A Hut too far...

After spending two nights at the Big Bush Holiday Park, (their motto: We Welcome you 

like the Black Death) I set off uphill on my second of six Great Walks. The Lake Waikaremoana Track.

It was a 1,500" ascent to a ridge line overlooking a large lake lying amongst a series of 

rounded hills. It looked sort of Appalachian in nature except for the forest. I was hiking 

within a temperate rain forest. The trees were gnarly, misshapen and draped with green 

mossy beards. The forest type would have been an appropriate backdrop for the "Headless Horseman" chase scene. It wasn't a "Joy!Joy!Happy! Happy!" looking place. It was sort of spooky. 

Perched at the highest prominence of the ridge line sat the Panekire Hut. If you've been following along, by now you know my Hut angst.

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I made entry while saying "Hello!" to my future too-cozy roommates. A quick look around 

made me realize the joint was dirtier and grimier than most. (That says a lot!) My fellow hut mates were cooking on a few backpacker stoves. Strange. Why weren't they using the hut's stove? 

Because the Lake Wiakaremoana Great Walk's Huts didn't have any stoves! Or Toilet Paper! A few huts further down the tract even lacked water! I made the Yank mistake of assuming all Great Walk Huts provided these simple amenities. Silly me! 

However, what these huts provided was a warning sign concerning a rat and mouse infestation in the hovels. The Department of Conservation politely suggested we campers hang our meager provender from the hooks provided. 

I mentioned my no stove plight to a family of Kiwis. The patriarch came through when he said, "No Worries! You can use ours for a few boils." Kiwis are very kind, generous and hospitable. 

That problem solved, I found a reasonable sleeping space with no personal space and pitched my gear on a mattress. (Eventually there were eighteen men, women and children sleeping in a 12"x16" room.) I grabbed my Kindle for a read, and took a seat outside, waiting for dinner 

time. 

My library quiet was shattered by the sound of a helicopter landing. Out of the Chopper emerged a Maori crew geared out in "Ghostbusters" attire. (Wasn't Halloween awhile ago?). The headman gathered us around and made a speech. The gist? We're from the Government and we're here to help you. Seems there's been an outbreak of Norovirus along the tract. Another apt name for this bug is the "Lose weight! Ask me how!" Virus. The crew came equipped with spray bottles of diluted Clorox to sterilize all surfaces (including the 

mattresses). They went about their business as I pondered this new development.

I decided to sleep on it and wait to see what manana would bring. 

I was up and about by 5 am. I wasn't the only one. Outside,  a westerly wind was screeching along. There were heaps of clouds scuttering by as well. I made a snap decision. 

I was still dealing with one stubborn virus, I wasn't about to go for twofers. I begged a boil of water, inhaled my trusty shot of instant Starbucks buzz and headed back down the way 

I came.

If I went on, a sixteen mile trek in wind and maybe rain awaited me. My goal would have 

been a hovel contains 39 other two-legged strangers and who knows how many four-legged vermin. Not very appealing. Was it? 

I'm in Napier hotel room which according to New Zealand's DOC would sleep about a billion campers with gear. I'm not too bummed to have it to myself, although female type company would be nice too. (I'm still  looking for my potential First Lady.) 

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Goodnight!

Jeff

Eight Cups of coffee...

later, I set off for my first of six New Zealand Great Walks. (Tongariro Northern Circuit)

Why did I drink all that Java Juice? 

I needed to gird myself for another day of cool, grey and possibly wet weather. The method behind the caffeine is to get so wired, I have to do something with all that black liquid energy. 

 Off I went at a brisk pace for a short day of hiking. My goal was to arrive before the hordes at the first hut. I wanted to score the choicest nighty-night spot in the joint.

The trail was relatively flat and uneventful. I didn't shoot one photo. I made it to the hut before the winds kicked in. Ahh...one sleeping pad sat alone. It was away from the no-personal space how-many-mattresses-can-we-cram on a platform arrangement. I tossed my ULA backpack on the loner. Mission Accomplished. 

I kicked back, read, drank tea and waited. Backpackers began to drift in. I acted as the unofficial Welcome Wagon. Eventually the lashing rains arrived with a sustained 30 MPH wind. Temperatures began to fall. The tent campers abandoned ship. Before one could say, "G'Day!" there were about 40 relative strangers crammed into a space smaller than Trump's (spit) broom closet. 

Yet, more arrived. A father and son team wearing nothing but cotton showed up in the wash-cycle wet mode.  Ironically, they were both Eagle Scouts from Tennessee. So much for the Boy Scout motto-"Be Prepared." They shivered by the fire staving off hyperthermia. 

At 7:30 pm, Marcel the Hut Ranger arrived. He gave a safety talk, told a few stories and informed us about the weather. "I think this storm will be gone in the morning. When I get the forecast at breakfast time, I'll let you know." 

We guests retired to our all-too-communal bedroom and tried to sleep. Not an easy task with a symphony of rattling windows, snoring hikers and one coughing, sputtering W W Jew. 

Next morning met us with a gentle drizzle minus the cold breeze. We packed silently while waiting to hear our fate. 

