Rafting the Rangitata River

(Apologies for the long delay between posts...Work got in the way...) 

Earlier, Dan had suggested that we take an excursion on our drive from Lake Tekapo back to Christchurch--a half-day adventure rafting down the mighty Rangitata River. Both John and I had done some rafting in Queenstown before, but we found the Grade 2 / 3 rapids to be a little lacking in terms of excitement; so when we were told that the Rangitata River had Grade 5 rapids, we hardly needed any additional persuasion. We were fortunate enough that Rangitata Rafts still had a couple of spots so that Dan and Jax were able to join in the fun as well-- it would have been strange to go on our last adventure without the whole team.

Rangitata Rafts (http://www.rafts.co.nz/) do things a little differently-- unlike other operators down in Queenstown, even at the height of summer, they run only 2 trips each day, spending almost 3 hours out on the river each time. Bigger thrills, a more leisurely schedule,stunning scenery, and topping it all of with a barbecue at the end--it really makes for a great day out!

 Before hitting the water. (Image Courtesy of Rangitata Rafts)

After the safety briefing and getting kitted out, we headed out to our starting point in the Rangitata Gorge. The views all around we're just amazing, and it's easy to see why Peter Jackson chose to film the set of Edoras in "The Two Towers" in this very area. Our guide for the day was a chap with dread-locks who called himself "Chunks", after a character in "The Goonies" from way back in 1985. (Honestly, I had never heard of that particular movie-- but all my companions seemed to know it pretty well---I blame it on growing up in a different part of the world.) I was a little nervous, since it's been quite some time since I went rafting, and I honestly didn't know what to expect from a Grade 5 river--I suppose it's a healthy sort of fear that keeps you on your toes a bit more. Good thing then that we were able to practice our rafting drills in the calmer part of the river at the start. We also had "dry run" in a Grade 3 rapid (well, dry only in the sense that no one fell out). Right before we hit the Grade 5 rapids, we pulled to the side of the gorge, and climbed up onto the cliffs to take a closer look at the famed rapids that we would be paddling through. It was this long, furiously churning section of white water. We watched as the raft carrying the safety crew headed  through first. It was like watching a rodeo, as the raft was being pummelled and thrown about by the water. You really do need to know what you are doing in these waters!

It was our turn. It was like hitting a white wall of water-it was all we could do to try to keep ourselves falling out of the raft. Despite being seated in front, I could hardly see a thing as waves kept crashing over. Funny how when you are in these sort of situations when everything seems to slow down- I guess it's the adrenaline that kicks in that makes a person think and react more quickly.

 Riding the waves (Image Courtesy of Rangitata Rafts)Image courtesy of Rangitata Rafts

Whist we emerged from the seething white cauldron relatively unscathed, the next raft wasn't quite as lucky. 2 people were swept overboard after their raft was hit by a giant wave. Luckily, as they surfaced from the white water, they were close enough to our raft and we pulled them on board. Unfortunately, in the chaos, they had lost their paddles-- one was swept away and the other simply snapped! As exciting as everything was, I was glad that we were being watched over by an experienced safety crew.

Going Under! (Image Courtesy of Rangitata Rafts) Image Courtesy of Rangitata Rafts

Just when i thought I was getting the hang of battling through the rapids, it was time for a different challenge (the good people at Rangitata Rafts really do know how to keep things fresh and exciting). They pointed out 2 spots for jumping off the cliffs and into the river-- one 4 metres high, and the other 10 metres. Those who weren't so inclined could sit out this one. Since my companions were all super keen to throw themselves off the cliff, I took a brave pill and climbed up to the first jumping point with them. For safety reasons, in order to do the 10m jump, we had to first demonstrate that we could jump the 4m one safely.

 

John with his "Home Alone" pose (Image Courtesy of Rangitata Rafts)Can't look....(Image Courtesy of Rangitata Rafts)

It wasn't really too much of a challenge for John, as he even found the time to do a "Home Alone" face on the way down. As for me, well, you can probably see from the pictures that I was wetting myself-- I do have a fear of heights. I really wanted to be like that kid from the NZ ads and spend the rest of my life "eating ice cream and doing bombs" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibC8LJ0_dVA), but I think my vertigo gets in the way. I sat out the much bigger 10m jump and watched the others. I think it was a lot scarier for my friends too! See the photographic evidence below!

 

Still shaking a little from the jumps, we swam back to our raft  to negotiate the final series of rapids along this stretch of the river. Job done, we jumped out of the raft (again) floating down the river to our pick-up point. It really was the perfect end to my stay in NZ!

 PS. A big thank you to Rangitata Rafts for providing these pictures!

Hello 2012! Still in New Zealand, and still loving it! (Continued from "The Year in Review:2011")

(Phew, that was a long title wasn't it?)

Day One:

We got off to a shaky start for our next trip-literally. We were woken at 1am by a magnitude 5.1 quake, which was made a little worse by the fact that we were on the top floor of the YMCA in Christchurch. It was the first time I experienced an earthquake, and the fact that I was half-asleep at the time meant I simply froze in bed—thank goodness it wasn’t anything serious! There were lots of smaller aftershocks through the night, which meant that it was really difficult to drift back to sleep. Then at 5.30am, a much bigger one hit, around 5.5 in magnitude. On the other side of the apartment, I heard Andrew yell “Triangle of Life!” and I promptly rolled to the side of the bed and took cover. This, according to kiwis we’ve met is the new recommended way to take cover in a quake, the theory being that crouching at the side of the bed or sofa is safer as any falling objects would likely hit the piece of furniture and the floor, leaving a triangular space underneath where you should be safe and sound. Incidentally, the 5.5 scale quake wasn’t just a little bit stronger than the 5.1 one before—the Richter scale is exponential rather than linear. A magnitude 6 quake is 10 times stronger than one at magnitude 5! Now I have an idea of the hell that Canterbarians have to live through.

