Three Aussies in NZ - Lewis Pass region.

Great story. I remember being in the Blue Mountains marvelling that just a few hours earlier I'd finished a day's work in Christchurch. It can be surprising how close neighbours we are, especially given such contrasting landscapes.

Great story. Aussies quickly become friends when you know how to flatter us by telling us how great our huts and water are. :-) Please do roll on with the next episode of your story, keeping in mind that the last time this reader went up the Waiau and camped at its head was in pouring rain. :-(

I certainly agree with kanangra, you kiwis (DOC's as well of course), certainly have a great infrastructure for trampers, and this is sorely missing in Australia. You also have a fantastic country, especially the South island, where we have returned 6 times over the years. This year we were not so lucky with the weather and only got one tramp in instead of the 3 planned. SO, we have to return next year to complete "unfinished business". Did I forget to mention how wonderful the people are? Cheers, Peter.

Part 2 We had a long day ahead of us and so were up while it was still dark and did our best not to disturb our still slumbering friends before heading out into the pre dawn gloom. Fortunately the going was all open and so the light of the waning moon was sufficient to navigate by. The morning air was crisp and cool.A light frost covered the ground as we left the St James Walkway behind and crossed the Ada River before heading across open farming flats for tha Waiau Valley. Sun up found us opposite the Lake Guyon Track on a 4WD farm road. Quickly various clothing layers were shed as the temperature began to climb. What a glorious day we were to enjoy. Clear blue skies a light breeze at our backs and the most beautiful mountain and river scenery. Mt Una was majestic at the head of Glacier Gully. It seemed hard to comprehend that with scenery this grand we were in fact on private property. You Kiwis must be spoilt for choice. I know that if we had anything like it back home it would be in a N.P. Our track soon led to a ford in the river not far from the junction with the track over Maling Pass. Access over this pass from Lake Tennyson seemed quite feasible? From here the map showed the track heading up valley on the left hand side but we spent most of our time on the right. I paused by some of the deep pools coloured a gorgeous turquoise but didn't see any fish. After a solid morning walking it was good to finally cross the flat to Caroline Ck. Biv at the bush edge. This was the only shelter we passed not to be equipped with mattresses. Also it was the only spot spoilt by litter. Gleefully we dropped our packs and prepared lunch looking out over the valley. The mornings travel had been quick and relatively easy. We did not know it then but things were soon to change. Before too long the valley began to narrow and the broad flat terraces disappeared to be replaced by steeply sloping rock and rubble slopes. Soon our track vanished too. In its place the occasional marker cairn. Our pace slowed considerably. Eventually the forks at the head of the valley came into view and at about the same point we left the last of the trees behind and began our battle with your notorious sub-alpine scrub. After an initial skirmish we retreated to the creek to lick our wounds and prepare a fresh assault. I felt like a pin cushion and decided gaiters would be in order. Now I could see why my two companions had opted for long trousers. Ahead of us the water tumbled over a waterfall in a narrow slot canyon. The true right side looked too steep and so we launched ourselves again into the scrub on the true left bank. Just as I was about to admit defeat once more to my immense relief I stumbled upon a track of sorts which seemed to be heading in the right direction and which we gladly follwed up around the falls. Here the gradient eased for a while and the scrub began to thin. In its place was clumps of tussock grass which I found quite taxing. Does one walk through or on this stuff? Repeatedly I would fall down unseen holes to the mirth of my companions who seemed able to balance far better than me on uneven ground. Again the valley began to rise steeply as it swerved up and around to the left. The shadows were beginning to lengthen and our stride shorten as we laboured up. Several times I felt certain the lake must be just over the next rise only to be disappointed as I arrive huffing and puffing to be confronted with yet more steep slopes covered in rock and tussock. As strange as it seems for a time lack of water even became an issue as we were sidling well above the river and the day was still hot. Finally with my watch reading 1600m we made a final push up to what looked like the top basin and sure enough as we crested the final lip there it was; nestled under a ring of peaks and a shimmering emerald colour, Lake Thompson our destination for the day. Quickly we set about rigging a shelter with our tarps. We chose a site sheltered by a large boulder near the outlet of the lake and ran a line down from the top of that. Once guyed out it felt quite snug and protected in under the lee of the boulder. It was no sooner up than a wind blew through from the direction of the pass which buffeted and shook our home for the night but it stood firm and soon things settled down again so we could prepare dinner. As the sun dropped so did the temperature and I developed a case of the shivers and so dived into my sleeping bag just as the last of the sun's rays lit the tops of the peaks opposite bright orange. What a day it had been I reflected as I lay there so glad to be horizontal at last. I hoped that the weather was good tomorrow because we had to cross the pass then sidle around the head of the D'Urville before finally dropping into the East Matakitaki. It had all sounded so simple as we planned the trip. After today's exertions I was no longer so sure. These and other inponderables quickly faded as I drifted into that deep sleep that only comes after a day of solid effort in the mountains. TBC. K.

