Pukekiwiriki Pā Historic Reserve is a significant Māori archaeological site in New Zealand featuring the remains of a fortified pā (village). The reserve contains terraces, pits, and defensive earthworks showcasing traditional Māori settlement patterns. Accessible via walking tracks, it offers historical insight into pre-European Māori life and provides panoramic views of the surrounding landscape.
Find more walks in this area… East Auckland walks
From central Auckland, take State Highway 1 south then turn onto the Clevedon-Takanini Road. Follow this scenic route through Clevedon village, then turn onto McNicol Road. The reserve sits on your left after about 2 kilometres. If you’re coming from the Bombay Hills direction, head through Clevedon and follow signs toward Kawakawa Bay before turning onto McNicol Road.
Public transport doesn’t service this area directly so you’ll need your own wheels. The narrow rural roads mean you’ll want to drive cautiously, especially around corners where cyclists often appear.
👉 👉 Freedom Camp Between Walks – Hire a Campervan – We’ve got the best deals
Here’s something most visitors miss: the pā isn’t just one fortification but a complex system of defensive layers. Those seemingly random bumps and dips in the landscape? They’re deliberately engineered terraces where whare (houses) once stood, storage pits for kūmara, and defensive ditches designed to slow attackers. Walk slowly and you’ll start reading the landscape like a book.
The site offers a masterclass in Māori strategic thinking. This ridge location provided clear sightlines across the surrounding area—imagine sentries watching for approaching waka or rival groups. The steep sides made assault difficult while the elevated position gave defenders a massive advantage. It’s basically medieval castle logic but executed with earth-moving tools and intimate knowledge of the terrain.
Timing matters here more than you’d think. Early morning brings softer light for photography and you’ll often have the place to yourself. Midday sun can be brutal with zero shade on the exposed summit. Late afternoon offers golden hour magic but remember there’s no lighting for the walk down.
The grass track becomes treacherous when wet. Those same terraces that made this defensible also create slippery slopes after rain. If it’s been drizzling, wear boots with proper grip rather than trainers. I’ve seen more than one person do an undignified slide down on their backside.
Bring water because there’s nowhere to refill. The climb isn’t Everest but you’ll feel it in your legs, especially if you’re exploring the entire summit area thoroughly. A hat and sunscreen are non-negotiable—there’s literally one small tree up there and it’s not offering much shelter to anyone.
The information panels at the base provide context but they can’t convey the physical reality of living in a fortified settlement. Stand on one of the terraces and visualize cooking fires, children playing, daily life unfolding. The kumara pits—those circular depressions—were sophisticated food storage systems that kept sweet potatoes fresh through winter.
Look for the defensive ditches that ring certain areas. These weren’t just trenches but deliberate obstacles backed by palisades (wooden fences). Attackers would need to climb down into a ditch then scramble up the other side while defenders rained down whatever projectiles were handy. Not a fun day out for anyone attempting invasion.
The panoramic views weren’t just pretty—they were functional. From up here you could see threats approaching from multiple directions and signal to allied pā in the distance. That’s what made this location worth the considerable effort of building and maintaining such extensive earthworks.
👉 👉 Freedom Camp Between Walks – Hire a Campervan – We’ve got the best deals
The limited facilities mean you need to plan accordingly. There are no toilets at the site so sort that out in Clevedon before you drive out. The nearest café is back in the village—about a 10-minute drive—so don’t expect to grab a post-walk coffee within walking distance.
Navigation is straightforward but the track isn’t formally marked with signs every few metres. Stick to the obvious mown paths and you’ll be fine but if you wander off exploring terraces, keep mental notes of where you’ve been. It’s not wilderness but you could spend 20 minutes going in circles if you’re not paying attention.
Weather changes fast in this exposed location. You might start in sunshine and finish in drizzle. Pack a light rain jacket even if the forecast looks perfect. Wind is the real wildcard—the summit can be pleasant or hair-whipping unpleasant depending on conditions.
Technically yes but be respectful of the site’s cultural significance and other visitors. Strong winds at summit level make drone flying challenging anyway. Always check current regulations as rules around heritage sites can change.
Absolutely, though you might end up carrying smaller ones on the steeper sections. The walk is short enough that even reluctant kids can manage it with appropriate bribery. The open summit area is great for running around once you’re up there.
Not regularly scheduled ones but local iwi occasionally offer cultural tours of East Auckland pā sites. Check with Auckland Council or local visitor centres for any upcoming opportunities. Self-guided visits with a bit of research beforehand work well too.
Spring and autumn offer the sweet spot of mild temperatures and generally stable weather. Summer can be scorching with no shade while winter brings mud and occasional rain. That said, winter clarity can produce stunning visibility across to the Hunua Ranges.
Yes, just pack everything out with you since there are no rubbish bins. The summit terraces make natural picnic spots with million-dollar views. Watch for strong winds that can send wrappers flying across the hillside if you’re not careful.
It’s never crowded like more famous Auckland walks. You might see a handful of other visitors but it’s entirely possible to have the place to yourself, especially on weekday mornings. Locals use it more than tourists which keeps numbers manageable.
Last spring, I wandered up to Pukekiwiriki Pā on a cloudy afternoon, drawn by curiosity more than any real plan. The path wound steadily upward through grass that brushed against my legs, and I could feel my calves working with each step. About halfway up, I stopped to catch my breath and realized I could already see across a surprising stretch of the Clevedon valley.
The terraces became clearer as I climbed higher—these weren’t just random hills but deliberate earthworks shaped by hands centuries ago. I ran my palm along one of the carved banks, trying to imagine the community that once lived here, the daily routines, the reasons they chose this particular spot. The wind picked up near the summit, and I pulled my jacket tighter.
From the top, the view opened up completely. The Wairoa River valley curved below, and the rural landscape sprawled in all directions, peaceful farmland now covering what was once contested territory. I sat on the grass for a while, watching clouds cast moving shadows across the landscape. A few other visitors came and went, some jogging, others pausing to read the information panels.
What struck me most was the layering of time—this strategic pā site, once vital for defense and community, now a peaceful reserve where people walk their dogs and eat lunch. I stayed until the sun broke through briefly, lighting up distant hills, then made my way back down, legs shaky, thinking about all the feet that had climbed this same hill for entirely different reasons.
