Te Anau is not only the hopping off point for Milford
Sound but also our next walk - the Keppler Tramp, one
of he newest great walks specifically created to take
some of the load off of its more famous neighbour.The
Department of Conservation posts the weather reports
for the next few days and as we arrived to pick up our
hut tickets we were greeted with the forecast of rain
and snow down to 800m. What were they smoking, this is
summer. But where did I think I was, this was NZ - I
don't need to say more.
So we began with a gentle walk around the lake and a
climb through the beech forest. This was good because
it meant that the light rain was hardly noticed. And
when Ros and I finally breached the tree line there to
meet us was the blue sky and sun, which lasted just
enough to make it to the hut. And when I say hut -
this place had enough bunk beds for 50 people. So it
was more like a hotel and to be honest it was far
better than some of the ones we had recently
experienced. That night the promised snow arrived,
just enough to give a light powdering of the
hillsides. We awoke to an unexpected gift was how our
new found Israeli friend Ofir described it.
But the snow had meant the rain had gone. So once
again the weather was perfect; Roselin the sun goddess
had prevailed. We followed the spine of the range past
the highest point of Mt Luxmor (a quick sojourn up),
past stunning vistas of lakes and snow capped peaks
until we finally had to drop back down through the
forest and to the valley floor. That night the Keas
put on a show for the camera touting tourists but the
other celebrities, the feathered kiwis, remained
unsurprisingly shy. The hut warden (or should I say
mistress) was an ex-school teacher, which the previous
warden thought, would explain everything. She was big
on rules and not so much into anecdotes.
The next day we opted to stay at the last hut instead
of racing out. It was paid for and it didn't
disappoint. Right on the lake we were able to have a
quick dip. Ok a very quick dip and yes apparently I
did squeal like a girl, but hey I'm for north
Queensland and at least I went in. And we were treated
to a great sunset over the water. Which leaves on the
final day of easy walking and a shortcut to a bus and
out.
The one thing that we have noticed about walking in NZ
is your constant companion the sandfly. Or more
accurately the NZ black fly, which don't care for sand
but do rather fancy the large hot blooded animals that
linger at the edge of the trees and open areas of the
forest. They especially like the blood the courses
through these said animals and don't particularly care
where it has been or even what country its from. In
fact some have thought that they queue up and huts and
bus stops hoping to feast on the international
smorgasbord that is assembled in these spots just
before dark. Maori legend has it that fiordland was
such a magnificent place to be that if the gods hadn't
put the black flies there then no one would leave.
Don't tell Johnny Howard or he might put some our
annexed islands to keep aways the refugees (or is it
the kiwis we should be worried about).
Next was the our trip to Aoraki (Mount Cook). Ros had
been to NZ once before for work and had independently
organised her work mates to go visit her favoured
tourist attraction, Aoraki. Doesn't sound MUCH like
her does it ;) Well it was clouded in at the time so
we had returned to try again. Guess what - it was
raining. We managed a quick tour out onto the glacial
lake and a stroll on an iceberg but that only uses up
so much time. We were holed up in the YHA watching the
convoys of Maui campervans snake as one entity through
the valley of mist and cloud and I had briefly
entertained the thoughts that my personal sun goddess
had lost her potency. Tomorrow we go anyway to
Mueller's hut, but now we live a cliche and watch "The
Fellowship of the Ring".
My faith is Ros has been restores. Or should she be
forever known as Ra-selin. Perhaps is was the long bus
journey and she was weary or she was just foxing. All
I know is that she won't be too welcome at my brothers
properties for quite awhile (or at least until the
drought is broken). The dawn broke with perfectly
clear skies and we were hurrying as fast as we could
before breakfast to get on our way. By the time we had
made it half way up the climb though the cloud had
rolled in. A tramper coming the other way assured us
that we just had to go a little further and we would
get above the cloud and all would be revealed. We
weren't disappointed. We were feeling so good that we
didn't stop at Mueller's hut and we even continued to
the summit of Mt Sefton (Sir Edmund's first summit) so
we had our own little brush with fame. Fortunately for
Ros's fear of heights she was given short legs.
Unfortunately, due to her love of walking, those two
attributes are a distinct disadvantage. But then
someone created walking poles.
All the walks done we slipped down to Banks peninsular
for some RnR to a little hostel that does their best
to overfeed you with home cooked meals. And then of
course it was round two with the new found drinking
buddy Lisa. We arrived just as her share accommodation
dramas were coming to a head and were able to witness
a great little NZ soap opera before we had to leave.
And although we may not have bungied or marveled at
the waterfalls of Milford Sound or even seen any
bubbling mud our NZ adventure is over (for now). We
can only promise to try harder next time.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Cure for Scree
Things have been pretty hectic since we arrived so the only timeouts we have had have been spent recovering from a walk (oops I mean tramp). We arrived in Auckland and I knew we were traveling again because Ros was unable to eat the food. Then there was the issue with the unisex bathrooms, and wet T-shirt competitions in the bar - but I was safe there because it was her choice of hostel, which just happened to be in the seediest part of town (or is that all hostels?). We left Auckland the morning after a night of sirens and someone running down our street shouting "I'll get YOU!!!".
