The Palmerston North-Gisborne Line represents a significant chapter in New Zealand’s railway history. Its construction spanned several decades due to challenges associated with the rugged terrain of the North Island’s eastern coast. The line was envisioned to connect the regions of the lower North Island with the isolated but vital communities of the East Coast, facilitating the transport of goods and passengers.
The line’s development was marked by numerous engineering feats, including the construction of tunnels, bridges, and viaducts across steep gorges and river valleys. There were numerous remarkable engineering achievements, including the Mohaka viaduct, which stands as one of the tallest in Australasia, and the Tikiwhata Tunnel extending an impressive 2,989 meters in length.
In March 2012, a series of severe storms inflicted substantial damage upon the line, with the northern section between Napier and Gisborne bearing the brunt of the impact. The storms caused significant washouts, particularly north of Wairoa, leading to the eventual mothballing of that section of the line.
By December 2012, the entire Napier-Gisborne section was taken out of active service. The terrain of the region, especially the hilly Wharerata area, makes the rail line vulnerable to severe weather events. This, combined with the line’s history of high maintenance costs due to the challenging terrain, contributed to the decision to mothball the section. Further damage was inflicted on this rail line in 2023, by Cyclone Gabrielle.
And so the line has remained ever since, abandoned and deteriorating, with very little information about its condition. We therefore decided on a mini expedition – to trek the most severely damaged stretch from Maraetaha to Opoutama. This entire section hadn’t been explored by anyone in years, making it a significant unknown territory.
We began by securing proper permission – even though the line is mothballed. For safety, we arranged for a friend to check in with us every half hour via satellite phone. The route presents numerous hazards: some of the largest (and still active) landslides in the country, deteriorated high viaducts now unsafe, extremely long tunnels, and various other dangers. I strongly advise against attempting this journey under any circumstances. The dangers involved make it far too hazardous.
The expedition began near Maraetaha where the railway intersects with State Highway 2. This section has no major damage; in fact, Gisborne Railbikes still operates here, offering epic rail cycling adventures on various usable portions of the track. The company was informed of our expedition and had scheduled no tours for that day.
Train line (not quite abandoned!) near Maraetaha
After approximately an hour of walking through regenerating forest, we encountered our first tunnel. It was massive – roughly 1.5km long. Upon entering, it got dark quickly, with no light at the end. The air quality was poor and stagnant. Typically, straight tunnels maintain good airflow, but this one featured a slight curve near the far side that prevented proper air circulation. I was struck by the tunnel’s remarkable preservation – no cracks or cave-ins – a real testament to its construction. We spent a good 20 minutes in this tunnel, and as we approached the far side, we rounded a bend and finally glimpsed daylight ahead. It was an immense relief to emerge into the open air once more.
Near the entrance of the tunnel
Outside the tunnel, we emerged into thicker forest and crossed a bridge spanning the Wharekakaho Stream and valley. The track curved leftward and passed through another small tunnel. After experiencing the first long tunnel, this shorter tunnel was a breeze.
Goats are everywhere. They don’t often see humans walking along the tracks!
At this point, we caught our first glimpse of the rugged coastline in the distance. We had reached Beach Loop. This section was the most spectacular part of our journey, offering breathtaking views alongside formidable engineering challenges. Beach Loop also marks the terminus where the rail adventure bikes turn around before heading back. And for good reason, as this is where conditions became extremely treacherous.
It wasn’t long before we had to detour slightly as the land beneath the track had been washed away entirely, leaving segments suspended precariously over steep drops. Other parts of the track had been buried completely.
As we proceeded further, we caught sight of the first major landslide. It was enormous. A massive section of earth had completely vanished, plummeting hundreds of meters down to the ocean below. The railway track had no possibility of surviving here, with only fragments of buckled and distorted rails remaining as evidence.
Rounding the bend, we hit another slip, this one a real monster. Somehow, a stretch of track still hung on, dangling over a drop that had to be a hundred meters easy.
This is where things got properly dicey. Walking the rails was a hard no, so we were stuck skirting the cliff face. And let me tell you, it was a proper goat track – steep, loose dirt, nothing to grab onto. We were talking maybe a foot of ground to walk on, hundred-meter drop on one side, sheer cliff on the other. Honestly, I reckon by now, that bit’s probably completely gone.
Safely across, we encountered our second long tunnel. This one was about 1km long and finished in 1938. After that sketchy section, we were relieved to be in the safety of a train tunnel.
As if the precarious footing and sheer drops weren’t enough, we then had to contend with ongaonga, the New Zealand tree nettle. That stuff’s seriously nasty, known to be deadly.
Inside the second long tunnel (approx 1km long)
Finally, out of the tunnel, we got a bit of a break – relatively easy walking for once. The track was overgrown, mind you, with trees sprouting up right in the middle of it in places. We also came across a steel bridge, surprisingly solid, which was a nice change.
