This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
Grant Newton
The constant threat of rain and sandflies was no deterrent to four trampers who decided to spend the 2000/2001 summer break amongst the rainforests and upon the tops of the spectacular Fiordland landscape.
but now I felt it was time to leave the well-trodden paths of the Milford and Kepler tracks behind. A DoC pamphlet on George Sound had intrigued me, a track of sorts existed, but what else was possible? I dug out the definitive guide to the region — Moirs Guide Book — and began to seek an adventure. My original plans focused on the George Sound track and around Lake Alice, up the Edith and down the Glaisnock to North Fiord, but a lack of route description on getting around Lake Alice had me guessing. An e-mail to the editor, Robin McNeill, advised that there were two options for Lake Alice, a helicopter or carrying inflatable dinghies from The Warehouse. Based upon his other suggestions, a new plan was devised — to begin at the Doon River mouth in the Middle Fiord of Lake Te Anau and walk until Campbell Creek, which would allow access to Lake Wapiti and the tops. After crossing a saddle we would descend Twin Falls Creek and head up the Stillwater with a scramble to the tops and along to the George Sound Track at Henry Saddle. We would then be left with the luxury of a track to the Sound and then back to Lake Hankinson, adjacent to Lake Te Anau. Enough of the planning, it was time to go! Arriving in Te Anau on 26" December, the 4 of us met up — Glynne Lloyd, John Rhodes, Morgan Coleman and I. On the lakefront near the backpackers a rain contour graph displayed the story of Fiordland — a mere 30cm of rain to the east of Te Anau to the 5-metre annual rainfalls at Milford Sound and through to 8-metre rainfalls in the vicinity of George Sound! Immediately we were struck with a heavy rain warning, so out came the maps of the Takaitimus and Livingstone ranges, but we decided to sit out the weather for a day. Sitting out the weather for a group of restless trampers translated to a day walk to Luxmore Hut and back. The 30 km gave us a good warm up, but we would not see any 60-bunk huts on the adventure that lay ahead.
Sor many years the U-shaped valleys had intrigued me, So mooring in the mouth of the Doon River with the sky adark threatening grey and the rain falling, Glynne produced the quote that would be uttered many a time “Isn't it coincidental the Doon rhymes with doom and gloom?” So Bill then proceeded to slide a dinghy off the back of the warm, dry Waituna and the first pair proceeded to shore — it was like the Vietnam war, being dropped in a swamp with thick bush in the middle of nowhere. Quietly the dinghy made its way across the flat water, the rain falling, and around us the vertical cliffs rose well into the murky clouds. I set off to see what lay ahead, it was thick uncompromising bush that was saturated, and surely no humans were silly enough to have been here before? As trip leader and chief guide I was nervous; the conditions were damp and the conversation levels were low, the troops obviously wondering what they had let themselves in for. With all 4 ashore and midday already past we tackled the tough bush for 100 metres, then moved into more open beech forest — a relief to all. Such was the inauspicious starting point of our journey that Bill had apparently waited in his boat for another 45 minutes in case we changed our minds! He obviously had questioned our sanity. After a few minutes we made our way back towards the river and realised that the river edge was lined with a deer trail, making the bush bashing easier. The rain came and went throughout the day. At 5.30pm and opposite Pisgah Creek we found the rock biv mentioned in the guidebook. This was a good bivvy rock with an adjacent cave, that allowed us to keep reasonably dry (except me who seemed to be right under a drip) and spread out, while John got an immediate chance to try his fire-lighting skills in this demanding damp environment. There weren't too many sandlflies, enough to be a nuisance but not the thick black swarm that had been anticipated. By the time we had left the biv in the morning the trail from the river was cleared and the biv stashed full of firewood. Our second day was wetter still as steady rain kept up December 28" dawned pleasant in Te Anau and although the forecast was still bleak for the next 2-3 days, beyond that things looked more promising. So off we set. We met up with Glynne’s relative, Bill Speight, who hada comfortable launch, Waituna, on the lake and we headed off on a lengthy boat journey into the Middle Fiord. As the gloom descended and the rain fell, Bill got a brew underway and ham sandwiches were produced. These luxuries were to make the departure even harder than normal, and produce vivid memories as we later experienced the miserable Fiordland rain.
