What Goes Up, Must Come Down!

It rained heavily all night and with rain at high altitude, it means slippery terrain, bad visibility, heavy winds and of course wet us.  Luckily, we set off to mainly dampness and low clouds as the heavy rain had all come at night.  I wasn't feeling as achy and sore as I thought I would after our challenge the day before so the day ahead was feeling manageable and exciting.

We began by following ridge line before ascending to Purple Top Mountain at 1532m.  However, as we climbed higher and higher we realised the wind was very strong. The terrain was rocky and scree and although a bit wet, luckily wasn't too slippery although definitely not secure.  All our concentration was used on staying upright as at times I thought I'd be blown away. There was one hell of an icy bite to the wind and our legs were a nice shade of pink.   We were all on a mission to get out of the wind and rain as quickly as possible and the adrenaline meant I didn't really think about how dangerous the track actually was.  The wind blew and I stumbled over and heard David shout "we'll have to feed you up with pies" as I regained my balance and kept scrambling.  And we kept scrambling until we were up and over the top and started our descent down to the tree line for a bit of shelter where I took a deep breath and tried to process the last hour.

The rest of the day wasn't nearly as demanding but a steep descent down to Mid Wairoa hut meant we were all glad to rest our knees and enjoy an afternoon to recover.  Due to this section being so long between food resupplying, we can't afford to stop and rest so every afternoon had me trying to rest and look after my muscles and knees as much as possible for fear of pushing myself too far.  The sun helped and as I laid and soaked up the hot rays for an hour I felt ready for a good sleep.

Unfortunately, I didn't get one and I woke up feeling a bit negative.  There is something really tough about being so many days from civilisation when food supplies are limited and when the shorter exit route is about as inviting as going over Mount Rintoull backwards.  I was feeling a little bit trapped.  Wanting to just pig out on food but having to hold back, wanting to know that if anything happened we could just walk out in a few hours and a little bit fed up.  Because when that adreneline wears off at the end of a tough day, the stress and and reality of what you have just done is exhausting.  However, I knew that if I continued with this attitude, it would only keep bringing me down because the factors I mentioned weren't going to change and in fact, the only way I would change anything is by sucking it up and keep walking, that's exactly what I did.  I spent the day a little bit quiet and trying to give myself a bit of a pep talk.  The day consisted of some rather annoying river crossings.  We must have crossed the same river 10 times in a short distance and with a very steep and exhausting scramble up to Top Wairoa Hut for a break we were all feeling tired.  The wind had picked up and it began to rain, and with a steep and demanding route ahead of us, we made the decision to wait out the weather until the next day.  The rain wasn't too bad but the wind would have made the trail too dangerous.  The next section is what DOC describe as a Route instead of a Tramping Trail, which is defined as often badly marked, no clear trail and for only experienced and very fit trekkers.  Hence the decision to stay put until the weather improved.  The hut wasn't the best to be stuck in! Up high on a hill with steep scree either side, wind blowing the hut so hard that it wobbled and a scramble for our lives if we wanted water.  The weather didn't die down all day and actually, I laid awake all night listening to the howling winds crashing against the flimsy shelter and the rain crashing on the corrugated iron roof and sides.

We set off at around lunchtime the next day after the wind had settled considerably and as we began the climb in the misty rain I realised that the description of a "route" was pretty accurate.  The wind was still pretty strong and as we climbed up over rocks and boulders I was being blown around.  I lent into the wind but then it would suddenly stop and I'd over compensate and go flying.  It was pretty comical but also scary as we climbed higher and higher and became more exposed.  When we finally reached the saddle, the clouds had become very low and the few markers that there were became impossible to see.  We decided that one of us would have to stand at the last seen marker, while the other walked off into the thick fog until they could see the next orange pole and lead the threesome onwards, to avoid us loosing sight of both directions.   Sometimes the wind would blow a gap in the clouds for just long enough, and we'd see a glimpse of orange in the distance.  The wind increased and strong gusts literally blew me over to the floor and the hail on my face was heavy and painful.  My skin was numb with cold and the news headlines flashed through my mind "3 trampers blown off the side of the mountain!"  The clouds thinned after nearly 3 hours of walking on scree, slippery grass and boulders, in wind, hail and rain and to my relief I saw a row of orange poles leading down to the tree line.  We dropped down into the shelter of the trees  and the relief of the intensely strong wind was amazing.  We dropped down into the valley over the next 2 hours and the weather improved all the way to the lovely Hunters Hut.