The next morning, we had to carry all our gear down 5 floors, because the lifts had been knocked out by the quake. After the last walk, the lads had pretty sore legs, so we decided to head down to the botanical gardens for a bit of stretching. We attracted plenty of stares from other tourists while we helped each other stretch out our hamstrings and calves—the groans and grunts we made probably didn’t help either! In hindsight, it must have looked pretty wrong...

It was great to see Dan again after a whole year—it has been quite an eventful year for the both of us, for different reasons. Obviously, my friends in Christchurch have all been affected by the quakes in some way or another, and it was good to see that he was well.

The drive down south to Mesopotamia station took a couple of hours, and on the way there, we stopped at Peel Forest and visited a little church that served the local community. According to Dan, it was a charming stone church, with a beautiful rose window, but he hadn’t been back for some time. It was sad to see that even though the little church was 135km away from Christchurch, it too hadn’t been spared from the quakes. The rose window had been destroyed, and the entire gable end had to be propped up. The finial that once sat proudly at the top of the church was now sitting forlornly in the graveyard next to the church. We had a little tour of the grave, and it was amazing to see that so many of the graves were dedicated to those who had fallen in Gallipoli, half a world away. Just as we were leaving, I spotted an inscription on a tombstone that touched something inside me. It read:

“Adventure is not in the guide book, and beauty is not on the map. Seek and ye shall find.”

We arrived at Mesopotamia Station (so-named because like the Biblical city, it lay between two rivers) in time for tea. Because we had some time to kill before we needed to prepare dinner, and to continue with the slightly morbid theme of looking at tombstones, we made our way across the valley, in search of the grave of Dr. Andrew Sinclair, Colonial Secretary to the New Zealand Government, who drowned crossing the Rangitata River in 1861, and was buried in the valley. After much hunting, it was Andrew who finally spotted the weathered tombstone, hidden away behind a patch of gorse. The passing years had almost worn the inscriptions smooth, and it was with some difficulty that we finally ascertained that it was the grave we were looking for. At least the poor man was resting in such a beautiful place, under the southern sky.

Back at the hut, we were joined by Tony, our packy, who was to lead the horses that were going to help carry our gear as we traversed the high country. Tony had worked on this very station over 20 years ago as a packy for the shepherds / musterers, and hadn’t been back to his old stomping ground since he left. As we ate our barbecued steaks and sausages, he regaled us with tales from the old days in the high country—like when he swooped down in a plane on his boss’s car while he was driving down the road, or when a hapless Englishman who lost a brand new Land Rover to the river.

Day Two:

The crew at the stables, Mesopotamia Station

After sorting out our gear, it was time to be introduced properly to the rest of our crew, Seamus a handsome Irish Draft horse, and Connor, an Appaloosa. They were to help carry our food and gear for the next 3 days.

The Magical Doorway to Narnia

Climbing up the Sinclair Ranges, the views across the valley began to open up. This was pure “Lord of the Rings” country-indeed; they filmed the “Edoras” set literally around the corner from where we were! As we approached our lunch spot at Moonlight Stream, we came across a rather unusual sight—a door lying in the middle of the track. It had been blown off a hut from hundreds of metres away-which goes to show how ferocious the winds can be over here. Needless to say, it made for quite a few funny photographs!

Setting off after the Horses

We made our way towards our destination for the night, descending steeply into a glade of beech forest, which was a sharp contrast to the dry, tussock-covered plains which we had been climbing all day. There, nestled in amongst the trees and sited next to a lovely cool stream was the historic Felt Hut, an old shepherds’ hut. Like some of the old stables we saw, it was built from old scraps of iron. It was really basic, but it did have a lot of rustic charm, and gave us an idea of what it was like to live here in the old days. We even spotted Tony’s name etched onto the walls, from all those years ago when he worked there.

The cast iron bathtub, Felt Hut, Mesopotamia Station. Image courtesy of Tony

The Felt Hut wasn’t entirely devoid of luxuries. The old shepherds had somehow managed to transport a cast iron bathtub all the way there, and set it by the stream. They built a fire-place beneath the tub and with some bits of leftover hose and half a jerry can, fashioned some pipework to divert water from the spring into the bath. Things people would do for a hot bath eh?

Dinner that evening was pretty elaborate, with beer (nicely chilled by the stream next to the hut), spiced lamb, cheese cake for dessert, and copious amounts of whisky—yes you can afford to carry all that when you have pack horses!

Having that much alcohol, I don’t actually remember too much about the conversation we had that night, although I do vaguely recall Tony saying really funny things about women (it was an all-male trip after all).

Day Three:

Tony loading up Connor, the Appaloosa

The next day, feeling a little worse for wear (after all the whisky during the night, little wonder), we crawled out of our sleeping bags and began the usual morning routines. It did take a lot longer for us to get ready to leave again, partly because we struggled a little to get our horses loaded up properly. By the time we hit the road to begin our long climb back out of the valley and up to Bullock Bow Saddle, it was almost 10. It was much warmer this day, and it made the long climb up a lot more tiring. John and Michael even had burnt legs to prove it (I’ll bet their gaiter tans will take a while to fade).

Climbing up to Bullock Bow Saddle. Felt Hut is the valley below, where the trees are.

Just as we neared the crest of the hill, we paused for a little breather. Looking at the view behind us, Dan was inspired to recite a poem by the famous poet Baxter, entitled “High Country Weather”:

Alone we are born
And die alone;
Yet see the red-gold cirrus
Over snow mountain shine.

Along the upland road
Ride easy, stranger:
Surrender to the sky
Your heart of anger.  

I never knew Dan to be a huge literary fan, but there you go!

