Summer | December 2025
4½ months after my patella tendon injury, I’m ready to go again. Intense rehab recommended by my physio helped strengthen the tendon, and I increased my daily steps to around 14,000. The streets of Nelson aren’t really a test, but a few times a week, I climbed the steps up to Quebec Road and went up to the lookout over Tasman Bay and the Arthur Range. Going down Moana Avenue was more vigorous, putting the right level of strain on my tendon.
In the meantime, I published the first of two paperbacks from the e-book texts from my cycling tours across the Australian continent.
Also, I finally found a robust way to assemble the old hut book, 1991–2023, from Burn Creek Hut, including its history and restoration process. One of the first tasks of the summer was to take the lumpy folder up to the hut while checking the adequacy of the track markers.
Then, I planned to scoot down the West Coast to fill in some blank areas on my map.
But first, I needed to test my knee with some light pack carrying on a relatively easy track.
Nydia Lodge, here I come.
The campsite was perfect, perched above the water, with a tap. Sheltered. The jackpot of a big utility platform to sit and cook on.
I passed two groups of two hikers, but their conversation was of the grunt-as-we-go style.
To be honest, it was a pretty grim day. Four or five hours getting wet while climbing and descending a hill.
Once, you could drive a small truck to Downie Hut, and the track was completely navigable. Now, with World’s Best Practice, it was everyone for themselves.
It had rained on and off during the day, and when it wasn’t raining, it was drizzling. Add that to brushing past damp bushes, and it was like I’d been through an automatic car wash.
The 250 m climb to the hut seems interminable, but as things both good and bad do, it came to an end in failing light.
8 am, and the heavy rain predicted for the day arrived. My body was shattered after the three long days getting here, following the three big days to Nydia Lodge. It rained most of the day, with the wind whistling in the trees and occasional booms from the chimney.
Despite my efforts, when I got back to the hut, I found I’d only done 2,200 steps for the day, well short of my minimum 5,000. That was an unbroken sequence for more than a year. That had me taking short steps on a not very long walk, going up and down for a long while to get over the magic threshold.
