Just enough time to get in a quick trip to Nelson Lakes before Christmas. I haven't done a lot in the area so the idea is to check out a few less frequented passes and hopefully explore a bit more of the St Arnaud Range.
The forecast is variable with some rain so I sequence the route accordingly and allow for a few contingencies. The plan is to enter from the east via the Rainbow station, head up the Hamilton River, then meander south via the Begley and Paske valleys to join the Clarence headwaters (up valley from lake Tennyson), swing north into the East Sabine, then pop over into the Travers to eventually get to St Arnaud either on tracks or climb to St Arnaud Range near Cotterell peak (which didn't happen in the end).
What: 5-6 days exploring passes - or are they saddles?*
Where: Eastern Nelson Lakes
When: 13-17 December 2024
Who: Solo
Map: To come
* There are both passes and saddles marked on the map - I've never thought about the difference but understand that ... a col, notch or gap is the lowest point between two peaks and may not necessarily be navigable, a pass is a navigable route over a range or ridge - often through a saddle which is the area around the lowest point between two peaks.
Day one - Hamilton to Begley
Sister number one very kindly picks me up from Blenheim Airport and drops me at the end of Rainbow Road around 0930. Right is the climb to the ski field - ahead the road becomes the Hanmer Springs Hydro Road. It's private property with a ford and gate, but the station holders are kindly allowing access - there's a form on line with everything you need to know. The open season starts on boxing day but I'm just walking along the road and they have given access without a charge.
A 7ish K road walk isn't the ideal start to a tramp but it's quiet, overcast and I'm in no hurry. It's about an hour and a quarter to Hamilton River. Across the bridge the road sweeps right - just before it bends left again there's wheel tracks leading to the right. I follow these about 50m to a DOC sign on the right and the track that leads up the desired valley.
The map marks this as a route not a track, but it turns out to be pretty good - barring the usual windfall that hasn't been cleared. It's a bit gorgy at the start and the track sidles along before dropping to flats as the valley opens. The skies are a bit glum but the St Arnaud Range is mostly visible.
The flats are almost like pasture so they are either still grazed (I don't think they'd bring cattle along the track though) or have been in the past. Wild flowers are scattered about and a lone Celmisia looks a bit out of place in the setting. At places under the beech trees are carpets of flowering Hebe.
The track is less obvious on the flats and eventually runs out completely. It's easy going though and there is no lack of spots to camp if you came in at the end of a day.
A bit over three hours up the valley the river is more of a stream and it's a bit steeper, suddenly I notice there's no water. Around the corner a side stream provides a place to top up and after that the water comes and goes. It's reasonably steady further up but it's worth bearing in mind that it could dry up completely in a hot summer.
It gets more bouldery and alpine species become apparent. I'm pleased to see that the spiky Taramea are in flower - the bright yellow stalks are impressive and give fair warning where not to put your hands or other body parts.
It's getting towards 1500hrs and the valley has narrowed and steepened further. Up to the right on the St Arnaud Range is the bony ridge leading to Cotterell peak (who was Cotterell?) - clag is coming and going.
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| A choice of two passes |
There are two unnamed passes on the map between the Hamilton and Begley Valleys. I'm not sure which is better but am inclined to take the eastern (Pt 1672). As I get close, it's apparent the western (pt 1675) has a simpler, scree approach compared to a steeper gully with a possible rock step to Pt 1672. However, the map suggests the other side of Pt 1675 might be a bit trickier and it's further up valley from Begley hut.
I skirt west around the trees marked on the map and the unmarked scrub, then traverse back into the gully to find it easy going and the rocky bit is not actually a step.
The gully runs in line with the main valley so at each pause the view behind expands over the territory already covered.
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| Looking down on Hamilton |
Around 1400hrs I'm in the pass and peering down into the Begley Valley.
I'm keen to see the face below to work out the best way down - there's a ripple on the map that suggests a wee spur but no other obvious clues. I'm also keen to get a look right and up to the valley head at the nature of terrain on the range south of Cotterell Peak.
