The colours of water and sunlight

Days 87-93, St Arnaud to Boyle River

And so the journey continues! In the past week my sister and I have been walking in some of Aotearoa’s finest country, and we’ve been lucky with the settled weather to enjoy it in. The land through Nelson Lakes National Park (what a gem) is at once rugged and tranquil. I can imagine, however, that this would be quite different in harsher weather.

In the past week, I’ve seen more birds than humans and have experienced more moments of silence than I have in quite some time. We are now entering the heart of Te Waipounamu and are preparing to rise to the challenges of potential rain, river crossings, and all the joys of unforgiving nature.

Having passed the 2000km mark, this journey is beginning to feel more finite. That thought brings up mixed emotions, but i reminded myself it’s too soon to be thinking about that. Instead of dwelling on the future, let me take you back to the past week on the trail.

DAY 87 - St Arnaud to Angelus Hut (19km)

With the weather lined up to be sunny for the next week, we decided to do what many TA walkers do and take a detour up to Rotomaninitua / Lake Angelus, instead of walking around the lake.

After muesli I had a second breakfast of couscous and the leftover tomato relish that we couldn’t squish in our bags. There was not a cloud in the sky or breeze in the air as we left St Arnaud on the quiet road up to the Mt Robert Carpark.

The two bays of Rotoiti grew smaller and St Arnaud became a speck as we started up along a switchback or zigzagging path - one of the only ones I’ve encountered on TA so far. Even further back, the layers of the Richmond Ranges reminded us of the land we had already moved through and over to get to where we stood at that moment.

On the ridge, we encountered the Relax Shelter built by the Nelson Ski Club. You’d be forgiven for thinking we’d find a spa pool or massage therapist there, but the shelter itself, a room with a bench, was much more modest than that.

To our left we passed many basins descriptively named ‘Basin no. 1’, ‘Basin no. 2’ etc. dotted with turquoise tarns. Every pass we went over, a new layer of mountains revealed themselves, each as magnificent as the last. There was a westerly breeze and patches of rock-hopping, but nothing we hadn’t encountered before. The Richmond Ranges had prepared us well. We stopped off for lunch at the best lunch spot ever, overlooking a basin.

After a couple of hours of more intensive climbing, the mighty Rotomaninitua finally lay ahead. In back country Hut terms, Angelus Hut was a mansion boasting four long drops or technically ‘vaults’ (I think vaults don’t smell as bad?). We were some of the first walkers there for the day. Helen had booked a bunk, but I wanted the true alpine camping experience.

The designated tent spot was hard to find, but I eventually found it right down by the lake on a rocky, bumpy bluff. I stared at a patch hard enough to convince myself it was flat, and then pitched my tent there. I couldn’t wait for the stars to come out that night.

We relaxed and read in the sun, talked to a few other trampers. Luckily we still had a few of the newspaper quizzes Mum had sent us, which occupied us over dinner. We also tested our knowledge on NZ bird calls, and Helen then taught us a new card game called Yinev. I definitely didn’t win that one.

DAY 88 - Angelus Hut to Upper Travers Hut (24km)

I woke up from my tent to a thin line of light getting thicker as the sun met the eastern horizon. A few stars still lingered in the dark sky, their reflections pricking the lake. After a hearty breakfast of porridge with dates and peanut butter (only slightly burnt this time, just for a change) we left the hut hotel just after sunrise. The sun finally greeted us from over the mountain face, but the air was still nippy. I find that starting the day with a downhill climb is always a little hard, both mentally and physically.

The Cascade Track followed a loose scree field marked with occasional mostly bent markers - bent, I can only guess, from tumbling snow and boulders. It zig-zagged along a vivacious waterfall in the line of an avalanche path. We could see why they discourage people to do this track in the winter - it would be quite slippery, to say the least.

The first kilometre was one of the slowest kilometres on the whole trail so far. Down below in the distance, past the scree path, we could see a bridge and a delightful grassy clearing. This instilled hope in us that the terrain would get easier. It was a remarkable feeling, the two of us alone in this valley. We could have easily been somewhere in the Swiss Alps, but this was Aotearoa’s finest.

Sure enough, the path became more walkable as soon as we entered the bush line. We followed a dry creek for a few hours with the beech branches above us dappling the sunlight, allowing just enough light in for us to enjoy the sun yet not overheat us. I imagined how different this environment would be like in winter, with melted snow gushing from the mountain tops. But today, the risk of being buried in an avalanche was thankfully low to non-existent.