The next day was a long one but arriving in St Arnaud, although not quite civilisation as we all know it, it felt good.  Everything ached beyond belief but knowing we all had a rest day was an unbeatable feeling.

Nelson Lakes, St Arnaud

After a late start due to me waking up in the night feeling sick as a dog, we plodded on to the swingbridge (not quite as far as David's "schedule" intended).  I think my stomach had a slight shock going from muesli bars every day to the rich foods of the normal world and it took me the whole day to feel right again.   Over the next few days, the biggest challenge was the muggy weather.  It was humid as hell and we were all feeling it by the end of each day so ensured we re hydrated and rested in the evenings.  We met a few more trampers on this section in Upper Traverse (and some noisy inconsiderate ones) and it was nice to chat and appreciate hut life in a different way.  Each hut we arrived at had it's own little quirk.  Whether it be an amazing view or heaps of character.

When we reached Blue Lake Hut we all dumped our bags and ran to the lake, whose name is an understatement!  The lake was electric.  It was an incredible colour and we couldn't resist going for a dip.  Ok, well, we dipped up to our knees, when we discovered how bloody Baltic it was and then sat on a rock and had a good ol' key area wash!  But still, we tried.  I knew the next day was going to be hard and I spent the night mentally preparing for it.  We had a huge pass to climb and it was only advisable in good weather, to experienced trampers and they don't give that advice lightly.  By the next morning, I was up, ready and psyched up.  But the Waiau pass wasn't ready for us!  We stood at the doorway, in the dark, waterproofs on looking out to low clouds, heavy rain and winds.  It wasn't going to happen.We were soon unpacked, fire lit, with cups of tea in hand having agreed to wait out the crappy weather.  We all hoped with all fingers and toes crossed that we would be good to go the next day as neither of us had too many days of spare food and we still didn't know what type of terrain we had ahead of us.

Blue Lake

We woke up the next morning with the same ritual:  Up, fed, packed and dressed, standing in the doorway assessing the day ahead.  We looked like 3 little children waiting for Santa.  But maybe a slight scary Santa as there was anxiety mixed with our excitement. The clouds were low but not as thick.  It was raining, but not as hard.  So we decided to go, do it, make the move.  The pass was so steep and long that we could only go so fast and every time I put a foot forward it would slip half way down again on the dreaded scree.  I was grabbing at random tufts of grass or loose rocks just to try and stay upright as the wind was so fierce.  I was literally scrambling on my hands and feet.  The rain and wind were increasing and I was constantly getting blown off balance and all I could do is keep climbing.  The muscles in my legs were tight and sore and the climb felt like it went on forever.  We eventually reached the top, but our excitement and joy was short lived, as we were faced with a vertical rock face.  By this time the rain was really hard and streams and rivers were forming on the mountains and rocks all around us.  We were in trouble!  Underfoot was slippery, there was water everywhere and we were drenched.  As I lowered myself down, I honestly felt like I should be attached to a harness and all my concentration went into every movement.  Since this day, Shalane and I have spoken about this particular moment, and we will always say that it was one of the best days of the trip.  As scarey as it was, as wet and cold as we were and as out of my depth as I felt, there is something to be said about moments like this one.  Every sense in our body is very much alive and in that moment.  We are 100% in the "now", our mind and body HAVE to be fully connected to ensure every decision and movement  is the right one.  And, as a result, you feel the cold, sharp rock as you cling to it with your hand and every ice cold rain drop as you get increasingly soggier.  You can here your breath as you take one foot off and place it strategically on the small ledge below.  People meditate and search for years for moments like this one and I can honestly tell you I can see why.  It was incredible.  The next few hours we squelched through the mud and crossed the rising, fast flowing river time and time again.  The track had been newly cut so it could have been worse but in places the river had been washed away and we had to literally walk in the river, following it down to our destination.  But where was our destination?  We were drenched to the bone and I was starting to get too cold.  I knew that if we didn't get to Caroling Bivvy soon,w e were going to have to stop and put on some dry clothes, and put up the tent or I would never get warm again.  My heart was pounding and we hadn't stopped for food all day so I was purely going on adrenaline.   We finally reached the bivvy, not a moment to soon but to our horror, the tiny, 2 bunk shed had no vacancies.  We stood at the door, shivering, soaking, miserable and tired and started distraught at the 2 DOC workers looking warm and dry inside, sipping warm tea.  And all they could say to us as they stared back, god knows what we must have looked like but all they said was  "hope ya got ya tent".  They never did find their strangled bodies!!!  Joking of course!

