The Tramping Report

Rakeahua and Freshwater

It was Easter and we were off to Stewart Island. Honora wanted to go through the Freshwater valley again. I wanted an off track traverse over Mt Rakeahua. Richard Wills was joining us and he wanted to walk south on Mason Bay to the Gutter.  It all fitted together.

The weather forecast showed a few fine days but at least a couple with serious rain and wind.

We left town at 8.00 am Good Friday for the drive south, along with thousands of others on the road.

We spent the first night at a backpackers in Invercargill and crossed over to Oban on the Saturday. I'd actually sworn I'd never take the ferry across Foveaux Strait again. However Richard didn't want to fly, so I dropped Honora at Invercargill airport and drove us to Bluff. The sea was up a bit so it was a bumpy crossing.

In Oban we walked over to Golden Bay for our water taxi ride to Freds Camp. From Freds it was quite a relaxed 4 1/2 hr walk to Rakeahua hut. Honora and Richard took a 1/2 hr break along the way for a compass exercise. First they tried to identify which was Bald Hill on the other side of the South West Arm, then they used compass bearings to calculate how far we were along the track on our side.

The last time we'd been along here we'd been fairly hard up against it with very rough weather and deep water on the track. But this time it was quite pleasant and the track was not a problem at all. My socks were still mud-free when we got to the hut - and I was wearing sandals with them!

Our evening at Rakeahua was enlivened by a hunt to track down all the mosquitos that had slipped inside. However the number that left large blood smears on the wall when they were tracked down showed it to be a fairly futile excercise.

In the morning we headed up the track to Mt Rakeahua. I was in front and got to see a kiwi running off.

Above the bushline it was overcast and cold. On the summit we did have views all round, but they were best out to the east over Paterson Inlet. Elsewhere the distant hills were obscured by a murky haze.

We stopped for lunch. It was so cold Honora got into her emergency plastic bag shelter. I dressed up in all my storm gear too, but Richard toughed it out.

Our route took us down to the west, toward Mason Bay. The top 350 metres of the mountain was covered in dense leatherwood scrub. This was heinously slow going. Often it seemed impenetrable but somehow we managed to keep wrestling our way through.

At one point the slope flattened briefly and the interwoven barrier of woody branches thinned. We could actually see several metres ahead. We stopped for a snack.

For the most part Richard was ahead breaking a trail. And it required quite a bit of breaking too. Then as the slope steepened, the angle kept trying to draw us down into gullies. At one point we did find ourselves lured down into taller forest. The slope dropped steeper, then over a cliff into a stream.

I preferred to try to keep to the spurs and ribs. However Honora and Richard weren't so happy when I led them back into more leatherwood.

Even when we got down into the forest proper the slope was deeply cut with streams and gullies. Many weren't evident from the map. I quite enjoyed the seat-of-the-pants navigating it called for.

Eventually we arrived on the flax and manuka covered swampy flats. And we emerged from the forest exactly where we'd planned to. A long series of sand ridges then gave us easy travel across the flats to the Mason Bay track.

It was almost dark when we reached the track. Strangely, ecotour guide Furhana just happened to be stopped right there with some clients. It must have been a big surprise to them when we burst out of the gloom.

Honora and I still had plenty of energy and raced off down the track, eager to get to the hut. However we soon saw we'd left Richard behind in the gloom so we slowed up again to keep together.

At the old homestead a DoC agent rushed out to waylay us. Richard thought she was the Billie Goat Gruff. However I thought she was the Spanish Inquisition, and no-one expects that on the way to Mason Bay. But after our hours forcing through leatherwood she didn't have a impeding my progress. Even the kiwi scuttling around our feet on the track couldn't slow me down.

It was 7.45 pm when we reached Mason Bay hut. That was 11 hours from Rakeahua hut.

There were a few people at the hut but there were just enough bunks left for us. But it was bad luck for Furhana. Some of the people had come round the NW Circuit. Others like Irish couple Michael and Audrey had come through from Freshwater Landing. Whatever path they'd taken, they were all in good spirits and enjoying themselves.