By the time we were back down in Travers Valley, the sun had ramped up its power. It was full-on hot and there were fewer places to escape from the heat. We were now back on the official TA route, which was great because we could go back to checking the map and elevation profile on the Guthook app obsessively (although I must say, it was fun to deviate from the TA GPS line a bit).

For the next few hours we weaved between open grassy flats and shady beech forests. After a rocky start to the morning in all senses of the adjective, we felt like we were flying along the flat groomed trail. Occasionally the path sidled the crystal-clear Travers River which supplied us with our increased water intake for the day. It’s great to have a consistent water source handy. Red DOC avalanche signs were dotted along the track, warning walkers they were entering an avalanche path. Each path had its own name - my favourites include Eileen, Elena, and Rainbow.

Given the easy terrain, Helen and I agreed to ’boost it’ (her words) and so we did, beating the DOC time to John Tait Hut by a few minutes. One One Square Meal bar later, we were ready to slog up 6km to Upper Travers Hut. The elevation profile made the track look arduous, but we found that the first 4km flew by and wasn’t that steep at all. At this point, however, we were rather exhausted and the last steep section up to the hut was tough, but we made it to the hut in good spirits and just in time for dinner.

As the name suggests, Upper Travers Hut sits at the upper edge of the Travers Valley at 1330 metres. It is nestled in the surrounding peaks, which makes for a dramatic view outside every window. We were greeted by a semi-full hut, including the group of more maverick TA walkers who took an even more intrepid ridgeline route from Angelus Hut that morning, over Sunset Saddle.

We passed the evening by eating (the most important activity), doing a quiz and crossword, and tending to my toe which had become slightly infected from scratching an itchy bite too much. This was one of the bigger days, but those ones are the ones we walk for. This has been a prelude to the Travers Saddle and Waiau Pass crossings, which will keep us occupied over the next two days.

Relieved to see a bridge along Cascade Track

DAY 89 - Upper Travers Hut to Blue Lake Hut (15km)

Helen made really good porridge in the morning. As we left, the valley had not yet been greeted by the morning sun so we started with two layers on. That soon changed as we climbed up towards Travers Saddle, and met the transient line between sunlight and shade. I tried taking a time lapse video of the sun rising, but I was impatient so it was a bit of a flop. Landscapes never look as good on camera, anyway.

It was a bit of a boulder clamber up to the saddle ridge, but nothing we hadn’t encountered before (I’m looking at you, Little Rintoul). It didn’t take long before we were at the highest point of the day. To our right stood Poukirikiri / Mt Travers, impressing us with its magnificence. To our left lay Rainbow Pass, a route I must come back and walk some time simply because of its great name.

It was downhill from here. Back in the shade, we plodded down the other side and into the steep bush line. Apparently we could have taken a path at the bush line junction which was just one big scree slide, but we stuck to the poled route and I’m glad we did. Helen and I sung some waiata as we clambered down to keep our minds occupied. I’ve come to realise there’s a key difference between New Zealanders and tramping tracks in Aotearoa: NZers tend to hedge around things and hesitate to say things straight up. Tramping tracks, on the other hand, do not mess about. They tell it like it is and cut straight to the chase. The line down to the Sabine River was indeed one of these straight-talking tracks. There were no switchbacks in sight.

We finally made it down to a plateau along the river. By this time Helen’s foot was getting a bit sore, so we took easy down to West Sabine Hut which was our lunch stop for the day. It’s easy to get into our own heads and start doubting our abilities on the trail, but I was so proud of Helen for sticking in there despite being in pain. Apart from having to skirt around a wasp nest right in the middle of the path and almost getting lost thanks to my lack of awareness, we had a pretty cruisey jaunt down to the hut, our hungry tummies motivating us to get there.

Lunchtime consisted of - you guessed it - peanut butter wraps and doing a Listener quiz from a recent edition someone had kindly left in the hut reading material pile. Usually we’d eat outside but it was cooking outside in the sunny valley, and the local bees were too friendly for our liking. Putting on our shoes and getting ready to continue after lunch was enough of a mission with the bees wanting to befriend us. It was an unrequited friendship.