The exit from the pass is bouldery then quickly runs into tussock - there's three choices - left into a nasty looking gully, ahead down what looks like a straight forward tussock face, or right into I'm not sure what. I head straight and it's a pleasant wander with the views up the valley expanding to show what looks like a trampable ridgeline. The stream is cut into a slot with some impressive waterfalls largely out of sight.
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| Up valley to pt 2001 |
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| Down the Begley |
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| Up to Pt 2001 - pass at Pt 1675 out of sight to the right |
The tussock face I'm on narrows and bluffs out. It looks like I could clamber down but there are some goat tracks dropping right into an easy gully so I clamber down and follow the gully til it drops into a stream, which promptly drops off a wee waterfall. A short backtrack and I cross the stream and drop south and diagonally down to the valley floor to intersect DOC markers.
In summary, I think it's probably easiest to bear right out of the pass and follow the easy gully down - it may even go all the way to the valley floor although it looked like there might be a few waterfalls in the river. The exit from Pt 1675 pass looks like there are some rocky faces and a lot of scree to contend with - all up I'm pretty pleased with myself!
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| The routes taken and not |
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Up valley to Cotterell Peak (probably just behind the high point).
Pt 1675 pass middle right. |
Someone has been through and cut branches along the route - less than a year ago judging by the debris. I have time so clear the cut branches off the trail as I go. The marking is variable and I miss one point where the route skirts around a narrower section of river and end up with a bit of an aggravating sidle through bush - otherwise it's plain sailing.
A large grassy clearing gives a view of a valley climbing to the north east - this signals the hut is near. The valley apparently leads to a navigable pass to Connors Creek and the Wairau River.
Begley hut is hiding behind a copse on a terrace on a large grassy flat. It looks tidy outside and at 1815 hrs when I push the door open - it's pretty tidy inside as well.
The last visitors were 22 days ago when 8 people on a NH90 from Ohakea landed - no reason given. A lot of visitors come or go via Connors creek but someone intended to head over to John Tait Hut in the Travers - confirming the range is navigable at the valley head.
I pop down to the river for water, get dinner on and turn in before it gets dark.
Day two - Begley to Paske
A short day today. I get up leisurely and head out around 0900. The track meanders down valley - usually pretty easy to follow but, again - you need to be careful to note where it deviates from the river as it sidles high above a gorge opposite the valley to Begley Saddle. I had wondered about this as a route into the Travers but the other side looks completely gnarly. There's a bit of a view up that valley but I don't see the lowest point on the ridge clearly.
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| Up towards Begley Saddle |
A bit under an hour from the hut I'm sidling on a good track above the river and am a bit startled to come across a fence. It must be a boundary onto Rainbow station as Begley Creek (well, really a river) is about to join the Rainbow River in its broad valley.
The track drops to the river edge and the day is experiencing unusual outbreaks of sun. I can see up into the Rainbow headwaters and across wide flats to Mt Iris towering over the entrance to the Paske Valley.
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| Up the Rainbow Valley, Begley Creek on right. |
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| Mt Iris (2114m) |
Not fancying wet boots, I change into crocs and cross the Begley then the Rainbow above the route marked on the map. Both crossings are easy.
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| Rainbow left, Begley right. Pt 1790 centre. |
The countryside shows effects from grazing - dry cow shit, trails, and pasture species. Cattle trails, pest markers and the (very) occasional DOC marker follow the exact route on the map and even when you wander off course it continues to be easy travel - essentially up a paddock.
There are no cattle about now, but I'd be thoughtful about water quality here. The marked stream (true left) where the route climbs away from the river is intermittent and could be dry in summer.
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| Back towards the Rainbow River valley |
The track stays on the true left and eventually drops back to the creek. A couple of Canada geese and their four teenagers are a bit perturbed by my passing but don't fly off - a pair of paradise ducks (Puutangitangi) on the other hand put up the usual fuss. The parents put on the 'I'm injured and very tasty' routine while the two ducklings zing off downstream skipping across the surface of the creek. They keep up their noise until after I'm out of sight.
