Douglas Range - Kahurangi National Park

With my first, truncated Christmas trip out of the way I have a few days for lolling about with the support crew and friends in Pohara ... and for final preparation for trip two of the holidays.

The plan

It starts with contemplating the options in the northern Kahurangi Park and eventually crystallises into a route via the Douglas and Lockett Ranges to loop back and exit via the Anatoki River to Takaka.

If you picture a rough diamond laid out on a map of the South Island with corners in the middle of the Abel Tasman Park, at Collingwood, at the start of the Heaphy Track and at the head of the Cobb Reservoir - the Douglas Range route runs from the middle of the top left face (Bainham), south to the bottom left face (Fenella Hut at the top of the Cobb Valley), then follows it to the bottom corner (Cobb Reservoir).

The most famous part of the route is the Dragon's Teeth - I have no intention of going over the more exciting high traverse on my own, opting for the unexposed lower route - the 'Dragon's Gums' if you  like.

A description I find online says the route is exposed and difficult and that there are two daunting points - on day one sidling a face above bluffs coming into Boulder Lake, and later on a scree slope on Mt Kakapo. Some parts of the map look distinctly orange - the contours are so close they form a block of colour.

I'm conscious of a different balance of risks on this trip. I'll be in unfamiliar terrain - this is higher, steeper and more remote than what the Tararua Range has to offer. Ridges that I would not have a second thought about on a map at home turn out to have bluffs and crags. Wasps are also a possibility.

The main pause for thought however is a not too flash weather forecast - high winds up to gale, rain developing in the next few days, and the freezing level dropping to 1400m around day three. I've done as much research on line as I can, and with a tent and a number of escape options identified, I decide to continue.


What:    Multi-day tramp
Where:  Douglas Range, Kahurangi
Who:     Solo
When:   4 - 7 January 2020
Maps

How it pans out

We drive through a sleeping Takaka; I'm eating cold pizza for breakfast and getting a final charge into the phone.

The road end is easy to find - left at the Bainham Store, right and cross the bridge and then a hundred meters or so on the left is a wee intentions kiosk. I fill out the book and head past a sleeping metropolis of beehives into the scrub - turning to wave to the support crew who is about to hightail it to Picton before 1pm. It's about 6.40am.

Last seen wearing ...

The first few hours are through head high manuka scrub on what looks like land cleared for gold fields. It's bone dry but the track shows signs of running with water at times.

There's one dark stream early on and that's pretty much it for water for the rest of the day. If you  were desperate there's a few points where the track is not too high above water courses and once or twice trails lead off in promising directions, but I wouldn't rely on it.

The track climbs slowly with the occasional view back providing a not particularly stunning vista of a widening expanse of manuka and the farmland in the Aorere Valley.

Best guess at the start of  the track - currently not updated on the NZ topo online maps

View point at 535m

The rock changes to limestone and the track joins an old 4WD track dropping a little way to a weird intersection - the 4WD track continues down but there's tape across it and a sign to go left. The sign looks like it is intended for people coming up the 4WD track. I hear later that the old entrance was across a different farm - this must be where they meet.

My track notes say that there are a series off limestone slots - I am imagining these as vertical chimneys formed by flutes in limestone bluffs. They turn out to be crevasses that run randomly across the path (a bit over 2 hours into the trip) - they are not wide but you  can hardly see the bottom of some and it would sure wreck your day if you stepped into one in a moment of inattention. I would be very cautious bush bashing in this country.

Mind the slot

Beathams Clearing is marked on the map and my notes say it is the one spot you can camp and get water. It's a bit over 3 hours travel and there's certainly heaps of flat space for tents (there are other places but not with water).

A couple of signs point to water and there is a hole with a noisome liquid  that I wouldn't drink.  The second sign points along a wee track and there's added comments "5 minutes" and "80m" with an arrow downwards indicating vertical. I follow the trail out of interest but it degenerates pretty quickly and there's no water to be seen. Checking the map it looks like you are just dropping down the face until the water course develops from local seepage - the drier the season the further you travel. I give it away and head back up.

The track keeps climbing and occasionally passes through scrubby sections - after a long sidle it finally breaks out of the bush properly into a wee saddle - this is Cow Saddle between the Pulpit and Brown Cow (about six hours travel so far).

