There’s been a three-month hiatus in the tramping department following my Abel Tasman/Heaphy/St James/Harper Pass binge. My limbs have recovered and I’d almost say I was frisky.
Since staggering out of the Taramakau and back to civilisation, I’ve relocated from Wellington to more permanent Nelson accommodation and, mostly, I’m unpacked. My last trip was actually on a bike, Picton to Nelson via the direct route, ie, Mangatapu Saddle, and, yes, if you are trundling that way my advice is to remove all excess baggage, any ballast aboard severely curtails the enjoyment level.
Last night I packed up, locating my pack, boots, sleeping bag, stove, etc, and marched off this morning. There was some surprise, therefore, when after a full day’s trudge up the hill, this hut is at 730 m, I found I had bunged in my fuel, in fact enough for a week, but somehow, despite locating it, the stove was left behind. I’m in the hut on my lonesome, but fortunately it’s manuka and kanuka country around here, also hasn’t rained in a while, ie, a twig fire in the firebox no problem, at least I have my spare striker aboard.
The major issue is that the hut interior is now tropical, it’s been refurbished in recent years, insulation no doubt added and it’s only an eight bunker, not too big, so I’m really sweating it out up here.
For some strange reason I neglected to throw in my boot innersoles so the feet were sliding around as well.
I had a boss once who was never prepared to listen to excuses for whatever disaster had occurred. For some reason he knew it was always going to be someone else’s fault, or just spin, despite the excuses being traded amongst the other staff being hilarious, sometimes even intentionally.
There was only one valid style of excuse for him: it wasn’t important enough for me, it wasn’t a priority, I did what suited me.
Stove? Don’t need one.
Still, if that’s the worst of my problems I’m going okay.
It’s quiet up here, just gone dark, it’s gonna be a much needed early night.