After lunch on the saddle, we ditched our packs for a little while to climb up to a nearby peak-which had yet to be named. We decided to call it “Stead Peak”, after Tony, our packy—all we have to do is gather a few hundred more signatures before we can make it official!

A few years ago, on my first big hike with Hiking NZ, I started a trend of posing naked on top of mountains. When I met John 2 years ago, he was only too keen to join in the fun as well. So, in the name of keeping with tradition, both of us took turns disrobing and posing up on a rocky ledge on the peak—the idea caught on and Michael also became a member of “the other mile-high club”!

Bravely facing the world in nothing but my trusty Scarpas...

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Swimming in the tarn to cool off...

It was a pretty warm day, so when we got to a tarn, we decided that skinny-dipping was in order. The water was nice and cool, although swimming was a little difficult because we kept getting tangled in the weeds (not too nice when you are naked!-I was the only one to keep my shorts on, thank goodness). I must say the quick dip in the water did wonders for the morale!

Feeling horny?--Goofing around

Dan passed us a couple of walkie-talkies—I’m sure it was meant for safety reasons, like to communicate with each other if walking at different paces, but well, boys being boys, we ended up just playing with them, spending the next couple of hours cracking jokes, farting into them and generally being disgusting. (I pity the person who has to clean the gear!)

Arriving at Royal Hut. It may not look like much, but Prince Charles and Princess Anne once stayed here..

Our destination for the evening was Royal Hut, named in honour of Prince Charles and Princess Anne who apparently stayed there years and years ago. Our plan to have sticky date pudding for dessert fell through, because we didn’t realize we had to cook it for 40 minutes—it was a bit of a waste of cooking fuel, so we basically just had our tim-tams with tea and milo. After the huge drinking session the previous night, the boys rather sensibly decided against another one, and prepared for bed. As it was a beautiful night, we decided to sleep outside, under the stars.

Day Four:

I woke up a touch cranky—during the night Michael suddenly began snoring really loudly, and not even my ear plugs could block it out! I had to crawl out of my sleeping bag and move 10 meters away before the volume became somewhat bearable.

Even the horses get tired--Seamus yawning (or growling?) at Andrew

Seamus looking a bit calmer when handled by me....

After breakfast, it was time to pack up and part ways with Tony and the horses. We were heading on to Tekapo, while Tony was headed back for Mesopotamia Station, and would drop our gear at Peel Forest. Before loading up the horses, Tony kindly let us have a quick ride on Seamus. I quite enjoyed it--I think I could give horse trekking a go in the future!

The entire crew: (From Left) Andrew, Connor, John, Dan, Me, Michael,Seamus & Tony

We began another long ascent, following a stream until we finally reached Stag Saddle, at 1925m. It was a hard slog, but the views of Lake Tekapo from up there left us breathless—it was totally worth it! There was still some snow up there and Michael was delighted—it was his first time encountering snow. There’s something magical about having snow ball fights in the middle of summer.

Climbing up to Stag Saddle

After lunch, Dan, John and I still had some fuel left to burn, so we formed a “summit team” to climb Beunzenberg Peak at 2,070 metres. Andrew and Michael formed their own team, christening it “Falling Falcon”, and headed down Snake Ridge.

View from Beunzenberg Peak, with Lake Tekapo in the distance

Me shooting on Beunzenberg Peak. Image courtesy of JohnThe views up on the peak were even better than on Stag Saddle. John and I had thought about doing another naked shoot, but the winds were too strong (and cold!). We caught up with team “Falling Falcon” further down on Snake Ridge, and together made our way towards Lake Tekapo. We had been walking for close to 6 hours, and to lift the morale, Dan told us that Jax (our driver who was meeting us at the end of the track) had prepared some cold beers. Boy, did those sound good!

Descending Snake Ridge, towards Lake Tekapo. Mt. Gerald Station 

Unfortunately, things were not as straightforward as that. Halfway down to our pick-up point, the track was suddenly cut off with a huge deer fence—which looked like it was only installed recently. After doing a quick recce of the area, Dan decided that rather than bashing our through swampy land and matagouri bushes, it was a much better idea to scale the fence. We were almost through the farm before we were spotted by a farmer who drove up to us in his quad bike to investigate. Rather than risk a telling-off from the farmer for trespassing, Dan decided to go on the offensive and gave the farmer an earful about blocking off the public access with his fencing. The farmer was rather bemused as he simply wanted to see if we were alright. Fortunately, we cleared up the misunderstanding and the farmer offered to drive Dan on his quad-bike to the car park where he picked up the van and met us at the end of the road.

Finally, we could kick back and enjoy the cold beers! We had a great time while on this track, with plenty of laughs, great company and great food. I’m happy to report that the two first-time trampers Andrew and Michael really enjoyed themselves and are now converts.

Our trip was winding down...but we had time for one more little adventure just before heading back to Christchurch...

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The Year in Review: 2011 (Part 3)

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The next morning, rather than having muesli again for breakfast, I decided to treat myself to a proper cooked breakfast and coffee at Lake Tekapo-I could at least justify the cost on having saved on a night’s accommodation!

After a drive of about 5 hours, I finally got to the Staging Post in Kaikoura, where I would meet up with the guys. It was still a couple of hours before they would get here, so I showered, did my laundry and did a little poking around. Apparently, the Staging Post had gotten its name when its owner, who amongst other things also built stage coaches as a hobby, decided to bring ballet to the local community. Every year, the farm would host a huge festival of music and dancing. Although those days are long gone, the name stuck. Fascinating local history huh?

Right on schedule, the guys showed up. It was good to see John again after 2 years, and he got me introduced to the rest of the crew: Michael was John’s brother, and Andrew practically grew up with them. The two were a barrel of laughs, constantly taking the piss out of each other. I could already tell the next few days were going to be fun.