I am enjoying reading your account, nicely written! I started tramping when I was 18 as neither of my parents are trampers & it wasn't till I left home that I got into it. I always used to go with my sister and sometimes with other female friends along as well. When we were 19-25y my sister and I did 4 to 8 day trips just the two of us (though nothing hugely remote or extreme). We're both since married so usually go with our partners now but girls only trips are lots of fun! We're hoping to do part of Te Araroa together in the next few years, the boys aren't game (or aren't mad enough) but they will help out as support crew. I look forward to reading about the rest of your trip.

I agree Chris, great account. Like a serial you have to wait and see what happened next! I'm sorry I didn't start tramping younger, first tramp when went to South Island when I was 58 for the Milford and Routeburn. Been back 5 more times since then.

Tarps (we call then flys) rigged from a boulder?? I reckon there are two type for tramper, and this includes Kiwis too. Those who have weathered a norwest storm with only a fly for shelter and those who haven't. I think the numbers between the two groups are probably pretty even. Those of us who have usually consider that we have been dished up a pretty good lesson from Huey. If I am camping above bushline, it is the best tent that money can buy as far as I am concerned. :-) Roll on episode 3...

Part 3. To my immense relief Saturday dawned fine and clear. Quickly we made our way up to the pass behind the lake. As I crested the divide I recoiled in horror at the precipitous drop off the far side. Gingerly I crept up agin and peered over desperately trying to keep my vertigo in check. Were we expected to descend that? I thought this was supposed to be a walking trip? A hasty conference was convened as a result of which it was decided to climb higher to our left before attempting to sidle around to the pass away off on the opposite side of the valley. With my heart pounding I cautiously moved off trying to avert my gaze from the near vertical gulf beneath. No wonder Kiwis are so tough if this is what their tourist tracks are like. How hard must the real mountain climbs be? Cautiously we traversed around at a fairly high level till at last the slope began to level out at least a little. Here the packs were off loaded so that we could clamber up a loose scree slope to the ridge line. A magnificent view greeted us out over the valley of Caroline Ck. Almost its entire course was visible as it swept out of the mountains to empty itself into the waters of the Waiau where we had lunched only the day before. The distance as the crow flys would be lucky to be 5 kilometres! Once back at the packs we began our final climb to the pass over to the Matakitaki. It was very steep and loose and a battle not to lose ground hard won but was eventually attained. From here the view back to Thompson Pass was magnificent. Had we really successfully negotiated that? From this angle the drop if anything looked even more precipitous and I was very glad we had sidled high. Compared to that I expected the descent of the Matakitaki to be a breeze and perhaps because of relaxed concentration soon found myself flying through the air as I pivoted on a rock I had wrongly thought to be stable. I landed with a sickening thud and for a moment everything went blank. Was this how it was all to finish? An ignominious exit by helicopter? I felt weak in the stomach and my heart was racing. Desperately I tried to regain control of my breathing. My ribs were sore but I think my legs were OK? Slowly I sat up and then tried to stand, still very shaky. If only I could stop my head from spinning I might be OK. A few more deep breaths and then a few tentative steps. By now my companions were well ahead. They were always much faster than me over broken ground. I envied the graceful way they jumped from rock to teetering rock. By comparison I was just so unco. "Come on pull yourself together" I admonished myself and with a groan haltingly began to move off. To my relief, though unsteady, I could walk and so the emergency was averted. It brought home to me though just how