I sit in the shade by the stream leading from Mt Paske for lunch before continuing up valley. Although the exact track is often not clear the route remains straightforward. Until, that is, a large DOC triangle signals the track heads up an active shingle bed into the forest - it's killed a bunch of trees and wiped out some markers so the way is easy to miss. After sidling through forest for a bit it reaches another shingle fan and drops back to the creek for the first sight of the hut.
It's barely past 1330 so a very short day - I toy with continuing but that will mean a night in the tent and it's forecast to rain.
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| Paske hut - note the shape of the horizon ridge |
Clouds are gathering but I have a clear view of the valley head below Belvedere Peak. I'm interested to see if it's a goer to traverse the ridge from Paske Saddle to Clarence Pass. It looks good - not too jagged or steep and there are scree slopes below the ridge which could be traversable if needed, although some of the key gullies have snow which may not be negotiable without crampons. Definitely worth investigating.
Down valley the peaks to Mt Iris get the odd patch of sun before the rain starts on cue later in the afternoon.
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| Towards Mt Iris - the track emerges at the shingle fan at the centre. |
The hut is a standard 6 bunker with an open fire; old, rough and perfectly serviceable - including as a musterer's hut in the season. The loo apparently blew over sometime back prompting some doggerel in the hut book. The book is full so I wedge my details in a corner on the last page and make a mental note to let DOC know.
The rain sets in and keeps it up pretty much all night. It's not windy apart from one sudden blast that shakes the hut - I wake thinking it's an earthquake as the hut rattles then it is gone again. I drift off wondering if that's what happened to the loo.
Day three - Paske to Sabine East Branch
It's tempting to have a pit day as I lie listening to the rain on the roof and contemplating wet gear. However it relents a little and I'm heading out around 0800.
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| View from the loo |
I've read someone's trip report advising avoiding the gorgy bit on the way to the saddle and to just angle upwards past the first stream. I start to follow this advice but find the bush a bit dense around the stream so follow some possum line markers further up valley through bush and clearings.
At a random point I start climbing straight up through the trees to soon be in tussock with plenty of game trails. It's drizzly but the clag comes and goes giving occasional glimpses down valley.
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| Towards the hut |
The ground is soggy with water running everywhere but it's an easy climb. I find a marker but it turns out to be a transect line with small chew blocks - I'm not sure for what - surely not deer or goats as they would just eat the whole thing. Maybe alpine possums?
It gets steeper close to the saddle and the last bit is on scree and boulders, but again - nothing difficult. There's even a brief snatch of blue ski.
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| Approaching the saddle |
It takes about two hours to get to the saddle from the hut. There's clag behind but it's not raining here at the moment and 560m below Clarence is having a better day.
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The Waiau Toa / Clarence River
Lake Tennyson is further down the valley |
The ridgeline north is out of sight in clag and starts with a bit of a clamber - there's also the likely prospect of more rain. But it's not windy, I know there are some potential alternatives out of sight above and there's always the option to retreat. Not to mention that the valley option has approx 560m drop and 640m climb compared to 340m down and 420m up for the ridge.
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| Up the ridge |
The ridge comes and goes in the clag. There's quite a bit of clambering and lots of loose rock but it's grippy even when a light rain starts up again. There seems to be a never ending succession of knobs appearing ahead - but they are never quite as gnarly as they look and some of the more craggy ones can be sidled. Snow banks start appearing but, as expected, none actually cross the ridgeline and they can easily be avoided.
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| Back along the top of the ridge |
I take it carefully so it's a bit over an hour from the saddle to the long ridge top. As I start to descend into the saddle before Belvedere Peak the clag briefly breaks and I get a glimpse below of navigable scree into the head of the Clarence - just below the pass. There's just a couple of rocky steps that look like they can be avoided. I had contemplated continuing over Belvedere to Clarence Pass but what I can see looks a bit formidable and the map is not that promising either. I take the opportunity and drop off the ridge to pick my way down.
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Clarence Pass is just behind the rocky spur
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An aside ...
