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Blue Lake: Easy/Medium Tramp ~ Queens Birthday
by Paul Christoffel How do you convince an Easy/Medium group to walk the 19 km to Blue Lake Hut in a day? There's little daylight in early June and a nice warm hut at West Sabine. Blue Lake and Lake Constance can be accessed from there as a day trip, thereby avoiding a 600 metre climb over 3-4 hours with full packs. The odds looked slim.
But that decision could wait. First we had to get across Lake Rotoroa after a night in some dodgy but dry accommodation in the ‘township’. Our group of seven met the water taxi at 7 am, and 30 minutes later were breakfasting at Sabine hut — toasty warm thanks to the fire set by some resident fishermen.
Light rain fell for most of the journey up the picturesque Sabine River valley. We caught glimpses of snow-covered peaks rising into the cloud layer above. Pip seemed concerned when I lost the top from my drink bottle, but as we were surrounded by water I wasn’t so worried. We arrived at West Sabine hut by early afternoon, and had to make a decision over lunch and a hot drink. Should we stay here and do Blue Lake as a day trip, or push on to the next hut?
In the end the others almost demanded we head on to Blue Lake hut (although I may be distorting things a bit here), and I reluctantly conceded. It was well after 2 pm, so there wasn't much daylight left. There had clearly been a lot of rain over the previous couple of days, and we struggled through impressive bogs. Dave and Babs were way ahead, and we never saw them again until the hut. The rest stopped for snacks in an inviting cave. It transpired that Babs had fallen on a tricky stream crossing and was keeping moving to stay warm. Dave struggled to keep up, and they reached the hut 20 minutes ahead of the rest. After the cave the track got steeper and we began to tire. Impressive waterfalls tumbled from the sheer cliffs above, and the Sabine River resembled a waterfall itself at times. Earlier that day Ginny had told us about trampers who spurred themselves on the final leg by visualising the young Swedish backpackers already in the hut. I just hoped they knew how to light a fire. The last of us arrived in dim light, just ahead of the rain. Babs was soon in her sleeping bag and seemed very quiet. We were a bit worried once we found out the reason. But after a hot drink and a meal she was wide awake and educating us about American childhood games — something called Chubby Bunny involving large numbers of marshmallows I recall. We helped Dave think of names for the new baby, due in a few months. For reasons that seemed perfectly logical at the time, Digby Jeffreys was a front-runner.
We lay in Sunday morning until well after 8, and arose to brilliant sunshine and snow-covered peaks. A couple of hours later we were having morning snacks on a rock overlooking Lake Constance. The mountains reflected photogenically in the still waters of the lake. A light southerly eventually forced us to move on, walking another 40 minutes to lie in the sun in the lee of a large rock. Although it was early, lunch seemed a good idea. Then it was down to Blue Lake to skip stones, pack up, and head to West Sabine. Without the rain it was far less boggy.
The dangerous stream claimed another victim (Ginny this time), but fortunately it was only Nick’s medical advice rather than skills that were needed.
West Sabine hut was far better insulated than Blue Lake. I gather the latter is scheduled for removal, allegedly being in an avalanche zone (or is DOC just being paranoid?). We had the place to ourselves again. Where was everyone? Apart from two Japanese heading out on Saturday, we saw no-one in two and a half days despite the great weather. / The return trip on Monday was again mainly in sunshine. Much to everyone’s relief my lost water bottle top was still on the track where I'd dropped it. We stopped at the bridge over the Sabine to admire the deep gorge where the river reached impressive depths. Three fat trout lazily waved their tails in the slow current. Sabine hut by the lake was bathed in sunlight and a light breeze kept the sandflies at bay (mostly anyway). It was a pleasant hours wait for the water taxi.
The six WTMC groups that had headed south were re-united at the Bluebridge ferry terminal. Everyone seemed to have had a pretty good weekend. The ferry was painfully slow and it was nearly 11 pm by the time we were reunited with our luggage. I went to bed exhausted and a little grumpy, but next morning reflected happily on a great trip. And the answer to the question that had vexed me at the start? Just get a keen willing bunch who are probably too fit to be doing an Easy/Medium and it’s no problem at all.
Punters were Paul, Dylan, Ginny, Pip, Nick, Babs and Dave.