We pressed on, and I spotted another “washout” marked on the map. It looked minor, nothing compared to the earlier nightmares, so I wasn’t too worried. Man, was I wrong. It wasn’t as wide, but it was deep, with sheer cliffs on both sides. The track was snapped clean, and was just lying straight down the cliff face. We tried to climb down the cliff to the stream below, but it was a no-go – too steep, nothing to hold onto. The only way down was to climb down the dangling train tracks, like a ladder. Utterly stupid, I know, with those sleepers hanging there, any one of them could’ve given way. But we were stuck. I went first, testing it out, crawling down, praying nothing snapped. It was a good hundred meters down that mess. I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.
After that fiasco, we had to navigate a very steep cliff on the other side. Thankfully we had a few small trees to hold onto and pull us up. At this point, we arrived at another tunnel, approximately 150 metres long.
Small bridges and tunnels continued along this stretch.
We hit another patch of ongaonga at the end of that section. Hiking in shorts was proving to be a seriously dumb idea. There was no way around it, just straight through. So we wrapped our legs in our rain jackets, and then used the camera tripod like a makeshift rake to push the nettles aside. Somehow, we made it through without getting stung.
After another small tunnel, we emerged onto a rather solid bridge with somewhat rotten sleepers.
We had finally arrived at the mouth of the Tikiwhata Tunnel, the big one. At nearly three kilometers long, it’s one of the country’s longest rail tunnels. I was seriously uneasy about walking it. I couldn’t find much about it online, not even a recent photo, since they shut the line down in 2012. And I was worried about getting all the way through, just to find a locked gate on the other side, put there to stop people coming up from the south, which is a much easier hike. Was it even passable?
The northern entrance of the Tikiwhata Tunnel
We started off okay. Actually, way down the tunnel, I could see a tiny pinpoint of light, like a glow worm. It was the exit. Dead straight tunnel, as it turned out. It was nice and dry also. Until it wasn’t. About half way through, we encountered water. It didn’t prove too much of a problem at the start as we could walk on the tracks and keep our shoes dry.
At one, I felt something at my feet. There were eels swimming around all over IN THE TUNNEL! At least I hope they were eels…
And then it got deeper and deeper. Before long, we couldn’t even see the train tracks, let along walk on them.
Looking back at my friends flashlight.
Things started getting hairy again right about then. The water was up to my waist, and the mud had turned into this thick, sucking quicksand. I was seriously worried about getting bogged down. I even started thinking I might have to swim the rest of it. Can you picture that? Swimming a kilometer or more in pitch black, inside a tunnel you know nothing about? Nightmare stuff.
That tunnel felt like it went on forever. I was relieved to finally see the light at the other end, but even then, I was holding my breath, worried about a gate. A locked gate would have been a complete disaster. Not just because we’d have to slog all the way back through that nightmare tunnel, but possibly all the way back to the start of the whole damn hike.
Boy, was I glad to see an unlocked gate at the other end!
Looking back through the Tikiwhata Tunnel from the southern end.
Stepping out of that tunnel was like a weight lifted. And finally, some good news – it looked like smooth sailing from there. We knew there were more gates ahead, but we’d sorted out getting them unlocked beforehand. Huge relief all around.
Straight out of the tunnel there was a waterfall and a bit of mess from a landslide. It didn’t really matter as we were all soaked anyway. We stopped at the next bridge for some lunch.
By this stage, we’d lost count of how many tunnels we’d been through now. This one was about 100 metres long.
Arriving at the old Wharerata Walkway hut. The Wharerata Walkway was a trail through the Wharerata Hills, but is now on private land so has since closed.
The tracks had become very overgrown in this section. There was a lot of gorse to navigate also. This went on for some way before we arrived at the Orataura Stream bridge. It was a neat bridge that had survived the big storm from 2012.
Just past the bridge, we hit another collapsed section of track. Thankfully, this one was nowhere near as bad or as sketchy as the last one. Actually, it was kind of fun climbing down and back up the rails this time.
What’s this? Another tunnel! A shorter one.
It was about there that we passed the The Kopuawhara memorial. The Kopuawhara disaster occurred on 19 February 1938, when a sudden flash flood swept through a railway construction camp in the valley. The flood, triggered by torrential rain, sent a massive wall of water crashing into the camp during the night. Workers had little warning, and as the raging waters engulfed the low-lying huts, 21 people—20 men and one woman—tragically lost their lives. The camp was home to laborers building the railway.
When are these tunnels going to end?
We finally got our first view of the Kopuawhara Viaduct. What an impressive bridge!
The Kopuawhara Viaduct was completed in 1942, spans 162 meters and stands approximately 30.5 meters tall. It features a distinctive parabolic arch design.
That was the last real showstopper on our trek across this part of the line. From here on out, Gisborne Railbikes runs tours, so the track’s in decent shape.
The trip was a wild ride, a proper adventure with some serious risks, but the payoff was huge. I honestly don’t think anyone could do it again now, not with the way those slips are continuing to move by Beach Loop. Seriously, don’t even try it.