We drove to Kaikoura, in search of dinner and supplies for the Kaikoura Coast Track. Kaikoura is a charming little sea-side town, famous for its whale-watching, fishing and sea food. Incidentally, that’s how Kaikoura got its name:  a visiting Maori chief was so impressed with the feast of crayfish he was presented with, he named it “Kai” (meal), “Koura”(crayfish). Naturally, we wanted to try the local crayfish (some call it rock lobster), unfortunately, at the local restaurants, they were going for $115 each! Luckily, John had organized a fishing trip for us the next day with a mate’s dad, and he had promised us that we would catch some.

On our drive back up the coast to the Staging Post, we were treated to another spectacular sunset. It was good that Andrew and Michael had a great introduction to New Zealand—the weather forecast for the next couple of days was looking grim; it wouldn’t be nice arriving in a new country and it’s just pissing down with rain.

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Michael, Andrew and myself, Image courtesy of John

Andrew with his blue cod...

It started raining during the later part of the morning, and did not let up. At least the seas were relatively calm for fishing trip. As a precaution though, we each took some medication for sea-sickness (I’m terribly prone to it).  My previous memories of fishing trips were rather miserable-I recall being nauseous the whole time, and not catching a single thing. So I’ll admit to being a little reluctant when John announced that we were going fishing. I need not have worried. Straight off, hauling up the lobster pots that have been dropped to the sea-bed a couple of hours before, we had a dozen crayfish. (Some were thrown back as they were either too small or were females with eggs.) As we sailed on to our fishing spot, we were joined by a couple of Hector’s Dolphins-one of the rarest dolphins (and also the smallest).

My own haul of sea perch-- two at once!

Our luck continued as we dropped our lines into the water. We all had a catch within a minute of dropping our lines into the water. While we had to take turns on the rods (there were 6 people on board, and only 4 rods), but it was a good thing as it was tiring work hauling up fish after fish, after fish. I had never seen anything like it. That night, at Ngaroma (where we would start the walk the next morning), John and Andrew cooked up quite a feast with our catch, and we ate like kings—Fresh fish, crayfish, potatoes and a good Old Mout’s Cider is hard to beat.

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The Kaikoura Coast Track:

Day One:

Because the Kaikoura Coast Track was a private track, we could do things a bit differently—rather than having to carry all our food and equipment with us, we could carry only day packs with our snacks and lunches (and me, with my camera equipment of course) and send everything else off to our next destination.

Setting off in the rain, Day One of the Kaikoura Coast Track. Image courtesy of John

We had our breakfast (far less elaborate than our dinner) and set off in the morning rain. The rain would last the entire day-thank goodness there were hot showers at the next cottage! We spent the first 3 hours walking on the beach—which was probably the most tiring part of the entire track. Normally, on a great day, walking on soft sand would be tiring work, but you would have gorgeous views to look at, and the extra effort would be worth it. On a day like this one with awful weather though, it was just a really hard slog. The beach was indeed very pretty, but my own camera stayed in its dry bag—wouldn’t have been possible to get any decent images with the visibility being so low.

Just before we left, we were told by the owner that there was a shortcut from the beach to Medina, our destination for the evening, but we were adamant that we would walk the whole track, rain or not. So when we came to the first sign board that pointed the way to Medina after 2 hours, we naturally assumed it was the shortcut and carried on. However, after nearly an hour further down the beach, we didn’t see any possible turn-offs. The only map we had was this sketched one given to us by the owner-which was looking more and more like a tattered treasure map—hardly accurate in terms of scale and distance. We were split on the decision to carry further on or turn back—a couple of us were confident that we would actually see the turn off in another few minutes. In the end we decided to walk on for another 15 minutes, and would turn back if we failed to find a turn-off from the beach.

Inevitably, a quarter of an hour later, we acknowledged that we had gone too far and trudged back. If I’m honest, walking for another hour on soft sand while cold and wet wasn’t too enjoyable. It wasn’t a total loss however-we actually saw our first fur seals lying on the beach on our detour.

We finally got to the Circle Shelter just off the beach at about 2pm, and set about making lunch. How I regretted not being my stove along! A hot brew at this point would have been perfect.

Looking down from the cliffs. Image courtesy of John. My own camera stayed in its dry bag...

After lunch, we climbed up onto the cliffs overlooking the beach. It was such a pity visibility was poor, otherwise (I’m told) on a good day, we would have been able to see off into the distance for miles.

The rest of the day passed in a blur-to be honest while it was a good walk, I think all of us were just eager to get out of the rain.

Day Two:

The rain finally cleared during the night. (Thank goodness we didn’t have to walk in the rain again!) Our surroundings had changed as well-previously we were walking along the coast, now our paths took us across the huge farmlands, and into valleys where native bush is being re-grown.

As it was Andrew and Michael’s first time in New Zealand, they wanted to see the country’s national emblem, the silver fern. I had told them that the silver fern got its name from its silvery underside, and they were flipping the leaves of every fern they saw, trying to spot one. Strangely, the quest for a silver fern turned up no results.

At Mt. Wilson, I finally got the panoramic views that I was looking for, even though it was still a little cloudy.

 Michael and John, on top of Mt. Wilson, Kaikoura Coast Track

Preparing lunch at the shelter

We stopped for lunch a little bit past the peak, at a shelter quite thoughtfully erected for walkers. It was a pretty good spot for lunch, and had seats outside on the veranda where we could enjoy the views with our lunch.

Our destination for the night (which was New Year’s Eve) was the Staging Post once again. While there were no expansive views over here, it was still a charming little place to spend the last day of the year, with its mud brick cottages. We had prepared 3 bottles of the local wine to mark the occasion. There really is no better way to spend New Year’s Eve: with good company, good food and wine, and having time to reflect on the year that’s gone by. I certainly hate having to jostle with crowds. Also, I think there’s a nice symmetry to ending the year in the same place where I started it.

