This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
by Paul Christoffel As I packed on Thursday night I had a feeling I’d regret being unable to find my trusty merino boxers.... At 5.30 am I joined 30-odd bleary-eyed WTMC punters at the ferry terminal, a later Easter departure than normal due to a booking mishap. But our medium group still reached the road end, south of Lewis Pass, with several hours of daylight in hand. The torpor of seven hours travel was quickly shaken as we headed in sunshine up the picturesque Doubtful River valley. By the time we reached Doubtful Hut it was clouding over and nearing five, so we convinced trip-leader Dirk to strike camp a kilometre further up the valley. The easy-mediums later claimed they were still walking at nine that night. We were impressed.
We erected seven assorted flies, tents and bivwies, and admired Gadget Dave’s foldaway mug over dinner. Most hit the sack at an obscenely early hour, even by tramping standards, but we were knackered.
On Saturday a short walk up the valley was followed by an 800 metre climb onto the Doubtful Range, with a stop for an early lunch at Lake Man Biv. It was overcast, and light rain fell most of the morning, but the going was easy. The descent down to Pussy Stream was ultra-steep — a large boulder that Emile sent crashing down the hill took an eternity to come to a halt. The going got easier as we headed down Pussy Stream, especially for those who followed Newdad Dave, who had an impressive ability to find the easiest crossings. On the final crossing I inexplicably sat in the water and spent the last stretch shivering in my cotton boxers. What did happen to those Icebreaker Merinos?
We failed to find the four-wheel drive track across St Jacobs Flat, so had a rough slog up the Hope River to Top Hope Hut. By then it was gloomy and coo! and we were all pretty tired. The original plan to camp by the hot springs was abandoned in favour of a spot near the hut. There was heaps of dry wood to get a fire blazing and soon we were warm, cheerful and well fed. Curious robins watched proceedings from above. My wet boxers got partly dried, with the job being finished on a sunny lunch break the next day. Not that it mattered by then, as the weather was warm and I was already developing a cold.
Sunday dawned fine as most of us headed for the hot springs. Lisa and Gadget Dave stayed behind to read while hundreds of voracious sandflies clung to the netting of Dave’s bivvy bag just inches from his face. The springs themselves were shallow pools cleverly built up with the judicious use of rocks. Other rocks had been used to channel cold water from a nearby stream, making at least two of the baths comfortably warm. Only a few foolhardy souls braved the ultra-hot pool, notably Kathryn and Emile.
We returned to camp clean and refreshed, packed up and headed back across the flats — this time on the four-wheel drive track which halved the travel time. It was a magnificent day and the cameras were out in force. Although they will no doubt deny it, Justin, Gadget Dave and Mike clearly had a secret competition underway to see who could take the most photos, racking up nearly 600 between them. The temperature was little more than 20 degrees, but Mike, Emile and Kathryn were on a constant lookout for swimming holes, taking two dips in the clear turquoise water.
Dirk wisely decided to continue up the Hope River to camp by Hope Halfway Shelter (a slightly rundown hut rather than a refuge for released prisoners), reducing our final day by two hours. This turned out to be very fortunate, as Justin's knee problem returned after having been kept at bay for several years. This didn’t seem to inhibit his photography, and he came out a clear competition winner with an incredible 314 shots. Emile and Lisa had each prepared sumptuous meals the previous nights, but Kathryn mahaged to surpass them both with a dinner that included fresh watercress and mushrooms collected en route. We dined in contented silence. That evening a 500 game got underway inside, while most sat outside by the fire on a beautiful windless night. The clear sky gave Mike the chance to impress us all with his encyclopaedic knowledge of the heavens, and Irish Dave recounted his Christmas trip on the Dusky track. He convinced everyone it’s a ‘must do’ — at least once they’ve developed a nuclear bomb that annihilates sandfies but leaves everything else untouched. And global warming reduces the endless rain and mud. And they get some decent huts. It's on my trip list already.
There was something odd the next morning — not a sandfly in sight. Or at least not a moving one. Their feet must have frozen to the inside of the fly. Lisa’s socks, left outside overnight, soon thawed in the sun, and it was almost warm once we departed at eight. Most of the final stretch on Sunday had involved walking over farmland, so we were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves heading into some lovely beech forest that reverberated with bellbird song. Was this a bellbird sanctuary or something? Who knows, it was wonderful. Emile and Gadget Dave powered on ahead, as they needed to hitch up the road to pick up the van. By late morning we were soaking in the Maruia Springs hot pools.
lf I may briefly digress — is it me or do things happen more slowly on the Mainland? We waited ages in a queue at the hot pools despite the paucity of customers. On Friday, four punters had a lengthy wait for their microwaved meals at the Rivers Café in Murchison. On the other hand, maybe we're just a bit rushed up north. The leisurely Murchison lunch took 35 minutes and the group was soon back on the road. The hot pool wait was only five minutes or so. Perhaps we need to relax a bit when on holiday. Although I took pathetically few photos, I can browse the dozens of shots the others posted on the net and reminisce on a great weekend. Now if I could only find those merino boxers...
The punters were: Dirk Naish (Leader), Lisa Tinkley, Mike McGavin, Emile van der Mespel, Paul Christoffel, Justin Parker, Kathryn Haliburton, Dave Bergen, Dave Collett, Dave Jeffries.