Week 6 summary

A full 7 days walking, 135km covered.

My feet are back in really good shape, and I've been enjoying the familiar Canterbury tracks and being within range of home at trail heads. Indeed it has felt more like a series of tramps rather than a long trail for the past couple of weeks. It's great to have some family life, and Karen & the kids have really enjoyed it too.

I'm coming to the end of the Canterbury Rivers in the next few days, and will be starting the trek towards the Nelson Lakes and out of range of home. This will commence the final 3 week stint that will finish off the trail.

I'm still really enjoying the walking - I haven't had any more "I don't feel like walking days", like the day out of Hawea, and then again out of Rangitata. Nevertheless the prospect of the end of the walk is pleasing - I guess it'll be bitter-sweet.

My back is still holding up but had been rather stiff today - the difficult Goat Pass route no doubt hasn't helped. In any case today I took 2 voltaren for the first time on the whole walk. Not ideal, but given I expected to do that every single day, I'll take it!

Day 42 - Goat Pass Hut to Pfeifer Creek, Taramakau Valley, 21km, 7 hours

In the interests of full disclosure we shared Goat Pass Hut last night with 4 very friendly French nationals.

It was another poignant day walking, with much reminiscing on the awesome tramp through here last year with Caleb and the fellas, although I was doing the route in reverse this time out.

The route was difficult directly out of the hut - the upper Deception River in particular is a notoriously difficult route. Down climbing waterfalls and the like with a heavy pack makes for exciting walking, but it's the kind of terrain where you feel you are really taking your chances with an injury, even if the boulders don't get slippery until further down the valley. I was using 1 stick to cushion down climbing, but packed the other away so I could more easily swing off trees and down climb boulders. It's nutty to think a race comes through here. Kudos to my mate Andy Croucher for completing it last month as part of the last coast to coast.


There are some great plunge pools down the Deception River, and it wasn't too long before I was throwing myself in for a swim; undies, boots and gaiters on - there was no point taking them off with us crossing the river so often.

After 90 minutes of hard yakka we had made 2km which saw us at the Deception Hut, and out of the very worst of the terrain.  I didn't have to go too many pages back in the hut book to find our entry from where we stayed last year.


Carrying on we stopped for lunch at a great looking plunge pool. It was only after I had swum that I realised it was the same one Caleb and I had used for impromptu last year. The selfie I took afterwards I will always treasure. Two guys out having a great time, loving life, having just had a (very quick) dip in a mid spring snow melt river. Queue much more sober photo this time out.


Sigh....
Back to the trail, it wasn't long after this that I had an incident that could have finished the walk for me. I was walking between two large boulders, each probably a meter in diameter and the better part of a ton in weight. Unbeknown to me, one was resting on a smaller stone lower down that was acting like a fulcrum. When I stepped on this boulder it rotated away from the other. My knee and thigh became wedged between the two boulders, with the two coming back together once my weight was off the first one. With a now firmed wedged and immovable leg, I resorted to pushing the movable boulder with my hands and managed to get it to engage with the fulcrum again, thereby creating enough space to withdraw my leg. Immediately afterwards there was a crunch as the fulcrum gave way, and a resounding thunk as the two boulders crashed more permanently together. A close call!

The Deception Valley, while still having difficult sections, opens out further down valley, the going becoming easier.

Before long we reached the Otira Valley and the road.

Avoiding the road we took to a grassy 4 wheel drive track for the 3km traverse down the Otira to the Taramakau River, our route up towards Harper's Pass and the upper Hurunui River... but not before an electric fence had delivered my first shock of the trail.

Setting up camp a few kilometres short of Kiwi Hut it didn't take long for a reminder to be delivered that we were now on the West Coast - in the form of swarms of Sandflies that descended as soon as we stopped. They're brutes too. They land and bite. No mucking around. This called for defcon 2, on with the long clothes, the dimp, and even the insect hat.


I think I'll largely be confined to my tent until tomorrow morning. Every time I open the zip it's no exaggeration to say at least 50 of the blighters get in. They sound like the constant patter of rain against my tent. Never mind. At least the views are good!

Day 41 - Bealey Hotel to Goat Pass Hut, 15.5km, 4 hours 30 minutes

With a good weather window required for the next section and a settled forecast for the next few days, it was time to hit the trail again.  Karen dropped me off at the Bealey Hotel with a plan to meet me 5km up the river at Greyney's Shelter, where the Mingha River comes down to the Waimak.  

Setting off there was an early ford of the Waimak, which was bitterly cold, albeit not any deeper than mid thigh. This led onto a rough marked trail up the Bealey River bed; it was all pretty easy going and within 40 minutes I spied Karen making her way towards me. 

Shortly afterwards with pack donned it was goodbye to Karen and Morris and off up the Mingha River. 

