South Island blog | March/April 2026
I returned from the North Island with a dose of the three-week flu.
Frustrated? For sure.
With autumn approaching, the weather was finally mighty fine. Summer had been a long time coming.
Meanwhile, I was coughing and spluttering. Eventually, two weeks after my plans, it was time to depart.
My intention was to fill in a few blanks in my tramping experience in the South Island.
Starting in Marlborough, I’d finally negotiate Sawcut Gorge, then continue south. Into Canterbury for some short excursions, then eventually the Eyre Mountains in Southland, which I had been contemplating for a few summers, but never got around to it.
Hope my body holds up.
Unfortunately, other events beyond my control, like a war, would intervene.
Some people get away early for their holidays, but I’m not in that category.
Just seeing the newly broken massive rocks in or around the river is enough to maintain momentum.
If I thought yesterday was scary amongst those two-storey house-sized boulders, plus all the smaller ones that had come down as part of the Kaikoura Earthquake, the stress would crank up in the afternoon.
It was a beautifully still morning looking across to the Seaward Kaikouras. Oh, so quiet.
Moral of the story, remember to take both power cables and the power bank!
Gravel from the slips caused by the 2016 Kaikoura earthquake made travel easier, and I usually managed to steer away from the boulder fields.
I searched for a point to cross, made difficult by the steepness of the valley and the lumpiness of the rocks in the river.
Too much time “looking at the view”.
It was almost as if Canterbury was being apologetic for the dreadful weather up to Christmas.
I committed to the river route to get down to Tent Stream. No track, you just go down the narrow valley, overcoming any obstacles, and crossing the river when required, ie, a lot.
It was the first time in my small tent for a while. Sure felt like home.
34,000+ steps for the day. Phew!
It’s an exercise in boredom and how to cope with hours of monotony.
The evidence that gravity has done its thing tends to focus the mind on forward momentum, both up and back.
Dealing with boredom is a useful skill, and having another seven-hour day with a pack on my back might be a major meditation.
By the time I made it to Pulpit Rock, which I couldn’t see in the murk, I was getting the full blast of the gusts, almost sufficient to knock me over.
The first time I’d shared a hut with so many others since forever.
All I needed to do was get to Dunedin and on to Lumsden.
We spoke about changing access issues in hunting areas and other hunting stories before they all took off in different directions to investigate the wildlife.
We chatted for a long while, and they kept offering bacon and eggs, so I eventually relented. It was going to be a long, austere week, and I might as well get one good feed.
A thick layer of rat covered every horizontal surface. The vertical surfaces were colonised by spiders and their dusty webs.
Now, that was a day.
Going over Point 1651, a 750 m climb and descent, was entirely forewarned. I basically climbed straight up, then straight down. Not much dilly-dallying about.
I stopped and took many photos of the first half of the valley, with its sweeping moss and a couple of beautiful waterfalls.
The penultimate day, Mt Bee tomorrow, then back to civilisation. My South Island tramping excursion will be over, as I’m feeling it’s time to head home.
The view of the places I’d been was extraordinary.