all day. If was slow going and took some time to reach Campbell Creek, a swamp that had caused all sorts of problems. The confluence of Campbell Creek and the Doon was not easily defined, but we crossed the Doon River easily and a surprising break in the rain allowed a lunch stop. From here we headed up the true-right bank of Campbell Creek, which had become a raging torrent and we nervously wondered how we would cross this. After some hideous and tough bush bashing, our gaiters filled with ferns and saturated, we arrived at our crossing at the base of the waterfall - we had no chance to cross here and instead chose to battle on in the hope of flat camping above the waterfall. The tough bush bashing became extreme bush bashing coupled with a boulder scramble riddled with opportunities to lose more than just people amongst the caverns that lay beneath. John had carried a small length of rope, but as he would stop to remove it from his pack, someone would spot an opportunity to progress another 5 metres. We finally scrambled up to the top of the waterfall and struggled to find a flat area due to huge boulders, but eventually found a poor space just big enough for 2 tents beside the river. Before hauling out the tents and setting up camp we scouted around and spotted a widening of the river that allowed a knee=to thigh-deep crossing and more amazingly, there was a great campsite on the other side. This was to be a turning point of the trip; it was where we left the misery behind! We pitched the tents so close that we could pass our bowls between them at dinnertime and crawled into the tent with the mission of not moving till morning. It was great to know that probably the hardest, groveliest part of the trip was behind us. We radioed in that evening and heard Roger Bolam asking after us on the mountain radio. We hardly recognised Roger's voice as he was serious... maybe he was worried about what lay ahead on Allen Higgins’ trip over Trudge Col! We got underway late the next morning as we waited for the rain to clear — this was to be a shorter day, just to the head of Lake Wapiti. The walk up the true-left of Campbell Creek wasn't too bad with pleasant overcast conditions throughout the morning and some occasional sun. But as we stopped for some lunch at the top of Campbell Creek the rain began again. We headed away from the river and climbed until we arrived at the tussock —ah, bush bashing accomplished! It was very cold on the tussock slopes but we got our first glimpse of Lake Wapiti and the spectacular surrounds. We also got some good views over the Campbell Creek tarn and back down the river. The vertical valley of Campbell Creek with its knife-edge ridge above was very prominent. We walked up 150m to the ledges above the lake and snow soon started falling. The ledges were a little disjointed but visibility was okay and we headed well beyond the lake head and descended to the flats at the head of the lake, arriving at 4.30pm. We searched for a rock biv, but could not find it so we set up our tents on the flats. There were one or two keas around but they didn’t bother us — must be like sandflies here, they aren’t used to humans so they don’t bother annoying them. ——-We-aweke-on-December 312441e-snow-on-the-tents-and—j little or no wind. This was meant to be summer but snow and cloud hanging around the tops led us to take a rest day as we wanted some views from the tops and were prepared to wait as the weather was forecast to improve slowly. We spent time being lazy, reading and drinking tea —~ only Morgan made any significant move, going for a stroll up into the basin. The weather remained a little cloudy on New Year’s Day but we made tracks for the tops and got some limited views from the saddle. It was neat to be walking amongst the
Morgan contemplates a new 600 metre bungy jumping site above the north branch of the Stillwater (Grant Newton) fresh snow though we had to take care, as it was steep near the top. After a photo stop on the saddle we headed down making good progress until striking the scrub. En route we spotted an obliging kea that just sat and posed for the camera but didn’t pick at anything. Below, the scrub bash to the river proved a little tricky but we were rewarded with great travel in the river with stunning scenes as the soft light shone upon the lush green foliage and even a blue duck was spotted in Twin Falls Creek. The Fiordland bush is lusher and greener than any other as the vivid mosses adorn the landscape trapping water to feed the environment. The final bush-bash down to Stillwater River was greeted by the return of the rugged looking Twin Falls before finding a campsite on the banks of the Stillwater River. This was the first time that we had a significant number of sandflies. The evening offered glimpses of the tops as the weather showed signs of improving — this was to be our last sight of rain in Fiordland. We awoke to great weather and progress up-valley was easy as the river was now down to a reasonable level. We saw spectacular land formations above and to our right as vertical faces rose