Rees Dart Tramp

I have a few pictures in my camera from the Speight's Brewery tour, biking on the peninsula with Jenny, and hiking to the Organ Pipes.



Last Saturday I took the bus to Queenstown, a tourist town four hours west of Dunedin. There I met up with Peter Nunns, checked into a noisy hostel, and headed to the grocery store to stock up on provisions. Peter asked if I would be morally opposed to bringing wine on our tramp, and I replied no. Soon it became apparent that Peter intended on packing multiple bottles of wine and minimal amounts of actual food, explaining that he remembered hiking with his family and being cold, miserable, and hungry. I insisted that the hiking could be quite enjoyable with the proper provisions and fortunately Peter soon came around. We purchased bread, cheese, salami, a giant jar of peanut butter, honey, fruits and vegetables, scroggin, dried fruit, granola bars, oatmeal, and four dinners of burritos, rice and beans, soup, and spaghetti. I limited Peter to one bottle of wine. Then we grabbed dinner and a beer at a so-so Mexican restaurant.

The next morning at 8 am we took the Backpacker Express shuttle to the Muddy Creek trailhead and were underway by 10 in a light rain. I discovered that tramping is an appropriate name for hiking in New Zealand due to connoting a generally damp and soggy journey. My socks and boots were soaked from beginning to end. But the landscape was spectacular from start to finish as well. We slogged through marshy river plains, maneuvered in dense beech forests, waded through mountain streams, climbed rocky slopes, and were always tip-toeing over mud. I very much enjoyed seeing the lush grassy hills next to icy glaciers and spiky snow-capped peaks. From the Cascade Saddle we could just make out three mountaineers about to summit a snowy domed mountain well over 2000 meters high.

We saw several dozen other trampers the entire trip, including Aussies and Germans and Japanese. The clean and tidy huts provided excellent spaces to sleep, eat, dry our clothes, and chat with the other hikers, and the hut log books were full of notes from folks around the globe.

Highlights of the trip were reaching the Rees Saddle, just less than 1500 meters, where we snapped many photos and could see two river valleys in opposite directions, and Cascade Saddle, slightly over 1500 meters, which provided the most breath-taking views of the trip of many mountains and valleys far below.

The only hiccup in the tramp was a large amount of rain on day 4. The hut warden had told us the previous night to expect heavy falls and to be prepared to spend the next day at the hut since the mountain streams would rise and become impassable very rapidly during the rain. A moderate rain fell throughout the night, but the next morning the warden informed us that the water had yet to rise significantly and while he recommended a rain day at the hut since conditions might change quickly, we could make a dash to the next hut if we so desired. I was game to go, and Peter had a flight to catch on January 2, so while the ten or so other hikers stayed at the hut, Peter and I set off in the rain, hoping to cross 25 streams before they rose too high. The worst scenario would be reaching an impassable stream and then finding that the previous stream had also risen, trapping us between the two.

In less than five hours, however, we made it to Daleys Valley hut, stopping only for ten minutes under a rock bivouac for water and snacks. None of the streams had posed great difficulty. As we had the hut to ourselves, we hung our soggy articles all over the place, started a fire, and cooked some delicious spaghetti with salami and tomato sauce. We also finished off the wine, as it was New Years Eve, and played rummy all afternoon. I was victorious at rummy, which marginally improved my self-confidence after getting schooled at chess the day before. If only rummy required as much skill as chess.

The final day, New Years Day, was relatively sunny and was an enjoyable easy walk over a couple bluffs and under small waterfalls to the track's end. We feasted on our remaining provisions while waiting for the Backpacker Express to take us to Queenstown. There we found lodging just outside town that was significantly nicer than the downtown hostel. I soaked in the hot tub and chatted with a fellow from Christchurch, and then we were off to town for some beer and fish and chips. Later that evening I watched two semi-entertaining street performers and purchased a delicious double scoop ice cream cone. Early yesterday morning we hopped on a bus to Dunedin, and Peter got off at the Dunedin airport to catch a flight back to Wellington.

These pictures may do the trip at least some justice; Peter has more that I will link to.