cottage

The rig was bathed in sunshine as I said goodbye to Bernie who was on dog-sitting duties. My destination was Cobb Valley and unfortunately it was a ‘no dog’ area. I’d been looking forward to walking to the Asbestos Hut since I read about Annie & Henry Chaffey, a reclusive couple who lived there for 41 years.(Click here for more information on Annie and Henry Chaffey).

As I drove along Cobb Valley Road I noticed the New Year’s rave party was still in its last stages. It’s impressive that people can party for three days solid! It was 10:30 as I passed by and there were a group of die hard dancers on the dusty dance area moving to the booming bass.

From this point, the 27 kilometre long road narrowed. It wound and twisted its way slowly through the Takaka Valley gorge alongside the Takaka River. Most of the corners were blind so I drove slowly hoping another vehicle wasn’t coming from the opposite direction. The roadside was dotted with foxgloves, buttercups, wild daisies and a variety of lush green ferns. Pungas and beech trees grew in wild abandon as far as the eye could see. Whenever there was a place I could pull to the side of the road, I parked the car and took photos.

The tar seal road ran out at the Powerhouse and from there on it was gravel. 

Two kilometres further on I found the start to the Asbestos Track. Parking was at a minimum, the road was narrow and the track started on a corner. I managed to squeeze the car as far off the road as I could and once I had filled in the visitor’s book, I set off.

Initially the track was a well-maintained, unused road winding through dense native bush. It was an easy walk along a path covered in golden coloured leaf fall. It was a steady rather than steep walk, which meant the walk back would be a doddle. All the hard work would be done at the start when I had the most energy.

To my left I caught occasional glimpses of the bush and beech clad mountains. The accompaniment of the Takaka River reminded me there was a gorge hundreds of metres below. The only birdlife I encountered was a weka foraging amongst the leaf litter, plus two inquisitive black bush robins and an elusive fantail.

After an hour of walking, the track narrowed and the bush darkened, a type of black fungi drooped over tree trucks, branches and carpeted the forest floor. Patches of ferns made themselves noticed, against the dark surroundings.

500 metres on, the track opened out to a stunted alpine scene with mosses and views sweeping across bush-covered mountains, partly hidden by misty clouds.

The track became rocky, dry, and uneven, a stark contrast to the path through the bush. It was here that I came across some remains of mining equipment Henry Chaffey used when searching for asbestos.

The track continued upwards, with markers a little difficult to find at times. The views were breath-taking, as was the variety of new fauna.

Before long a sign appeared indicating ‘Asbestos Hut’ was nearby. A small stream with stepping-stones lay at the base of the hut. I paused here and wondered if Annie Chaffey collected water from this spot … did she often come and sit beside the stream and appreciate these rugged, mountainous surroundings?

A short steep climb through bush finally revealed Asbestos Hut. The clearing was smaller than I’d imagined. Perched above scatterings of buttercups and a patch of wild mint sat the historical hut. Its rusty, iron cladding in dramatic contrast to the overgrown, bush, that fringed the setting.

A porch providing protection from the elements, and a place to store firewood, sheltered the front door. Inside the cottage were two small rooms. The main room had a long, low fire place to the left as you entered, made from various sized boulders. Stretching along the eastern wall was the kitchen bench and sink. Two original armchairs rested in the centre of the room facing the only window. A doorway led to the bedroom, now accommodating a pair of bunks for trampers.

Some of the walls had remains of magazine and newspaper clippings that Annie had decorated her home with. A shelf in the main room held an assortment of knick-knacks from the days when the Chaffeys called this cottage their home.

As I was wandering around the clearing outside the hut, I gathered some wildflowers … flowering manuka, buttercups, daisies and wild mint. I'll press and dry them and when we visit Timaru (which is the place where Annie is buried), I’ll the dried flowers from her garden on her grave.

As anticipated the walk back to the car-park was quicker and easier than the walk in. 

I signed out of the visitor’s book and then enjoyed a refreshing, drink of water.

I continued driving up the gravel road to the summit, where I stopped at the viewing area to look over the Cobb Dam. The weather had changed and the temperature had dropped - a few spits of rain threatened. I took a couple of photos before making my way back down the road.

Once I hit the sealed road, it was easier driving. It was roughly 7 kms until the road would become wider. It was then that I heard a loud ‘BANG’. Fortunately I was traveling slowly and was on a reasonably straight part of the road. I pulled over as much as I could. The right, rear tyre had blown out! I searched for the jack in all the obvious places but couldn’t find it. I tried to phone Bernie but unfortunately I was out of cell phone range. So I gathered some bits and pieces, threw them in my backpack and started walking to find a spot with cell phone coverage. It wasn’t long before a car came round the corner. There was no indication it was going to slow down or stop, so I waved it down.

It turned out the two guys in the car couldn’t help. They couldn’t find the jack either, so they offered to drive me to Upper Takaka so I could ring Bernie.

Eventually, after an hour of being eaten alive by relentless sandflies Bernie arrived in our other truck (the truck we tow the rig with). As the truck is large, we could only drive it as far as where the dance party was. We parked it on the side of the road and started walking the six kms to the ute.

It was getting on to 6pm. The road was uphill and Bernie wasn’t feeling enthusiastic. He said if a vehicle came along he'd ask the driver if we could catch a lift to the ute. As luck would have it, we heard an approaching vehicle, and a yellow van swept around the corner.

The driver cheerfully agreed to give us a lift. He swung open the van door for us to climb in the back  and out fell some driftwood and an old battery. Next a cloud of incense and dope wafted out to to greet us. It was then we figured this good samaritan was obviously from the rave party. This was confirmed when we saw four people sprawled out on a mattress in the back, who were looking a little worse for wear.

Bernie was determined not to walk any further ... so he pushed me onto the mattress incase I changed my mind and insisted we walked. After the door slammed shut, we sped up the road, navigating hairpin bends like a formula one driver. A bedsheet hand painted with colourful peace signs hung between the driver and us, which turned out to be a blessing as it blocked the view.

Our fellow passengers weren’t talkers - not very chatty at all. I wondered was it through fear? But their spaced out expressions said otherwise!

Miraculously, after what felt like a 6 kilometre roller coaster ride, we arrived safely at our destination – albeit somewhat shocked! We clambered from the van, thanking the driver, who grinned blissfully. And in the blink of an eye he was gone! Careering down the road at break neck speed.

Eventually the tyre was changed. And along with every sandfly in the Cobb Valley region we drove back to where we had parked the truck (near the rave party). We wanted to give the ‘yellow-van-guy’ some money for his troubles, so I wandered across the paddock hoping to spot his van.

He wasn’t hard to find, he was still sitting in the driver’s seat with a rollie in hand. I gave him some money, and even though it was less than an hour since he’d driven us to our ute, it took him a few minutes and some concentrated thinking to remember who I was! I walked away grinning with amusement - quietly thankful we’d made it in one piece!