Cow Saddle

The next bit is supposed to be tricky and people have apparently turned back here. There are poles leading out of the saddle and angling right onto the west face of Brown Cow. I carry my poles in self arrest mode and step carefully along the trail ignoring the gusts of wind. It turns out to be pretty straight forward - yes, there are loose bits, and yes, it's just a step to the right to slide off a cliff - but I find that if you don't take that step you'll be perfectly fine.




Looking back across the face

Rounding the corner of the Cow, the basin opens to reveal Boulder Lake. It's surprisingly large. On the right is the distinctive limestone that makes up Clark Peak and Lead Hill.

The trail starts down a good spur with plenty of opportunity to stare at the view.

About 1.10 (six and a half hours in) I meet the lake at the mouth of Kiwi Creek and decide to drop my pack and head right, to check out the outlet. It's a pleasant stroll by the water with no scrambling required. I disturb a family of goats sunning on the sandy beach near the outlet and follow my nose through scrub, to where the stream passes the remains of a dam wall and drops over the edge. It takes about 15 minutes.

DOC says that the water from the lake was led by a long series of flumes and aqueducts to sluice gold claims on the Quartz Range Goldfields, 6 km away. I didn't notice any signs of the flumes but they must have been spectacular given the topography.

There is apparently 'an obvious view point' to look back at the falls - I identity a couple of likely candidates on the true right and follow hints of trails through scrub. The falls are noted as 64m on the map but it isn't a continuous drop. You don't get a clear view of the entire drop but they are pretty.

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I'm making my way back when I see a party of five heading my way. My first ungracious thought is "have they got to the hut yet?" and "are there any beds left?" It turns out to be part of a party of nine from the Nelson Tramping Club on their way out via Lead Hill and spending a couple of nights at Boulder Lake on the way.

After a brief chat I head back around the lake - I have to confess that I am grumbling to myself about tramping parties of a size that will swamp the number of beds and tent sites available and monopolise facilities over two days during the busy season. These huts are available on a first come basis though, so you just have to suck it up.

The wind is whipping up white caps on the lake. A couple of ducks are stooging about (not sure what model) and two elegant pipits skip ahead of me along the beach. Back at Kiwi Creek the diversion has taken about an hour. I follow the foot trail along the eastern lake edge to the head and the hut - arriving a little before 2.30. 

The 8 bed hut is full and there is also a hunter who has elected to pitch her tent. I'm keen not to use mine if possible to avoid having to stow it wet at the very start of the trip. There's not much floor space but the veranda is wide so I bide my time to see how things pan out. 

It's not hard to pass the time. Various members of the club introduce themselves and I spend a pleasant chunk of the afternoon chatting to Pat and to Mike, the trip leader. As well as the party at the dam wall members are scattered around the landscape trying to photograph fernbirds, botanise, and other worthy pursuits. A couple of weka lurk around the hut looking for mischief and resolving the odd turf war.

An old long sign - it must be New Year

There's a few tent spots around the hut - a couple of lumpy bits just by the hut and some candidates by the old hut which is tucked in the trees just behind. The old hut looks a bit manky but would do at a pinch (there could be leaks though).

I'm fossicking around and am completely surprised by the waterfall beside the old hut. It is marked on the map but I'm not expecting the elegant cascade into a deep clear pool. A beautiful  swimming spot if you overlook the fact that it is the hut water supply.

The hunter is interesting. Miriam has written a book about her exploits - she's from the Nederlands but lives in Golden Bay now. This trip she is relying on nabbing a goat to supplement her dwindling food supplies - she's been out a good few days but hasn't seen anything yet. I note the group I saw near the dam and she disappears in the late afternoon to try her luck. She's obviously highly competent in the mountains and good for a yarn.

Debbie takes me under her wing and organises five up and five down on the bunks - there's plenty of space but I do hear one of the others muttering about crowding. I bite my tongue. I'm not the first to receive the benefits of Debbie's ministrations - a day or so earlier she had cooked soup for a tramper who had missed the gut to climb to the Needles Eye and arrived late at Adelaide Hut cold and wet after thrashing about in miserable conditions below the Needle.

