tramping new zealand

A heavy sleep, aided by the previous day’s efforts.

More gloom outside, so I stayed in my sleeping bag and made and ate breakfast while in repose, accompanied by a swarm of sandflies.

By 9 am, the sun was out, weekly, as the low cloud lifted. Time to start packing up. As always, I was later wondering why I hadn’t left earlier and had fewer distractions along the way.

It wasn’t much fun pulling on completely soaked clothes, but they soon warmed up.

I have to say I love that little campsite and not just because I’ve now stayed there three times. It sheltered under the beach trees with the roar of the stream a constant musical accompaniment.

The track is well marked in places, but the occasional pair of boots smashing through is creating a trail on the ground. A bit of track cutting was required, and more markers were added to avoid confusion about where to go. It wasn’t easy to follow through the knee-high fern.

Fortunately, I had the route from my previous trip recorded on my Topo50 map app, so that resolved the overgrown change of direction where you drop down to the soggy flat. I didn’t choose the new track that Martin had cut through the forest on the other side of the south Burn Creek crossing, and preferred the old NZ FS route straight up the cliff face and along the Razorback Ridge. The alternative new route misses the great view down the valley and some waterfalls, but by that stage, many will just be enthusiastic to get to the hut.

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. My headlamp was useful for the last 20 minutes.

The weight of my pack was a serious impediment to full joy on this trip, carrying a heavy binder with the hut history and old hut book, along with cleaning equipment, both good secateurs and a folding handsaw, a tent, a sleeping mat, etc. And 10 days of food.

Some of it wouldn’t be accompanying me from there, fortunately.