Marcel strolled in around 7, "The forecast is a good one for your crossing. It should get sunny. The winds will die down to a mere 40 KPH (25 miles/Hour). Get out of here before it changes. I don't want to see any of you back here tonight." 

I was the first out the door. 

The Tongariro Crossing was the goal of the day. An approximate 2,200" climb to a saddle straddling two still-active volcanoes. 

It's also the most popular day hike on the North Island. A whole cottage industry has sprung up to cater to these day tripper Warriors. Tours can practically be booked while you are ordering fries at a Burger King. The Crossing has apparently achieved "Bucket List" status. I shared the trail with this ill-prepared for the elements, selfie stick carrying mob. 

It was a steady climb to the first of three ascents. As I ticked off each ridge line, the wind speed turned up a notch. (A 120 MPH gust was reported within the past week). I donned my Windstopper Jacket after the first ridge. I guesstimated the winds to be in the 40 MPH range. It was enough, that I wasn't comfortable getting too close to the edge of the ridge. I shot photos, had other hikers shoot me and thought, "Now this is good scenery!" There's mineral laden lakes bearing blue-green hues,  steam vents off-gassing sulfur (rotten egg smell), one Red Crater and of course the mountains. It was all worth the physical effort. 

I descended to less winds and warmer temperatures. Once again, I was the first to make entry at the hut. Unfortunately, there were no hermit mattresses lying off to one side. I chose one adjacent to a wall. At least I would half my exposure to flailing arms and legs. Trampers arrived displaying tired yet satisfied looks. The most difficult leg of the circuit was in the books. 

I woke, saw a good window of weather and decided to walk back to civilization. I yearned for a hotel, hot shower and no roommates whose names I did not know. After 14 miles of effort, I got my wish. 

In retrospect, I would have signed up just to do the Crossing. I'm starting to get to the point where a night without a hut is fine with me. 

From a comfy Quality Inn in Napier, NZ

Cheers!

Jeff

PS. I picked up antibiotics from the local hospital. Total cost for seeing a Doc and medicine = $65.00. Why is our health care so expensive? 

The coldest winter I ever saw...

was a summer in New Zealand." 

Jeff Sambur

Prologue: As I was having my Passport stamped at Kiwi Customs, the friendly Agent said this, "Welcome to New Zealand! Be sure to pick up your complimentary cold germ before you leave the airport. You can choose to be infected with a head or chest cold, or both."

"Heck! I'll take both!" I can never pass up a good deal.

Now The Saga:

The Round the Mountain backpack trip in Tongariro National Park.

Laden with a frightfully heavy backpack, and a energy sucking virus, I set off to my first Hut. The reason for the ridiculous load was a crappy forecast. Gale force winds, threat of rain and sub-summery temperatures. I was carrying kilos of warm clothes. 

Let's talk Kiwi wind. It's no summer breeze and it won't make you feel fine. When the winds take the Express Train out of nearby Antarctica, there's practically ice crystals accompanying them. It's an instant chill despite the sunshine. I tried to limit my fuss breaks, the sweating to clammy cycle was too harsh. 

It can get psychotic windy in Kiwi-Land. Long ago a backcountry Hut near Mount Cook blew away. There were four unhappy campers inside. Now I noticed steel guy-wires holding down outhouses. That's extreme wind. 

A word about Kiwi Huts: The sleeping arrangements are not set to Americans idea of personal space and privacy. Mattresses are placed side by side on a wooden platform. There's not a toothpick-thin space of wiggle room between them. You can be facing a grimy stranger (like me) face to face with less than an arm's length separation. It freaked me out. I ended up carrying my mattress to the kitchen area when everyone settled down. 

Back to the Hike: The tramp was described as a route. Luckily, neon-orange poles are placed about 60 feet apart. Without them, one could quickly get lost in a sometimes featureless landscape. The trail (that's a joke!) is more like an obstacle course. There's relentless climbs and descents bisecting gulches, gorges and canyons. There's no wimpy switchbacks or contouring involved. The routes goes straight up and straight down. It's in-your-face hiking. 

The other obstructions to forward progress are mud, bowling ball-sized boulders, tree roots, scree fields and icy river crossings. (I was up to my waist in one snow-melt waterway.) There were times I was crawling on my knees. I fell a few times each day. On the really hard parts, I averaged about one mile/Hour. It was all so humbling. 

I returned back to civilization the most thumped and exhausted I've ever been from a backpack trip. Ahh...but the scenery was there. Tongariro National Park is comprised of still active volcanoes. I stumbled my way around one of them.

Oh yeah, I also nearly chopped off my finger while splitting firewood! So far, this has been a rough start to my Kiwi Adventure. 

Now as I cough, sneeze and drink an IPA outside my hotel room, I'm feeling warm for the first time since my arrival here. Maybe my fortune is changing. I can only hope.

On the positive side, locals are incredibly friendly and I've adapted to driving on the opposite side of the road. 

Tomorrow I'll start another three-night backpack trip on a far gentler trail. Wish me luck. 

Come on Summer!

Cheers!

Jeff