tramping new zealand

Big aspirations.

My intent was to leave early, and get back to the car at lunchtime.

Well, that was done.

I’ve never had an issue with backtracking, and the day was no different. The main thing was dry feet after crossing Swift River, which was sort of possible as I threw my shoes and socks across and tentatively waded through in bare feet.

The early morning frost added some briskness to foot drying and getting moving again.

I concentrated on where my feet were going in the old sheep trail through the tussock, rather than looking up at the house-sized rocks that perched precariously 400 m up the Mount Hutt foothills.

The not yet risen sun showed them in grim silhouette.

March on!

Redcliffe Saddle was hardly noted, other than a very recent clutch of chicks for the paradise duck pair that were out testing the waters of a tarn. From a distance, I counted eight and wished I could get closer, as they really are the cutest stripey balls of fluffy feathers.

Then I was sidling down Redcliffe Stream and was back at the car.

My afternoon objective was Mt Somers, but it seemed sensible to divert for some fresh food in Methven. It was 2 pm when I left in the car and cut across the Canterbury plains. It looked quite grim to the south, but the bad weather would hit tomorrow.

Suddenly, it seemed pointless to walk half the Mt Somers track.

Reality hit.

I’d already walked more than 20,000 steps for the day, and the thought of another three hours walking up another hill failed to appeal, particularly when I’d be in a tent, most probably in the rain.

It would be better to visit on my way north.

My tent went up in the car park, and almost immediately it started raining.

Time to retire horizontal.