tramping new zealand

It was a gloomy start to the day.

I slept well and long despite occasional interruptions by the local rats as they did their thing, which seemed to be gnawing a hole in the timber walls.

The renovation at the hut was very modest. New bunks and a fire surround on a concrete hearth, which cut down on the chimney base. And the west wall had been replaced with pit-sawn timber that was hewn on site.

I had little enthusiasm for movement.

Eventually, I crossed the Matakitaki River about 100 m upstream from the end of the grassy area. It looked ankle-deep, but it came 300 mm over my knees. At least the river bottom was gravel, so no boulders to navigate. I had the sense to undo my pack belt and chest strap just in case I slipped and ended up heading down the rapids.

Travel on the flats proved easier, and once at Burn Creek, I stayed in the river bed, crossing on occasion as needed. Twice, I followed the old Permalat markers in the forest to cut a few minutes off the journey. I must have crossed the creek 12 times or more.

After a few hours, just before the unnamed creek you have to go up, I spotted a blue marker and started cutting the fifty metres of the track there. But the markers faded, and I realised this would be a multi-day task. This stretch to avoid boulder hopping and scrambling up the side of a very steep tributary really needs to be completed in the future. There are remnants of an old NZFS track in places, but the markers are sporadic. I had thought I had something to offer here, but by the end of the day, I came to the conclusion it wouldn’t be by me.

Then I had a hack at the first 15 m once you cross the top of the creek and start the climb up Jacob’s Ladder, where the red beech was making a comeback. It really needed to be seen better from the other side.

Once you get back in the forest, the track is often clearly marked. Many more blue plastic, and white Permolat, markers have been added in the last five years. It deviates from the old NZFS route as you approach Rough and Tumble Creek and is now more direct.

When you cross and scramble up the other side, finding the track again takes some fossicking, but the route on the ground is reasonably obvious, other than when the gorge starts, when you need to climb through a short section with it damper underfoot.

Time was ticking away, and it was around 8 pm when I made my descent to the Burn Creek goldfield campsite. I’d stayed there twice before and think it is one of my favourite places to camp, given my history with the area.

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. But it stopped while I put the tent up and made another late dinner. I’d been cold for the last hour despite lugging a heavy pack, but once I slid into my sleeping bag, I soon warmed up.

I found that cooking in my tiny vestibule could be done without setting the tent on fire.