Nelson Lakes NP New Zealand #1

After surviving my sea kayak trip I was ready to spend some quality time on solid ground. I had stopped at the Able Tasman ranger station and was able to gather valuable information on the Nelson Lakes National Park located south of my location. There was plenty of places to explore with many miles of rivers, high snow topped mountains and beautiful lakes. If the park could cook I would marry it! The ranger informed me that the town of St Arnaud the gateway to the park had a grocery store to buy supplies. Even thought I was next to big grocery store, I would wait and buy my supplies next to the park.

After several hours of driving I arrived at the ranger headquarters for the park system. The building sat right next to Lake Rotoiti and had plenty of information about the park. I waited in line to get my permits for reserving a place to lay my sleeping bag in the huts. The rangers had made a 3-D map that really showed the height of the mountains and the depths of the valleys. With a red marker the artist of the map had laid out the trails that meandered through the park. I made out a registration form with one eye on the map. I wanted to see most of the park if not all the park. In order to accomplish that it would take me over ten days of hiking. As I bellied up to the counter with a friendly ranger on the other side I handed over my schedule, half expecting to have it thrown back in my face. “ Well I see you really want to experience the park and all that it has to offer!” said the female ranger after looking over my permit. “I wouldn’t change a thing!” she said, while handing back my permit. After securing my permit I noticed a group of older hikers, milling around the displays cases. I found out from them we would be seeing each other during our hiking trip through the park. I also found out from them I would need a water taxi to zoom me across Lake Rotoiti before I started my hike. They had reserved one for tomorrow morning but their’s was for 10:00 am, a tad late for me. The most interesting and disturbing news was that the grocery store in St Arnaud resembled a gas station, because it was one.

I drove to the make believe grocery store with the thought of what kinds of food would a gas station have in stock. I walked into a store that had maybe four shelves stocked with Roma Noodles and some tuna. A couple of other campers where wondering around trying to figure out what items was going to fill their stomachs. I had to work my way through the small crowd with a grocery cart. When I got to the Roma Noodles I just put my hand behind all the noodles and slide the whole bunch into my cart. I did the same with the tuna and dried vegetables. Everyone in the store must have thought, this is one hungry Yank. Dollar signs appeared in the store owners eyes when I approached the cash register and he must have thought Christmas came twice for him.. I wanted to ask him if his brother was a ranger up north, the one that told me to buy groceries locally. I was just glad to find what I needed and didn’t complain about any of the higher prices.

I found a place to set up my tent in a great camping area not far from the lake. Then I drove over to the lake and made a call to my water taxi gentleman. Mike informed me that I would have to pay for two people traveling unless I could come up with another passenger. This whole trip was going to cost more then I figured! I sat next to the lake on a picnic table and arranged my food for ten day in my pack. The views of the sun setting on the lake was worth the cost of the grub and taxi. I had gotten the station owner to make me a ham sandwich for dinner and I sat for a few hours eating and soaking in the scenery. At the end of this long lake I could see the mountains raising up to form a dramatic back drop and barrier.

The next morning I parked my car by the dock and waited for my water taxi. A French fisherman showed up and asked me about getting a ride to the end of the lake. I had a big smile on my face as Mike and his boat showed up, since my fare was going to be half price now! The Frenchman had arranged with Mike to pick him up tomorrow and I told him in ten days for me. After looking over my large pack with ten worth of food Mike said “I’ll pick up what left of you after lugging that pack for ten days!”

It was relaxing cruising over the lake surface in that early morning fresh air. Within a few minutes Mike pulled up to the dock at Cold Water Hut. The hut and surrounding had the well used look, with hiking boots and towels hanging from a cloths line. This hut is the first and probably last hut for most hikers, so it gets a lot of traffic. I was heading towards John Tait Hut and put all the crowds behind me. The trail followed the Travers River and the sound of the rushing water added to the beauty of the place. The majority of trails in the world follow river ways since it offers the least resistance to hikers and builders of the paths. Most huts in New Zealand are five hours apart and by 1:00 pm I was sitting in my hut. A couple of female rangers checked my permit and then I immediately unloaded my pack and spread my sleeping bag on my bunk.

As I ate my lunch a group of college students from California showed up and almost took over the hut. They where on a eco study program, with a little beer drinking thrown in as a motivator.