The next morning I stay in pit while the group gets up and about. It's the usual cheerful chaos of competing for cooking space and trying to find bits of errant kit - someone has already lost their spork on the trip and Debbie asks if I can look for her head torch at Adelaide Tarn Hut. The fold away MSR spork I find outside doesn't belong to anybody so I appropriate it with the idle thought I might find the owner, or it might fit in my cooking kit better than my current one.

Nelson Tramping Club, plus one
(Photo credit Debbie Hogan)

Peace descends on the valley when they say their final farewells and head west to scale Clark Peak and to follow the range nor nor west and out. They have swapped keys with another group from the club so have transport waiting. It looks like a far more interesting access route than the one I took but apparently requires land owner permission.

I'm just about ready to go when Mirriam returns from another unsuccessful foray. She looks at me with wide eyes and asks what I thought of the group dynamics. She had heard exchanges that indicated a few stresses had developed in their days together. I suspect it is just the usual minor frictions in large groups but we are both more than happy to be pursuing our solo plans for the day.

I comment on a seagull drifting above the lake and coming in to land at the mouth of Arena Creek - Mirriam gives voice to my mild anxiety about the pending weather: "not a good sign..."

Another tent and a hammock have appeared in the bush behind the hut. Apparently a couple more turned up during the night but I don't see them before I leave a bit after 7.30.

DOC reckons 5-6 hours to Adelaide Tarn Hut. It's a bit short for a day but they reckon a further 8-10 hours from there to Lonely Lake - so probably too much to do both in a day. There is a camping spot beside the river on my low route so I'm thinking to see how things are going at Adelaide Tarn and decide from there.

The route out of Boulder Lake lies across the tussock flats behind the hut - I can't see any obvious trail and suspect there will be boggy bits. Comments from the Nelson group suggest the forest edge may be the best bet. There is a bit of a foot trail inside the trees but it is still not the most straight forward travel.

The route heads up the spur between Orator and Arena Creeks - when I get close I meet a trail from my right indicating there may be a more well trod route on the true left of Arena Creek. The spur itself has a strong ground trail and cairns.

I keep my eyes peeled and before the top follow a trail that skirts above some rocks and directly across to Green Saddle - you can go straight up to the ridge but this way saves a bit of climbing.

On the 300m to the saddle I find frequent excuse to look back at the dwindling hut and lake. Darby Pond comes into view early on, and Arena Creek snakes its way across the flats. At one point smoke is visible from the chimney of the hut on the right edge of the lake, indicating the other party are up and about.

Cairn on approach to Green Saddle

Green Saddle is a transition; giving the final views of the now familiar Boulder Lake and the first glimpses of the terrain ahead. The trail sidles to the west of the knob above the saddle then starts climbing towards pt 1450. There is soon a sidle on the east side below 1450 and I'm looking down into one of the major headwaters of the Anatoki River.

The second sidle drops a surprising distance, before ambling through stunted beech and across alpine meadows. It's very pleasant travel in this weather.  There's a bit of fossicking around required to find the route at times.

There's instructions on the DOC website about finding the 'gut' up into the saddle at the Needles Eye but I don't recognise the point when I get to it. I think the trick is to realise that from the sidle you are looking along a face at the saddle west of Yuletide peak - and it is tempting to think that is the destination. The Needles Eye turns out to be much closer than I thought and not easy to spot from below. I'm looking for cairns continuing across the face but can't see them and there are a lot around the wee gully I'm in - but they don't seem to lead anywhere. I don't think I'm in a gut as such, but I guess there is a bit of a rock lip ahead so scramble up the slope and am surprised to emerge in the Needles Eye.

In the Eye the ground rolls gently away into the face I've climbed, giving a view to the sea and a feeling of being suspended in air. Today it's a lovely place - but I can imagine it being pretty inhospitable if a westerly was howling through. Speaking of which, I study the south western sky and note the clouds gathering on distant peaks - still looking good and at least a few hours before anything gets here, but it is looking like the forecasters will be right.

Needles Eye - looking east

I don't need to check my notes for the descent as there is a good ground trail. As I drop the view opens to the tarn, the hut, and, beyond them, the Dragons Teeth.

The track gets a little indistinct on the final approach to the tarn but I am soon making my way along the waters' edge to the hut perched on a rock at the head of the lake. It's a bit before 11 - less than three and a half hours from Boulder Lake so looking good to continue beyond here today.

