This was the “high country” as my late godfather Mert would call it.
Day 1... 15 mile hike on the shoreline of Lake Rotoiti and up the Travers River.
Day 2... Shorter hike but with decent elevation gain to Upper Travers Hut nestled below the Travers Saddle. As the rain came pouring down all day, we kept the wood stove going, played hearts, and chatted with our hutmates – Jock the 76 year old kiwi and an American couple, Jake and Allison. Jock jokingly says he gets one month leave every year when he leaves his wife in Auckland and tramps around by himself, hearing aids included. And when one these devices had a problem 20 miles in the backcountry, one of the five other people in the hut happened to be a trained audiologist to diagnose the problem. Strange how these things work out sometimes.
After a few rounds of hearts in which I finally defeated that evil queen of spades and managed to not get stomped by Dan, we went to bed with the rain still coming. Jonathan mentioned something about hoping it would snow. The next morning the valley was coated in the white stuff as we set out to cross a high mountain pass with wind and snow in our faces. We said goodbye to the diminutive Jock who was chopping wood and busily stoking the wood stove to wait for a better day to climb the arduous pass. Hopefully the Ball and Camisa family genes, along with other amounts of luck, will allow me to be doing the same at that age.
Day 3... Over the Travers Saddle in a snow squall and down the other side over slippery rocks. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It was a blast.
After relative quiet in the other huts, we were in for a shock at the next hut, West Sabine. It turns out we stumbled upon a tramping crew of 10 Australian mothers who decided that they loved us. Their male guide seemed glad that someone else could entertain these wild women for a while. Dan caught two rainbows in the Sabine river, and in exchange for a little red wine, we shared the fresh fish with everyone in the hut. Before long we were playing the card game Spoons with 10 semi-drunk moms. The game of spoons involves a mad dash and grabbing the spoons at the center of the table. If you don't get a spoon you are out. 10 shrieking wine and rum drinking australian women competing for a limited supply of spoons certainly got the adrenaline pumping. By some stroke of luck, Jonathan and I made it to the final showdown before I won it all. Our new moms then decided that we would take a family picture so, if you are curious, you can see this amusing piece of evidence. There was a bedtime story read by one of the mothers and then before I knew it, I awoke to giggling and cackling women at 7 in the morning. These gregarious women never quit. They were constantly laughing and cracking themselves up. Now I know what ten middle-aged women are like when they get in a group.
Day 4... Caught my first New Zealand fish in the morning – 4+ pounds, 22+ inch rainbow out of the Sabin river. Jonathan hiked ahead while Dan and I stopped and fished the beautiful river. Stayed at the Sabine hut on the shores of Lake Rotoroa. The hut seemed oddly quiet after the events of the night before.
Day 5... There was no warm up on this one. Walk outside of the hut and go up, and up, and up. They don't really believe in switchbacks here, taking their early math training seriously. (that one about a straight line being the shortest distance) A mountain goat trail really. But the views rewarded us as we looked out over the peaks and valleys we climbed the previous days and with sore legs, made it to the beautiful Lake Angelus Hut. Unfortunately though, this hut is one of the most popular huts on the South Island and only takes a day to reach from town. We were on our fifth day of hiking and had just climbed 4,000 feet to get there. Lets just say I was could smell my self at this point whereas the people that crowded into the hut later in the afternoon had just left civilization. Makes you slightly self-conscious.
With 20 some people sleeping the same room, you are bound to run into some problems. The girl next to me seemed to change what noises she was making every five minutes, often throwing in a few whimpers just for good measure. An orchestra of various snorers and general noisemakers carried throughout the night ruining any hope of good sleep.
Day 6... Along the high Robert Ridge above the clouds. Team America (us three) as usual outstripped any other competitors in the speed hiking event (an event only we knew about) despite ailments such as Jonathan's bum knee and me happening to sweat sunscreen in first the left eye, then the right, and then just stumbling bleary eyed over rocks for the rest of the hike. Dan hitchiked to BJ and rolled around the corner beeping 20 minutes later.