The Descent

We set up our tents in the rain, tore of our dripping wet clothes and got into our warms dry sleeping bags.  Drank tea after tea after tea until I eventually warmed up 3 hours later.  All I can say is what a day.  What an incredible, life changing memorable day.


Nothing like the feeling of putting on soaking wet clothes in the dark in a tent to say GOOD MORNING.  Horrible, cold, wet and horrible.  We stopped for tea on the side of the river when the sun eventually came up but the sand flies were unbelievably bad so we kept on stepping.  I'm sure when I looked at Shalane I couldn't see her skin for black flies.  Yuck!

It was an easy day, just 29kms of long flat valley.  The sun was now shining, the terrain was stress free and the vast mountains stretching as far as the eye can see were stunning.  It felt like a relaxing stroll and just what we all needed to process the crazy events of the previous day.  The next day was the last in this challenging section and as we all hobbled out with painful knees, achy feet and knotty shoulders, all the way to Boyle village, it felt like the events of Waiau pass were on a whole different trip.

Is This Alpine Enough for You?

Excited was an understatement!  A few days in Wellington to get organised and prepared and we soon found ourselves at the Interislander ferry port with a whole new adventure waiting fro us.  Simon, a friend of David's, (the Kiwi trekker who will be joining us for a while) had very kindly agreed to drop the three of us off and it was really nice to be waved off on what felt like a whole different trip.

The ferry was a lot larger and more glamorous than I thought it would be for a mere 3 hour journey and it reminded me very much of the Dover to Calais ferry back at home.  I was later told that the ship originally came from Europe so who knows, I maybe I had stepped aboard before.

We opted for the reclining lounge and settled in comfortably, and when the announcement came that there were freshly baked scones in the restaurant, I thought it couldn't possibly get any better.  We had been told to inform a certain member of staff that we were on the ferry so we did as we were instructed and later in the journey our names were announced, which was equally as exciting as the scones.  We were greeted with a surprise trip to the bridge to meet the captain while the ship negotiated it's way through the beautiful Sounds.  We were asked about our walk and in return told a little about the workings of the bessel.  We had an amazing view and it was a real eye opener seeing some of the fantastic properties that lined the sounds and were accessible only by boat.  We were also followed by a school of dolphins which made the trip extra special for me.  I'll never become bored of seeing dolphins.  It was a really lovely ferry ride and we topped it off with some live music in the bar.

The introduction to the south island was dramatic and challenging from day one.  We camped by the beach and after snacking on some fresh mussels David found for our dinner, we all settled down for our first night on the mainland.  In the early hours of the morning we were woken by the earth trembling below us and it felt like somebody shook me awake but when I opened my eyes I was still laying next to a still and sleepy Shalane and there was nobody else around.  An earthquake!  Nothing serious of course but I certainly felt like it was the south islands way of saying - Welcome!

The Richmond ranges were what we've all been waiting for.  Known as one of New Zealands best kept secrets (from themselves as well as tourists) the vast alpine ranges are an extremely challenging 7-8 day alpine crossing and not for the faint hearted.  We set off into the mountains and I was very excited to be so remote.  I was looking forward to the huts we would be staying in too as we didn't see many in the north.  The trails began with a few ascents which was a nice warm up for things to come and I realised that what I was dreading the most was that feeling of pure exhaustion that I've felt in the pas when climbing which I've decided is mostly due to dehydration so I made it my mission to drink and eat plenty and rest to the max in the afternoons.