With food in our stomachs and a new-found energy, we boosted along the steady climb up to Rotomairewhenua, more commonly known as Blue Lake. This is reputedly the clearest freshwater lake in the world, and it felt a bit like we were going to meet a celebrity as we walked up through the mossy forests to meet them.

More avalanche paths and river-sidling filled our afternoon. I found that music helped me to get up the hills today. At around 4.30pm we hit the final climb for the day. We noticed hints of the clear water when passing smaller lakes and rivers along the way, but they had nothing on the magnificence of Rotomairewhenua itself. As we walked along its shoreline, the shades of electric blue and green shifted. It felt so special to be in this lake’s company.

Blue Lake Hut was already quite full when we arrived. A family was occupying half of the bunks, and a few other trampers had made themselves at home. I don’t blame them: this was the homeliest hut I’ve ever stayed at. Someone had carved a ‘Hut sweet hut’ sign and hung harakeke flowers from the ceiling. After a dinner of couscous and peas, we played a round of Yinev and ate mysteriously flavoured jellybeans that Henry, one of the walkers, brought with him. Helen and I got the same flavour - we couldn’t tell if it tasted like grass or dirt. Either way, we were lucky we didn’t get the egg-flavoured one.

DAY 90 - Blue Lake Hut to Waiau Hut (16km)

Today marked two important milestones: passing the 2000km mark of Te Araroa (whaaat) and completing Waiau Pass, a highlight of Te Araroa for many walkers. Blue Lake Hut was already buzzing with hungry and eager trampers as we woke up at 6am. A few walkers wanted to leave themselves as much time as possible for the big day ahead. We left at our usual time of 7.30am and said e noho rā to Rotomairewhenua, which I’m sure I’ll visit again when I return to this amazing national park in years to come.

As all good days do, this one started with a climb. It guided us up to the shores of Rotopōhueroa / Lake Constance, still in the shade of the peaks it lay beneath. Its Te Reo Māori name, meaning ‘lake of calabashes’ comes from its unique shape and the way its tributary flows into it. I’d never seen such a deep blue before.

We passed over a large bluff to avoid the old, dodgy route. Helen rightly pointed out that if the route we took was supposedly less dodgy, the old route must have been super dodgy. Nevertheless, the views over the body of water were worth the scree scrambles. Soon, we were back down walking along its shoreline and up into the valley to where the real event of the day would begin: a climb up a scree slope to the top of the saddle of Waiau Pass, with an elevation gain of 600m. From the bottom of the climb we could see two dots crawling up a line in the scree, giving us a clear indication of the fun we were in for.

Sensing my eagerness to please my inner mountain goat, Helen kindly let me go ahead at my own pace. We’d meet at the end of each section (we’ve largely been walking together at a collective pace). Helen was never far behind me throughout the climb and in the distance I could hear the faint beats of her motivational music pumping.

Though we were consumed by the task of placing each foot safely along the big grey scree wall, we remembered to stop and take in the landscape behind us. The view of Rotopōhueroa from above was breathtaking, its deep blue complemented by the faded greens on the slopes of the maunga it was nestled in. I’d seen this image many times in preparing for Te Araroa, so it felt slightly surreal to be seeing and being with it at this moment.

These hills have very little time and capacity for flat sections (which I fully endorse, for the record). As soon as we’d made it up to the highest point of the day, and after a snack to get our blood sugar up again (thanks muscles!), it was straight back down again. And by straight down, I mean exactly that. Going up the other way would have been a boulderer’s dream. For us, however, it was a remarkably slow clamber using all fours to inch our way down into the valley. To save the effort of checking our progress on the map, a walker had configured ‘2000’ out of small stones to mark the 2000km milestone. We stopped for a small celebration while carefully trying not to slip or fall.

Though slow-going, we still made it down to the Waiau River in good spirits and with a sense of pride in completing that descent safely. I actually felt a bit sad knowing this was the last huge climb for a while on Te Araroa. Helen even called it a ‘fun day’! I’m glad we both like uphill climbing. As the route below turned with the curve of the river, the landscape changed to reveal a valley of steep beech forests sidling the gushing water. Soon, we met the tree line and were back enjoying alternating between boulder-hopping and walking on the cushiony forest floor.

