by Anthony Hayes

Day1

It all started just after 5pm on the eve of the new millennium. The bus rumbled down the road in a cloud of dust and the drizzle set in. Over the locked gate and through the farmland the impressive flooded Hokitika River was reached and our first mistake. Foolishly following Robert, who was striding out in front, we missed a vital marker while boulder hopping resulting in a "damage control" streambash up a sidestream to regain the wide flat track. By this stage Robert and Pauline were dripping wet as it was raining West Coast style. However Alan and myself still had reasonable dry raincoats due to that important piece of tramping equipment, the umbrella.

After a while the track came to an end on the edge of the Hokitika River with the cableway (basically a cage and a pulley at either end) 100 metres upstream. Getting to it required care however as one had to get to it by scrambling over wet moss covered rocks only centimetres from the edge of the fast flowing flooded river.

Crossing one at a time while being syringed by mosquitoes, the final person was across and it was a short stroll to the empty Rapid Creek Hut.

Being the eve of the new millennium, century and year, everyone stayed up. However there was some debate over whose watch was telling the correct time and deliberately avoiding the fact that taking daylight saving into account means it all happens at 1am!.

Rapid Creek, with a couple of Blue Ducks was our first obstacle for the day. It was rapid and we finally settled on a place to cross in pairs. Beyond that it was a bit of scrambling over rocks, bushbashing, lots of stream crossings, and a waterfall crossing. At the swingbridge across the Whitcombe River Alan suddenly found himself going first after a worried Pauline suddenly turned around ¾ of the way across after realising that the ladder bolted into the cliff on the other side had to be reached using a chain rope across a wet rock face.

A bit more of the same and the Frew Hut was reached in the early afternoon just as it started to rain. This hut, receiving on average eight metres of rain a year, had a handy enclosed porch. 

However we didn't admire the porch for long and a few records for taking ones boots off would have been broken as a swarm of sandflies drove us inside.

After "safely" inside, some applied insect repellent and started carrying out genocide on the inside population of sandflies. It got so serious that Pauline dictated that everyone had to go to the toilet at the same time to minimise the number of door openings and reinfestation of the hut - and if your bursting before the next shift, bad luck!!.

The afternoon of swatting sandflies, reading old magazines, playing cards and preventing Robert from using half a jar of spread on one sandwich was interrupted with the arrival of a german called Dieter. After coming through the door with a swarm of sandflies one of the first thing he heard was "shut the door". After a few hours he left for the next hut in the rain.

That evening was a night spent with Tom, Dick, Harry and Steve, thousands of sleepy sandflies and a few flying syringes.

Day 3

With breakfast consumed, packs ready and boots on, the door was opened quickly and everyone ran through the swarm of waiting vampires. Safely away, packs were dropped, bladders relieved and we were on our way. From the hut the track went straight up. A good thing about west coast tracks is that they don't mess around - if one needs to go over a hill the track goes straight up and straight down.

With the first snack stop Robert realised he'd made a serious blunder when it came to snacks. He had eight Iron Man Bars that tasted like chalk - and he threw half a bar away!

After a while the muddy uneven track started to flatten out a bit and it past through mossy bush and across small side creeks.

The first of the two-wire bridges was reached. Time was spent practicing on it as none of us had ever used one before. This first was straightforward though Pauline used a part of her anatomy for additional support. 

Reaching the scrub line an easy scenic rocky stream was followed to some serious waterfalls, where a route was picked up that led us to Frew Biv. The biv was occupied by Dieter who told us that bad weather was expected. This was not what we wanted to hear as we had no spare days and any rain would make the sidestreams impassable. As a precaution Pauline decreeded that all group food should be rationed in the event of being stranded for a few days, much to Roberts horror.

The saddle was a few minutes away which offered great views of snowcapped mountains, deep glacial valleys and a view of our climb up Homeward Ridge the next day.

From the saddle was a big marker in the valley 200 metres below. With no definite track we all fanned out different ways to the valley floor. Being half way down the steep Spaniard infested tussock hill, Robert suddenly appeared high above on the same spur as his initial route proved too difficult - and when a pole was noticed 50 metres to the right he had the cheek to say I led him the wrong way!