Day Three:

We started off the new year with a pretty elaborate breakfast—fresh plunger coffee and pancakes, complete with maple syrup and melted chocolate. Yum!

 

No cows allowed?--Kaikoura Coast TrackThe Staging Post’s owner then dropped us at the start of next section, some 10km away. The weather had really improved overnight, and we had brilliant sunshine for the first time in 2 days. Up on the hills, where we could see off into the distance, the seas had finally returned to its beautiful turquoise colour under the sun.  It was also on this section that I finally managed to spot the elusive silver ferns.

Back at Ngaroma, we grabbed a shower, and then headed up back towards Christchurch, where we were to meet Hiking NZ for our next adventure.

The Year in Review: 2011 (Part 2)

New Zealand December 2011

Four months into my new job, I was already pretty knackered and looking forward to a break. I missed the outdoors desperately (there is hardly anything on this little island of ours other than city life). Naturally, when it came to planning my vacation, the first place I looked at was New Zealand-my idea of paradise. 

I got in touch with Hiking NZ to see if they had any suggestions for a big hike, and they told me about this recce trip that they were planning up in the Canterbury high country, with pack horses. Wow! I was pretty much sold straight-away. I got in touch with a few mates, and tried to sell them the idea. First one on-board was a friend I met on a trip with Hiking NZ back in 2010, John Poulsen. Like me, he loved NZ, and didn’t need to be asked twice. He also roped in his brother Michael and his mate Andrew, both of whom were virgins at tramping, but were pretty keen to try.

I had some big plans- because I had about 9 days before I met up with John and Co (they were having Christmas at home), I met a friend, Claudine, in Christchurch for a big tramp.  Together, we had planned to walk the Wilkin-Young / Gillespie Pass circuit down at Makarora. I would then drive up to Kaikoura, where I would meet up with John, Michael and Andrew to do the Kaikoura Coast Track. Finally, the four of us would head back to Christchurch to meet up with Hiking New Zealand (Dan would be our guide once again), and head down to Mesopotamia Station to walk through the high country to Lake Tekapo.

Day 1 Preparation:

I got into Christchurch at about mid-day, and because I had half a day to kill (Claudine was only arriving in the evening), I picked up the rental car and drove down to the CBD. I was last there a year ago, after the first major quake. Back then, it was really heartening to see that the good people of Canterbury had banded together to return everything to the way it was and that it was business as usual. This time though, the damage was much much more severe, with most of the CBD still closed off. I must admit that I got a bit choked up when I visited Cathedral Square and saw the extent of the damage there.

 

On the plus side, part of Cashel Street has re-opened, with some really interesting Container architecture. It’s great to see theoretical ideas that we toy about in school actually being executed.

 

After doing some supply runs, it was time to pick up Claudine at the airport and head down to our destination for the night, Lake Pukaki. I had picked Lake Pukaki as a camping spot because I had wonderful memories of camping there back in 2008, and it has great views of Aoraki / Mt Cook across the lake. Unfortunately, it started raining on our drive there, and the fog settled in. We did think about stopping in Lake Tekapo instead, but by the time we got there (10.30pm), it was already too late to check-in anywhere, so we headed on as planned. Luckily, the rain had stopped, although it still took us a while to locate the camping spot in the dark.

Setting up our tents turned out to be a bit of a shambles as well (for me anyway), as the Quarantine officer at the airport had separated my Macpac Olympus tent-fly from the inner (they were joined together to be able to be pitched quickly), and it was a bit of a faff trying to re-do everything and set up the tent.

Day 2 Preparation:

 We woke up to a pale morning sky, packed up and made ourselves breakfast by the lake. The hot tea was really welcome on that cold morning. (The thermometer read 8 degrees Celsius, and this was a summer’s day!) It was a pity Mt Cook was still hidden behind the clouds-it was hard to justify my claims that it really was the best camping site in the world.

We headed to Wanaka, where we would do an additional supply shop at the supermarket, before heading out to Makarora. We checked in at Makarora’s DOC office, then proceeded to set up camp at Cameron Flats.

Gillespie Pass Circuit

The Makarora River at the Blue Pools Section

Day 1:

Part of the logistical problem of walking this particular track is that the starting and ending points are 10km apart. Having completed a marathon each recently (we were pretty used to long runs at this point), our solution was to drop our packs at the starting point (with one person staying with the packs), park our car in the middle (just across the visitor’s centre), and then run back to the starting point. We agreed Claudine would do the first leg, and I would run to pick up the car at the finish.

I had read before that this track was not a “dry-boots” track, and pretty much straight-away we had to ford the Makarora river. Just a week before, the river was not passable because it was swollen with the heavy rains. This time though, it was only thigh-deep, and it was quite comfortable to cross. We were passed by two Irish chaps who were planning to climb Mt. Awful (what a name!).

The maps suggested that the first day of walking, although long (21km, 8 hours) was relatively easy and it was simply a wander up the Young valley to Young hut, and the first 4 hours was indeed pretty much an enjoyable stroll. After that though, the track started climbing steeply for the next 3 hours, which came as a bit of a shock to the system, since I wasn’t expecting it, and because I was also not pack-fit (as I was finding out, running fitness is quite different from the fitness required to carry a pack and walk). Good grief-if this is the easy wander up the valley, what would Day 2’s “huge, steep climb” up to Gillespie Pass be like?

Day 2:

I had prepared myself mentally for a really big day. Even so, as I got to the base of the pass, I looked up and shuddered. It was a pretty damn steep climb, and it seemed endless. I paused for a bit of a rest, and ate half a “square meal” for energy. “Right,” I told myself, “ To eat an elephant, one must begin with a mouthful.” And I began my ascent. Truth be told, it wasn’t the hardest climb I’ve ever done, but I think I must have been getting soft sitting in front of a desk for the past 7 months, because I really struggled.