I was surprised to find the mosquitos were active here too. On previous trips I'd only found them a problem at Rakeahua. I guess it's because every other time it's been a bit closer to winter when we were there.

The morning was for Richard's mission to the Gutter. The day was fine with only a light wind making it perfect for an enjoyable walk down the beach. We met two friendly North Islanders at Cavalier Creek. They'd been quite successful with their hunting and generously gave us venison back-steaks to take with us.

Walking on down the beach we saw a large pure white bird was perched on a branch of scrub on the sand hill. I was sure I'd seen it the last time we came down this way. It flapped away as we neared. I wasn't able to id it properly but it seems likely it was a Cattle Egret. It seemed a strange place to be seeing one.

It also seemed strange seeing Pipits running about on the sand. We're more used to being entertained by these cute tail-flicking birds in mountain landscapes.

At Leask Creek we called in for a look at the old Kilbride homestead. It's hard to imagine people living in such an isolated place.

Around the back of the house we came on a disturbing sight. There was a dead kiwi chick someone had thrown onto the toilet roof.

Our next stop was at the Gutter. This is a narrow strip of sand connecting the southern end of Mason bay to the Ernest Islands.

Richard got his map and compass out and was plotting bearings to everything he could see. He's making plans for a kayaking trip round the island, hence his interest in the area.

The walk back to Mason Bay hut took us only 2 1/2 hrs and was sunny almost the whole way. However just as we reached the turnoff to the hut cloud gathered quickly and rainbows heralded the arrival of sweeping rainstorms.

In the morning were turning north on Mason Bay heading for Hellfire Pass. When we left the hut there had been bright sunshine but by the time we reached the beach dark clouds swept in from the sea again. A giant rainbow shone brightly like a neon sign in the gloom. However it didn't rain on us and the stormy scene cleared again.

I saw movement on the sand and at first thought it was more Pipits but it was actually Dotterels this time. Our more constant avian companions along the beach were Variable Oystercatchers

Half way along the beach an outcrop of rock juts out from the high sandhills. The tide was only two thirds in, but a fast wave swept in as we rounded it, giving us a surprise wetting. We'd heard from a group at the hut the evening before that one of them had been knocked over by a wave when they'd come around it at close to high tide.

Just beyond here a pair of Stewart Island Shags waddled lazily out of our way. They appeared too well fed to fly.

A bit further on were a pair of Reef Herons. On our first trip around the NWC I'd seen a pair at the same place. I tried stalking closer to these one, however these birds were too wary and I couldn't get close to them.

At the end of the beach a classic Stewart Island sign marked the start of the track to Little Hellfire Beach. The track starts very wet and muddy and then climbs steeply and slippery. It must be a shock to people walking the NWC clockwise, especially if they've taken the lazy start with a water-taxi to Freshwater Landing. Instead, those who walk it anti-clockwise write about enjoying the mud by the time they get to Mason Bay. We just took it in our str.. slide.

Back on the beach again, we walked up Little Hellfire and stopped at the hunters biv for lunch. We'd expected to find hunters in residence, but it was deserted.

The biv had been improved in the past year. One wall had been extended to keep the wind out a bit better. It also featured a framed photo of someone's longtime hunting buddy who'd recently died. It's good for non-hunting outdoors people to see things like that. I'm sure it helps people understand how the friendships formed among hunters, as well as the love of the outdoors, are almost as important as the hunt.

This biv is a perfect place for a lunch stop between Mason Bay and Hellfire Pass. So often it's cold or wet along this coast and there's no other shelter. I know DoC tear these down whenever they can. I just hope they don't try it with this one. Without the biv here it would mean just squatting in the mud somewhere along the track. We stopped for a full hour and cooked up hot soup to warm us.

From Little Hellfire it's a long muddy climb, gaining 400 metres to the ridgetop. A couple of years ago DoC rerouted some sections of this track. The new sections are now extremely wet and muddy. It's actually better to walk on the old track sections as they've completely dried out.