Helen and I took turns leading; she has been managing a couple of injuries so it was best she led some of the way to set a comfortable pace. The lowering mountain tops ahead of us told us that the terrain was opening up. Sure enough, we soon arrived at a grassy flat which made for super easy walking. As always with flat stretches after arduous climbing, walking on a wide well-graded track is what it must feel like to fly. We passed the old and dark Caroline Creek Bivvy, thankful we didn’t have to stay the night in there. To be fair, it can’t help being situated in a forest resembling a wicked witch’s stomping ground.

With 3km to Waiau Hut, we zoomed down the valley. As expected, the hut was full when we arrived so we happily pitched our tents on a semi-bumpy patch and then settled down for the night, managing to squish into the hut for shelter. Inside we met our 5th NOBO walker - it was promising to see he didn’t look too scarred from his experience so far. I was particularly hungry this evening so I ate extra spoonful of peanut butter and chocolate, which does wonders for lightening my pack load.

When you’re walking through this magnificent landscape it can be hard to appreciate its brilliance and your relative smallness there and then. We walked through some of Aotearoa’s most incredible landscapes today, thanks to our healthy bodies, spirits, and attitudes. This day will stay with me for some time to come. It was a big day, but one of the best on the trail so far.

Though it’s only been 4 days since we had reception, I’ve never felt as disconnected from the outside world as I do right now. It feels as though I’m living parallel to what’s going on in the world, and what a privilege that is to be able to remove ourselves momentarily from the current state of things right now. I wonder if that’s how I’ll feel for the rest of Te Waipounamu.

My pack photobombing the view from Waiau Pass

DAY 91 - Waiau Hut to Anne Hut (26km)

I woke up with ice forming around the edge of my tent. Helen’s alarm woke me up from an extremely strange dream in which I was cast as a rock called Ni in a play called The Seven Rocks. It seems like being surrounded by mountains is having quite the effect on my unconscious. Sadly, Helen’s knee had become infected and kept her up all night. Being the trooper she is, she didn’t let her injury or consequent sleep deprivation stop her from continuing on the trail. My trail vocab is growing - I’ve recently come up with a new term which is ‘trail-gating’. I’m sure you can work out what that means. I’ve realised I’m a pretty bad trail-gater at times which is something I need to work on.

The day started off cool and gradually heated up. For the most part we ambled along the valley floor, past grassy plains and flats. There were moments where a gap in the immediate hills would reveal an impressive mountain range called the Opera Range, if my map-reading skills are to be trusted. My favourite name of a mountain ahead of us was Philosopher’s Knob.

The river crossings broke up the otherwise dry and hot 4WD track and gave our feet a refreshing wake up. Helen and I came up with a list of nostalgic things we remember about our summers spent in Germany as kids. It evoked many memories and senses for us, reaching back into a world far from the wilderness of Nelson Lakes National Park.

Both my big toes hurt in a symmetrical way, so Helen and I were walking at an easier pace today. Because the track itself was rather mundane, it was easy to forget to look up and appreciate that we’re walking through some incredible landscapes. After an unexpected little climb (the only one for the day), Anne Hut finally came into view. The trail we walked today is part of the St James Walkway, a walking loop from Lewis Pass to Boyle Village. A few of our hutmates for the night walking this trail, but we largely socialised in our TA bubble. I want to make more of an effort to talk to other people in the hut as I know what it feels like to be the only non-TA walker in a hut - it can feel pretty exclusive and cliquey.

After eating way too much chocolate (jokes there’s no such thing as that) we popped into bed at a respectable time of 7.30pm. I’m now going to break the fourth wall and let you know that I’m currently lying in bed, typing this up on my phone. I can hear the group of St James walkers enjoying a game of cards in the main area of the hut. I hope there aren’t any snorers in our bunk room tonight.

Te Waipounamu is an entirely different walk to Te Ika-a-Māui / the North Island, and I’m still adjusting to the different challenges this next (last) 965km will bring. I’m learning to be flexible. I will remind myself to not stress about what I can’t control, like the weather and injury. Waking up freezing last night was a good reminder of nature’s rhythms and that it’s only going to get colder from here.

Practising for our intrepid river crossings down the track

DAY 92 - Anne Hut to Boyle Flats Hut (16 leisurely km)

Our original plan was to walk to Boyle Village today, which would have been a big day and a little rushed to get to our accommodation in time. Instead, we chose to split this day into two easy ones by staying at Boyle Flats Hut half way along the stretch. Side note: does anyone know who Boyle is/was?

