This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Te were seven in our party: Rob, our fearless leader, his dad over on holiday from the UK keen to sample a kiwi tramping trip (only there were only two kiwis in our group), Andrew, John, Wendy, Alison and Sarah.
We headed off to the South Island on the Wednesday night ferry. The change of day must have been too confusing for a member of the Fit trip who shall remain nameless — but let’s just say he receives the mail — as he managed to smuggle himself onto the Lynx. We caught the Orient Express to our destination where we were dropped off in the dark with the Fits while the other Medium party carried on to the start of their triap. Eventually we found somewhere relatively flat to pitch the flys (which happened to be in someone’s backyard). The unsuspecting inhabitant of the caravan was horrified to wake up to find four flys which had appeared overnight, and was relieved to know that we were packing up that morning! The Fits, eager to set off, left us before we had packed up and eventually we began to make our way up the track dutifully named Kill Devil Track! It was a long twohour climb up hairpin bends, but _ we were rewarded at the top by seeing the Fits not far in front of us — we called out to them but I don’t think they wanted to acknowledge that the Mediums had nearly caught them up, and that was with a head start! Roger later admitted that they had been about to stop for lunch but after finding out that we were hot on their tails, they decided to tramp for another 1% hours before daring to stop.
At the top we stopped for lunch and a certain member of our group was unfortunate enough to sit on an ant nest. After vacating the position the person soon decided to sit back down in the same spot and was surprised to find that the ants were still there!
We spent the second night at Stanley Forks — the hut had been burnt out so we opted for the flys. Following tea, when some of us were happy after relinquishing a few tins, we sat around the campfire. It was a vain attempt to discourage the sandflies while Rob toasted his socks and undies — as a surrender to the little blighters! An inquisitive weka visited during the morning hours but seemed more interested in the blokes’ fly than ours — I wonder why that was. The following day was hot and the sun was relentless. We risked life and limb crossing a large rock slip which DOC called track damage! We made it to Stanley Lake in time for a long, leisurely lunch and a cool off with a swim in the lake; there were even changing rooms in the form of a hut, but unfortunately we had to share it with mice.
By late afternoon we met up with the other Mediums in a perfect _camping spot with plenty of flat spongy ground. Dinner consisted of sausage stew and the vegetarians had so-called vege sausages which looked more like baby food by the time Andrew, the head vege chef, had finished with it — but they claimed it was tasty. Another gorgeous day greeted us and we walked on to Anatoki Hut for lunch. Alison and Sarah seemed to have a competition to see who could fall the most and collect the most bruises — Alison went for the muddy approach by falling in bogs, while Sarah went for the wet approach by falling in rivers.
After countless river crossings (and river fallings!) and climbing over track obstacles we reached our campsite at Anatoki Forks. This was highly recommended by the other Mediums who had passed through this area — no wonder they were sniggering! With the fly positioned right over the track, we had to make sure we were up early or the Fits would have walked straight through our luxury camping spot. The morning walk out was pleasant — the Fits obviously hadn’t done enough exercise as they jogged past us with far too much energy. Stopping for a snack break we managed to bribe Roger with half a bar of chocolate to bring the bus closer down the road to pick us Up.
Once we had collected the other groups, we sat back for a quick trip back to Picton. We took a vote en route — stop at Pelorus Bridge for a swim in the river or head straight to Picton for showers — but with the smell of Don and Eric _after eight days’ tramping, the showers won! A swift trip back across the Cook Strait on the Lynx rounded the trip off. In its attempt to get rid of the smelly trampers (well, some of us smelled quite sweet) the Lynx crashed into Wellington harbour — we finally made it home. A great trip — thanks Rob! cy
WI&MC May 1997