This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Punters : Debbie Douglas (leader), Bevan Clark, Byron Anderson, Travis Pittman, Annemiek and Michael van Ewijk
Day One - Being There Nervous excitement could be felt in the air as we eagerly awaited our boarding call at the ferry building. For many in the group, it was the first major tramping experience - the heavy weight of the packs reminded us of that! However any nervousness was soon dispelled as we checked our gear through the baggage control point and joined the stampede up the gangway to the Aratika, bound for Picton. Byron, video camera in hand, kept us all fixed firmly in his sights - as he did for the entire trip. After an unmemorable ferry sailing, on which few dared sample the cuisine a la railways and even fewer found a comfortable place to sit, 6 weary punters arrived at Picton. Having retrieved all gear from the chaotic Picton baggage claim area, we all boarded the coach en route to St Arnaud. Those expecting to get a couple of extra hours kip on the bus struggled in their endeavours - the rest of us awaited the relative comfort of St Arnaud shelter. Vague memories of the arrival at St Arnaud recall a mad scramble for sleeping space in the pitch black of midnight........ Day Two - A Bird's Eye View The morning dawned fine but cool and an early start was expected. Limbs were gradually extracted from warm sleeping bags and muscles and bones stretched to rid them of the aches and pains from an uncomfortable nights sleep. With breakfast out of the way we headed towards the rangers hut just after nine o'clock, stopping en route to purchase a few forgotten stores. Once there, a few minutes were spent recording trip particulars in the rangers log book and purchasing tickets for the nights to be spent in NLNP huts later in the trip. At 9:45am we were set to go and positive progress was begun. By 9:46am we were stopped, poring over a map - the fork in the road outside the ranger's hut had us confused and our first navigation exercise seemed eminent. Fortunately Byron had been here before and he pointed us in the right direction towards West Bay and climb up Pinchgut Spur. Being the last party away we could see many other trips heading up the spur ahead of us. At least six or seven parties, totalling about 40 trampers, were noted - it looked like it was going to be a busy night at Angelus Hut. But we weren't worried - our plan was to take Pinchgut at leisure and then on to Prospect Shelter by early afternoon. The heavy packs, with the necessity to carry additional water supplies for the night, made Pinchgut a struggle for most. However the climb was appreciated by all as the magnificence of the Nelson Lakes National Park unfolded below us. A pair of New Zealand Falcon (Falco novaeseelandiae).or Karearea were sighted near the top of Pinchgut - one being chased by a crazed Pipit with delusions of grandeur. Other native bird species seen in the bush on the climb up included the Brown Creeper, Rifleman, Tomtit, Tui and Bellbird with the more common Grey Warbler, Silvereye and Fantail seen in abundance. After a quick lunch at Bushedge Shelter we all donned our light weight parkas for the final assault over Mt Robert (1411m) to our destination for the night - Prospect Shelter. By this stage the wind had picked up and there had been a noticeable drop in the temperature.
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Prospect Shelter, duely reached in the mid afternoon, overlooks the basin that forms the Mt Robert ski field and it was there that we all ventured in search of water. A slow running tarn provided the necessary supplies and having replenished our bottles and billies, we scrambled back to the relative warmth and comfort of Prospect. A splendid concoction resembling beef satay was enjoyed for dinner (the thought of lighter packs the following day made it all the more enjoyable!). In the early evening a heavy layer of cloud filled the ski basin, rising from the valley below. The sight provided a marvellous panorama with the rugged peaks of the St Arnaud Range, tinged with the colours of last light, providing a spectacular back drop. As the wind strengthened, we appreciated why the long-drop had been lashed down by heavy wire cabling! By nine o'clock the wind had died, the clouds had receded and the moon and stars filled the night sky. Tomorrow looked to be a real beauty.......
Day Three - On Top of the World The weather for day three looked to be the best yet. The wind that had chilled us the previous day had died and the warmer temperature was much appreciated. The journey before us along Robert Ridge to Angelus Hut provided a relatively light days travel. Despite this, we were away early, knowing that another big crowd would be expected at Angelus Hut for the night.
Maintaining a relatively constant altitude between 1750 and 1800m along the ridge, the journey provided a never ceasing view of spectacular country. On the horizon to the north-west could be seen the seas of Golden Bay and further west the never ending myriad of mountain ranges of the Murchison/Buller region.
Along the ridge we passed a party of five, including a number of Australians. We knew they were Australians because they appeared to be carrying more gear outside their packs than inside (including sleeping bags) ! Flora and fauna was pretty scarce on the tops, however it was here that we first encountered the vegetable sheep (Raoulia eximia). These hardy silver-green hairy herbs, acknowledged by many a weary tramper for their cushion-like properties, survive in the extreme alpine conditions by absorbing the nutrients from their own decaying matter, rotting in a soggy mulch on the inside of the plant, protected by the seemingly weather proof outer foliage. There are 20 endemic varieties of vegetable sheep in New Zealand - and not a lot of people know that! We arrived in the picturesque Lake Angelus basin in time for lunch and, to our pleasure, found bunks for all in the hut. We were lucky - by 2:30pm all sixteen bunks had been taken. At least sixty people slept in the Angelus basin that night, many of them foreigners. One of the later arrivals was an elderly man travelling alone who seemed ill prepared for his trip. Assuming his ticket would guarantee him a bunk in the hut, he had brought no sleeping mat nor alternative shelter. When it was suggested that this was a little short sighted, he protested to Debbie "Don't lecture me young lady. I'm an experienced tramper - I've done the Milford Track you know! ". We got the message and he spent the night sleeping on a tussock clump with a borrowed mat and shelter. After lunch we embarked on a leisurely trek out to the base of Mt Cedric (1532m) where we caught our first glimpses of Lake Rotoroa.
