Happy Trails

Happy trails-

My last order of business before leaving the Australasia continent were 2 of the New Zealand “Great Walks”. The DOC (Department Of Conservation) has declared there to be 9 Great Walks in the country. I narrowed it down to do my top 4. First was The Tongariro Circuit (volcanic/alien world) followed by the Able Tasman Track (costal/beach trek). My last 2; The Routeburn and Milford tracks, were back to back in the pristine Fiordland National Park.

All the Great Walks require advanced booking of either camping sites or huts. Each has a strict limit of spaces that they enforce, but most still have spots available the week of. The Milford Track is by far the hardest to get a reservation for in the country and one of the the hardest in the world. Once I knew with certainty I would be leaving Sydney I had the tracked booked within 24 hours. It’s the first thing I had booked. Almost a full month before I even booked my flight to NZ. I reserved my spot early January and took the first available start date, April 13th. I later talked to someone that tried booking the hike a few days after me and was denied until 2014 (the season runs Dec-May). Of all the hikers I met the previous 5 weeks in NZ not 1 person successfully booked their spot in time and many tried. This declaration always came with a depressed drop in voice and defeated sag of shoulders. It was followed by surprise that I actually WAS lucky enough to get a reservation, then the inevitable question- “when the hell did you book it!?!” January… “Oh i guess that makes sense” (shoulders sag some more). I’ve always felt lucky to have the trek booked and I would be ending my time in NZ upon its completion.

These hikes I’ve done are easy to meet people and make friends on. You obviously share the same interests, but more importantly you share a schedule. The same people I got on the 7am bus from Queenstown to the trailhead are the same people taking pictures at the end of the trail sign 4 days later, and everything in between… Eating same time, listening to the park rangers nightly safety spiel, sleeping in same bunk rooms, sharing the same views and walking the same path. The first day is always a feeling out period. By day 2 you’re comparing scars and war stories, by day 3 you are sharing food, by the end of it you are offering up gear to your slightly injured or slightly un equipped compadres. I have to sheepishly admit to falling into the latter category… I knew the huts had gas stoves so I left my Jetboil (butane cooker + bowl) in Queenstown. I knew I’d have to borrow a pot to boil water which wasn’t an issue, but forgot to detach the bowl at the base so I had nothing to put my coffee, tea, hot chocolate, oatmeal in once it was heated up. Scanning my bag contents on the first night I took inventory- pocket knife, spare water bottle and extra socks- Boom! I got myself a bowl. (Beautifully insulated with a dangling ankle sock). Some people loved my ingenuity and thought my mountain resourcefulness matched my Grizzly Adams beard, others would give one of those laugh/exhale threw teeth noises and shake their head. Either way it was definitely a conversation piece. By the end of Routeburn someone gave me their cooking bowl and said “Hey I have extras at home, you’ll need it for Milford”… At the end of Milford another says “Here take this cup, I can’t have you taking that sock thing up to Everest Base Camp”… Good people.

The most eventful moment came on day 3 of the Milford Track. The previous night during the park ranger powwow the ranger explains- “Welcome to the Mintaro Hut, I hope you’re all enjoying your adventure so far… If adventure IS what you are after you just ran into some”… She turns to post a TRAIL CLOSED sign on the door, turns back and continues- “I received transmission from the DOC office and we are under a severe weather warning. We are expecting 250-300mm (10-12 inches) of rainfall overnight! NOBODY is allowed to leave the hut until I give permission. EVERYBODY must be packed up tomorrow morning and ready for departure at 8am sharp. We will determine the trail conditions and take it from there.” Immediately I’m reminded of the scene from Bronx Tale when the bikers ride into town and trash the bar then Chaz Palmentari locks the door behind them and says “Now you’z can’t leave”. I wasn’t worried about the announcement and surprisingly nobody else was either. We all looked forward to the interesting and memorable day that lay ahead with enthusiasm.

The next morning looked like a procession of foot soldiers going into battle. Boots- check, gloves- check, rain jacket- check, backpack cover- check. Fortunately (or unfortunately depending on your adventure level) we only received a fraction of what was forecasted and ended up with 50mm (2 inches) of rain. Still more than half the ANNUAL average for Vegas (If we got the 300mm we were getting evacuated by helicopter… Really). The Ranger assembled the foot soldiers and gave us the battle plan. She would walk ahead and scout out some river crossings and troubled areas that might give us problems. We followed her in the rain to the high pass where we awaited in the emergency hut for her to return. 90 minutes later she came back and told us we were free to go at our own pace. One of the bridges was impassable so she had to open up the emergency trail that put us on an hour detour… Everyone, Including the two kids (11 and 12) made it without any problem and nobody had an inch of dry clothing upon making it to the next hut. The formidable weather turned what was supposed to be the most scenic day into a day filled with clouded over peaks, limited visibility and frigid mountain, gale force, gusts of wind (“gale force” were the park rangers words. I really don’t know what that means, but thats what they said in Perfect Storm so thats bad)…What the pouring rain did however do is turn the faces of the mountains into a waterfall wonder world. Whenever the storm clouds cleared long enough you can see an awe inspiring array of cascading water. At one point I counted 26 waterfalls within my peripheral. It looked like lava flow from a live and active eruption. Or, the fat kid in me saw chocolate pouring over the top of an ice cream sunday… There was almost as much water running off the hills as there was exposed rock. It was truly amazing to see. Unfortunately the cautious protection of my camera backfired on me. I had it inside a ziplock bag which was securely under my rain jacket. The rain jacket didn’t do shit expect maybe slow the water down a bit and somehow the seal on the ziplock bag opened. When I checked on my camera it was swimming in water inside the plastic bag. I took it apart and dried it best I could. I’m hopeful there will be no lasting damage, but nonetheless there are no pictures from that afternoon…….

Cruising around New Zealand the last 6 weeks has been like making sweet, sweet, eye contact and all, love in a Peter Lik showroom… (Complete with cuddling afterwards). It seemed fake half the time. It got to the point where I was used to it, I expected it. I have (almost) become comfortably numb, but never lost a single moment of appreciation and feeling blessed… Departing is bitter sweet. I’m sad to be saying goodbye to New Zealand, but am rabid with excitement for my next stop… Bring on Nepal!

Bob