After reaching the valley floor the upper reaches of the Hokitika River was followed downstream. 

The river soon became swifter, deeper and harder to cross, forcing us to crash along the hilly Spaniard infested scrubby tussock river bank. Pauline and myself soon realised we had enough of being speared by Spaniard and ended up rock hopping (with a bit of wading) along the edge of the river. Robert and Alan however were lost in the scrub resulting in us waiting for them for a considerable time at a major route junction. And Robert accused Alan of leading him astray!!

Here we camped. Robert and myself pitched our tent on top of a wet mossy bog (very comfortable). Alan meanwhile enlarged an old small site on higher and drier ground - all we saw was Spaniard and tussock flying everywhere.

The day was grey with mist obscuring the mountain tops. More bushcrashing and blood-letting, then it was up Homeward Ridge where the going became steeper though easier. After loosing the views at the mist line, it was a couple of hours of trudging through snow, trying to spot the next pole and scrambling across rocks and tussock. Back below the mist line and more spectacular views were had including Toaroha Biv our destination for the day - only six hours away with a steep valley inbetween!

With lunch and food rationing in force, Robert found out what's it like to be on a diet and wished he hadn't thrown out the Iron Man Bar a few days before. He even learnt that a bread crust is counted as a slice of bread.

After lunch the track forever went down until it reach a swingbridge over an impressive gorge on the wild vivid blue Mungo River. In no time it was up, up and up. By this time the rain had set in, the temperature was dropping, and light was failing while the cloud was beginning to obscure all views. After a while the bush started to give way to tussock until we reached a tarn and shortly after the Toaroha Biv. However it was occupied by Dieter. Undeterred we set up our tents and crammed ourselves into the 2 man (more like 1½ man) bivouac to get warm and have dinner. The mountain radio was set up, a promising weather forecast was heard (which ended the food rationing much to starving Robert's delight) and Alan had a go talking over the airways - though none of us heard him talking as straight after the weather forecast we were back in the bivouac warming up.

Next morning and it was spectacular. Blue sky with snowcapped mountains and thick fog sitting in the valley below. 

After packing and being accused by Dieter of leaving our tea bags behind (despite the fact that we weren't carrying tea bags and that Dieter had a brew of tea on that morning) we were off. The cloud started to lift from the valleys and all those views disappeared.

Dropping rapidly to a stream below the mist line, onto a tussock flat with a view of Lake Toaroha with its hut, and a final steep decent down a rocky stream led us to the lake edge. From here there was a track! Although rough, going was easier and quicker than previous day though the Crystal Creek caused major problems.

The creek was a swift rocky raging torrent with impressive waterfalls upstream and the large wild Toaroha River downstream. After an hour of scrambling around, giving Pauline a fat lip (ask her how she got it!) and debating where to cross, an easy spot was unexpectedly found though it did require a bit of scrambling to get to.

Onto the swingbridge across an impressive gorge it was a short stroll to the Cedar Flat Hut. In fact there were two huts - the old one and a newer one Here we met two other NSTC groups who came into the hut for the night and were returning the same way the next day. Some of them were surprised to see us as they didn't expect us to get out in time.

As the new Cedar Flat was already occupied by the 'others' we took over the old hut. With dinner consumed, a mouthpiece started playing followed by dancing in the other hut resulting in a few refugees coming to visit us. One, Jeannie, quickly got into an argument Pauline and both quickly dropped their trousers in front of the boys to compare bruises.

With the milo and milk supplies virtually gone a visit to the other hut resulted in half a jar of milo and a bag of milk powder which filled our container - by the morning it was all gone.

In comparison to the previous days, the track to the roadend was easy and virtually flat at it followed the river.

Robert found a few rocks in his pack after the first rest stop, and a few bigger ones at lunch time.

Then there was a period of interrogation as to who the culprit was. No one owned up but at one stage we managed to convince her that Phil (who was behind us in one of the other NSTC groups) implanted it at the beginning of the day while at the hut.

After a detour to look at a gorge, farmland was soon reached as the bus rumbled towards us.

 WebSlave : Campbell Elliot  
 Last edited on : 13/06/05

         
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