It is a strange thing when you start thinking about a stinky overloaded van as home, sighing with relief when you are back in her comfy, bobbing seats. And except for the extreme presence of powdered milk, peanut butter, and noodles in my life, on the road and in the mountains is becoming addictive.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Abel Tasman Coastal Track
So for those wondering, (Judy you asked) the South Island of NZ is a whole different animal from the North. The North is more about the coastlines, beaches, and cities. The South is much more sparsely populated, rural, mountainous, and well, the place everybody wants to spend their time. We spent about 20 days on the North Island so that we can spend as much time as possible on the larger South Island.
After the ferry ride we drove to Nelson to prepare for the four day Abel Tasman track. We spent the night at a free campsite and did a day hike to the top of a steep river gorge. We got a bit excited by the views at one point and decided it would be a great idea to scramble over knife point rocks up to a higher summit. “If we get up there we have views of valleys on either side and be able to see all around!” This glorious and fairly arduous quest resulted in views of some trees and more sharp wavy rocks. Back down we went along another trail and peered down the deepest vertical hole in New Zealand where no signs or ropes are available to stop the trusting American tourists from walking a little too far down the trail. Apparently they believe in good ol' fashioned natural selection here.
The next day we set out for our first real backpacking adventure though it is really a warm up for what is to come. The Abel Tasman track is a moderate hike along the coastline of the Tasman sea. The area is named after the first European guy to discover New Zealand by anchoring off these shores before being attacked by angry Maori tribes and saying “I'm getting the F*!$ out of here!” He never set foot on land.
But anyway, the track is a Great Walk, meaning that it is one of 10 or so such tracks around the country that are the best of the best. We looked over green, “are we in the carribean?” water and white, sandy beaches. At the end of each day, you could find us lounging on these beaches in the bright sun. I'm pretty sure this hike cannot be classified as roughing it. To add to our comfort, we camped in 20-30 person huts that are common in this country. They supply drinking water, mattress pads, a kitchen area, and plentiful views. Because pretty much everyone in the huts have the same agenda, we stayed with mostly the same people for the trip. As you can guess, this can be both good and bad. Unfortunately for us, we are already stuck with Dan, who snores like a freight train, for every hut trip in the next 2 months. I apparently have the ability to sleep through it but Jonathan hits Dan with any object in reach about 4 times a night. This usually results in some snuffling, snorting, rearranging, and more snoring. The first time I woke up to it, I was stifling laughter because it was so unimaginably loud.
Because the Abel Tasman is relatively tame compared to some hikes, we usually took it easy with our morning time. We were some of the last to leave the huts, often asleep when gun-ho families and trekkers made their departure. But we made up for our laziness by being the first group to the next hut every time.
On the last day, the good weather finally turned and we were pounded by rain. The water taxi ride we were supposed to catch out was cancelled and we were thrown on a bus. Two hours later, after the bus in front of us went off the road, and our bus driver guided us, slip sliding up muddy roads, to safety. Two rest days and we embarked on our next hike.
After the ferry ride we drove to Nelson to prepare for the four day Abel Tasman track. We spent the night at a free campsite and did a day hike to the top of a steep river gorge. We got a bit excited by the views at one point and decided it would be a great idea to scramble over knife point rocks up to a higher summit. “If we get up there we have views of valleys on either side and be able to see all around!” This glorious and fairly arduous quest resulted in views of some trees and more sharp wavy rocks. Back down we went along another trail and peered down the deepest vertical hole in New Zealand where no signs or ropes are available to stop the trusting American tourists from walking a little too far down the trail. Apparently they believe in good ol' fashioned natural selection here.
The next day we set out for our first real backpacking adventure though it is really a warm up for what is to come. The Abel Tasman track is a moderate hike along the coastline of the Tasman sea. The area is named after the first European guy to discover New Zealand by anchoring off these shores before being attacked by angry Maori tribes and saying “I'm getting the F*!$ out of here!” He never set foot on land.
