Day 19 - Macetown to Highland Creek Hut, 19km, 9 hours 30 minutes

The dawn chorus woke me this morning at 6.  Here that constitutes the cry of a lone gull.
Unfortunately, even though the sun wasn't yet up, a quick bathroom break was all the invitation the sandflies needed to renew their offensive.  Tent went down with all long clothes on and sandfly net hat in place.


The threatened rain hadn't yet come through, so over my standard breakfast of coffee and porridge I made the decision to once again break from the trail and head straight up the river, which looked an easier route.

I was about to set off just after 7, having only incurred a comparatively parsimonious 20 or so bites, when I realised, with no small regret, that I had packed my snack food somewhere down near the bottom of the pack.  Some people may be able to climb the 2000 meters that was in the offing for today without snack food, but not I!
10 minutes and another 10 bites later I was off!

With fords every hundred meters or so it was futile trying to keep my socks dry, nevertheless the boot/gaiter combo did a good job of keeping most of the mid calf high water out.  Nevertheless an enforced trip up the river itself within the first kilometer settled the matter of dry socks.

The river bed was choked with matagouri and wild rose.  I opted for high sidles to avoid this, but should probably have just kept to the river bed.
As with the saddle a few days earlier, I prevaricated and ended up in the worst of both worlds, stuck between the river and the high track.  A quick climb up a ridge back to the main track soon sorted that issue.


I still had a couple of kilometers to go before the proper climbing started for the day. There were a number of very hairy sidles, the track passing above big drops only just wide enough for my platypus feet.  It was the kind of terrain that would have been much better with only one stick, leaving a hand free for grasping foliage, but there was no safe place to stop and stow my second one.



At least the 4km or so up the river was enough to warm my muscles (if not my feet) before the first climb of the day, 600 meters to Roses Hut.  But not before a last fill of the water bottles before leaving the Arrow River behind.

The weather conditions were just perfect to do some climbing - overcast and cool, with an occasional light shower.  The showers intensified to proper rain just as I began climbing.  With little wind around, I decided to ignore the weather and leave the jacket off.

The first climb was pretty easy in the overall scheme of things, characterised by fairly gentle zigzags to lessen the slope.



Close to the top of the climb, at Roses Saddle, it clagged in and I lost my views, only for them to reappear as I dropped down to Roses Hut and my lunch break.



I had a big break at Roses hut over a very leisurely lunch. While this was done to give my legs time to recover for the more serious climbing to come, it was somewhat counter productive when the rain set in properly. Worried about footing on the steep terrain ahead I settled in, resigned to spending the night at Roses.

In the early afternoon a pair of SOBOs came through. They assured me that the track was well formed and not slippery, which was all the prompting I needed to pack bags and head off.

The second climb of the day was pretty much straight up from the hut. It wasn't as kind as the first - straight up a very steep hill.  Hard yakka.

Having previously found and documented the world's most useless cattle stop, I was delighted to add the world's most useless stile to the collection.



The afternoon consisted of a lot of up and down along ridges, all of it extremely steep and all of it clagged in, requiring vigilance to stay on the route.  It was pretty bluffy country with some extremely gnarly bits thrown in to keep things interesting - boot wide, slippery track with a bad camber above precipitous drop offs.  I could feel the fatigue in my body, so deliberately slowed myself even further than I was already going.  Granny mode was engaged (sorry mum!), making sure of each step before taking the next one.

As I walked I Passed many SOBOs, all anxiously enquiring about hut space.  This doesn't augur well for accommodation in the near future.  I may be taking to the tent a fair bit.

Eventually, after an extremely hard afternoon's walking I spied the hut. Cruelly it had been located halfway up the next hill, requiring one final, exhausting climb.

2000 meters climbed, and most of it given back again! I would say that's easily the most climbing I've ever done in a day, with or without a pack, so this evening I'm pretty pleased with myself. I'm also pretty pleased with my feet, which were wet all day, with the heels and toes receiving a real workout from the constant climbing/descending, yet have no new issues at day's end.
So that's the back of the infamous Motatapu broken. I still have a bit of climbing tomorrow, but nothing like what I did today.


As you can probably guess from the photo we have a full hut tonight. I'm the only kiwi in residence. Disturbingly there is a lot of talk in the hut of guerrilla walking the Milford track. Good luck with that one.