fine the line sometimes is. I rounded a corner to find they had stopped for lunch on a ledge beside the river in the sun. I didn't much feel like eating but tried to force some down as we still had a long way to go. The upper valley was quite constricted and although a track would tantalisingly appear following it proved difficult. It seemed to be mainly on the true left but as I was wearing sanshoes I was happy to cross the river whenever I thought the other side appeared to offer more favourable going. Whilst my companions, who were shod in boots, elected to remain mainly on the one side. At length some flats did emerge which made going a little easier and then a large side valley on the left. If that was Doris Ck (what is with all the feminine names for the creeks in these parts?) then the hut should not be too far away. Sure enough away off in the distance at the other end of a long flat and on the other side of the river there appeared to be a structure. Encouraged we hastened on and were soon reclining on the mattressed bunks inside. It was 4:00PM and the temptation to stop was great but with only one day left to make it back to Lewis Pass more distance was required. So with a sigh packs were heaved onto tired shoulders and we were off. At least a marked track held out the promise of easier going, but there were so many trees down that progress was in fits and starts. Robert slipped and fell crossing one of the many side creeks and was drenched. I didn't feel such a clutz after all. Suddenly it became quite overcast and rain began to fall. Then we encountered something quite strange; a sign. It was the first we had seen since leaving the car. It told us Bob's Hut was still an hour away. Doggedly we plodded on. Soon the sound of water roaring told us we were close to the river again and then there it was. Not so much a bridge as a trapeze wire! Was I supposed to cross on that? This was nothing like the magnificent swing bridge at the start of the trip. If the water below were not so deep and foreboding I would have tried to ford. But when my two friends lurched safely across I had no option but to follow. Fixing my eyes on the far bank and trying not to look down into the abyss I edged my way over. Safely ensconced on the other side we set off once more as the track climbed up into the forest. Again our way was frequently barred by fallen trees which had to be climbed over or, with great difficulty, crawled under. This latter manouevre nearly always in my case entailed snagging my pack which would only come free after a great heeve that often sent me sprawling. Oh the joys of bush travel. By now it was getting quite late and then we unexpectedly burst out onto a broad open flat on the far side of which there appeared to be a hut? Could that be Bob's? If it was then, from the smoke emanating from the chimney, we would have company. Sure enough we were greeted at the door by Helen and Phillip who despite our lack of arms supposed us to be hunters. No we're Australians I quickly reassured her. She gave me a knowing look. They too had come from Lake Thompson but had traveled via a high ridge and had taken 2 days. Further conversation was left until we had bathed ready for dinner. Brrrr those waters were chilly. They seemed somewhat perplexed that 3 Australians would suddenly appear out of nowhere in this out of the way spot. "Well it seemed like a good idea at the time" I explained. They too were headed for the st James Walkway tomorrow but only as far as Ada Pass Hut whereas we needed to be out as our plane left at 6:30AM on Monday morning. On hearing this they gave a look which suggested they didn't like our chances. After another long day I needed little rocking before drifting off only to be woken about midnight to a roaring wind that sounded as if it would rip the hut from its foundations. I snuggled down into my bag and tried to shut out the sound. With one high pass to go that was not what we needed. TBC. K.

I don't know if you had seen it already but skiveoff has uploaded a GPX file of part of this trip. See http://www.tramper.co.nz/?3490 If you download that file and then open it with Google Earth you can virtually relive the trip.