tramping new zealand

It was the calmest day for weeks, so I sat with the door open, contemplating life and how lucky I was to be up in the hills.

New Zealand has a fantastic system of huts and tracks, and in this case, it’s only a couple of hours’ drive from where I live to the car park. You can just strap a pack on after doing up your boots, and away you go.

I’ve legally stayed in two basic huts and camped at a splendid historic campsite on the way up Burn Creek, all for free. On the other hand, you do have to cross the potentially dangerous Matakitaki River, but the flow is measured further down, so you can avoid bad rain periods by checking the flow on a website before you leave. In any case, it’s possible to stay on the true left and use the farm bridge near the car park if it abruptly rises.

If I weren’t on the track reconnaissance mission, I could pop over to Nardoo Hut on a big day and trek out down the lovely Nardoo Stream with its 20 or so crossings, the next day, turning the tramp into a loop. Note, this is not for the inexperienced.

I had a last-minute tidy up and check of the hut, and I was off. My secateurs were safely inside my pack to avoid temptation to trim anything until I made it to the few places I wanted to seriously attack.

One was the place I did because the way ahead wasn’t discernible. That was just one on the way down to Burn Creek.

It’s surprisingly cathartic to spend 20 minutes on some mindless work. You see results that might last 10 years or longer if people snap back twigs as they go in the future. The ground trail will become more evident as more feet scuff the track up.

There’s some satisfaction about something that no one else will even notice until it is gone. You take this stuff for granted unless it’s not there.

At the top of the cliff above the South branch of Burn Creek, the track now has two options. The old way has two moments of adrenaline surges for most mortals. They are quickly over, and your heart resumes its regular beat.

Martin had said he wasn’t sure about the new trail that he marked. He said it was steep.

For the first 20%, it was okay, then I thought it best to take off my pack and lower it on a short piece of rope I carry for such purposes.

Yes, it was steep, but there’s vegetation, mostly woody, to hold onto as you plunged down. It took a while to get down, and not without much muttering.

It would be more challenging to clamber up with a pack.

Nice crossing at the bottom, and I carried around an old hunter’s path to get to the gas bottle, just in time for a late lunch.

The other spot I cut back was where you turn off the sidling route up the valley and drop down to the bottom of the soggy gas-bottle clearing. This had a deer track continuing, but the mountain beach regrowth obscured the turn.

Now you would never know there had ever been an issue. Other than the next marker being about 30 m down the track and around the corner.

After that, it was just plugging away.

The route keeps you alert. Just a few windfall to negotiate.

The campsite was more pleasant without a rain accompaniment, but to be honest, rather than touring the general vicinity, I slid into my sleeping bag and was soon disturbing the native animals in my slumber.