The Kererū Loop Walk in Waitawa Regional Park, Clevedon East Auckland, is a scenic walking trail through native bush. This moderate track offers visitors opportunities to experience regenerating forest, spot native birdlife including the native wood pigeon (kererū), and enjoy peaceful natural surroundings. The loop provides an accessible nature experience near Auckland.
By Car: From central Auckland, take the Southern Motorway (SH1) south and exit at Takanini (Exit 453). Follow the signs for Clevedon. Once you reach Clevedon Village, continue straight through the roundabout onto Clevedon-Kawakawa Road. Follow this scenic coastal road for approximately 14km. The entrance to Waitawa Regional Park will be on your left.
By Public Transport: There is no direct public transport to Waitawa. The closest train station is Papakura (Southern Line). From there, you would need to arrange a private shuttle or a long-distance taxi, which takes roughly 40 minutes. Because mobile signal is weak in the park, pre-booking a return trip is essential.
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The Kererū Loop delivers a proper dose of native bush without the long trek to the Waitākere Ranges. The track surface varies: you’ll find well-formed paths, root-crossed sections that act as natural staircases, and a few clay spots that turn into minor streams after heavy rain.
The forest here is a “living science experiment.” Waitawa was once heavily farmed, and you’re walking through a 50-year recovery project. You’ll move from young, scrubby kānuka into pockets of mature pūriri and nīkau palms. It’s less “untouched wilderness” and more “nature making a determined comeback,” which gives the walk a unique, hopeful energy.
While the track is named after the Kererū, spotting one isn’t guaranteed. These chunky native pigeons aren’t exactly queuing up for photo opportunities. Your best chance is during the fruiting season of the Pūriri trees, when they’re often too “food-drunk” on berries to worry about staying hidden. Listen for the heavy, rhythmic whoosh-whoosh of their wings—they are surprisingly loud fliers for birds trying to maintain a low profile.
What you will hear are Tūī, Fantails (Pīwakawaka), and Silvereyes. The Tūī are the extroverts of the bush, making sure the whole valley knows they’re there with their metallic whistles and clicks. Fantails will almost certainly join you, darting around your legs as you walk. They aren’t being friendly; you’re just a convenient, two-legged insect-flushing service.
Pro Tip: Keep an ear out for a song that sounds like a Tūī but is slightly more “liquid” and bell-like. The Bellbird (Korimako) has returned to this coast in recent years, and the Kererū Loop is one of the best places in Auckland to hear them.
The “moderate” grading is accurate, but it leans toward the upper end of the scale. If you’re used to flat waterfront strolls, the Kererū Loop will feel like a proper hike. The total elevation gain isn’t massive, but the climbs are sustained and steep enough to get your heart rate up quickly.
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Waitawa is a year-round destination, but the experience shifts significantly with the weather:
Crowd Control: If you want total solitude, a Tuesday or Wednesday morning is your best bet. On weekends, the car park is shared with horse riders and disc golfers. Even if the car park looks full, the walking tracks themselves rarely feel crowded as most visitors head straight for the beach.
Yes, but with seasonal restrictions. Dogs are permitted on-lead, but the park is closed to dogs entirely during lambing and calving season (usually 1 July to 30 November). Outside of these months, keep them on a short lead, as the scent of the protected birdlife and nearby farm stock can be very distracting.
It is a great “technical” training track. Because it’s a loop with constant elevation changes and root-heavy sections, it’s excellent for building ankle strength. However, it isn’t a “fast” track; expect to slow down significantly on the descents to safely navigate the tree roots and clay.
No. The only toilets are located at the Hoiho Hub car park (the start of the track) and down at the beach. Once you are in the bush loop, there are no facilities, so plan accordingly.
Unreliable. You will likely lose signal as soon as you descend into the gully. You might catch a bar of 4G at the highest clearing, but don’t rely on it for navigation. Download your maps for offline use before you enter the park.
No. The Kererū Loop is strictly for walking. Waitawa has a dedicated mountain bike park with purpose-built trails nearby, but the bush tracks are off-limits to bikes to protect the root systems and ensure walker safety.
There is no drinking water at the trailhead or on the track. There are taps at the Mātaitai Bay (beach) area, but it’s a long way to go if you’re already thirsty. Bring at least 1 litre per person for the walk.
The car park often looks overflowing because of horse riders and disc golfers, but the Kererū Loop is usually quiet. Even on a sunny Saturday, you’ll likely only pass a handful of other walking groups.
Last weekend I tackled the Kererū Loop Walk at Waitawa Regional Park, and the gap between the “easy stroll” label and reality surprised me. The map suggests a quick hour-long loop, but those coastal Clevedon ridges had other plans.
The initial section wound through regenerating bush, quiet except for the crunch of leaf litter and the occasional tūī call. About twenty minutes in, the track started climbing much more steeply than I expected. My legs definitely reminded me I’d skipped my usual runs lately. The path narrowed, with pūriri roots creating natural steps that were still greasy from the morning dew.
What made the effort worthwhile was reaching the clearing about halfway around. Through a gap in the canopy, I could see right across the Tamaki Strait toward the hills of Waiheke Island. I sat on a fallen log for ten minutes, watching a group of silvereyes flit between the branches, and I could hear the distant, faint “clink” of a disc golfer hitting a metal basket somewhere further down the valley.
The descent tested my knees more than the climb tested my lungs. The clay surface was slick in sections, and I had to watch my footing to avoid a mud-slide. Near the end, as the loop closed, I passed a family heading up with a toddler—ambitious, considering the “staircase” of roots waiting for them at the top.
The whole walk took me about 80 minutes, not the advertised hour, mostly because I stopped to take in the views. I emerged back at the Hoiho Hub muddy-booted and sweaty, but satisfied. It’s a solid workout disguised as a bush walk, and I’ll definitely be back in summer when the track is a bit less treacherous underfoot.
