We drive over on a sunny day to take advantage of the magnificent August weather well west of the main divide. The rain didn’t cease until we’d crossed the Rolleston River bridge upvalley of Otira. By the time we embarked on this climb, it was 3.38pm and the DoC sign said the return trip would take 7 hours so I assumed we wouldn’t be getting to the top.

However with the easy, well maintained and hiked track we were able to get to the summit in 1hr 47mins with Frank talking about an email he needed to send and other work issues. I figured it was probably more pleasant talking about work things than going at a faster pace! We got to a little summit in the thinning forest where there was a mysterious signpost advising us, “150, not out”. The easterly wind which mimics our Canterbury nor’wester had made the track quite dry.

Soon after this we dropped towards a short section of a saddle. I suggested we call it a day and turn back but Frank was happy to go for the summit and descend by torchlight so we carried on. It was good we did because we were now in the scrub zone, indicating the top of the mountain wasn’t far off. We climb up to the spine of the Mt Tuhua and headed for the nearby trig. The track was pleasant going amidst dracophyllum, stunted flax and tussocks. A final steep scramble got us to the summit where there were a couple of wooden posts to perch on and take in the expansive views.

We looked around, identifying peaks and valleys. Nearby was the ridge on Mt Brown where the lovely hut sits. Our quarry for the next day, Turiwhate was close by. Far off, a white pyramid was reckoned to be Tara Tama after we’d identified Mt Kerr, Mt Griffen and the razorback ridge. After 25 minutes of this and Frank taking photo’s in the gathering brilliance of the setting sun we left our vantage point and started to climb down the mountain track again. The nearby snow covered tips of the ranges had begun to turn pink.

The sun finally met the horizon at 5.57pm. The low angle of the sun threw a full orange light on our surroundings. The scrub looked as though it was on fire, particularly with the russet hues of dracophyllum and the weathered tips of the flax enhanced. We paused to take it all in and Frank recorded it for posterity. Then we dropped down to the saddle. We were both hot from layering up at the summit against a moderate easterly. We stripped off and Frank managed to take a second bite of his muesli bar. The headtorches were switched on.

The descent took nearly as long as getting up there. The track is a bit steep at times so care was taken to protect footholds and aging knees! Eventually we were on flatter ground and burst out to the car 1hr and 45mins after we’d left the summit. We drove off to the adjoining campground which was empty except for a friendly Frenchman sleeping in his stationwagon.

I concocted a meal of Kaweka Kiwi Lamb with our own veges, augmented by additional dehy spud (organic!) while Frank selected a sheltered site to pitch the tent by a cluster of small trees. The evening was unbelievably mild for an August night. Eventually we tumbled off to the tent. The bright moon intruded on my sleep. When it disappeared I slept more constantly. In the morning a nearby twittering chorus of finches from the trees punctuated by raucous pukeko squarks got us moving. As the sunlight crept on us and the tent, the Frenchman came over to parley. He’d enjoyed the location so much he’d lingered to climb up to Mt Brown hut in the rain. There, he’d appreciated the little cracker stove to dry his ‘wear’ and gone for a walk around the lake. As a person who eschews the NWC section of Patterson Inlet for its interminable coastal up and downs, his recommendation didn’t appeal to me. Chacun a son gout. He was soon driving off, heading north to the Abel Tasman. Good time of year for that one.

I dried out the tent and we packed up to head off to Turiwhate. We decided time was the essence so didn’t take on the unexplored adventure of following the Old Christchurch Rd.

More tomorrow…