Te Araroa: The Richmond Ranges (Part II)
27.01.2020 Day 91 (14km)
I don’t know if I’ve ever been so terrified in my life. An orange pole stuck out of the ground behind a pile of boulders, marking the summit of Little Mt Rintoul. From where I was standing it seemed clear that the trail wrapped around to the left and met the marker on the other side. Looking back, I think I might have been meant to clamber up over the hill instead. The trail to the left took me out onto a tight ledge with at least a 500 meter sheer drop.
Panic welled in my chest as the wind nagged at my pack. I had moved both trekking poles to hang from my wrist. This left my hands free to grip the rocks because in reality my life did depend on it. I hadn’t seen a soul in two days and had no idea if anyone else would be passing that way later. If I fell, no one would know I was dead for several days. I swallowed against my fear and talked aloud to myself.
“Reach and grab. Reach and grab. Just another step. You’re almost there. Reach and grab. You’ve got this.” My foot tripped slightly on a rock. “STOP freaking yourself out. Steady. Reach and grab. You can do this.”
By the time I arrived at the pole my legs were trembling and I literally crawled over the last lip on my hands and knees. I sat there as the wind howled in protest, fueling the fear I was trying so desperately to suppress.
Other than that minute and a half, which felt like fifteen, the day went swimmingly. The peaks had been clear when I departed from Old Man Hut, but clouds had moved in to obscure the view by the time I had reached the summit. The bits I did see were stunning, endless mountains stretching as far as the eye could see.
“The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!” The phrase continually ran through my head as I gazed across the landscape in awe. New Zealand had definitely been the perfect choice of setting for J.R.R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings.
After reaching the top of Mt Rintoul, I hopped across a black boulder field, with an eerie resemblance to the land of Mordor. The rocks shifted slightly with each, precisely placed step. As the trail was literally a series of climbing up and across rock slides, I couldn’t help but fear that an earthquake would hit. Or that I would tread on the one weak link, causing the entire hill to tumble down and me with it.
Fortunately, my precarious ledge hugging was the only moment that savored of potential death. The rocks held and I made it down through the forest to Tarn Hut. This was, as its name indicates, built next to a peaceful tarn, where birds dipped down to the surface to catch water insects. A family of swallows had constructed their nest in the rafters overlooking the door, and sometimes you could hear the babies chirping for food.
After two days of encountering absolutely NO ONE, I was relieved to have the company of another tramper that night. This one was heading north and was able to reassure me about the upcoming track. He also ended up buying two of my Backcountry meals…yay for a lighter pack.
Day’s Highlights: Arriving safe and in one piece to Tarn Hut.
28.01.2020 Day 92 (14km)
I pulled the Buff off over my head and buckled it into my hip belt, using the pocket strap as a hanger without missing a beat on the rooted forest track. It was something that had become second nature over the past three months.
The way down to Mid Wairoa Hut was steep but manageable, finishing off with a suspension bridge over a clear river. It was too early for lunch, so I pushed on to a shaded rocky shore where two modest waterfalls converged. It was perfect, except for the sandflies.
I was covered in repellent, but they hovered about me, determined to discover a patch of skin I had overlooked. It’s very difficult trying to eat your tuna and crackers when sandflies are nearly landing in your mouth.
The trail followed the river, keeping to the edges where the terrain was often steep and treacherous. There were narrow, slanted ledges, root ladders, and even a rope that had been installed to assist around a particularly steep bit. There were a few parts farther on that probably should have included similar precautions.
As it was another low kilometer day, I took my time to stop and enjoy the waterfalls and gentle sighs of the river. When I was about 100 meters from my hutt, the forest abruptly ended. The tranquil grey stones were supplanted by burnt red ones. Though there had been other watering holes along the way, I had wanted to wait till just before the end, so I could really rinse the sweat from my body.
It took three attempts before I got myself completely submerged. The water was positively glacial! As I was drying in the sun and swatting away the sandflies, a NOBO (Northbound) TA hiker appeared and we were able to chat about the trail a bit before wishing each other luck and continuing on.
Day’s Highlights: The river was absolutely stunning, all day long.
29.01.2020 Day 93 (29km)
Last night I decided it was time to push hard so I can get into St Arnaud early tomorrow. These motivations only increased in fervor when I noted the ominous rain clouds hugging the peaks of the mountains this morning. There was a significant river crossing coming up and I did not want to get stuck on the wrong side of it because of a sudden deluge.
Lea, who arrived at the hut late last night, and I left Top Wairoa around seven and began our first three hundred meter climb of the day. The terrain felt desolate, despite the frequent bubbling streams and weedy plants.
As we climbed through boulder fields and across scree slopes I found myself wondering if I had been transported to an alien planet. The earth tones of the landscape were laid out in strips, as if someone had forgotten to blend the paint on the canvass. It was beautiful and so different from anything else we had encountered.
Light sprinkles started later in the day, and I began begging Mother Nature to hold back just long enough for us to climb up a steep bit that previous hikers referred to as “a cliff” and any final river crossings.
Fortunately, she was kind and granted my wishes. The rain was never anything more than a light dusting.
Day’s Highlights: Having manageable wind on the ridges (aka not being blown off)
30.01.2020 Day 94 (20km)
The trail notes for today said it was going to be a very dry stretch and to carry extra water. So there I was picturing an arid desert and preparing for terrible sun exposure, when really we spent the entire morning in the shade of cool, mossy forests.
It was pretty easy going: a 100 meter climb, then down, a 200 meter climb, then down, a 300 meter climb, then down to the road and on to St Arnaud. Once we reached the road section, which was only eight kilometers, I poured out all my extra water. No point in carrying unnecessary weight.
It had been seven days since my last real shower and the Backcountry meals had not been sitting well in my stomach; so the two things I was most looking forward to were a long, hot shower and a real meal.
As we walked in the valley, gazing up at the surrounding mountains, a construction worker pulled over and offered each of us a huge slice of watermelon. It was just the pick up we needed to get through those final four kilometers. I enjoyed the fresh produce so much that I didn’t even mind the fact that my face was covered in sticky juice.
Day’s Highlights: The bombass mushroom pasta we made when we arrived at the lodge
