This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
On Saturday April 16 half the party went on 4 day trip up the Travers Track to the Cupola Basin. Alan 'I'd go mad hanging around this valley all day' Higgins motivated and led this spirited sextet who spurned the languorous promise of a rest day and set out just after 8am, leaving their comrades horizontal in varying depths of coma within their dewy tents. Alan set his usual brisk pace, following were his wife Sue, Gerard, Marlene, Peter ... and myself. It was a glorious morning, cool, bright and calm, and to walk beside the Travers River and through the beech forest was an easy pleasure. Unencumbered by heavy packs, we sped to John Tait Hut, arriving just after 9.00 in less than half the time advised by the track signs. The Hut’s occupants were just awakening and having breakfast, which made us feel virtuous. We paused for a while, noting the severity of the wasp infestation, and Alan spotted a large nest in the top of a beech across the river. Marlene made her customary trip to the toilet. We continued, branching off onto the track that climbs up Cupola Creek, Though gentle to begin with, this track becomes a steep grind over the final third leading up to Cupola Hut at the bushline. We were all glad that we had chosen the early morning to tackle it. As it was, though we reached the hut soon after 10.00, we were all well-heated. Of course the climb was worth it because the view from the hut at 1400m was superb. After some minutes gazing up at Mt Hopeless and down the valley we decided a brew was in order. It was so warm that t-shirts were discarded and the cautious applied sunblock, About half-way through morning tea a party of women arrived, led by a septagenerian who had made the climb without raising a sweat. She and Alan exchanged yarns about expeditions to the area made in past epochs. Alan recalled that from Cupola Hut government researchers had used telescopes to observe herds of deer and chamois moving across and through adjacent slopes and valleys, though visibility was so good as to make telescopes unnecessary, we saw no game that day. We heard a
kea. Having checked out the toilet, Marlene pronounced it the most remarkable she had visited - it was doorless and offered outstanding views. We accepted the judgment of an expert. To earn lunch we decided to go a bit higher. Branching off the track above the hut we climbed up a tussock and rock slope to the top of a knob at about 1600m, where we were cooled by a slight breeze and amazed by even better views. On the descent Marlene. experimented with an unorthodox method involving sliding on a nylon parka, but a few encounters with Sapniard punctured her enthusiasm, among other things, and led to its abandonment. Lunch in the sun was a highlight. A number of other punters had arrived at the hut and the grass verge before it became a regular picnic ground, Afterwards we descended and arrived back at the junction with Travers Track at about 2.45pm. Gerard had blisters and decided to nurse them back to camp, but the rest thought it worth heading up to have a look at Travers Falls, having been told by other punters that they were quite special. We were there in 15 minutes. The sun was off the falls so they were probably not at their best. "Pretty much like every other waterfall" said Alan, Marlene said they made her want to go to the toilet. Thoughtless Park authorities had failed to provide a facility. After the falls I went ahead of the other four back to camp. On finding it inhabited only by a scavenging horde of wasps I assumed Roger had carried through a tentative plan to move further down the valley. I followed the track, keeping an eye out for the new camp and soon spotted it on the flats across the river. When I arrived «he first thing everything wanted to know was whether I had ‘seen the notes’. My negative reply drew groans, as I was the second to fail - Gerard hadn't seen them either. It seemed that the rest-dayers had expended much effort on composing notes to guide us between sites, Gerard and I were terribly embarrassed about being stupid enough to find the new site without them, Our embarrassment increased when the final four arrived clutching the notes, having followed the guiding instructions to the letter, but of course that was some hours later. Meanwhile Gerard and I had a few cups of tea - the penalty for having arrived in such a quick but foolhardy manner. A few of the notes - alas not all - were preserved for posterity. They were ingeniously printed on Cook Strait Ferry baggage labels. A sample: "Well done, for security reasons we cannot reveal the whereabouts of the new camp just yet. Proceed to sign at Travers River and look under rock for message." The next and final note reads: "Congratulations, you have just found the third and final clue as to the whereabouts of your new home. You are standing by the rock at the foot of the Travers
sign, now read this carefully for I shall write it only once, cross river just downstream from green tent, we are residing 300m north of there, good luck" The rest-dayers had done a fine job of moving our gear and setting it up just as it had been at the former site. A few of the day-trippers were a bit disgruntled however, at having to get their boots wet for the first time that day, to get to the new one. This small inconvenience was forgotten after we had all had a brew and exchanged accounts of our days with the others. We talked in superlatives of great views and a peaceful lunch above I the bushline, while the others complained of a day-long battle against the black and yellow peril, of sandflies, of unsuccessful fishing expeditions and of the trials of shifting camp. The comparison made us feel even better about what had been an outstanding day. The only possible point of detraction came later, when Marlene realised that she had left a polarplus jacket at Cupola Hut. Otherwise, perfect.