I still had plenty of sunshine so I decided to investigate the Cupola hut that sat high in the mountains. I took along just a day pack and with the trail being very steep I am glad I did. It was eight miles of broken rocks and solid roots covering the path. After several sweaty hours of hiking I saw the hut and there was smoke coming out of the chimney, I entered the hut and noticed two older couples laying on bunk beds. Older like the age of dear old mom! “Boy that was a steep trail!” I said. “Oh, we came over the snow covered mountains behind the hut!” said the one man. I thought what in the hell was I complaining about, these rough and tumble senior citizens just came over the Alps!

I left the hut before the granny hikers challenged me to arm wrestling contest and I got my butt kicked royally. I worked my way back to the John Tait hut just in time to eat my dinner which I had carried in on my back. The group of hikers that I had meet in the rangers station had arrived at the hut. After dinner we all sat around and told stories of the trail. Their hiking group had done some of the same trail that I had done in Tasmania, Australia.

The next morning I loaded my day pack and headed to the Hopeless Hut, that was built by Sir Edmund Hillary, the champion of all hikers. As I worked my way up to the hut I noticed the two women rangers where coming up the trail. They wanted to make the Angelus Hut by way of the Sunset Saddle. As all three of us entered a open area we could see the pass, and a small rough trail covered with broken sliding rock called spree. A series of waterfalls came in handy for a bit of a skinny dip shower. By this time it was lunch and I walked down to the Hopeless Hut. As I was eating my lunch I could look out onto a very steep slope that lead down to the hut. A sign had been posted above the wide window stating “it’s wasn’t a good idea to sit at this window during avalanche!” I heard later that Sir Edmund swears on top of a stack of hiking boots that when he built the hut there wasn’t a avalanche corridor. The reason the hut is named Hopeless is because climber, including Eddie himself, found the surrounding mountain hopeless to climb.

After spending the afternoon in the mountains, I was ready to go back to my base camp hut. When I arrived the Frenchman fisherman was there and his smiling face told me of good story to come. He had been fishing in the river and had caught a ten pound brown trout. A picture of the monster on his digital camera proved his fish story, wasn’t a fish story!

The next morning I followed the river trail to Upper Travers Rivers Hut. The mountains all around the hut made for a Switzerland type setting. As I got closer to the hut I noticed a fellow snapping pictures with a lot of enthusiasm. This German hiker had most of his back pack filled with four different types of cameras. One camera he had made and it consisted of a wooded box with a peep hole. Film was loaded inside the camera and when he slid a door away from the peep hole and then the picture was taken. The camera bug was heavy into picture taking but short on taking chances. He had the same idea I had about going over the mountain pass tomorrow but he had major concerns about the weather. The California dreaming college kids, I had meet yesterday, looked like they where dreaming about relaxing on the beach, not hiking rocky trails. The group had lost all their mojo, and couldn’t stand the sight of each other and this was in just one day. As each one entered the hut, they had complaints about another school mate, it was kind of funny unless it’s happening to yourself. Then later about dinner time a group of hikers from Switzerland entered the hut to cook dinner. They had just bought tent camping permits and saved all of five dollars.

The next morning the skies where dark and forbidding. Rumbling along the mountains tops didn’t help with the German photographers courage. He kept asking me if I was really going over the mountains to the Sabine river drainage. “When I told him the only way I wasn’t going, I would have to be dead!” He said you probably will end up being dead if you do go over the pass.

The trails was steep and I was on a race with the rain. I wanted to reach the West Sabine Hut before the lightning or heavy rains washed my butt down the Sabine river system. The Swiss hikers and the German where sitting in the hut as I made my move on the mountain. The higher I got on the mountain the greater my view of where I had been and going. The trail on the other side of the mountain was covered with roots and rocks. A lot of the ground in New Zealand is too hard for the tree roots to penetrate, so they cover the ground like thousands of serpents. These root serpents can almost reach out and grab you as you walk by. I was hiking as fast as my legs would carry me when I started to hear thunder in the distance. When I saw the river I was almost on a dead run. When I hit the hut door, am glad nobody was on the other side, or they would have flown through the air like those monkeys in Wizard of Oz. The race was won by me on this go around with the rain bouncing off the roof of the hut as I entered. I had done the trip in three hours and the ranger said it was a record!