With a week of food on board, I was surprised that the pack felt so good, especially with a warmer and heavier sleeping bag now on board.  Weighing my pack before I left it came to 20kg, not bad given how many supplies I have on board. 

The Mingha Valley provides good views up towards Goat Pass.

It wasn't long at all before I was sitting down for lunch on Dudley's Knob, a short but sharp protrusion above the river, and only a couple of kilometers past that saw me at Mingha Biv. 

In the few kilometres that remained until Goat Pass and the hut, which is pretty much right on the pass, I happened upon Neil, my now longstanding trail mate.  We proceeded to the hut together.


Remembering the fantastic views to be seen when I was here late last year (with Caleb and the fellas) it was time to setup shop for the evening and enjoy said views.

Hiatus 6 - Home for 3 days

Having reached Arthurs Pass I took the handy proximity to Rangiora as an excuse to head on home for resupply and for a couple of days with the family.

The next section is over Goat Pass to the West Coast, then up the Taramakau River and over Harper Pass into the head waters of the Hurunui.
The first few days especially are very exposed to flooding rivers, and with the northwest arch looking like it did there was no way I was getting back on track on schedule.  So an extra day at home spending time with Karen and the kids and calorie loading.  Oh the pain!

Back on track today, next to be seen on the Lewis Pass in about a week.

Day 40 - Hamilton Hut to Bealey Hotel, 19.2km, 6 hours

From Lagoon Saddle, looking toward Arthurs Pass and the upper Waimakariri

After a bizarre evening and next morning in the hut it was a relief to be back on track for the trip up the Harper River to the Lagoon Saddle, a very familiar route.



From the saddle there are spectacular views towards Arthur's Pass and into the upper Waimakariri River.



The trail then follows the Western flank of Mt Bruce before dropping to Cora Lynn Station and some quick road walking to the Bealey for a beer, a pickup by Karen and home again for a few days.

Day 39 - Lake Selfe to Hamilton Hut, 21.8km, 4 hours 45 minutes

In the morning we had bellbirds literally surrounding our camp site on all sides. For someone who has planted their garden to encourage them but never seen one at home, it's a rather magical experience. I took some video but can't post that to my blog, so you'll have to put up with the rather enthralled selfie I accidentally took while filming.
You'll see I'm rather well rugged up - there was another light frost last night and I'm now consistently feeling cool in the hours before dawn. Definitely time to switch to my 4 season sleeping bag next time I'm home. The 3 season I bought for this trip might be 3 season in Auckland, but not down here!

We had a little more road walking first thing this morning to the Harper river.  This took little more than an hour, then with a quick shortcut to the river bed at shaved off a needless few kilometers by fording the river early, the first of several fords of the Harper we were to do, before starting to follow it upstream along the Birdwood Range.

Until we got further into the mountains later in the day the walking wasn't particularly interesting, although Mount Olympus grew progressively more spectacular as we approached it. Despite the relative mundanity I quite enjoyed the walk, invoking as it did very pleasant memories of tramping this valley and the valleys around it as a kid. This is very much my tramping home patch.

After lunch and a couple of (very cold) swims at the Avoca River confluence, where there is a quite spectacular t-intersection of valleys, we continued on past a local landmark, the pinnacles.


I enjoyed the valley more and more as we got further up river and towards the Hamilton Creek confluence.

Just past the confluence, at the point where there used to be a 3 wire bridge - never really required (it was always easier to just ford the river; if the river is too high to ford here you should probably be staying put anyway), but who can resist the fun of a 3 wire bridge; I've never not used it - in any case I digress, the 3 wire bridge has been replaced with a boring footbridge. RIP. To get back from my digression and then my subsequent sub-digression to my original point, this ex-3 wire bridge, now boring suspension bridge, marks 800 km of trail!

That's 500 miles, more or less. So yes, I WOULD walk 500 miles, but unhappily I wouldn't walk 500 more, there's only about 300 left until the end.

So that brings us to the Hilton, the affectionate nickname used by Canterbury trampers for the Hamilton Hut. Built in the early 1980's, it was the first modern style hut built in Canterbury. This means I'd have started using it when it was pretty much brand new. With its wide deck, awesome fireplace (since converted to a very effective pot black stove), convenient drying rack, running water!!!, and extensive views towards both the Cass and Lagoon Saddles, it made quite the contrast to the 4 and 6 bunk, draughty forestry huts we were used to. It still stacks up as among the best huts on the TA, a match for the Greenstone Hut - pretty much a great walks standard hut, and only bettered by the brand new huts on the Motutapu. Needless to say, it's great to be back!


