tramping new zealand

Despite ten hours in bed, sleep was painful.

I formulated a new plan. Actually, it was the same as the old one. At least for the short term.

Stay for three or four nights and see what some serious rest would do for my leg.

Walking had been okay from the swingbridge the previous night, but I had been cautious with just a slow shuffle much of the way. My leg might feel a lot better with a few days’ rest. It didn’t seem like a ripped ligament; then again, I’d had that feeling with my Achilles tendon that had actually been torn. It might be sensible not to aggravate it.

It had taken me around 35 hours of hiking to get to the hut. Might as well make the most of it, as previously planned.

In the cold light of day, I had a few possibilities for getting out, but decided to postpone making a decision until Monday morning.

At the back of my mind was the realisation that the stretch from Waitutu to Wairaurāhiri was almost certainly out of the question, unless something miraculous happened. If it took longer than the available daylight hours to get between the huts, that didn’t augur well when hobbling. And with a few hours staggering around in the dark, my AAA battery supply was getting near the low tide mark.

So, after these breakfast thoughts, I settled in for a rest day: breakfast, finishing a book, cutting up firewood, wandering down to the river a few times, munching lunch. The weather was okay, even some patches of blue sky, but the hut interior was cold, 8° C according to the wall thermometer, and damp. Clearly, I should light the fire to dry some clothes.

That made it cosy, getting up to 18° C, and as the afternoon progressed, the dampness was gone.

Yahoo!

I really like the hut and the hinterland. Pity about another injury.