But anyway, the track is a Great Walk, meaning that it is one of 10 or so such tracks around the country that are the best of the best. We looked over green, “are we in the carribean?” water and white, sandy beaches. At the end of each day, you could find us lounging on these beaches in the bright sun. I'm pretty sure this hike cannot be classified as roughing it. To add to our comfort, we camped in 20-30 person huts that are common in this country. They supply drinking water, mattress pads, a kitchen area, and plentiful views. Because pretty much everyone in the huts have the same agenda, we stayed with mostly the same people for the trip. As you can guess, this can be both good and bad. Unfortunately for us, we are already stuck with Dan, who snores like a freight train, for every hut trip in the next 2 months. I apparently have the ability to sleep through it but Jonathan hits Dan with any object in reach about 4 times a night. This usually results in some snuffling, snorting, rearranging, and more snoring. The first time I woke up to it, I was stifling laughter because it was so unimaginably loud.
Because the Abel Tasman is relatively tame compared to some hikes, we usually took it easy with our morning time. We were some of the last to leave the huts, often asleep when gun-ho families and trekkers made their departure. But we made up for our laziness by being the first group to the next hut every time.
On the last day, the good weather finally turned and we were pounded by rain. The water taxi ride we were supposed to catch out was cancelled and we were thrown on a bus. Two hours later, after the bus in front of us went off the road, and our bus driver guided us, slip sliding up muddy roads, to safety. Two rest days and we embarked on our next hike.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Wellington and Beyond
Note: I am a little bit behind as I will be for much of the trip so when I say yesterday, tomorrow, speak in present or past tense, and tell you we are somewhere, I am probably lying to you.
And for the second order of business, Happy Birthday Jason... hope you are enjoying it old buddy ol pal.
We arrived in Wellington to a party already going on. The Cuba St. Carnival, unbeknownst to us, was in full swing as the biggest weekend of the year with concerts, fair rides, parades, and people, lots of people. Tobey had no idea we were coming because neither of us owns a phone over here and we had made the decision to come three and half hours before. Armed with his address, we showed up to his place only to realize we didn't have his apartment number. After loitering in the lobby and trying to figure out how to dupe the security guard into divulging Tobey and Riley's information, we decided to walk around New Zealand's capital city in the midst of a festival, and find our two short and blond friends. After a few hours of futility with plenty of entertainment and people watching, we headed back to the van. We changed on the sidewalk, looking raggedy and trying to straighten suitcase clothing to venture into the night looking half respectable. Once suitably changed, I was peering at Tobey's apartment building down the street, racking my brain for options. Yelling TOOBEYYY! at the windows had already failed. At this moment, resigned to failure, I saw two people in the distance walk out of the front door. I went to preschool with the kid so I knew immediately who it was and began running down the street yelling. I swear Tobey has a knack for showing up at random times.
They were just as surprised and happy as us and we proceeded to downtown wellington, next to a beautiful harbor, and saw what the festival was all about.
In our haste to get the heck out of palmerston north and excitement to get to wellington, we travelled a bit further south than we needed to with a week left on the North Island before our ferry. In short, we ended up doing a backassward route and headed back north along the east coast to Napier and fiddled around in this country. We stayed in two hostels, usually booking a two man room, and having the third stay in the van. No reason to get a bed when you have a perfecttly adequate mattress outside. We beached it one day in Napier, took a 12 mile day hike along Cape Kidnappers the next. The hike ended where a massive nesting Gannet colony sits atop a plateau overlooking the ocean. Jonathan the biologist geeked out over this while Dan and I just enjoyed the beautiful coastline with sheer cliffs and green ocean water. The last two days were spent in the Tararua Forest park which is filled with thick vegetation and the Otaki river with deep pools and cold mountain fed water. We spent our time alone at our campsite tossing the rugby ball, fishing the up and down the river, and taking in some starry nights. Our ankles and legs were the casualties of this campsite due to some harmless looking gnats that pack a mean bite. I now spend my time alternating between itching madly and applying bug bite cream.
We arrived in Wellington again and showed up unannounced at Tobey's door to his amusement. Wellington, we were told by our guidebook, is the undisputed party capital of New Zealand. We carried out a test (the second in a week) of our guidebook's accuracy and I would say we all agree 100%.