The views I had climbing up the pass though, were breath-taking, and made it worthwhile. Areas at the top of the pass were still covered in snow, which was rare, at this time of the year. After a brief stop at the top, it was time to begin the even longer descent down to the Siberia Valley, to Siberia hut. From the maps, I knew that eventually we would reach the valley floor, where it was described as “beautifully flat”, where it would be an easy 1 hour stroll to the hut. However, 2 hours of ups-and downs later, the valley floor remained at a distance, tantalizingly close-we were travelling parallel to the river, along the spurs, descending really slowly. I was out of water well before I finally reached the valley floor, and I had salt stains all over my clothes. It was pretty hard work! The last 400m to the hut seemed like the longest 400m in the world, as I stumbled into the brand new Siberia Hut. We were pretty lucky as the new Siberia Hut had only opened that very day! It was great that we could cook our dinner sheltered away from the sandflies.

A Perfect Camping Spot

While I had the option of sleeping in the hut, I chose to pitch my tent down by the Siberia Stream. I felt that it was simply too warm inside the hut, and besides, I could not pass up the opportunity to camp in such a beautiful setting (sandflies be damned). I made a great decision as well, as I managed to get some cracking shots as the sun set, and the stars came out.

Day 3:

Crucible Lake, Below Mt. Alba

The third day was meant to be a bit of a rest day, where we could carry our day-packs and do a day trip up to Crucible Lake, nestled just below Mt. Alba. I guess I was already pretty worn out by the first 2 days, because even with a lighter pack (mind you,it’s still the same weight as some people’s full pack--the hazards of being a photographer), I still struggled up the slopes. Crucible Lake though, was a sight well worth seeing-and it’s obvious how it got its name. There are icebergs floating in the lake throughout the year, a result of the bits of the glacier on Mt. Alba breaking off and falling into the lake. I even got a firsthand view of that happening-while photographing the lake, a mini-avalanche started on the slopes above the lake, dumping snow and ice down into the lake. Pretty exciting!

Well, looking back, the rest day wasn’t even so much of a rest day, with 8 hours of walking! Later that evening, over dinner, we discussed our options for the next day. We faced a 8 hour, 26km walk back out to Makarora, or according to the hut warden, we could meet the plane ferrying in day-trippers for the Siberia Experience at the air-strip and fly back for $50 a person. Naturally, by that stage, we were only too happy to grab the opportunity to fly out.

 

Day 4:

We had a leisurely breakfast, had second servings of tea, and bade goodbye to the warden, Mr. Lean. He had been extremely helpful and was great company during our stay at Siberia hut.

The flight out was really scenic as well, and looking at the terrain below, I was really glad I didn’t have to walk the 26km out. Thinking about it, I would have had to walk the 26km, and then run 5km to grab the car! We could now head to Wanaka for a well-deserved steak and beer....

....

Having fed and rested, it was time to plan my next tramp, for I still had a few days before I was due to meet the guys in Kaikoura. Claudine had decided that she wanted to give the Wilkin-Young track another bash. She had left her camera behind during our tramp, and wanted to head back for her own pictures.  

As for myself, I made the decision to tramp up the West Branch of the Matukituki River and climb up to French Ridge Hut.

Day 1:

I had picked Christmas Day to start my tramp, figuring that it should be quiet out on the trails. Initially, I had stowed my tent and my sleeping mat as well, figuring the huts should be relatively empty. However, when I got to the car park at Raspberry Creek, I was shocked to find it full of cars. While there was a good chance that most of these belonged to day-trippers, I finally decided to bring my tent along, just in case. The walk up the West Branch was really scenic, and since I only had 2 hours of walking on this day, I could really take my time-and bask in the beautiful sunshine (well, I had to pick a spot where there were no cattle or sheep-the first part of the trail cut through farmland.)

 Aspiring Hut

The historic Aspiring Hut was superbly located, and had giant picture windows inside framing the mountains in the distance. Unlike most backcountry huts, the Aspiring hut was built out of stone, which meant that the builders had to transport all those stones up the valley. As backcountry huts go, it was pretty flash as well, with gas cookers, solar-powered lights and flushing toilets.

Since I got there pretty early, and was still quite tired from the previous tramp, I treated myself to a little siesta. When I woke, I realized I had company at the hut. I met Mike and Helen, fellow Singaporeans. I must say, we were both quite surprised to meet fellow Singaporeans out there-few of our countrymen would ever venture into the backcountry, preferring the cities and towns. Mike was a keen tramper as well, having done many trips in the Aspiring region.

At Aspiring Hut, image courtesy of Mike 

Day 2:

During the night, I managed to capture a couple of great shots of the night sky over the mountains, and I shared these with Mike. We ended up sharing pictures with each other over breakfast. I was quite astounded that Mike actually brought his Macbook Pro up to the hut--He said that he had some work to do--guess you can take a man out of Singapore, but you can’t take the Singaporean out of him!

After speaking to the warden, I realized that I was the only person expected at the French Ridge hut that evening, so I decided to leave my tent and sleeping mat behind at Aspiring Hut before heading up the mountain.

After re-packing, I set off and caught up with Mike and Helen at Shovel Flats. They were headed back towards Aspiring Hut. Their holiday in NZ was about up, and they were heading back to Singapore. With some luck, I will see them again back home!

Just as I got to Pearl Flats and prepared to ford the river to start the ascent up French Ridge, I ran into the hut warden who had been stationed at French Ridge for the past week, and who was now heading home to Wanaka. She told me that it was safe to venture a little further beyond the hut for some incredible views, and that there was still a lot of snow right behind the hut.