The sunny beach town of New Plymouth on the west coast. We knew this would be better as it was not a destination visited by the tour groups like 'Kiwi Experience'. This would be the base for our first hike - Taranaki. We had thought of a few tramps here from 4 to 2 days but eventually opted for the summit walk (2450m). We got one of those 30 day of the year where is was great weather but still there was some cloud by the time we made it to the crater of this old volcano. We didn't go right to the top so we wouldn't upset the Maori beliefs. Still our views were excellent and we could see to Wellington and to Mt Ruapehu and Mt Tongariro in the east. It was here that an amazing thing happened; Ros, equipped with her extra legs (walking poles) walked unassisted up and down scree. Yes you read right - the mere mention of which would bring uncontrolled tremors and heart palpitations in S. America was now just another geological term. Walking poles, once considered the sole domain of euro-pounces, was better that the water of Lourdes for curing legs that were incapable of walking. Ros is now able to climb short-leg malicious stairs and ford streams unassisted. So good are they that she briefly forgot their powers, and being the wishful ski-bunny that she is, tucked them under her arms and pretended to ski. This feeling was brief as her super powers deserted her quicker than Superman's in a kryptonite sarcophagus and she promptly went over on her ankle.
Next we based ourselves in Wanganui and backtracked to Stratford for the Matemateaonga walk (half way between
Taranaki and Tangariro). Here the son of one of the areas pioneers, Jim Hopkirk, drove us to the head of the trail after a quick stop at his famous Rhododendron garden. The walk was relatively easy following an old bullock trail along a ridge that has since reverted to it original state since the original users never returned after the 2nd world war. We met some goat hunter in the first hut and goat at the
second hut. The final day we walked out to the Whanganui river to catch a jet boat. And now, although we can't say we have been nowhere we have seen the bridge to it: the "Bridge to Nowhere", which was part of us being able to get out of this walk. We had a night on the river and did the obligatory bush bath (cast iron tub with a fire underneath). Then back to
Wanganui were we completed our experience by watching the move "River Queen" which was shot on the river.
A quick rest and then to Tongariro for a 3 day walk. The first day is called the Tongariro crossing and is considered the best day walk in NZ. Well the numbers
were matched only by those that summited Taranaki. Unfortunately the weather had deserted us (which was meant to be the best that day). So we missed completely the Red Crater and the Emerald lakes only briefly showed themselves through the cloud. We pushed on to the first hut and waited out the light rain. Here we were regaled with tales of the Pacific Coast
Walk in the US. So next time you think that a four day walk (with huts) seems strange then consider a f month hike from Mexico to Canada where you sleep on your food to keep it safe from bears! The next day our luck had returned and we backtracked a little and saw everything we missed the day before and it was well worth it. We continued on through NZs only desert and out the next day though Patagonian winds and rain.
Ah the windy city of Wellington. How short the human memory, how quickly it sanitises and forgets the bad. You travel in the first world and you assume you have left behind the squalor of accommodation that otherwise confronts you. The there is Wellington's Rowena's Hostel. It started badly. We were last off the bus but you would have thought our shuttle bus would have waited. The driver finally returned after a couple of phone calls and started demanding us to\ hurry (needless to say we went slower). Then he would curse at every yellow light until he screeched to a stop outside the hostel. We signed in on the back of some scrap paper after having to wait for 15mins. Then there was the coup-de-gras: the room. It was filthy, actually the whole building was much the same and it seemed that it was a long tome estranged from a vacuum cleaner and there was going to be no reconciliation soon. There was a cat asleep on one bed and the other looked as though someone had just jumped out the window. The bin still had sanitary pad in it and the bathroom had a layer of mud and a butchers know on the sink? We didn't bother to unpack or shower and found another place that night. We did get to see Te Papa (the museum) and Chinese New Year and Ros had some shopping therapy.
We caught the ferry and raced down the west coast on the bus that stopped in at the usual tourist haunts like Pancake Rocks and the greenstone factories of Hokatika (the driver even played a tape advertising a local jewellers, he must get commission). When at last we came to Fox Glacier. We managed a day walk on the glacier (the rain eased off while we on the ice and started again as soon as we stepped off it - we didn't see any peaks but it was better being dry). That night we celebrated (ummmm) having survived (or was it the good company). And against all the evidence I have collected over the last seven years Ros still espouses her drinking abilities but after 3 house reds she was seeing double so the evidence for my counter claim grows. Ros may blame the mountain air - but I buy none of it. I also have some serious work to do in Ros's music education as highlighted by music afficionado and glacier conqueror Lisa. But that will have to wait for another sleepless night in Christchurch.
Our first night of the Cascade Saddle walk was in Aspiring hut, which was buzzing with adrenalin. The guide book read "being a mountaineering hut all the climbing equipment gives it an exciting feel". Well soon after we arrived the climbers started to arrive. One 70yo from the UK had just summited Mt Aspiring and was now completely beat as his wife (who had walked in that day) fussed about to was his clothes and cook and seeming completely miss the point of his achievement. Another girl from the UK had also summited and her guides were there. We later found out that she has a dream to climb Everest and now she had taken her very first step (a very big one) for he had previously no tramping or rock climbing experience! The next day was the saddle, a 1200m climb. But why are the best views always seen after the greatest effort. But they certainly were worth it. The rest was more or less a following the Dart valley out (some of the LOTR was filmed here but I will leave that up to Lyn). The remaining views were great but nothing in comparison.