The first day out of Pelorus Bridge saw us following a stunning bright green river fro most of the day.  It was one of the most beautiful rivers I've ever seen and I couldn't keep my eyes off it.  It was fresh and clear and the colour really was mesmerising. It was a pretty hot day and on one of our breaks at Captain Creek hut we all dived in to the water that had been calling my name all day.  Bloody hell it was cold - but totally amazing.  The trip had only just begun and it was already feeling like a while separate adventure to our northern expedition. 

After spending the night at Middy Hut we set off for one hell of a day.  We ascended, descended and walked on some very tricky paths.  They were thin and high with rock or slate under foot and by the end of the day I was overheated and exhausted.  It is amazing how drained you feel when you are concentrating so much on footing.  When we reached our hut I dipped my overworked feet in the refreshing turquoise water and wondered to myself hos the hell we were going to do 10 days straight!

The next day we headed to the gorgeous starveall hut, so that we were in a position to make a HUGE climb first thing the next morning.  Neither Shalane or I slept well so the day felt tough although short and when we climbed up to see the extremely cute hut sitting on the hill, surrounded by mountains and wildflower with the sun beating down, it was well worth the effort.  It was picture perfect an the 3 of us spent the afternoon sun bathing!  Everything in moderation.

The next day was epic!!!!  We began our climb up Mount Starveall straight away as the sun was rising and the clouds were still low and it felt brilliant.  The freshness of the air and getting the blood pumping, not to mention the fantastic views as we reached the top was a real buzz.  As we climbed and scrambled up the rocks above the tree line, David shouted "Is this alpine enough for you?"  And it was.  It was so different to anything we'd done so far.  Once we climbed we stayed high on the ridge line all day.  The views wee out of this world.  Mountains and mountains as far as the eye could see in every direction.  We could see where we'd walked and where we were heading and I can't begin to tell you how absolutely amazing that feeling was.  As we all stopped and took in the views David shouted "is this alpine enough for you?"  It felt like we were part of an exclusive world up there, like we couldn't get any higher.  We decided to keep trekking that day, instead of stopping at Old Man Hut, which meant a very challenging climb up both Little Mount Rintoull and Mount Rintoull.  We scrambled up to 1640m on little Mount Rintoull on rocks and scree which definitely gets the heart pumping, with the pack on our back and loose terrain under foot on a steep and high mountain, it felt scary and demanding, but it was what came next that was to be the real challenge.  We reached the top where we had the view of Mount Rintoull ahead of us and although it was only 1730m, we had to descend 250m first down a practically vertical mountain side.  If there was snow and I had a sledge, I wouldn't have hesitated but instead of snow, we had sharp, painful slate to land on.

The wind was picking up and the descent was extremely steep.  The terrain was more loose slate so with every foot we put down we were sliding with nothing to grab onto to stop us and when we did grab onto what looked like a secure big rock, the whole thing would snap off and go tumbling down the mountain and all I could think was that if I fell, I'd bounce down in the same way.  If I was to lean forward too much and start picking up momentum I'd not be able to stop until I was a broken heap on the bottom.  It was tough on the knees and tough on the heart and I honestly don't think I breathed for half an hour!  One thing is for sure, when we reached the bottom, the climb back up to Mount Rintoull looked like fun.  For this bit we needed momentum!  With every step the scree and rocks disappeared from under our feet and we were getting nowhere first.  We put all our energy into it and just kept stepping but the mountain was relentless and the top didn't feel like it was getting any closer.  The rocks that I thought were secure tumbled down for hundreds of metres I just kept stepping, the rocks I grabbed onto for support just broke off so I just kept stepping.  My adrenaline was wearing off and my determination became intermittent.  When we reached the top, the views and the feeling were completely, absolutely, 100% unbeatable.  It was alpine enough for me!  We reached the hut after a 10 hour day, did our laundry (as you do up the top of a really high mountain in a wooden hut) and ate an incredible amount of well deserved food before collapsing into bed.  It was extreme but what an accomplishment and what a day!

I am sorry to say that I am having far too much of an adventurous time to write any more, although there has been plenty more days equally as amazing.  If you want to check out Shalane's blog, she has written a little more than me about our epic adventure so far so check it out www.onelifeadventures.com