We reached the Hellfire Pass hut at 5.30. That barely gave me time to keep my appointment on the sandhill. It's four times now I've watched the sun set into the sea from Hellfire Pass.

The others in the hut had all come from East Ruggedy. There were three NZ trampers, an Englishman and Alex from Saxony. As usual, the NZ trampers contrasted with the others in their seeming indifference to the natural wonder about them. In Stewart Island I always feel more affinity with the obvious enjoyment and sense of awe that the overseas backpackers show.

The morning was fine again. We headed directly down into the bush below the hut. An occasional white permolat showed us we were keeping to the line of the old track. Lower down the track sidled through tangled windfalls and rapidly regenerating manuka to the valley floor.

From the bottom end of the river flats, the track to the old Benson hut site was as good as it had ever been. However it was a disappointment when we got to the old hut location and discovered DoC had removed the hut's former woodshed. The woodshed had been left as an emergency bivvy when the hut was taken out. It had served us well in 2002 when we'd come up the valley in really bad weather.

We travelled on across the almost featureless soggy terrain. The vegetation was mostly manuka only growing to two metres tall. Around us were extensive swamps. The hills in the distance seemed to barely shift as we walked on for hours.

The Double Lakes are the Freshwater's sight worth seeing. It's a shame that people no longer have the chance unless they've got fairly advanced off-track skills.

The line of the track is most difficult to follow here, but it's worth keeping to it. We took a short diversion away from the original line to see if we could do better, and it was quite rugged going.

Below the Double Lakes it becomes even harder to feel like you're getting anywhere. Swamp follows manuka covered sand ridge follows swamp follows manuka covered sand ridge.

Reaching the wire bridge over Scott Burn is a great high point. I hope DoC never remove this one as the route would be dangerous without it.

An hour later we reached Freshwater Landing hut at 6.30 pm. That was 9 1/2 hrs from HellFire Pass. It's quite a long way, but we had perfect weather and our skills kept us on the broken and very vague line of the original track virtually the whole way. I suspect our time would be almost a best achieveable time now, with most people attempting the route taking considerably longer.

There were two DoC workers at the Freshwater hut. They were busy building a new jetty and spreading what must be the country's most expensive gravel on the paths about the place. This gravel is expensive because it's all brought over from the mainland, and then flown by helicopter from Oban. But I suppose it does look more natural than boardwalks.

One of them also confessed to removing the woodshed-cum-biv from the old Benson hut site. The reasoning had been that North Arm hut needed a woodshed. However that turned out to be a very expensive operation, and it would have worked out cheaper to have installed a completely new one at North Arm. What a waste.

But they were friendly guys, just doing a job, and they helped make it an interesting evening. The only other person in the hut was a former DoC 'visitor centre' worker from Haast. He was just filling in time between contracts at the moment.

On Thursday afternoon Honora was to catch a water-taxi out to Oban. Richard wanted to walk out via Maori Beach. I'd decided to accompany him.

We headed off at 9.30 am. I was feeling energetic and kept up a good pace, even through the mud, until I topped Thompson Ridge. The sun was warm up there in the scrub so I stopped a bit early for lunch.

Then the track dropped steeply into dark forest. It crossed a swing bridge and began a long sidle around numerous indentations at the head of North Arm. In places, just below the track, were tantalising mud flats. I guess at times it would be better to go that way rather than keep to the muddy  track.

I stopped again at the junction with the Rakiura track to wait for Richard. I'd gotten 15 min ahead of him. It was time for snacks so we stopped another half hour and continued at 3.00.

The Rakiura track is mostly boardwalk and we kept up a good fast pace on it. There was little to see in the way of views anyway, until we got to the tower on the ridge. This gave a good panorama of Paterson Inlet, but there was no view to the north.

It took another hour and a half to get down to the track junction between Maori Beach and Port William. We turned right, and a newly contructed, and graveled,  section of track led down to the swing bridge.

The fine sand of Maori Beach stretched away. Walking along that beautiful beach was by far the best part of the day.