There are 3 SOBOs in - all French (there are lots of French in trail - and like seemingly many Frenchmen they're a bit weird. They have said essentially nothing to us - I get the distinct vibe that they see us as not meriting their time. In any case a hearty hello on arrival was greeted by a "humph" , and a warning at dinner that a pot was boiling over with nothing at all, just a sullen saunter to the pot. After that I gave it up with the conclusion that THEY weren't worth MY time.
To the tune of the Fawlty Towers German episode, "Don't mention the Rainbow Warrior. Don't mention the Rainbow Warrior". I don't want to write off a whole country - I've met some wonderful French people - and I will admit to being a little pre-disposed given the whole "we'll blow up a ship in your harbour in a blatant act of war within a generation of thousands of your young men dying to help free our country (twice)" thing, but generally I find I dislike the French. Sorry for any of those of you with connections. If it's any consolation I'm half Dutch and I really don't like many of them much either. Off point again. SOBOs. There is a definite trend for less of them, I think I'm through the hump which is good news for hut space. The 3 today is the most I've seen in some time. I think the most I saw in one day was 12 on the south side of the Rangitata River.

Enough blabbering for the day...

Day 38 - Rakaia River to Lake Selfe, 23.8km, 6 hours 15 minutes

I might be getting spoiled for scenery, but this was a frankly tedious day of road walking.

The highlight of the day was Karen's 2 part breakfast.  I've had a luxury night tucked up off track after Karen and the kids picked me up from the south bank of the Rakaia. I started breakfast with fried new spuds dug from our garden and left over from the excellent slap up meal Karen put on last night. Yum!
Seconds were Easter French toast, somewhat of a tradition in our family. I'd better explain. Years ago when the kids were young we were on our way up to Motueka for Easter, and stopped beside the Motueka River to camp the night. The next morning we realised we hadn't brought anything for breakfast. Nothing for 2 hungry young boys! Scrounging around we came up with a loaf of bread, but alas no fishes, just some eggs and a big bag of those hollow Easter eggs that are pretty meh, but nevertheless not to be touched until Easter Sunday. In desperation we broke this golden rule and broke up the eggs to be used on French toast, as a kind of replacement for maple syrup. Amazing, and now we do it every year. However this year I'll be somewhere around the Nelson Lakes come Easter, so Karen brought it forward. Yum, yum, yum!

Anyway, to the walking. I hadn't put two and two together on this, but starting beside the Coleridge Power Station on the Rakaia River, and then traversing the length of Lake Coleridge during the day was always going to take a steep climb to start with. So the 200 meter climb was a bit of a rude start to the day, albeit climbing through a quite lovely Arboretum.

I've got a soft spot for a decent Arboretum having lived beside one in Kaiapoi. This one was rather more dishevelled and probably the better for it. The climb was accompanied by the caw of numerous magpies. It invoked memories of walking to primary school which, at least in my memory, was always accompanied by magpies. In any case it wasn't long before views of the Rakaia opened out behind and then the deep azure of Lake Coleridge in front.

Then down to the lake for the first of 3 swims for the day - this one rather chilly and cold, probably the coldest of all the lakes so far. With a 10am walking start and a big day of walking ahead keeping the swim to a quick one was probably a good thing though.

So far, so good. But that was only the first 5 or so kilometres and all the rest was on gravel road. What's more, being Sunday the road was hideously busy, with a car every minute or two.  There was a lot of transitioning between the margin and the road.  Most drivers were very considerate and slowed as they passed, receiving a wave of thanks as they did so. A couple weren't quite so great, and would roar past within a coupe of metres at top speed. I refrained from sending a different wave their way.
One very excitable Dutchman pulled his campervan up in the middle of the road, overjoyed at meeting real life Te Araroa walkers, then proceeded to get his wife to take photos. It's all part of the service. I'm still looking for my first offer of a ride though. Not that I'd accept one, but female TAers are apparently offered rides all the time while road walking. Me, not so much. Oh well, at least I can pee pretty much anywhere I want 😀.

There really isn't much at all to say about this section. It was there to be walked, so we walked it.


Mid afternoon and low on energy we stopped for an extended break at the Ryton River for swim, lunch and an hour of badly needed lazing around.

Carrying on, things got slightly prettier as we got to a series of lakes, the pick of which was Lake Selfe. With a name like that it'd be rude not to.

At the far end of the lake we still had another 6km or so of walking to the nominal campsite for the evening at the Harper River.  The campsite was described in the trail notes as 'grim', the highlights being a water tap, a toilet, and a line of pines to camp under. Hmmmmmm. Grim indeed. A high country lake sounded many times better. So Neil and I started looking. The problem is that the lake had many 'no camping' signs and many fishermen patrolling the shores. Our luck was in between Selfe and the next one on, Lake Henrietta - where we found an area that had no 'No Camping' signs.  I'll take that as positive affirmation!

One quite pleasent, but potentially eel filled (lots of weed), lake swim later I had another culinary highlight with some of Karen's Russian fudge with a hot chocolate for dessert.

Finally I leave you with an interesting image - the inside of my sleeping bag. Looks rather womb like to me.