A ranger that looks after the hut had a coal fire going in the pot belly stove. The glow from the fire lite up the faces of a few people laying in their bunks. Two of the tired hikers I recognized from the first hut. The older woman had her ankle all bandaged up and her husband wasn’t better off with a pulled leg muscle. The ranger was talking to the woman, like a priest giving the last rites. The woman had caught her foot on a tree root and then had fallen over while her poor ankle stayed put. Mr. Ranger was trying to talk the women into a helicopter ride back to the ranger station. She wanted to wait until tomorrow morning incase a miracle happened and she could walk out herself. Her husband tried to stand up but he had rubber band legs. The older gentleman said with sigh, “ I guess I shouldn’t have laid down!” I said “I think you shouldn’t have got up!” The rest of the hiking group had done a short hike to Blue Lake but they came back early looking like drowned rats. The Swiss couple from my last hut showed up at the same time and all of them spent a more then a few minutes getting all their equipment hung up to dry. They said the German man had visions of getting fried on top of the mountain, so he stayed behind.

The rest of the afternoon was spent sitting around talking and watching the Swiss couple learn to play a card game.

The next morning the rain gods had left the area for few days, I hoped. I was on my way to Blue lake, which sounded like a enchanted place. Again I just followed the river trail until it lead me to the Blue Lake Hut. The hut sat on the valley floor and high mountain completely surrounded the area. The hut had fantastic views from every window. The hut was large and there was a few packs laying on the tables inside the hut. I dropped my pack and continued my walk to the lake. I meet a two women on the way back to the hut to change into their swim suits for a bit of a swim in the crystal clear lake. Their husband and father just sat along the lake shore and waited for the women to get cooled off. The minute the two women dove into the water they couldn’t get out of the water fast enough. They tried to walk on water because the water was so cold. It looked so inviting with the water being a dark blue and large trees lining the lake shore. I noticed a river feeding the lake and noticed a large water fall above the lake. Walt Disney couldn’t have made a better paradise. After their quick swim, my new companions where on the way down the trail and I had the place to myself. When I threw stones into the water you could watch as they sank to the bottom thirty feet down, it was that clear. I thought of what Teddy Roosevelt said about the Grand Canyon when he first saw it, “Don’t change I thing you can’t improve it!”

I sat along the lake reading when a couple from England came marching up to the lake. “Sorry we are on a tight schedule, have to keep moving!” as they turned and ran back down the trail. When I returned to the hut the sun was setting on the mountains and I just sat at a table and starred out the window at the snow capped mountains.

The next morning I would do a day hike to Constance Lake that feed the Blue lake from above. I followed a narrow path beside the stream that lead into the Blue Lake and noticed it started at the bottom of the large rock pile. The pressure of the lake above forced water under ground and feed my lake. When I was able to hike up to the lake, I saw a most amazing site. A large waterfall was pouring down into Constance lake. The water fall poured off the mountain above the lake and it was fifty feet away from the mountain side before it even hit the lake surface. I continued hiking up to the top of the mountain above the lake. That is until I hit a wall of snow. I had hiked high enough and had a grand view of the lake and water fall.

I walked back down to Blue Lake and jumped into the lake myself and had the same reaction as the frozen mermaids yesterday. During the storm yesterday a large tree had been blown over blocking the trail leading to the lake and I found a axe for the remedy. It was nice change of pace hacking away at that old tree. Luckily the tree gave up before my back did.

The next morning I had to head over another mountain to D’Urville River. The trail again was heading straight up the mountain. I noticed that some smart ranger had driven in long wooden poles to mark the trail. The fog gods made these poles very important, as I couldn’t see my own shoe laces by this time. The steep trail was covered with large round boulder, that acted like bowling balls when they where dislodged. I am glad I was he only hiker on the trail or it would have been dodge rock for anybody following me. The pass was covered with smaller rock and it had a view of the valleys below, I guess on clear days, but now it was like looking into pea soup because of the fog. I started down the other side and the closer I got to the river, the skies cleared. The trail on this side was covered with mossy rocks and more of those tripping roots. By lunch time I came to the Ella Hut, with it’s view of the river. I sat on the front porch as I ate lunch and was the official greeter for any travelers. A fella from Holland showed up in short order, and he had just walked by Blue Lake without even a glance, what a waste I thought. I walked down to the river for a refreshing swim. As I started back towards the hut I noticed smoke pouring from the doorway of the hut. My Dutch hiker had started a fire in the cast iron stove and was laying in his bed, I think, because it was so smoky I had trouble seeing. I ran to the stove and noticed the flume had fallen down and all the smoke was staying in the hut instead of the chimney. “I was just cold and wanted some warmth!” Dutch boy said. “Well you almost turned into a smoked hiker!” I explained.