 

It was another really steep climb up French Ridge, and I was taking it slowly. Parts of it were quite tricky to climb, especially when I had a huge camera strapped to the front of my chest. Finally, I made it past the tree-line. Looking across the valley, I could see Liverpool Hut, perched on a ridge on the other side of the valley. My destination for the night though, was still much higher.

 

The views whilst climbing were spectacular, and I had no regrets about making the decision to do this climb.

After having a warm brew at the hut and feeling refreshed, I headed back out to see if I could get any higher. According to the guidebooks, you need to be an experienced climber and have the necessary equipment to venture out as far as the Quarterdeck and the Bonar Glacier, so while I didn’t harbour much hope of reaching the edge of the glacier, I did hope to find a better vantage point for pictures (not that there was anything wrong with the view from the hut, it was already good, but it’s just a habit as a photographer to explore more options).

Climbing up further was rather difficult, with lots of loose rock beneath my feet, and I made it about halfway, before I stopped. Maybe someday I’ll return to climb Mt. Aspi­ring, which lay some distance beyond the Bonar Glacier!

That night, on my way to the toilet, I stepped out to one of the clearest night skies I had ever seen. Even though it was bitterly cold up on the windy ridge, the opportunity to photograph the stars with the surrounding peaks was too good to pass up. In my haste to grab my equipment to set up, however, I dropped my shutter-release cable in the bushes, and in the end, wasted a good part of an hour hunting in the dark for it.  Thank goodness I found it! Without it the following images would not have been possible.

Because of the time wasted the sun was rising (it is summer after all), and because the winds were picking up, I had to cut short the exposure time for the star trails, which was a pity. I would have preferred to have given it another 20 minutes.

Day  3:

After breakfast, it was time to begin the long climb back down to Aspiring Hut and walk back to Raspberry Creek (6-7 hours in total). Phase 1 of my travels was over, and it was time to make my way to Kaikoura to meet up with the lads.

Rather than drive all the way from Raspberry Creek to Kaikoura in a day (it was almost 3pm by the time I reached my car, and I was rather exhausted), I planned on driving again to Lake Pukaki and spending the night there. First, though, I needed a bath (or at least a quick rinse). It had been a blazing hot day, and I had salt stains from sweating all over. I stopped at Wanaka and ran into the lake for a quick dip. Bliss!

Sunset Over Lake Pukaki

The choice to camp again at Lake Pukaki was an inspired one. This time, having arrived while it was still bright, I could choose the perfect camping spot, and was treated to a beautiful sunset over the lake.

 .....The Journey Continues in Part 3....

The Year in Review: 2011 (Part 1)

The Year in 2011:

Life is very fluid--the one constant in 2011 has been that of change. Just a year ago, I was sitting on a beach on the Queen Charlotte Sounds, enjoying a meal of mussels and clams that I gathered while kayaking, musing on the year to come. I had just made the transition from student to fresh graduate / unemployed architect, and I had many half-formed plans in my head (even toyed with the idea of enrolling myself in a polytechnic in NZ and becoming a hiking guide). In the end, I settled on securing a job in Melbourne, and hiking over the weekends.

Fast forward to April / May 2011, and things were not looking good in Melbourne. 3 months of job hunting turned up no leads at all, and I was starting to get desperate. I couldn’t even get a job as a sales assistant at Macpac. In such times, I did what I normally do when stuck for ideas-I went for a walk. Away from the desk, and out in the open air, I could think clearly again and after examining my options, I made the decision to move home to Singapore. It was a huge decision, considering I had been away for 6 years--and Singapore has changed so much since I left.

Before heading home, however, I decided to do one last big walk. The biggest problem with planning such walks in Australia is always getting there in the first place. In the end, I settled on the Overland Track in Tasmania again--the reasons for it were four-fold. Firstly, I’ve always wanted to see Tasmania in autumn, when the trees were changing colour; secondly, there was no track fee to pay because it was the off-season; thirdly, having walked the track twice before, I was already familiar with the track; and lastly, I knew I could get the logistics settled in less than a week (I love doing these spur-of-the-moment things).

The Overland Track (Again)

Because this was to be my last big walk before heading home, I decided to carry my panoramic tripod head, as well as my new Nikkor 12-24mm f2.8 lens. (When you have no idea when your next walk is going to be, what’s another 3.5kg?) It did mean though, once I had finished my supply run in Launceston, my pack was well over 30kg. (Yikes!-one of the hazards of being a landscape photographer)

Day 1:

Unlike the previous trip in December 2010, the weather was clear as I climbed up to Crater Lake, and the view was gorgeous, with the golden Fagus trees lining the shores of the lake.

 Crater Lake, Overland Track

As I huffed and puffed my way up to Marion’s Lookout, something bizarre happened: my mobile phone began ringing (I had forgotten to switch it off since leaving Launceston). It was my dad- and he did not sound too happy. He wanted to know why I had only planned to return home at the end of the month when I had already made up my mind a week before. The gist of the conversation was that I needed to stop wasting my time in Australia and head home as soon as possible to look for work. Needless to say, I did not mention I was actually up in the mountains!

 

At Kitchen Hut, the traditional lunch spot for walkers, I ran into a group of Day-trippers with their guide, who was also decked out top-to-toe in Macpac gear, and we naturally struck up a conversation. Turns out that he was Wes Moule, one of Macpac’s sponsored explorers and gear-tester, described by Macpac as a “human mule” for carrying 45kg loads. So naturally, I was quite complimented when he said “great job for carrying that pack, that’s a big load for a small guy like yourself!”. Given that Wes had some input in designing the harness on my pack, he gave me some tips of how to further adjust the pack to make it even more comfortable to carry.

Reaching Waterfall Valley hut, I realized I wasn’t alone-there I would meet my companions over the next few days-Jerry and Karen Unser, and the Fletchers (John, with his sister and girlfriend) from Queensland. We all shared a love of hiking gear / camping equipment, and would spend the next few days swapping stories and our reviews of different gear. I must say, we were all pretty envious of John’s camping espresso coffee maker!

