tramping new zealand

The drizzle continued, sounding heavier inside the hut than outside.

Early on, I thought 11 am would be my cut-off time. If it wasn’t looking brighter by then, I’d postpone my trip up to Carnie’s Bivies for the following day.

As it turned out, I left at 10 30 am, feeling almost frisky without my pack.

It was intermittent drizzle, but the wind was behind me, so that kept me motivated.

Camp Creek had some grey water in it, but it was only a bit over ankle deep. That was encouraging.

It was easy walking on a four-wheel-drive track with some gravel fans, and I branched off more directly towards Carnies on some short grass.

When I reached the point where I could see the stream, it was immediately clear. I wasn’t going to get there today. The stream was in three braids, and I crossed the first okay. Plenty of force and just over my knee.

That was a third of the flow, so when that was concentrated in a single channel further up, it was obvious I wouldn’t even try to get through.

That didn’t stop me from going further up for a look. 200 m further upstream, I needed to cross, and that wasn’t gonna happen. I could hear boulders rolling in the flow.

I counted 13 onlookers at this stage. 13 very woolly sheep that hadn’t been shown for a few seasons.

Back down the stream, admitting defeat.

On the way back to the hut, I had a look for the old Findlay Hut, but my directions were vague from the hunter, and I was unsuccessful.

Back to the hut after five hours, feeling very cold and wet. Almost hypothermic.

The hunter and his dog were still in the hills and came back after another three hours with tales of shooting two thar with his bow, but they fell down a bluff and weren’t retrievable.

I’d lit the wood burner and had the hut warm, but was still huddled in my sleeping bag.