We stopped at the shelter at 6.00 pm.

I'd planned to sleep out in the open here. I even found a place on the edge of the sand, protected from the dew by some overhanging branches. But mosquito paranoia set in when a couple of them flew around my face. I headed for the slightly better protection of the fly.

On Friday morning, after washing myself and my clothes, I jogged the length of the beach and back to warm up. What a priceless morning with the sun sparkling on the quiet water of the bay.

We set off for the short walk out at 10.30. The track has stunning views of the coastline and then drops back down into the last bay before the track ends.

This is the tiny unnamed bay of Little River.

Just past here an alternative track goes over the top of Garden Mound. This is the highest named summit on Topo E48 and it was still on my must do list. Richard continued on the low track to Lee Bay and we met again on the road to Half Moon Bay.

Avoca hut maintenance

When Honora & I went over Jordan Saddle to check out Echo Col, we looked forward to another night at Avoca hut. It's one of my favourite places in the hills.

However it was a sad experience to see it's continuing slow deterioration.

I've gotta admit I'm almost reluctant to say anything. A few years ago I wrote some comments in the hut book trying to prompt some action and pride of ownership from CUTC members. The principal reaction was insults and obscenities (of course they didn't necessarily come from the CUTC). Luckily I've got a thick skin so here goes again.

A good thing that did happen a bit later is the CUTC reclaimed the hut from DoC. The government had taken it over years before under the pretense they would look after it. Of course DoC did nothing in their time, probably hoping it would deteriorate so much they could declare it a HAZARD and demolish it.

Anyway back under CUTC care it benefited from the energy and enthusiasm of Fred de Zwart and a few others. A high point was the famous crazy scheme where they carried a new rain barrel over Jordan Saddle. Next there was another burst of enthusiasm for repainting the hut. However that didn't go much beyond a few neon and pastel shades being splashed over the interior joinery and trim.

Now not much seems happening again and the deterioration is continuing.

I'm not sure why the fall-off in action. I hope it's not because they've been listening to smarmy assurances of help from DoC. DoC staff are trained to make all the right PR noises but it's rare for these to manifest as useful activity.

I know Jim Henderson went in a year or so ago and trimmed some surrounding vegetation. That's fine but Honora and I had been managing as much after walking over from the Waimak for a weekend's track maintenance. That's easy stuff. However the main thing Jim did was to rip out the wood stove, which makes the place pretty miserable in the cold half of the year now (it's a narrow East-West valley with a very high range to the North).

The problem for the CUTC in looking after Avoca themselves is the lack of continuity in membership in the club. Also the people involved might not be strong on the practical skills.

I wonder if it might be a solution to do a membership drive among Polytech students. Having a few carpenters, painters, quantity surveyors, civil engineers, outdoor leadership students, etc in the club might be a big help. It might also be worth looking at how they can encourage people to stay in the club after they've graduated.

Whatever, the hut does need a full exterior repaint, guttering fixed, broken window replaced, door latches, new stove and various internal improvements. Honora and I are prepared to do all the surrounding track work maintenance.

A look at Echo Col

Honora and I still haven't crossed Echo Col. The last record of anyone going over it was John Easton and Lynette Hartley in 1991. Then energetic explorer Xabi Alcorta climbed to the top from the Avoca side 5 or 6 years ago, but didn't go over.

We took the pleasant walk in over Jordan Saddle to the Avoca hut on Saturday to have a serious look at it on the way out on Sunday.

It was good to be back at the Avoca hut. It's one of my favourite places in the hills. Honora spent an hour in the early evening facinated by the antics of a tiny field mouse.

In the morning we crossed the river and started up the gully toward the col. Part way up you need to leave the gully and cross a rib to gain access to the basins below the col. I explored up the gully looking for a route and returned to Honora.

Honora had been looking at a steepish scree and tussock slope and thought it might go. She started up it and I went off to get my pack. I noticed she was moving very slowly, carefully twisting tussock strands in her hands. That's not normal for Honora so I had my doubts about it. I climbed a separate line without my pack to check it out. It was rather nasty but I made it to the rib.

