tramping new zealand

I haven’t tried the pack on for weight since I loaded it up with what I think, hope, might be a couple of weeks food and fuel, plus I’ve thrown in some crampons and an ice axe for additional ballast.

Three shooters—one deer and one pig shot—full of stories, one trout fisherman working out the last days of the season, it ends at the end of the month, ie, less than a week, and a few more I’m not certain of their reason to be here, guess they’d just happened in.

The climb up to the Tiraumea Saddle is the shortest of those around but even the 250 m had me struggling, one of it’s features, brevity, is made up for with the steepness of the incline.

With the 14 day time frame, may be a day or two less, I must admit I’m on a restricted diet: porridge and coffee for breakfast; some dates counted out for morning tea; a cube of cheese, another of high density fruit cake, I found some at a bakers in Nelson, you find it in any supermarket or country store in Australia, but this Nelson stuff is the most bullet-proof; for dinner an entree of a packet of soup, then I cook up a ⅓rd of a box of Barilla spaghetti as the main.

after a while I decided to take a short cut, maybe half an hour saving, by crashing through the bush then getting into electric fence territory. A new farming track led me down past the Mataki milking sheds, the green poultice smearing the road getting deeper as I approached, ankle deep at the shed, cows vaguely wandering past, not every day a tall shaven headed bloke in full tramping regalia walks on by.

Rather than do the easy crossing of the Mataki immediately below the join of the East and West branches, I chose the wire walking experience instead, probably adding an hour to the trip but worth it for the thrill of hanging onto the three wire bridges, two of them, the rope wire tied to trees, me swaying wildly when attempting one handed photography.

Not seeking to find myself, I’m after all pretty knowing of my condition and my place in the world. If it’s a midlife crisis it’s been going on way too long.

Self obsessed? Nah, not really.

It’s none of the above.

The walking today was just fantastic. It’s obviously damp up here with the lichen on the bark of the trees, the club mosses and small ferns and small bursts of sphagnum moss to add to the vibrant tones of green.

Just a hop, step, on the recently marked track to this tiniest of huts: two bunks, bench 600 mm square, no dunny, a shovel is provided, just as darkness was crashing in.

A big, fun, crashing around day, but I guess that’s why I’m here.

It’s cloudy, misty, but always moving, glimpses, then for a short while it opens out, man, I’m way up here, that landscape is mighty spectacular. No big opening up of the view, just teases, but I get the picture.

They’ve taken the avalanche thing seriously in the upper West Branch, there’s considerably more devastation since the last time I was tootling around here 10 years ago. The hills are massively steep and there’s plenty of loose stuff from glacial days just holding on up there, down in the valley is occasional car sized boulders devoid of lichen or vegetation, clearly a new intruder just happily settled at the bottom of the cliffs now.

There’s two ways to go tramping in NZ, corral up some best friends, or singular friend, become totally organised, and take off. Shared adversity builds lifelong friendships and you can enjoy excellent companionship out here.

If you don’t have friends, or it’s not quite the right timing for them, you can avoid being hostage to other people’s needs and just take off by yourself.

Overall an intense, thrilling Little Adventure.

Tough, but not tough.

Today was walking almost 20 km down the Travers Valley.

Not tough, but tough.

The biggest difference is that there is so much sound: birdsong. That’s been almost absent in the desert of earlier travels. A weka has just been released from one of the cat traps, they are a diminishing breed elsewhere, and kiwi have been re-released here and are flourishing in the conditions.

Highlights: the first 100 m of the trip in the fog, or was it low cloud, in the red beech forest just past the Mt Robert carpark; those two fun three wire bridges at the Mataki Forks, although not quite as fun as the two wire bridge that one replaces; climbing David Saddle and finding the immense white void on the other side, like, where’s the track; Blue Lake revealing itself through the cloud on the descent from Moss Pass; the pair of Blue ducks on the extraordinarily blue Blue Lake, any wonder I call my new business venture bluelake ; the whiteout conditions on Travers Saddle; and these mountains with a first winter sprinkling of snow.