tramping new zealand

Any mice kept away, and I slept soundly.

Up and raring to go quite early, but porridge ingestion took a while.

After my conversation with a hunter I came across the day before, I rethought my approach to Ashton Hut. Maybe the straight approach up the hill would be too much strain on my Achilles.

Of course, the Forest Service would have a track in there, because they always did.

Ashton Burn looked quite wide for much of the way up on the map, and it only fell about 150 m in eight or so kilometres.

The Burn it would be.

Well, I can now say there is no track. A few deer trails followed river terraces, but eventually they disappeared. It was a morning of river crossings, but that became academic when I found myself walking straight up the river.

A few bluffs were climbed, usually unnecessarily, as wading was a faster option.

I kept dropping waypoints with a timestamp, just to indicate my pace of movement. It’s always good to look back and see how long various parts took.

Better mention the fallen trees. They came straight down the hill mostly, and needed to be hurdled. Not counting, but there must’ve been at least 20 to get over or around.

Eventually, the valley turned into a chasm for the stream, and I didn’t continue up that way. It seemed easier to climb above the cliff, and suddenly I was near the junction.

Then, above the junction, which meant it was time to climb to the hut. This was pretty obvious just above the tree line.

I checked the time. Almost exactly 5 hours.

Well, I’d go back the other way, over Point 1330.

Two swallows had gotten into the hut and were flapping their wings frantically. I opened the door and the louvre window, and away they went. They must’ve come down the chimney. Sadly, four others had expired. I guess one went down, and the others heard it chirping frantically trying to get out the louvre window and came to help. Lucky I arrived.

It’s a great hut, my favourite of my entire summer, perhaps. It had just been renovated by volunteers, receiving a new roof, rainwater tank, and toilet.

I was the first visitor for two months, with the hut book that had been around since 2003.

The way back seemed more straightforward. Climb the hill. Sidle for a while. Climb down again.

I expected a few speargrass lacerations and some outstanding views of the hills behind Ashton Hut. I thought I’d take a shortcut by cycling beneath Point 1330, but I’m not sure it was worth it in my fabric hiking shoes, which twisted around and were poor support for my feet despite great grip.

Eventually, I got around to where I had been looking the day before, and it was mostly easier than the climb, with fewer bits of vegetation to impede progress.

The views over the Oreti Valley and to the South Mavora Lake and beyond were great, and I’m glad I took the option.

I made it back to my hut, still with me as the solitary occupant, right on 7 pm.

A big day out, and one of the best of my summer.

The hill route timed at four hours and 45 minutes. Not a great time saver after all.