It's a lovely view from the hut - there's a couple of wee ducks diving in the lake and the artful arrangement of sculptured rocks and vegetation are a garden designer's dream. The landscape is more intimate than Boulder Lake.

View from the hut

There's a flat spot for a single tent in front and the loo is perched on a ledge above. The hut itself is old and clad in corrugated iron. It's tiny for a four bedder.

The first order of business is to have a look for Debbie's torch which I find immediately, exactly where she said it would be. It's the same model and colour as mine; I stash it carefully so as not to get them confused. The next item is to peruse the log. It's a delight to find there are three books - the earliest entry being in 2002. I add my intentions and regretfully turn my back on the tarn at about 11.15.

The ground trail up to the ridge isn't that obvious in places, and you could take a bearing for peace of mind, but providing you know you're aiming for the saddle to the east of Mt Douglas, you should be ok - I find I have drifted a bit right and angle to my left on the final approach. It takes about 15 minutes.

The last few steps give a stunning reveal of the Dragon's Teeth. They dominate the horizon beyond the ridge and look utterly impassible - bare grey crags with a blush of green on their lower flanks. I sit and look at them for a bit but not long as they're not my business today.

There are cairns leading right out of the saddle. These lead down to a pronounced rocky gut, which is easily scrambled into and leads quickly into low forest. The ground trail comes and goes but basically follows wee water courses (dry) steeply down through low mixed forest. There are cairns but it's easy to drift off line - at one point I find myself sliding down a face on curled, dry dracophyllum leaves. They're a bit treacherous - like running on a polished floor in socks.

Brain tree

Soon there's water and once I reach a sizable stream I stop for a spot of lunch - just before noon. As the slope eases the (soon to be) Anatoki River passes below the bluffs under the Dragon's Teeth. There's a liberal scattering of house size boulders on the valley floor and river bed - it must be absolutely spectacular when these come down from the sheer heights above (around 500 vertical meters).

I don't need to travel in the river at all, finding some sort of trail on the true left pretty much all the way down the valley. An eye on the compass helps identify where the river bends south east (largish stream from the left) and an eye to the right for the valley widening before pt 744. This is reputed to be the only camping spot in this part of the valley - I note a few other spots a single tent would fit on the way, and lots of spots on the flats which I suspect are boggy for much of the year.

Before reaching the camping spot there's a pretty good foot trail leading across sphagnum moss flats amid scrub. It dives back into forest and meets the river which is completely different here- flat, quiet and hemmed closely by dark trees.

I'm wondering if I might have missed pt 744 and sit to study the map - still not sure I head a little further to see what the river does. 2 minutes later I reach the spot - marked by a frying pan on a tree.

This must be it!

There's a couple of spots you could pitch a tent and it's lovely and flat. It's a bit after 1.30, about 2hr 25 from Adelaide Tarn, and time to assess options.

The weather is forecast to deteriorate in the next few hours and the reducing light suggests this is happening on cue. There's plenty of daylight left though and it will be far more pleasant to have the climb out of the way and to spend the night in a hut - provided there are no large tramping parties in which case I might be pitching in the rain... yep, no decision really.  My notes say 10 minutes from here to a dry stream on the right, then straight after that a cairn to mark the start of the climb.

There's a cairn on the true right after a minute or so - it would be a useful  indicator if you were approaching 744 from down stream. It is actually in the river bed though so may not survive the next high river flow. The dry stream fan is obvious, and as promised, straight afterwards a cairn on the edge of the bush - about 10 minutes from 744.

Dry stream

Cairn

There's a couple of cairns leading into the bush and a few more along a wee dry water course but I find myself at the shingle fan and realise I've missed where they head uphill. No matter, up is up, so I find my own way onto the slope and knuckle in for a long slow climb. I'm close to the stream that forms the shingle fan and can hear it cascading over rocky drops - interesting that it completely disappears at the bottom.

It's a bit over 700m to the top and with an unaccustomedly large pack I make heavy weather of it. Half way up the temperature drops and the rain starts. There's plenty of cairns now - I suspect people build one every time they stop for a breather - hence the abundance here and the sparsity on the lower slopes. Occasionally the high pitched chips of rifleman indicate whose territory I am passing through.