All the hard-out walkers left before us, wanting to make it to Boyle in time to hitchhike out to Hanmer Springs. It helps that I’m not so keen on water and public pools, otherwise I may have also been tempted to have a rest day in the hot springs. Helen and I left at our own pace along a track I can only describe as pleasant and tame; so much so that at some points we exclaimed how much we miss climbing hills. I’m sure there will be more of that to look forward to further south.

It wasn’t all flat walking: we did climb up to Anne Saddle and then back down through a beautifully graded track. We waded through miniature bogs and scrambled up a few sketchy paths which kept the day interesting. Mostly, we walked in silence. The cloud cover made for relatively cool conditions.

We got to Boyle Flats Hut at around lunch time. Or, more accurately, I should say that the prospect of eating lunch got us to the hut. The hut lay over a rickety swing bridge and through a host of welcoming sandflies. This hut was built in 1980 and had kept its original dark wooden interior and rafters. Another TA walker Esther was finishing up lunch as we arrived. She was heading on a few kilometres more to a smaller hut which we had also contemplated on going to, but we liked the look of this hut so much that we decided to spend the rest of the day here.

We had plenty of time to nap, do some ‘trail admin’ (aka plan out the next few stretches), play cards and do puzzles. Life has been reduced to this. Luckily somebody had left a whole newspaper as kindling so that gave us an extra quiz to do as we waited for our dinner to rehydrate.

The group who had also been at Anne Hut arrived later in the afternoon, but we stuck largely to ourselves in our respective nooks in the hut. I’ve discovered a new Sigur Ros album on my phone I didn’t realise I’d downloaded, which is beautiful to listen to. It’s bringing back memories of a few years ago when I was in Denmark.

I’ve been in a bit of an introspective mood lately, thinking about the strangeness of conceptualising the world as pre- and post-Covid. Right now I couldn’t feel further from what’s going on around the world, yet like everyone I’m still anticipating how this will affect us all in the longer term. Is Aotearoa at alert level 4 and we just don’t know about it? When we’ll I see my extended family in person next? A psychologist on a podcast I recently listened to called this ‘anticipatory grief’; I think this term sums it up well.

DAY 93 - Boyle Flats Hut to Boyle Village (12km)

I keep having incredibly vivid dreams. Last night I dreamt my best friend Sarah (who lives in Canada) surprised me by coming to NZ. If only that were true... If I had the money I’d pay for your quarantine fees, Sarah! We woke up pleasantly surprised to find the forecasted rain hadn’t kicked in - yet. We shook our bag of oats empty and headed off across the foot bridge and into the airy beech forest. Helen was boosting fast on her feet - she has well and truly found her trail legs! I, on the other hand, was plodding along behind, feeling the effects of a rough night’s sleep. As usual, the ‘podcast booster’ technique did the trick.

Unlike the previous days’ walking which alternated between grassy plains and forest, the 12km path to Boyle Village stayed sheltered under the trees for the whole stretch. The easy walking made the morning flew past. Though rationally I knew our resupply box would be awaiting us at Boyle Village, I had a seed of worry in my mind that it wouldn’t be there.

The name Boyle Village is generous and slightly misleading. The place is made up of a DOC campsite and a non-profit outdoor education centre, which is its main attraction and holder of our resupply box. The centre has a wonderful service for TA walkers in which they supply a self-serviced cabin with a kitchen, hot shower, laundry, and heaps of Wilderness magazines. To get to the office, we had to first walk through a school group from Rangiora High who were in the middle of having a sausage sizzle. The mountain of packs and sleeping rolls catalysed a landslide of my own school camp memories -- some more positive than others. Thankfully our box had arrived safe and well, and there was room for us in the cottage.

The friendly manager showed us to the TA cabin, gave us coke, sprite and a pizza, and delivered our our resupply box. We opened the box, squealing with delight at the food we forgot we’d packed: bhuja mix, two peanut butter jars, dried mango, etc. Christmas had come early, and it will again in Arthur’s Pass when we get our third resupply box.

Reunited with wifi, we spent the rest of the afternoon lying on our comfy beds, catching up and reading notes on the trail that lay ahead. It began to rain outside, heavily at times, so we will see how that affects the river crossings that await us. One thing is for certain: the rain won’t make leaving in the morning easy.