Honora reached a point where she couldn't go up or down. A 30 metre traverse separated us, across steep gravel covered slabs. I suggested she drop her pack. She agreed and quickly launched it into space. It bounced and bounded out of sight way below. The traverse was then much easier and we soon found a better way back down to the gully. Honora's pack hadn't suffered any damage from the fall.

We'd taken a bit of time for our little adventure so decided we'd go back out over Jordan and cross Echo another time. However I think we've sorted the route now. A large kaitiaki stone marks the start of the best line onto the rib.

We headed back down and sat by the river in contemplation for a while.

The walk out over Jordan Saddle was, again, a nice amble. Coming in we'd enjoyed the profusion of gentians blooming on the slopes leading to the saddle. I'm not much of a photographer as I'd just looked and then walked on. But this time I stopped.

Rocky Griffin yet again

The Rocky Creek - Griffin Creek circuit is a favourite for Honora and me and we keep going back.

Andrew was to be leading this one for the CTC. He'd said he really wanted to do Rocky - Griffin. But Honora was the only one to put her name down on his list. So he canned it.

But no matter. It now became Honora's trip and Jonathon and I decided to go along.

We spent the night at the club lodge before motoring over the pass. It was 9.30 when we started walking from the beehives at Taipo bridge.

Jonathon wasn't happy having boots full of water within 50 m of setting off. Honora and I were in sandals as usual so it was a non-issue for us.

The hour on our new track through the bush to Rocky went fast, though we did stop and clear a few windfallen trees as we went. At Rocky creek we took a long snack break in the bright sunshine.

Moving on, we seemed quite sluggish travelling up the bouldery creek bed. The plan was to have lunch at Rocky Creek hut, but Honora's union lunch break time of 12.30 arrived before we got there. Lunch was an outrageously long loaf too, and then we stopped again half an hour later when we reached the hut.

Going by the hut book more people seem to be travelling through Rocky Creek now. Honora and I both appreciate the kind words people write about our track maintenance efforts. It's certainly a different reaction from what we got from the old guard in the tramping club last year when we busted our gut trying to get things running positively there again.

Anyway, on we went. The stream bed past the hut narrowed till it was overhung by scrub. Then  a short muddy climb took us to the saddle. We crossed the ridge and pushed on down the gully toward Griffin Creek. This gully is quite overgrown but it's not difficult to travel through.

It was 5.30 pm when we reached the Griffin Creek hut. That time makes it 10 minutes slower than last May when we were travelling through snow!

There was a young hunter, Ben, from Kumara in residence, and a friendly weka strutting about outside. However there wasn't a lot of chatting in the hut this visit, so it was a fairly quiet evening and we were soon to bed.

The morning's first sun slanted across the dramatic face of the Razorback Ridge. This high range walls in the valley to the south. With its verdant podocarp bush covered steep flanks and gullies and mist curling around its upper slopes it looked like the fabled heights of Bali Ha'I from South Pacific. Jonathan heard its call and was soon out taking photos.

Ben's helicopter swooped in next to the hut and lifted him out. We headed off on foot.

Griffin Creek is a real pleasure to travel. The gravel, stones and boulders are varied and interesting colours. Of course it's nephrite country too, so it's fun trying to spot the low grade greenstone.

In less than an hour of crossing back and forth across the stream, the markers and cairns of the track signalled a change of pace. We stopped to fill water bottles. There wouldn't be any more water until we were virtually at the road.

There was a change too, from horizontal travel to vertical travel. The track climbs 300 m to Harringtons track on the Griffin Range ridgeline. The climb is quite steep and much use is made of tree roots and flax leaves for steadying handholds.

Near the ridgetop is a perfect rest spot with fantastic views. We stopped for lunch there. Brilliant red flowers of rata were all around us.

From the rusted rain barrel at the track junction the track drops 800 m to the road. Some of it is heavily overgrown but it's not hard to follow.