Now I am sitting in the back of Big Jolly (itching my ankles) awaiting the Interislander ferry to the South Island, listening to her new sound system. Jolly, by the way, does not have a working stereo so we just purchased some portable ipod speakers and slapped them on the dashboard. Its starting to look like I will be a certified country music expert by the end of the trip. The other two are currently belting something cheesy and Dan just beeped and waved at some more random girls with a big ol' goofy grin. He is certainly dependable in that regard.
Over the car ramp and on our way. Jonathan and Dan catch up on some sleep that Wellington stole and I find myself wandering around the empty and rainy decks of the ferry looking back at Wellington and staring over the choppy seas of the Cook Straight. The rain splashes and drops off the railings as the ferry churns along past misty coastlines. Goodbye to one island, a happy hello to another.
And for the second order of business, Happy Birthday Jason... hope you are enjoying it old buddy ol pal.
We arrived in Wellington to a party already going on. The Cuba St. Carnival, unbeknownst to us, was in full swing as the biggest weekend of the year with concerts, fair rides, parades, and people, lots of people. Tobey had no idea we were coming because neither of us owns a phone over here and we had made the decision to come three and half hours before. Armed with his address, we showed up to his place only to realize we didn't have his apartment number. After loitering in the lobby and trying to figure out how to dupe the security guard into divulging Tobey and Riley's information, we decided to walk around New Zealand's capital city in the midst of a festival, and find our two short and blond friends. After a few hours of futility with plenty of entertainment and people watching, we headed back to the van. We changed on the sidewalk, looking raggedy and trying to straighten suitcase clothing to venture into the night looking half respectable. Once suitably changed, I was peering at Tobey's apartment building down the street, racking my brain for options. Yelling TOOBEYYY! at the windows had already failed. At this moment, resigned to failure, I saw two people in the distance walk out of the front door. I went to preschool with the kid so I knew immediately who it was and began running down the street yelling. I swear Tobey has a knack for showing up at random times.
They were just as surprised and happy as us and we proceeded to downtown wellington, next to a beautiful harbor, and saw what the festival was all about.
In our haste to get the heck out of palmerston north and excitement to get to wellington, we travelled a bit further south than we needed to with a week left on the North Island before our ferry. In short, we ended up doing a backassward route and headed back north along the east coast to Napier and fiddled around in this country. We stayed in two hostels, usually booking a two man room, and having the third stay in the van. No reason to get a bed when you have a perfecttly adequate mattress outside. We beached it one day in Napier, took a 12 mile day hike along Cape Kidnappers the next. The hike ended where a massive nesting Gannet colony sits atop a plateau overlooking the ocean. Jonathan the biologist geeked out over this while Dan and I just enjoyed the beautiful coastline with sheer cliffs and green ocean water. The last two days were spent in the Tararua Forest park which is filled with thick vegetation and the Otaki river with deep pools and cold mountain fed water. We spent our time alone at our campsite tossing the rugby ball, fishing the up and down the river, and taking in some starry nights. Our ankles and legs were the casualties of this campsite due to some harmless looking gnats that pack a mean bite. I now spend my time alternating between itching madly and applying bug bite cream.
We arrived in Wellington again and showed up unannounced at Tobey's door to his amusement. Wellington, we were told by our guidebook, is the undisputed party capital of New Zealand. We carried out a test (the second in a week) of our guidebook's accuracy and I would say we all agree 100%.
Now I am sitting in the back of Big Jolly (itching my ankles) awaiting the Interislander ferry to the South Island, listening to her new sound system. Jolly, by the way, does not have a working stereo so we just purchased some portable ipod speakers and slapped them on the dashboard. Its starting to look like I will be a certified country music expert by the end of the trip. The other two are currently belting something cheesy and Dan just beeped and waved at some more random girls with a big ol' goofy grin. He is certainly dependable in that regard.
Over the car ramp and on our way. Jonathan and Dan catch up on some sleep that Wellington stole and I find myself wandering around the empty and rainy decks of the ferry looking back at Wellington and staring over the choppy seas of the Cook Straight. The rain splashes and drops off the railings as the ferry churns along past misty coastlines. Goodbye to one island, a happy hello to another.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)