to rugged peaks, and we enjoyed a superb spot for lunch on a sun-drenched riverbank. After a long break being lazy and taking photos of blue ducks, we headed up and left the main branch of the Stillwater. This is where we returned to some demanding bush-bashing and then ascended a steep slippery face of rock. The bright summer sun reflected off the rock and made for hard going. I began to wilt; I had become so accustomed to the cold that the returned to the bush bashing and sidled back to the creek and finally found a campsite at 7pm. I headed into the bush at nature’s call and found a large salami! Surely in such a_ harsh environment, you don't find this sort of thing lying around? Morgan had tried to shed some weight from his pack and had thrown this far away into the bush, or so he thought! Embarrassed, he subsequently had to put up with plenty of flak for the next few days as the salami was returned to his pack. Our last section of bush bashing on the trip would come on day 7 as we headed up the river and then scrambled to the tops. The travel began okay, but the going got tougher and tougher as the terrain became steeper.and then the leatherwood bash was almost vertical! Finally we arrived at the tops with great relief. We were rewarded with sunny skies and views to the Rugged Burn (George Sound track) and behind us into the Stillwater plus the mountains and hanging valley on the other side of the Stillwater. We also got great views up the Wapiti River to Lake Sutherland. We stopped to take plenty of photos and subsequently made slow progress to the high point as we enjoyed a truly memorable place. From the high point on the ridge, we ate lunch, enjoyed a brew, and also admired the great views to George Sound. It was a steep lengthy descent to Henry saddle with careful travel required, arriving at 3:30pm. We found our first track in7 days ¢ of ftramping: V be faced an incredibly steep descent ae jf i John Rhodes finds the source of another brew on the ‘ops above Henry Pass (Grant Newton} way-dewn-we-met-a-couplefrom—, Dunedin o on their way out — what was going on — human beings? The track was slow going and along the route we met another group of 4 on their way out. Lake Katherine was beautiful but the track was slow going and we had to rush the final section into George Sound to make our 8pm radio sched. John Rhodes, who has had many a grovel in the mountains, including several nasty Christmas trips with Harry Smith, was moved to request a quote for a floatplane. Claiming sore feet after an arduous journey may have been one excuse, but the shortage of tea bags was probably a greater reason. John obviously was dreading the onset of PCTTD syndrome (Pre Cold Turkey off- Tea Delirium). After choosing instead to delay our boat for day 9, we set about enjoying a night in a hut that provided a haven from the many sandflies lurking outside. This was a magic spot and George Sound -was well worth the visit; peaceful and tranquil, we had the place to ourselves, apart from a seal close to the shore. After a long day, we rewarded ourselves with a sleepin and didn’t depart till just before llam. Our rejuvenated bodies found the going along the track much easier and John was buoyed by the larger than expected stock-take of remaining tea bags in the group. A great lunch spot was found by John underneath some falls on an open riverbank — by the time we had all arrived, he had a fire going and a brew underway. After lunch we made our may to a lovely campsite on the eastern side of Henry Saddle and enjoyed our last night in the hills. Our final day began with a descent to the valley floor of the Rugged Burn and past Deadwood lagoon. The track was very bogay here and it was to be like this for the rest of the day. We arrived at the spectacular chasm of Wapiti River by Thompson Hut in time for lunch. This has to be the worst spot in the world for sandflies! The hut provided a good refuge from the black swarm. In the hut book, I signed in our group and then thought of what I would write in the ‘comments’ column. What else could I do, but sellotape in a row of dead sandflies! We set off under bright overcast conditions, enjoying lovely scenes at the top of Lake Thompson with moss-covered flats, which clearly had been almost a metre under water recently. Finally after 9 days we arrived at a long 3-wire bridge that |_led-us-to-Hankinson-Hutand-the-end-ofaspectacularjourney bo TAUREN EIREE EE te amongst Fiordland. Only powerboat travel separated us from Te Anau, civilisation and a feed of fish & chips! This had been a most memorable journey — a journey of lush Fiordland valleys to alpine lakes; knife-edge ridges and breathtaking views from the tops through to the sea and back; rivers that raged (Campbell Creek and Lake Wapiti) to the tranquil pools of Twin Falls Creek; weather from the doom and gloom of the Doon to the sunny tops; and a snow covered pass to the heat of the Stillwater. Yep, we had the whole tramping experience.
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Trip Reports
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