Mt Donald McLean Summit Track is a challenging alpine hike in New Zealand’s South Island, offering panoramic views of the surrounding mountains and lakes. The track typically takes 6-8 hours return, climbing approximately 1,200 meters through tussock and rocky terrain to reach the 1,875-meter summit, requiring good fitness and navigation skills.
Hold on a minute. There seems to be a bit of geographical confusion here. Mt Donald McLean Summit Track isn’t actually located in Huia, West Auckland. Let me set the record straight before you drive several hundred kilometres in the wrong direction with your hiking boots packed.
The Mt Donald McLean track is indeed in the South Island near Te Anau, not West Auckland. However, since you’re clearly interested in quality tramping around the Huia area of West Auckland, let’s talk about what’s actually available in those beautiful Waitākere Ranges instead. The West Auckland region offers some absolutely cracking walks through native bush, along rugged coastlines, and up to stunning viewpoints that’ll make your Instagram followers properly jealous.
Since we’ve clarified the location mix-up, here are some brilliant options for tramping around Huia and the surrounding Waitākere Ranges:
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Getting to Huia from central Auckland takes about an hour depending on traffic:
The Waitākere Ranges offer a completely different tramping experience compared to alpine South Island tracks. You’re trading tussock and scree for dense native bush and muddy forest trails. Here’s what makes this region special:
West Auckland’s tracks take you through some of the most accessible ancient forest near a major city anywhere in New Zealand. The canopy is thick with towering rimu and kauri (where they haven’t been affected by dieback disease). Nikau palms give everything a subtropical feel that seems oddly out of place this far south. The understory is dense with ferns including massive mamaku tree ferns that can reach five metres tall.
The tracks themselves can be challenging not because of altitude gain but because of root systems, mud, and occasionally steep sections with minimal switchbacks. Track maintenance is generally good but heavy rain can wash out sections quickly.
This is the elephant in the forest that we need to address. Kauri dieback disease is killing these ancient giants and it’s spread through soil movement on boots and gear. Every single track in the Waitākere Ranges has cleaning stations at entry and exit points. Use them religiously. Scrub your boots, your poles, your dog’s paws if you’re on a dog-friendly track. It takes two minutes and could save trees that were seedlings when Captain Cook sailed past.
Some tracks near significant kauri stands are closed entirely. Respect the closures. Yes it’s frustrating when you’ve driven an hour to get there, but those trees have been standing for hundreds of years and deserve our protection.
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West Auckland doesn’t have dramatic seasonal changes like alpine regions but each season offers something different:
Summer (December-February): Warmest and busiest time. Tracks can actually dry out a bit though mud is never completely gone. Perfect for combining tramping with beach time at Karekare or Piha.
Autumn (March-May): Beautiful light filtering through the canopy as some exotic trees change colour. Fewer crowds and still relatively dry. This might be the sweet spot.
Winter (June-August): Wettest period with tracks at their muddiest. The forest takes on a moody atmospheric quality though. Fewer people means you might have tracks to yourself. Bring proper wet weather gear.
Spring (September-November): Native plants start flowering including spectacular kowhai. Birds are more active and vocal. Weather is unpredictable – prepare for four seasons in one day.
DOC ratings can be a bit optimistic. What’s marked as “intermediate” in West Auckland often feels harder than expected because:
If you’re coming from overseas or even from South Island alpine tramping, don’t underestimate West Auckland bush tracks. They’re a different beast entirely.
Can I bring my dog on West Auckland tracks?
Some tracks allow dogs on leads while others don’t. Check specific track information before you go. Dogs must be kept on lead at all times and you’re responsible for cleaning up after them including at kauri dieback cleaning stations.
Are there toilets at trailheads?
Major trailheads usually have toilet facilities but they’re often long-drop style and not always the most pleasant. Smaller track starts might have nothing. Plan accordingly.
What if I meet a wild pig on the track?
Pigs inhabit the Waitākere Ranges and while encounters are rare they do happen. Give them space and they’ll usually move off. Don’t approach or corner them. They’re more scared of you than you are of them (probably).
Is the water safe to drink from streams?
No. Even pristine-looking streams can contain giardia and other nasties. Carry all the water you need or bring proper filtration equipment.
How muddy is muddy?
Imagine chocolate mousse consistency. Now imagine walking through it for several hours. Now add some clay that sticks to your boots adding several kilograms to each foot. That’s a typical winter West Auckland track experience.
Can I camp overnight?
Most of the Waitākere Ranges don’t have designated camping areas. Check specific regulations for where you’re planning to go. Some areas allow backcountry camping with permits while others don’t allow it at all.
What’s the deal with the surf beaches nearby?
The west coast surf beaches like Piha and Karekare are stunning but dangerous. Rips are common and people drown every year. Only swim between the flags at patrolled beaches and respect the surf lifeguards. The black sand also gets scorching hot in summer.
The trail started innocuously enough through beech forest, but I should have paid more attention to that “advanced” rating. Within twenty minutes, my calves were burning as the path pitched upward at what felt like a forty-five-degree angle.
I stopped counting switchbacks after the first hour. The forest gradually thinned, and suddenly I emerged onto an exposed ridge where the wind nearly knocked me sideways. The views across Lake Te Anau opened up like someone had pulled back a curtain—endless blue water stretching toward jagged peaks still holding winter snow.
The final push to the summit was a scramble over loose scree that had me questioning my life choices. Every two steps forward meant sliding half a step back. My hands were filthy from grabbing at rocks for balance. A couple descending past me offered encouraging nods that somehow helped more than words would have.
At the top, I sat on the cairn and ate a slightly crushed sandwich while taking in the panorama. The Murchison Mountains rolled away in every direction, their ridges catching the afternoon light. I could trace the entire lake system below, toy-sized boats leaving white trails on the water.
The descent was harder on my knees than the climb was on my lungs. By the time I reached the carpark four hours after starting, my legs were shaking and my shirt was salt-stained. I drove back to Te Anau with dirt under my fingernails and a satisfied exhaustion that made dinner taste better than it probably was.
