I’ve learned that it always takes me longer to pack up than is reasonable.
I had a house to comment on for a client, and I had to move everything from my old pack to a new one. The last of the porridge to weigh and bag. Then, because I might be going for six weeks and taking food and gear in the car’s boot, sorting out my food and clothes for the first eight days in the Matakitaki Valley. The house to tidy up. Neighbours to talk to.
It was 2 30 pm before I got away with the loaded car. I have found I can stay at the motor camp at Murchison in a cabin for $45 in winter, which eased me into my travels.
But that was all yesterday.
The dense winter fog meant I slept in, and once again it took me a while to head up the Tutaki and onto the Matakitaki Valley. It took more than an hour to drive the 38 km of gravel road, change clothes, and organise final bits and pieces.
Without my usual tent aboard, the new pack felt bearable, but eight days’ food and additional winter clothes weighed me down.
Downie Hut here I come!
The first third of the tramp, to the campsite at the unnamed creek, went well. Not much in the way of fallen trees to negotiate and speed was possible.
It was 2 pm by that time, and with darkness coming between 5 and 6 pm, I felt I had enough time to get to Downie.
The second third and a bit, to McKellar Creek, was slower because of the bog underfoot and the fallen saplings to get under.
I guess I was starting to tire when I crossed McKellar at 5 pm and realised it wouldn’t be possible to get to the hut in the light.
The first slip to get across after that wasn’t too bad, but when the second looked gnarly, I ended up thinking the easiest way ahead was to cross the river. It has changed its course and cut into a bluff, washing away the track in the last few months.
The Matakitaki River at that point had a smooth gravel bottom and was well under knee-deep. I had done this before on my 2020 trip and had a good idea how to get back to the track, but it was clearly easier to tramp across the river flats for a couple of kilometres than do an up-and-down through forest in the dark and negotiate fallen trees. Rather than having to find a track in the dark, I just went up the gravel without a track.
Once on the other side, I scooted upstream, looking for a quad bike track. It needed to be somewhere on that side. My head torch in spotlight mode just illuminated the dense fog, while the dispersed mode only showed me the immediate tripping obstacles. Fortunately, it was heading to full moon so I could make out vague shapes in the valley.
Two or 3 km of stream, I crossed about five braids; two of them were more substantial, and I did cross country to get back to the track.
Hooray!
I could follow quad bike tracks to the hut, still a kilometre away. By that stage, it was a slow plod.
A cold hut, so I quickly made dinner and went straight into my sleeping bag to eat it. I was dog tired, but for once, after drinking copious water during the day and having two big cups of soup at night, the usual first-night cramps were kept at bay.
Well, one thing for sure, my body wasn’t in good shape for this form of adventure as I had thought.
A guide to the night’s accommodation: Downie Hut