Around 8.30pm, well-after dark, a lone walker stumbled into the hut. It was a French walker that I had met while in Launceston the previous night. He had declined to join me in my chartered ride up to Cradle Mountain, citing costs, and instead hitchhiked all the way there, reaching the start of the walk at about 3pm. Originally, he had a friend with him, but halfway up the climb to Marion’s Lookout, his friend decided to turn around and head back, leaving him alone to walk to the hut in the fading light. He realized how under-prepared he was--all he had with him for meals were 2 minute noodles (no extra ingredients) and his sleeping bag was way too thin. He decided to cut his trip short by rushing through the track and finishing it in 4 days, which I thought was a pity.

Day Two:

Barn's Bluff in the Cold Morning

I got up early to see the morning sun light up Barn’s Bluff. It looked to be a good morning for a side trip, so Jerry, the Fletchers and myself headed back up the trail to climb Barn’s Bluff. It was a cold morning, and the trail was pretty icy and slippery. Despite the ice, Jerry took off on a run, and by the time I reached the base of Barn’s Bluff, he was already on his way back down (he really is bloody fit). As we were climbing, the clouds started moving in, and although the top of the bluff was clear when we reached it, everything else was shrouded in a thick cover of clouds.

 

There was nothing for it, but to head back down to Waterfall Valley and to head to Windermere Hut. Unfortunately, unlike the last time, it was far too cold to have a swim in the lake.

Day Three:

My favourite part of the track is the first part of the walk from Windermere to New Pelion, and I never tire of it. Knowing from experience the second part was in the trees, and rather boggy and slow-going, I took my time here. Although this was autumn, and supposed to be much wetter, I had only good weather thus far, and I much enjoyed walking in the cooler weather.

 

Later at New Pelion hut, we were enjoying the sunset over Mt. Oakleigh(which is a summit I have yet to climb--I guess I do have another excuse to head back again!), we were joined by 2 Japanese girls, Atsuko and Mami from Tokyo, who had walked from Waterfall Valley to New Pelion in a day-a really good effort! It was their first trip to Australia, and apparently they had met each other through a personals ad that Mami placed in the papers looking for a walking partner!

Day Four:

Woke up to a beautiful morning, and the view across the plains bathed in the early morning light was something to behold.

It wasn’t to last though. I had made plans to climb up Mt. Pelion East this morning (seeing that I climbed Mt. Ossa to the west the last time), but within 30 minutes of leaving the hut, the winds picked up and it started snowing. Although it was clear when I reached the Pelion Gap, there were clouds moving quite rapidly towards me from the south. I decided against taking the risk of climbing to the peak, instead just ploughing on ahead towards Kia Ora Hut.

Because I got to Kia Ora rather early, I had some time to think about what my plans were for the next couple of days. Part of me was really tempted to plough on ahead so that I could visit Pine Valley. In the end, I decided against rushing too much, and decided to spend the next day, re-visiting the falls, including one that I missed the last time-Hartnett Falls.

Day Five:

It was quite a leisurely day. The highlight of the day for me was seeing Hartnett Falls. The trail to the falls appeared to end right at the top of the falls, but I was certain that there was a way to the base of the falls from pictures in the guidebooks. Sure enough, after 5 minutes of looking around, I found a little trail snaking to the bottom of the gorge. I think it would be a lovely spot for swimming in the summer, but the water now was freezing cold. I waded in and set up my tripod to take a few shots, but a few minutes was all I could bear.

 

That night, at Windy Ridge hut, was the coldest night thus far. Temperatures dipped to -4 Degrees Celcius, and I was really glad for my thick Equinox down jacket. It was a clear night, and I joined a fellow photographer Patrick (from Tasmania) out on the decks to photograph some star trails. Although I must say I’ve had better results before, it was cool just to exchange some night photography tips.

Day Six:

I was really envious this morning as I made my breakfast porridge. Jerry and Karen were having pancakes for breakfast! And these were pancakes made from scratch!-Jerry had packed real eggs and carried them all this way. Wow. First John’s espresso maker, then pancakes for breakfast-- my companions really knew how to travel in style!

I bade goodbye to my companions, as Jerry and Karen had decided to stay an extra night, while the Fletchers and the Japanese girls had left early to try to catch the ferry out from Narcissus hut. I was only meeting my transport the next day, so my plans were rather straightforward--head to Narcissus, spend the night there, and walk out again the next day.

At Narcissus hut, I met a couple from Geelong, Luke and Claire, who had started the walk from the visitor’s centre at Lake St. Clair, but decided not to carry on further, as they felt under-prepared for the track. Had a great time hearing Luke describe his job as an engineer--he got to test drive prototypes of cars, got to play with robotics, had a huge simulator at his work place...almost made me wish I took up engineering!

As night fell, we went up to the ferry pick-up point to try to spot some platypus--according to the ranger, it was common to see them in this area at dusk. No luck there unfortunately!

Day Seven:

This was the end of my trip. Although I was tempted to try to wait for a ferry with Luke and Claire, I decided again to walk out--after all, this was my last walk for some time, might as well make the most of it.

5 hours later, at the visitor’s centre, I was surprised to see Jerry and Karen again. Apparently, they had gotten to Narcissus Hut, and together with Luke, Claire and another 2 boys, radioed for the ferry (the ferry service requires a minimum number of 6 people). Jerry and Karen bought me a coffee, which I was really grateful for--it was a cold day, and we stayed at the cafe swapping stories.

Unfortunately, my transport to Hobart arrived just as Jerry and Karen went to have a shower, so I never did get to say goodbye to them properly. (Thank goodness for Facebook though)- But I’m pretty sure that I’ll get around to arranging a walk with Jerry some time!