tramping new zealand

Day 3 of this expedition, and I was clearly in the swing of relaxation mode.

Usually, I rush hither and yon, but this enforced enhobblement was an impediment to movement.

I was well tethered.

Some exercise is just maintaining myself at the hut. After all, the toilet is 51 steps up to the fibreglass cabin, and unsurprisingly, the same number down.

My main task for the day was to dampen the movement of the local rat, that insisted on not only sharing my accommodation but also making a racket sufficient to wake me the night before.

That wasn’t the relaxing night I was after.

But I’d worked out the rat gymnastics involved with getting in and out of the interior. My nighttime companion could squeeze through a gap where the wall hit the ceiling, where it wasn’t covered by a timber bead like elsewhere, immediately above the wood burner.

In the light, it didn’t take long to cut part of the demolished balcony balustrade to size and wedge it up to close up the rats’ entrance.

Try chewing through that, matey.

Better night’s sleep after that.

During the day, I managed to chew my way through a thick John Grisham novel and collected another good helping of blue mussel entree.

Once again, just about a perfect day.