This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
(or: Harry’s Retirement Trip No. 107)
fter three years of tramping with the Club, I finally managed to get away on an Easter trip this year! I had to work over Easter for the first two years (it’s a bummer for accountants that Easter usually falls so close to 31 March), and a good friend got married on Easter Saturday last year (rather inconvenient, but since she asked me to be her bridesmaid, I thought I’d better go to the wedding!). This year, the trip was threatened by lack of interest which meant we had to change the planned route from a Lewis Pass to Nelson Lakes traverse to just Nelson Lakes — but we went all the same, just Harry Smith (retired), Raymond, my father (truly retired) and I. In a panic, I jumped in a taxi to get to the ferry terminal on Thursday evening — just to find that the ferry was running over an hour late! At the end of the usual 3 hours of playing 500 and eating chippies, Dad was there to pick us up at the Picton ferry terminal. We drove to St Arnaud in drizzle (sign of the cyclone to come...) and slept in the DOC camping ground shelter by Lake Rotoiti (yep, the one with the sign saying “No overnight camping”). Harry slept on the verandah so he wouldn't be woken up by the hoards of other trampers he believed would arrive later in the night. After an undisturbed night’s sleep, we awoke to overcast skies (sign of the cyclone to come...) which cleared by mid-morning. It so happened that, just as we were ready to set off at 8 am, four other trampers were about to catch a water taxi across the lake. Prompted by Harry, and at only $10 a head, it was an opportunity too good to miss! So that sliced 2 hours of tramping off our day — as easy as that! I
by Eva Lottermoser
I got stung) was red and swollen, and J had a rash on parts of my arms, legs and neck. So, I guess I do get an allergic reaction!! Those antihistamines have earned themselves a permanent place in my pack! At the respectable time of 8.15am, we were almost the last party to set off the next morning. We were headed for Travers Pass — the weather was glorious, the pink morning light shining on the mountains around us. The views from the pass were spectacular: not a cloud in the sky, just a cool breeze blowing, which made for an atmosphere of complete serenity very befitting of Easter... All that was missing were the Himalayan prayer flags! The descent into the East Sabine Valley is rather steep, and there’s an impressive chasm where the track crosses the East Branch of the Sabine River. We had lunch at West Sabine Hut and carried on up the valley to Blue Lake Hut in the afternoon. Blue Lake is truly beautiful, the colour of the water an incredible icy-crystal-blue (which I am sure is directly linked to the water temperature!). Only Raymond was keen/silly enough to take a dip. That night, Dad and I tried to teach Harry how to play “Skat”, a German card game not too dissimilar to 500, although Harry would no doubt dispute that fact! Easter Sunday dawned another perfect day. We had persuaded two young guys from Blenheim to join us on our mission over the Waiau and Thompson passes, while Dad decided to take the more popular, direct and sensible route over Moss Pass to Ella Hut in the D’Urville Valley. My thighs were already aching on the first wee climb up to Lake Constance, and I wondered why I hadn't just gone with Dad... but as the only woman in the group I had to be staunch!
bo GA Ro ten en SURO A
was beginning to fear that our day would turn into an easy trip but, alas, it still took us until 4 pm to reach Upper Travers Hut. On the way, Harry and I got stung by wasps — German wasps — as Harry kindly pointed out. I had never been stung before and put off taking an antihistamine right away to test whether I am allergic to wasp stings. By the time we got to John Tait Hut for lunch, I was itching all over, my calf muscle (where
We sidled high above Lake Constance to avoid the bluffs (Green Lake, in my opinion, perfectly mirroring the mountains on the still sunny morning), then had to drop right down to the lake again before reaching the bottom of Waiau Pass. I felt slightly dizzy just looking at the sheer 600-metre climb in front of us! A solid caramel chocolate Easter egg provided the burst of energy necessary to make the slog up to the 1,870-metre pass which marks the boundary between Nelson Lakes National Park and St James Station. Again, the views were priceless. Most impressive was the sight of Lake Thompson, nestled high in the basin near the top of the next pass we were to climb. We stopped for lunch half-way down the other (equally steep) side of Waiau Pass to give our shaky knees a rest. Much to my disgust, we had to drop to 1,200 metres before starting the climb up to Thompson Pass at 1,796 metres. Luckily, the route up this-pass was comparatively-easy-and we got there by 3pm and enjoyed more spectacular views! Patches of scree made the descent into the head of the D’Urville Valley quite fast. We then boulder-hopped our way along the D’Urville River until the track started at the bush line. It was at this point that the Blenheim boys decided to “race on” to Ella Hut (Dad said they arrived there at 8.30pm!), while we stayed the night at D’Urville Biv. The bivvy was a cute wee 2-bunk hut in great condition, which warmed up quickly with the three of us inside cooking dinner. Harry retreated to his spot under a tree when we went to bed... Easter Monday dawned another perfect day — yet again! We sped along the track to meet up with Dad who waited for us at Ella Hut. From there, we sped on to Morgans Hut where we stopped for lunch.
The end of the trip (Eva Lottermoser)
Convinced that the last stage of the day to Lake Rotoroa was not quite as long (yeah, right!), we allowed Harry to bask in the sun a little longer before we sped along the track some more. We reached the jetty at D’Urville Hut in the nick of time at 4.45pm to meet the water taxi booked for 5pm! No time was wasted on this trip. A van awaited our arrival at the other end of the lake and took us back to the car at Lake Rotoiti. Dad popped open a bottle of bubbly to celebrate the end of our fantastic trip. Harry, Ray and1 decided that-we must have deserved-such a splendid trip after enduring the ordeal in the “TaraPapabloodyRuaRoas” at Waitangi Weekend! I'll finish this report with the “Ode to Nelson Lakes” I composed in my head while “running” down the D’Urville Valley that day:
O Cyclone, O Cyclone where art thou? Shouldn't you be here right about now? Oh what good fortune you missed Nelson Lakes where to blue skies and sunshine each day one awakes. Our raincoats didn’t get used all weekend and we had dry feet right up to the end!
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Trip Reports