A hunter that was camped in the hut, had dinner with the MacMillan’s, then went back to the top Okahu hut, and that night hung himself from one of the rafters. I think John found him a couple of days later. The story went that on a stormy night, his ghost could be heard chopping wood just outside the hut door. We had not been staying in the hut long before one of the many storms that pass through the Urewera hit the valley. True to the fable, the ghost of the Okahu hut paid us a visit that evening. While sitting inside, we could clearly hear wood being chopped out at the woodpile. I went out to see what was happening, and the chopping stopped. This happened several times until I gave up and left him to his chore. Through the night, he battled the storm unrelenting in his task.
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MikeB
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Re: Hauhungaroa. A bloody good read. Reply #3 - Apr 30th, 2014 at 4:36pm
Wow! that part of a book took me back to the very early 1960's when a mate and I hunted Okahu hut and Skips creek hut for about three years. Plenty of deer and pigs then. We used to take girl friends in, so there was plenty of activity!!
The fraternity of shooters is rather like the fraternity of blind men -- each one walks alone.&&: Ian Niall.
na downloaded off Kobo books for$7 was pretty good never read an e book before wasnt as bad as I thought it would be , the book its self was above average but being my stomping ground prob made it more interesting , only criticisms would be lack of photos especially when in the story it says "then i took some photos" , spelling mistakes all through it, and some of the spots he was hunting are literally xxxxxx out, would buy on paper tho if it comes out
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ezdirect.
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Re: Hauhungaroa. A bloody good read. Reply #11 - Jun 12th, 2014 at 9:23am
A hunter that was camped in the hut, had dinner with the MacMillan’s, then went back to the top Okahu hut, and that night hung himself from one of the rafters. I think John found him a couple of days later. The story went that on a stormy night, his ghost could be heard chopping wood just outside the hut door. We had not been staying in the hut long before one of the many storms that pass through the Urewera hit the valley. True to the fable, the ghost of the Okahu hut paid us a visit that evening. While sitting inside, we could clearly hear wood being chopped out at the woodpile. I went out to see what was happening, and the chopping stopped. This happened several times until I gave up and left him to his chore. Through the night, he battled the storm unrelenting in his task.
I don't think it was John that found him.
John was one of my heros back in the day. I shot my first deer at central Wiaua . Him and his mate Jerry dropped in the for night . My Dad couldn't give a rip for me but those boys turned the hut into a party zone to celebrate my first deerz slaying.
any way some mad bugger burnt the hut down .
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Re: Hauhungaroa. A bloody good read. Reply #14 - Jun 24th, 2014 at 8:28pm
A hunter that was camped in the hut, had dinner with the MacMillan’s, then went back to the top Okahu hut, and that night hung himself from one of the rafters. I think John found him a couple of days later. The story went that on a stormy night, his ghost could be heard chopping wood just outside the hut door. We had not been staying in the hut long before one of the many storms that pass through the Urewera hit the valley. True to the fable, the ghost of the Okahu hut paid us a visit that evening. While sitting inside, we could clearly hear wood being chopped out at the woodpile. I went out to see what was happening, and the chopping stopped. This happened several times until I gave up and left him to his chore. Through the night, he battled the storm unrelenting in his task.
I don't think it was John that found him.
John was one of my heros back in the day. I shot my first deer at central Wiaua . Him and his mate Jerry dropped in the for night . My Dad couldn't give a rip for me but those boys turned the hut into a party zone to celebrate my first deerz slaying.
any way some mad bugger burnt the hut down .
Cool memories Lostone, bet you didn't kick that one down the hill.
Mikes first stinky Goat head ended up hidden under his bed after Dad had thrown it into the wood shed, crikey did it stink after a few days in his room.