By the time I break out of the bushline (around 1340m), the bush and me are wet and I'm plodding. The trail is clear as it follows a gentle ridge south west towards the Drunken Sailors.  Just as it starts to climb again, cairns mark the start of a sidle, and I start having trouble route finding.

I know it's not far to the hut now but the driving drizzle is making visibility and footing tricky. The cairns seem to have dried up and Spikey Spaniard adds an interesting dimension to proceedings. In retrospect I suspect the trail dropped a little further than I expected and I sidled above it.

Visibility is not too bad so I can see the general direction required, and eventually find some cairns and a foot trail leading into the flat saddle. Sadly, the Drunken Sailors are shrouded in clag so I waste no time in heading through the saddle and into the teeth of the southerly.

There's supposed to be cairns leading to the hut but I lose the track a few times on the way down. It's an odd landscape, a gentle basin steepens then drops to a lower basin with shingle fans on the left and water courses running through meadows and dropping steeply to the lake in the basin below.

The wind is whipping rain into my face so I don't linger. It would have helped if I had looked at the map though, as I was expecting the hut to be closer to the lake. As it is, I find the foot trail leaving the lake behind and skirting near the edge of the bush below the face of the ridge - it crosses a wee water course, over a wee mound and the yellow hut is a very welcome sight tucked in to the edge of the beech forest.

My cold brain takes a moment to realise that I can't open the door because it is locked from within - fortunately by only one person. It's 5pm so it's taken about 3hr 20 from 744, 5hr 45 from Adelaide, and 9hr 30 from Boulder Lake. I'm utterly relieved to have a bed in the tiny four bed hut.

My hut companion turns out to be James - also from the WTMC. I have worked out who he is from Debbie's description as the waif she souped up at Adelaide. We exchange news of our travels. It's funny how the network works with people's movements being telegraphed around the landscape as parties move between huts.

He's had some excitement with the difficulty finding the route into the Needles Eye a few days earlier. Subsequently he headed down to Anatoki Forks Hut and has come up the river to join the same route to Lonely Lake as me - he too had a bit of fun in the conditions below the Drunken Sailors.

As we talk I get into dry gear and sort myself out - outside the rain clears, the wind drops and the clouds lift. The haze lends a pink tint to the late afternoon sun.

The weather has cleared such that James pops out to rustle up a water colour of the hut. It's a new pursuit for him and he has a very handy wee paint kit. It's a great way to both enjoy and capture a scene - I envy his skill and application.

I use the time to explore the area. The hut is perched on the edge of a basin with the land dropping steeply away into the tributaries of the Burgoo Stream (joins the Aorere which reaches the coast at Collingwood). There's a picnic table with 'DOC' liberally carved into it (in case anyone doubted it?). The basin has a typical limestone landform with grey bluffs and rounded hummocks. The lake is even smaller than Adelaide Tarn. It's pretty boggy around the basin and I'm not sure about potential tent sites but there is space around the hut.

Lonely Lake

Lonely Lake Hut

As I unpack James notes the spork I found at Boulder Lake - turns out it's his. I'm pleased to be able to reunite them and tell him about Debbie's torch. He gives me another spork which he thinks the Nelson group left behind.

He's first up in the morning - I have it in mind to let him get underway first. The last forecast I saw was for high winds, rain, and a freezing level down to 1400m - the view ahead (south along the Douglas Range) bears this out with dark clouds shrouding the tops. The temperature has dropped markedly.

We're both conscious of the conditions and James outlines a possible escape route into the upper Stanley River (east). I'm a little dubious whether this would be readily traversed but have read accounts of a good foot trail and cairns along the main ridge with sidles on what will be the lee (east) of the ridge.

I offer to team up for the trip if he doesn't mind waiting for me. He agrees so I get my skates on.

We set out around 7.30, and it is immediately apparent that I'm still pretty tuckered from yesterday's efforts. He's patient though and we follow an obvious trail out of the basin and around onto the ridge.

It doesn't take long for the weather to start deteriorating. The wind is strong from the south west and after 1610 starts chucking stinging rain across our faces.

I have my head down a bit because of the conditions so can't be 100% confident about our route - suffice to say that on the ridge the going is pretty good, we sidle on the east below 1610 (respite from the weather) and climb to the saddle just south of 1610.