Honora and I had been thinking about recutting it. We weren't really looking forward to the work of doing it all ourselves, and I'd talked to some of the keen people in the Peninsula Tramping Club about it.

But now DoC have agreed to pick up its maintenance, and the PTC have decided to work on the track further along the ridge from the rain barrel. Good on them.

But the 1 km section from the bottom of the hill to the road, bypassing Pat Fitzgerald's farm, will always be ours. I'm proud we could so easily solve what had been for so long an unneccessary problem between the landowner and trampers.

Two hours from our lunch spot we were out and walking the road back to the Taipo. The road was very busy with traffic from the Hokitika Wild Foods festival.

Back at the Isuzu the bees were very active around their beehives. I've never been concerned about bees so never gave them a glance. But while I was getting changed Honora took off at a run, waving her clothes about. I wondered what the matter was, & soon learned. A bee flying past suddenly turned and made a rapid bee-line charge for my face, slamming into me right between the eyes. A few others also started hanging around a bit close. I trotted off too, brushing the sting sac out from the first suicide mission.

Jonathon and I thought a discrete withdrawal was called for, so we just threw everything in the back and moved the vehicle a bit further away so we could finish changing in peace.

On the drive home Honora was quite chuffed that we managed two refreshment stops, at Steve's in Arthurs Pass and then at the Kowai in Springfield. It was good we stopped at Springfield too as we bumped into Merv Meredith returning from a PTC trip to Goat Hill. Serendipitous meetings with people who share the love of the hills is a highlight for me on any trip.

Mt Bradley - Packhorse

It was looking like it was going to rain on the West Coast all weekend. We didn't feel like getting wet for no view on Mt Bovis, or being blown off the ridges by the nor'west gale on Mt Misery. So we left the Christchurch Tramping Club to pursue their planned trips as they would.

It was hot, dry and windy in town, so we caught up on housework in the heat of the early part of Saturday then headed off for a quick jaunt later in the afternoon.

We drove over the hill to the harbour and around to Orton-Bradley Park. As usual, we parked outside the gates, to avoid problems of being locked in later. Broken auto glass on the ground was a worry.

There were very few people about in the park. Such a waste. I guess most were at the shopping malls or watching professionals exercise.

Anyway off we went, up the track to the Tablelands and onto the track that leads around to Packhorse Hut.

We weren't heading all the way round to Packhorse, well not directly anyway. Honora had talked to Margaret Clark recently about a route she and Jim had taken descending Mt Bradley some time back. Honora wanted to check their route out in reverse.

When we got to the bushy stream the plan was to follow the stream upwards to Mt Bradley. However the bush was a bit too tangled and scrubby, so we sidled on out to the far side of it and just climbed straight up the tussock slopes to the ridge. It was very straight-forward travel.

The weather was still quite warm and we sure appreciated the wind on top.

Honora led off down toward Packhorse hut. The proper track descends in long zigzags well down the Kaituna valley side. But we took the direct line straight down the ridge.

When I'd been up and down here before I'd always stuck to the harbour side of the crest, which has sections of rocky outcrops, boulders and scrub. But Honora picked a line for us on the Kaituna side. It was easy going with only one steeper section of dracophyllum scrub and slabs.

Down at Packhorse we were surprised to find Brian Smith of the Peninsula Tramping Club in residence. He was spending the night there with his brother and young nephew.

It was 7.00 pm and we were hungry. However as we'd only left the road at 3.00 pm we thought "lunch" was probably the meal to have. So we stopped and chatted while we had a quick snack. Brian provided us some entertainment too, when his Coleman stove leaked fuel and was ceremonially launched through the door, a flaming fireball.

All the excitement over without incident, Honora thought it time to be moving on. We headed off at 7.20 around the front-face track back to Orton-Bradley.

The sun was dropping in the sky and we set a good pace to get back to the Isuzu at the gates in exactly an hour and a half.

How easy it is to get a good bit of exercise in grand open country so close to town. And the bonus was bumping into some pleasant lunch companions too.