So now we are in preparation for the Kepler walk outside Queenstown - but our time is running out. We may get a day to see the Banks peninsular south of Christchurch but very little else.
The sunny beach town of New Plymouth on the west coast. We knew this would be better as it was not a destination visited by the tour groups like 'Kiwi Experience'. This would be the base for our first hike - Taranaki. We had thought of a few tramps here from 4 to 2 days but eventually opted for the summit walk (2450m). We got one of those 30 day of the year where is was great weather but still there was some cloud by the time we made it to the crater of this old volcano. We didn't go right to the top so we wouldn't upset the Maori beliefs. Still our views were excellent and we could see to Wellington and to Mt Ruapehu and Mt Tongariro in the east. It was here that an amazing thing happened; Ros, equipped with her extra legs (walking poles) walked unassisted up and down scree. Yes you read right - the mere mention of which would bring uncontrolled tremors and heart palpitations in S. America was now just another geological term. Walking poles, once considered the sole domain of euro-pounces, was better that the water of Lourdes for curing legs that were incapable of walking. Ros is now able to climb short-leg malicious stairs and ford streams unassisted. So good are they that she briefly forgot their powers, and being the wishful ski-bunny that she is, tucked them under her arms and pretended to ski. This feeling was brief as her super powers deserted her quicker than Superman's in a kryptonite sarcophagus and she promptly went over on her ankle.
Taranaki and Tangariro). Here the son of one of the areas pioneers, Jim Hopkirk, drove us to the head of the trail after a quick stop at his famous Rhododendron garden. The walk was relatively easy following an old bullock trail along a ridge that has since reverted to it original state since the original users never returned after the 2nd world war. We met some goat hunter in the first hut and goat at the
second hut. The final day we walked out to the Whanganui river to catch a jet boat. And now, although we can't say we have been nowhere we have seen the bridge to it: the "Bridge to Nowhere", which was part of us being able to get out of this walk. We had a night on the river and did the obligatory bush bath (cast iron tub with a fire underneath). Then back to
Wanganui were we completed our experience by watching the move "River Queen" which was shot on the river.
A quick rest and then to Tongariro for a 3 day walk. The first day is called the Tongariro crossing and is considered the best day walk in NZ. Well the numbers
were matched only by those that summited Taranaki. Unfortunately the weather had deserted us (which was meant to be the best that day). So we missed completely the Red Crater and the Emerald lakes only briefly showed themselves through the cloud. We pushed on to the first hut and waited out the light rain. Here we were regaled with tales of the Pacific Coast
Walk in the US. So next time you think that a four day walk (with huts) seems strange then consider a f month hike from Mexico to Canada where you sleep on your food to keep it safe from bears! The next day our luck had returned and we backtracked a little and saw everything we missed the day before and it was well worth it. We continued on through NZs only desert and out the next day though Patagonian winds and rain.
Ah the windy city of Wellington. How short the human memory, how quickly it sanitises and forgets the bad. You travel in the first world and you assume you have left behind the squalor of accommodation that otherwise confronts you. The there is Wellington's Rowena's Hostel. It started badly. We were last off the bus but you would have thought our shuttle bus would have waited. The driver finally returned after a couple of phone calls and started demanding us to\ hurry (needless to say we went slower). Then he would curse at every yellow light until he screeched to a stop outside the hostel. We signed in on the back of some scrap paper after having to wait for 15mins. Then there was the coup-de-gras: the room. It was filthy, actually the whole building was much the same and it seemed that it was a long tome estranged from a vacuum cleaner and there was going to be no reconciliation soon. There was a cat asleep on one bed and the other looked as though someone had just jumped out the window. The bin still had sanitary pad in it and the bathroom had a layer of mud and a butchers know on the sink? We didn't bother to unpack or shower and found another place that night. We did get to see Te Papa (the museum) and Chinese New Year and Ros had some shopping therapy.
We caught the ferry and raced down the west coast on the bus that stopped in at the usual tourist haunts like Pancake Rocks and the greenstone factories of Hokatika (the driver even played a tape advertising a local jewellers, he must get commission). When at last we came to Fox Glacier. We managed a day walk on the glacier (the rain eased off while we on the ice and started again as soon as we stepped off it - we didn't see any peaks but it was better being dry). That night we celebrated (ummmm) having survived (or was it the good company). And against all the evidence I have collected over the last seven years Ros still espouses her drinking abilities but after 3 house reds she was seeing double so the evidence for my counter claim grows. Ros may blame the mountain air - but I buy none of it. I also have some serious work to do in Ros's music education as highlighted by music afficionado and glacier conqueror Lisa. But that will have to wait for another sleepless night in Christchurch.
So now we are in preparation for the Kepler walk outside Queenstown - but our time is running out. We may get a day to see the Banks peninsular south of Christchurch but very little else.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)