It is fairly easy to lose the trail along this part and I think we end up staying higher than needed when the trail sidles on the west after the saddle. No dramas though as the ridge itself is pretty clear and we quickly find the foot pad again.

On the long flat section between 1512 and Kakapo Peak we start to get pelted with sleet and, despite wind stopper and marino liner gloves, my hands start going numb. As we start the climb up Kakapo the snow and sleet are starting to settle and we each have a liberal coating of slush on our right flanks.

According to one of the sources I read, we are approaching the other crux of the trip - a 150m traverse of a steep scree slope on the western face of Kakapo Peak. In current conditions the snow and sleet will be driving into our faces as we cross. Given they also warned about the Cow sidle I'm not concerned.

James waits as I labour up behind him and we can see the traverse line delicately outlined in the settling snow. He leads off and it is absolutely fine - the footing is good, it's not too steep and the odd bit of settling and shifting is well within comfort zones. After the scree there's a slope of mixed tussocks, rocks and snow grass to navigate.

I'm stepping to the next clump when my back foot hold collapses and I twist around my leading left leg, which stays firmly planted. My knee makes the sort of soggy pop noise you really don't want to hear, and I'm suddenly lying head first down hill and concentrating on not slipping further. A couple of breaths to assess the damage - it's sore but not broken and I can weight bear. I struggle up and after James who is now a grey figure ahead in the swirling snow.

From here the conditions miraculously improve, the wind drops, the sleet stops and the clouds lift enough to see into the Waingaro head waters and across to the Lockett Range. The walking poles come into their own as any twist or heavy step sends twinges of complaint from the offended knee.

The route is increasingly obvious (possibly because of people doing there and back trips from Fenella Hut?). The last section is a long sidle below the ridge leading to Waingaro Peak - it's steep and a little exposed in places but generally well cairned with a heavy foot pad. The sidle pops through a slot on the spur sou-souwest of 1550 and continues across the steep face directly below Waingaro before climbing to the ridge line and the track down to Fenella Hut.

I must look like a demented stick insect as I wave the poles about in an effort to favour my left knee.

The track drops steeply into mixed forest and clearings. It's pretty country side and we are treated to a flowering mistletoe on a tiny beech tree. I'm stunned that it is so healthy yet is not protected from browsing pests. A testament to pest control efforts in the area.

A little after 11.30 we arrive at the palatial Fenella Hut (1100m). A young chap has just arrived from down valley but is the only other person present. The clag has lifted enough to show a dusting of snow on Aorere Peak (north west) - during the afternoon it continues to rain sporadically with occasional drifts of sleet.

I am of no mind to go further today, intending to rest the knee and reassess in the morning. Eskill (from Denmark) sets about getting the fire going and we all set gear to dry. The hut is huge and luxurious by my standards - running water inside, gas cooker, and firewood supplied!

It's a quiet afternoon with each pursuing their own activities. I've got a book of Kakuro and other puzzles that keeps me amused in between tending the drying gear.

The weather is better in the morning but my knee has swelled and is still dodgy. We confer about intentions and everyone has the same idea - head to Trilobite and hitch out. I'm really annoyed not to be continuing along the Lockett Range but have to accept that it wouldn't be a great idea..

James lights out first followed by me around 8.15 with Eskill looking to be hot on my heels.

Note previous Sylvester trip at bottom right

The track initially drops over a series of glacial steps and something that would usually be a doddle is a bit of a challenge. About 15 minutes in I stumble onto Cobb Hut - old school but perfectly functional.

A little later I find more mistletoe on a short beech tree and this time manage to get a photo to prove it.

The sun is now breaking through and it's looking clear ahead. A little before 9am I pop into the clearing with Tent Camp. James is there, unable to resist capturing the structure in sketch form. It's basic with a canvass roof but looks quite comfortable inside. I reckon you would sleep four easily, and more at a pinch.

Tent Camp

It's bright sun now and I crack out the sun screen and drop a layer. Mt Benson has a dusting of snow and I'm regretting not being on the ridge. The track is flat and easy, but even so the odd twinge reminds me that this is the sensible option.

10am and Chaffey's Hut is the next milestone - it's another completely different mode of construction and has it's own resident weka keen for me to let it inside. I don't think DOC maintains it, so it is reliant on donations.

