tramping new zealand

Cool, but the sky looked hopeful.

That is, not raining, and the wind wasn’t ferocious.

So it was on with the damp clothes and wet footwear. I soon warmed up with the steep climb to the ridge, but unlike the day before, where I had a similar elevation gain, on the excellent, newly cut track for the recently relocated hut, it took less than half the time.

The mizzle in the forest turned into fast-moving fog once on the ridge, and it was a surprise when, long after lunch, the cloud parted, and I could see the general landscape to the western north for the first time.

To the west was farmland, surprisingly close, although over a kilometre below. I was up at 1500 m.

The north view was a reality check. No way my ambitious loop would be possible with my dodgy knee. I didn’t think the knees could cope with multi-hour descents and ascents every day.

And, immediately in front, what looked like a smooth ridge walk at a distance, similar to the rounded terrain that I’d just traversed, had some steep descents and climbs.

A DOC sign at the top of Toka, 1519 m, stated that the Toka Bivvy was still 1.5 hours away, even though it looked only 1.5 km on the Topomap app. Just a 50 m descent and then climb back up. Which it was, but the mostly easy walking of what had come before was over.

I’d been told the turn-off to the hut had a sign, but that was incorrect. There were three rusty Warratahs, however, and I followed a vague track down the hill into the thick fog. The route became clearer as the ridge sharpened. The 240-meter drop did go on a bit.

Eventually, I reached another rusty Warratah post, but it wasn’t clear where to go in the thick fog. No sign of the hut.

I continued on the track, then I was floundering around in the leatherwood. Checking my GPS, I wasn’t getting closer to the hut, so I returned to the post and dropped into the fog.

Toca Bivvy turned out to be hidden behind some leatherwood a few hundred metres away. It’s basically a two-person wooden tent with a ⅔-height door and two mattresses on the floor.

A relief to crawl into the cosy shed, make dinner, and slide into the warmth of my sleeping bag.