The next morning I awoke to a dream that I had fallen a sleep on top of a pool table in a smoky old bar. I turned on my flash light and the smoke was thick enough to cut with a knife. I ran to the Dutch Boy side of the hut and there again he was laying, being smoked. He had gotten up again and started a fire, with the same results, because he was cold. I thought I was in a Forest Gump movie, “Are you just stupid?” I opened all the windows and doors and within a few minutes the air cleared and I couldn’t wait until I cleared out. Holland Boy was staying for another day but I was heading down the trail, even though it was raining. I thought it was better to get soaked rather then smoked!

After walking for thirty minutes in a steady down pour you soon understand you can only get so wet. I turned the corner and heard the noise of hammering and sawing. A construction crew was working right through the storm on a new hut. The crew had a cook tent along with sleeping tents. I stepped under the tarp that served as the cooking area and had a cup of warm tea placed in my hand. As the men came off the roof during the downpour, I said just kidding, “Well at least the rain keeps the dust down.” “Oh right, that was a big worry!’ the foreman said. Being in construction myself for many years we had plenty to talk about.

As I walked along the trail the rain just coming down without a break in sight. I notice the D’Urville River getting higher on its banks when I came to the river crossing. The water was waist deep but there wasn’t much need to change my hiking boots. The water logged boots already weighed several pounds more than when I started. They did help me cross over the slippery boulder that lined the river bottom. Within a hour I crossed a small bridge and then came in sight of the newly built Sabine Hut. The hut sat right on the banks of the Lake Rotoroa and after walking for fourteen hours it was a welcoming sight.

The hut had an assortment of different hikers from all over the globe. A warm fire was going and I was able to hang all my dripping cloths. After dinner the weather cleared and I was able to walk along the shore line and enjoy the lake views.

As the sun rose the next morning, the hut seemed to come alive with hikers having different adventures on their minds. My ambitions called for me to climb over Mount Cledric to Angelus Hut and then the next day I would walk to the dock and be picked up by water taxi. As I ate breakfast, my fellow hikers and I got to talking about the weather. One very smart fellow had a weather radio, that announced a major storm coming in this afternoon, with snow on Mount Cedric. Maybe it was time to shift my plans to a more safer, direct route back to my car. What really changed my mind was the warning posted at the trail head, “Don’t attempt the track, if the weather appears to be changing, people have lost their lives!” That put the icing on the cake, I would head to St Arnaud and my car, by way of Spear Grass Hut. A few other people had got an earlier start and where already ahead of me.

Everything was fine with the weather gods until late morning and the wind and rain started bouncing off my face. I passed a couple from the last hut and I just kept right on marching with the Spear Grass Hut as my salvation. I got to the hut and opened the door to a empty hut with a very crude interior. The driving rain and hail was beating against the wooden sides of the shelter and it sounded like World War III. I changed my wet cloths and had them hanging as the couple I passed arrived. We sat down to eat lunch and figure what in the hell we was going to do with the rest of the afternoon. The cold wind blowing though the hut help me decided to keep going towards the car today.

This couple where from Australia and they had the same idea as I did about moving on after lunch. Just then the door opened to two German girls and they looked like they had been filming a commercial for washing machines, by climbing inside of it. Water was flowing off them and forming huge puddles by the front door. My back was to the German girl while I talked to the Aussie couple, when all of a sudden they stopped talking. I turned around and then the saw the objects of their attention. The fully developed girls had taken off all their cloths and where walking around the hut in their birthday suits. If looking at naked women can make you go blind, can I do it until I need glasses? After the floor show it was time to move on, besides the storm seemed to be losing some of it power.

I walked until I came to a maintained road and my map said it would lead me to my car. Since my pack had gained in weight from the rain storm I hid my pack and walked the road, to my car. I jumped in my car and speed back to my hidden back pack and also with the idea of picking up the Aussie couple, not the German girls, I am married!

At St Arnaud I was able to secure a room and find a drying room for all my gear. My hiking boots took three days to dry out. The next morning I had a view of Mount Cedric and it was covered with snow, so thank goodness for a transistor radio.