Poukaki Tarns and Mount Taranaki- A Blown Away Moment

If you had told me a year ago that I’d willingly climb up a mountain to see Pouakai Tarns and the mighty Mount Taranaki, I probably would’ve laughed, wheezed, then ordered another drink. I’m not exactly what you’d call an “avid walker.” I enjoy scenic strolls, sure, but multi-hour hikes? Steep inclines? The kind of walks where your legs question your life choices? Absolutely not. Yet somehow, there I was — mentally preparing myself for a trek that people kept describing as “totally worth it” and “not too bad,” which I now know are code words for “you will suffer, but beautifully.”

Even before we started, I had my doubts swirling in the back of my mind. Would I make it up? Would I make it down? How many breaks could I take before someone judged me? But alongside all the anxiety, this one stubborn little voice kept popping up: I’ve got this. It became my unofficial mantra.

We did all the necessary pre-hike checks: water, snacks, layers, and, of course, one last bathroom stop. This was the moment I met my first drop toilet. Nothing — and I mean nothing — prepares you for staring into a dark, cavernous hole that seems to lead directly into the centre of the earth. I was terrified, but I thought, if I can face this demonic toilet, I can face a mountain. So, I survived the toilet (emotionally questionable), dusted off my pride, and off we went.

The start of the track felt like entering some enchanted jungle. Everything was green and lush and alive in that way New Zealand scenery somehow always is. The first thirty minutes? Brutal. My legs were screaming, my lungs were staging a rebellion, and I kept pretending to stop to “admire the view” when really, I just needed to gasp for air like a fish out of water. But then something miraculous happened around the one-hour mark — my body woke up. Maybe it was adrenaline, maybe it was pure delusion, but suddenly I found energy I didn’t know I had. I practically bounded up the path like I’d been a hiker all my life.

Our first proper stop was on a wide slab overlooking a stunning slice of landscape. We sat down, ate cashew nuts and dried mango, chugged a heroic amount of water, and just breathed. It wasn’t even the halfway point, but the view made it feel like we’d already earned something. That little break completely reset me.

Recharged, we carried on — across bridges, up steps, through narrow crevices, and along edges where one misplaced foot could send you sliding into the ferns. The track kept twisting and climbing, and every corner felt like a tiny adventure. Then, finally, after what felt like both five minutes and five hours, we saw it: the golden glow of sunlight hitting the hut ahead.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to see a building. Not because it meant we were nearly there, but because it meant I could finally sit and eat again. Lunch was glorious. Food always tastes better when you’ve had to work for it, but eating at that altitude, surrounded by mountains, felt like seasoning everything with satisfaction.

After eating, we started the final climb. The scenery shifted dramatically — the greenery fell away, and we were suddenly surrounded by raw, open mountain ridges stretching into the distance. It felt wild and exposed in the best possible way. When we reached the top, the wind almost knocked me over. My hair went full chaos mode, swirling in every direction, and my windbreaker puffed up dramatically, making me look like a sponsored athlete on a very low-budget commercial. But I didn’t care. The view was worth every second of struggle.

We continued down toward the famous Pouakai Tarn, and nothing could have prepared me for that moment. The lake was perfectly still, like glass, reflecting Mount Taranaki so clearly it looked like a painting. The symmetry, the colours, the stillness — it was one of those rare scenes that makes you automatically quiet, like nature demands your respect. And yes, I sat down again. Any excuse for a rest.

After soaking it all in, we turned back for the descent. I don’t know if it was the promise of the beer waiting at the bottom, the reward of conquering something I’d secretly doubted, or pure hiker’s high, but suddenly I felt unstoppable. Better yet — I saw people RUNNING down. And instead of thinking they were mad, I thought… yeah, okay, why not? So, I ran. Me. The non-runner. The girl who avoids cardio like it’s contagious. I ran down almost half the track, and honestly? I’m ridiculously proud of myself.

When we finally reached the bottom, sweaty, tired, and weirdly euphoric, all I could think about was that cold pint of beer waiting for me. And when I had it, it tasted like victory — crisp, refreshing, and well-earned.

My legs have been limping and complaining for three days straight, and stairs have become my mortal enemy, but I wouldn’t change a single moment of that hike. Pouakai Tarns and Mount Taranaki gave me one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life — physically challenging, emotionally uplifting, and visually breathtaking.

It turns out the little voice in my head was right all along.
I did have this. And I’ll carry that feeling with me forever.