Returning to the hut by early evening, we prepared and enjoyed something fishy for dinner, followed a little later by a very heavy cheesecake. We chose to eat.our meal outside as the sun ‘went down - the crush for space in the hut was getting unbearable. By late evening, most punters had put themselves to bed. The floor of the hut was littered with many weary (and smelly) bodies and the temperature inside became unbearably warm. Snoring the international language - soon filled the air as did the sounds of slowly digesting dinners...... Day Four - Over the Edge Day four, Easter, took us from Angelus Hut to Lakehead Hut, following the Hukere Stream to the ’ head waters of Lake Rotoiti. The day had dawned fine and warm and an early start was made. Byron indicated that we were in for some awesome scenery during the day - and we were not disappointed. The Cascade Track is well named with the first few hundred metres plunging off the edge of the Angelus basin into the valley below. This was the first serious (and only) down hill section of the trip and the knees and toes soon started. complaining. The journey was slow as care had to be taken on the loose shingly surface. We were glad that it wasn't raining and that we weren't going in the other direction. The sub-alpine terrain was soon traversed and, after a brief refreshment stop, we found ourselves in a forest of beech trees. It was apparent to all how different this was to the rambling bush of the Tararua Ranges that we had become so used to. The stunted trees at the bushline soon gave way to more majestic specimens in the lower valley and lush carpets of moss coated the forest floor. Fingers of sunlight gradually filtered through the canopy and spiders webbs glistened with morning dew. It was in this magical setting that we encountered our first Keas (Nestor notabilis) of the trip. Three birds kept us amused for a number of minutes as they darted through the forest about us. Sadly these mischievous mountain parrots have declined rapidly in recent years and the lack of them on the tops seemed ample evidence of this. , We stopped for a late lunch at the foot of the valley where we soaked up the warm afternoon sun and dabbled our feet in the cool mountain waters of the Travers River. From there, our journey continued upstream to the walkwire before back-tracking to Lakehead Hut on the opposite side. It was by the walkwire that Debbie was stung by a wasp - a very nasty place to be stung. The wasp problem was obvious but fortunately this was the only incident of a sting. It's a shame the same couldn't be said for the sandflies. Our destination was duely reached at about 4:00pm where we set up camp. Although the hut was nearly empty, we decided to use the tents that we had diligently carried so far. Bushcraft skills were put to the test when it was discovered that one of the tents came with an insufficient supply of pegs. As luck would have it - the only night we chose to sleep out was the only night it rained. Don't you hate it when that happens......? a Dinner for the night was quite an experience. We used the fire place available and had no difficulty finding dry wood from the river bed. Chilli pasta was on the menu. Unfortunately none of us had any real ideas of how many chillis to use and, as Debbie had brought along a big bag of fresh chillis, we thought an even five would be adequate. The real fun started early when Michael, who had been given the job of preparing the chillis, tried to rub something from his eyes, only to find that you don't have to eat chillis to enjoy that wonderful burning sensation. Luckily for him there was plenty of water on hand and there was no hesitation as Annemiek threw him a couple of litres. We dried his clothes by the fire during the night.
Water was a commodity in high demand as we ate our meal. The chillis certainly added a great deal of flavour to the meal and we all agreed it was the best one yet - though you wouldn't have thought it from all the tears. Mind you, that doesn't mean to say we would venture to eat another meal like it for some time to come! We were well aware of the fire risk in the region so were careful not to breathe on anything! We sat and scoffed Easter eggs for dessert before retiring to bed at about 9:30pm.
Day Five - Homeward Bound
Those light sleepers in the party were awoken on the morning of the final day by a dawn chorus of Bellbirds in the nearby trees (or was it the pitter patter of rain drops on the fly?). Sandflies soon disturbed those wanting to sleep in for a little longer. Steady rain had been falling for most of the night but the tents had kept us dry quite admirably. Soon after rising we, with all our gear, migrated to the hut for breakfast. The tents were let down and hanged on the balcony to dry. The day ahead was very easy - it was only 2 hours back to St Arnaud so nobody was in any hurry. The morning was many visitors to the hut. At about 9:30am a park ranger appeared from out of the mist demanding payment of hut fees. We managed to convince him that we did not have to pay (having not used the hut facilities for the night) though a German tramper was not so lucky - copping a $20 fee for his nights stop and days ahead. Shortly afterwards, Roger Bolam's medium trip came through from John Tait Hut. A billy was shared for morning tea, as were the experiences of the previous days travel. A mindless debate on the correct pronunciation of Angelus (that's AN-gel-us) ensued. Roger's jokes were about as wet as the weather. By 11:00am we were starting to think it was time to get underway. As we were leaving, a number of people from the FE trip arrived at the hut. Debbie stayed behind for the reunion so the rest of us headed off towards St Arnaud. , Persistent rain dogged us for the remainder of our journey and a dry change of clothes at St Arnaud was eagerly awaited. Annemiek set a cracking pace so we arrived slightly ahead of schedule. The couple of spare hours at St Amaud were spent drying out, eating lunch and dreaming of hot baths and decent food. At 3 o'clock the coach arrived and we were soon on our way back to Picton. It would be another eight hours before we finally made it home........
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