Shortly after, Eskill catches up and wanders on ahead. I catch up with him at 11.20 at Trilobite Hut, chatting up a family heading up to Fenella - they will give him a lift out if he is still here tomorrow.

The mum has family connection with the area - her forbears farmed here and she is checking out some of the old sites. I'm able to tell her that Thorn Creek will be easy to find because,although dry, there is a foot bridge with a sign on it. There may apparently be some old yards nearby.

The prospects of a lift are bleak - with the bad weather yesterday it looks like no one is coming out. The only prospect is chocker full of gear with no space for hitchers. There's a DOC ute, but no sign of its occupant, and another couple of cars turn up with occupants heading for Fenella.

James turns up and wanders along to the camp ground to try his luck.

I get chatting to a chap from Lower Hutt who are taking Australian relations to Fenella for a couple of days - gotta be a good change from wild fires.

Eskill and I start to wander down the road when the Lower Hutt chap (Brad) drives up and says the others in his party are having lunch and, given our predicament he'll get us down to the other end of the lake where there might be a bit more traffic. His generosity is gratefully accepted and we pick James up on the way.

Having waved goodbye to Brad we have barely started up the road when a car pulls up with space for one - James nominates me as the injured party and I'm not too proud to accept.

My driver is a biology graduate from Japan who is touring New Zealand, photographing our animals in their natural habitats. He has already racked up an impressive list including three types of kiwi, various penguins and pretty much all the forest birds I can name. He is keen to hear that there are bats at Pelorus and asks me to show him on the map.

He also mentions wanting to see a velvet worm - I'm impressed and asked how he heard about them - "They're famous!" he exclaims, explaining that he saw videos during his studies and had hunted them out in Australia.  Peripatus is an ancient phyllum that has links with both insects and worms - there's nine identified species in NZ but I have only seen one once (not that I actually look for them). Read more.

Unfortunately it turns out he is only going as far as the Asbestos Cottage corner. I say thanks and good-bye and limp on along the hot dry road. Still, I have a far better chance now to get lifts from people returning from both ends of the dam, the view point above the dam and Asbestos Cottage. Worst case I can probably make the Takaka Road by late afternoon on foot.

I've passed the Power Station and am well on the way down the gorge when I hear the first vehicle coming my way. A grinning Eskill and James are in the front of a van, and Will the driver is happy for me to lie with the packs on his mattress in the back.

The world is now a happy place. Will is from Wellington and is great company. He's kicking around the top of the south for his holidays, doing his own thing, and doesn't mind ferrying us over the hill to Motueka.

Postscript

Debbie swings by my motel in Nelson before I fly out and is happily reunited with her torch and the errant spork. I eschew her offer of a bottle of wine as thanks, on the grounds that this was really just karma being unusually rapid in rewarding her for looking out for James.

For interest, below are the times for each leg. Conditions were mostly near perfect for tramping except for the one day noted (but even that was just an encouragement not to stop for long). The DOC times are sensible estimates for parties with multi-day packs that take a bit of time for lunch and to admire the bulbinella (and some allowance for poor conditions). I was decidedly not that fit but tend to keep a steady pace and take short breaks.

• Bainham to Boulder: DOC 8-10, actual: 7hr 45 including an hour diversion. I've seen shorter track estimates but am not sure if the old track was quicker.
• Boulder to Adelaide: DOC 5-6, actual: 3hr 30ish.
• Adelaide to Lonely: DOC 8-10, actual: 5hr 45 consisteing of: Adelaide to 744: 2hr 25, 744 to Lonely 3hr 20.  Elapsed time Boulder to Lonely: 9hr 30.
• Lonely to Fenella: DOC 6-8, actual: 4  (a bit inclement)
• Fenella to Trilobite: DOC 4-5, actual 3hr 05

After reading the online stuff I was surprised how busy the route was. I didn't need it but was glad I had my tent.

What might have been ...

Initially, I had wanted to drop into the upper Waingaro River and follow down to the junction but chickened out in the absence of any trip reports, and it looked like it might be a bit gnarly lower down. The final plan that ended up being truncated was to follow my nose over Mt Lockett and down the Range to drop to the bridge by Waingaro Forks Hut. From there follow the marked track up the Stanley river and down the Anatoki - another day perhaps ...