tramping new zealand

Rain started around 3 am, but it was never heavy, and by daylight was just drizzle. Glad I came over the saddle yesterday.

I decided to head down the valley to Cromel Branch Hut, despite thinking this might be a rest day. One thing before I left was to prune back the ferns that obscured the track to the river, and clear some more space in front of the hut.

I scrambled around in the foliage searching for a toilet to no avail, but made use of the shovel instead.

It was almost 12 pm by the time I left, but I was encouraged by the 4+ hour time a 77-year-old solo tramper had taken to get up to the hut, as recorded in the hut book. I thought five hours might be on the cards, and so it turned out.

I stopped and took many photos of the upper half of the valley, with its sweeping moss and a couple of beautiful waterfalls. Some windfall kept me occupied, and I eventually arrived at the Branch Hut around 5 pm.

The most nerve-racking part was a sidle above a bluff with some real air beneath, and forging my way through some mountain beech regrowth that obscured the track.

The tussock-covered flats were a task, due to the bog created by sharp deer hooves pugging it up. I could hear two stags roaring away above the hut, actually quite close, with one letting out long bellows like a cow, and the other having shorter roars that often sounded like a lion.

Eventually, they must’ve caught a whiff of me and moved off.

I was wet, with the drizzle more noticeable in the open as I crossed the river flats to the hut.

Surprise, the hut I was to occupy was empty for a fifth consecutive night. The last people I saw were those hunters on the first night.

The river crossing was easy enough, and I have two tomorrow to get to Irthing Hut, but they are both on this smaller branch of the river, so I should be right.

A good sleep was due.