I'm still well off having a good understanding of the relationship between what the map says and the actual terrain in Nelson Lakes so I had thought about this little section carefully. In summary - the map below shows the red route I took either side of the ridgeline, the black were options in mind and the green areas I was a bit worried about (steep and/or potentially craggy - I'm a tramper not a mountain climber). Although the climb up the ridge is not steep on the map - the sharp angle on the contours and the odd bulge suggested to me a knife edge ridge with steep sided knobs. The marked scree on the eastern face looked navigable both on the map and from the valley below, however, the snow was more extensive than apparent from below and without gear I don't think I could have gained the ridge - the scree could however have provided a way to backtrack towards the saddle to avoid some craggy bits.
With slightly wobbly knees I reach the bottom and start to gingerly pick my way up into Clarence Pass. It's raining and although only 100m up there is a bit of one-step-forward-half-a-step-back about it. I reach the pass at midday - four hours from the hut, two hours from the saddle and an hour from reaching the ridge top. Not fast, but still in one piece.
Both ahead and behind is clag so I follow my nose out of the pass. The map suggests following scree east before swinging north to drop into the valley. However the ground straight ahead looks fine so I pick my way onto the steepening slope and find it navigable.
The river below is already of quite a size but the tarn at its head is out of sight. Up valley to the right the route I might have taken seems navigable.
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| On the way down - south face of pt2050 |
It's 40 careful minutes to angle down through wet tussock and taramea to reach the river. The true left seems to be the logical choice as the river runs close to the valley side on the right. As we descend, the river cuts into the valley floor and the options to cross become more limited. There are plenty of animal trails but I don't see an obvious human trail. I will have to be on the true right before the end of the day and am mindful that with all this rain, crossing might become problematic if I leave it too long.
Progress is not quick as the terrain and vegetation are variable and route choices have consequences. There's plenty of signs of browser damage but this includes trails that prove to be useful. One (true left) side stream is in a bit of a gully with scrub - it looks worse than it is though. I also find it is very easy to get caught in scrubby boulder fields which are slow and tortuous.
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Tiny little Eyelash cup fungi
at the base of a rotting browser damaged clump of tussock (or grass) |
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| Day of the triffids |
As I reach the forest edge I see a good sized deer across the river on a terrace - about 50m away. With the river noise and an up-valley breeze it remains oblivious as I thrash through scrub and boulders.
In the bush I'm hopeful there will be a foot trail. There is in places but it is unmarked and is easy to lose. It's not the hardest travel, but is also not the easiest - there is a lot of sapling growth and the understory is not as open as I was expecting. Everything including the bush, the ground and me is saturated.
I've managed to pick up some grit in one boot either from the scree or numerous river crossings - as always, I put off sorting it out until I stop for lunch.. At which point I realise how dumb it was not to sort it out straight away.
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| The rock garden in one boot |
I add a layer as I sit by the water on a mossy bank and munch on camembert and crackers. It's not cold but sitting still it's decidedly not warm either.
I'm pottering along when I notice quite a few beech trees with globular, woody growths. I see these from time to time but this is the first time I have seen a patch of trees similarly affected. I confirm later on i-naturalist that it is probably Cyttaria nigra - the same genus as the beech orange (C.gunnii) - a fungus that infects beech and produces woody galls which produce spectacular looking fruiting bodies in season (which is clearly not December).
The terrain and bush is keeping me occupied and I eventually realise that I need to check back into reality and work out a) where I am in the valley, and b) where I'm going to stop for the night. I resolve to stop at the next suitable site. This turns out to be a large clearing, which on closer inspection is entirely composed of different degrees of bog. I decide to back the water tightness of the floor of my tent and find a hummock of sphagnum moss that is the highest (5cm) above standing water.
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| Chez bog - looking up valley. |
On closer inspection I find that there is a deer highway along the bushline - also that I'm within about 300m of where I intended to leave the valley floor to climb to the Travers Saddle. It's taken about 5 hours to get down the valley from Clarence Pass - not fast but I'm on plan.
With the tent pitched I find the least wet spot to cook tea and then stand about beating sandflies and working out how to get self out of wet gear and into dry tent with the least net transfer of moisture. There is nothing I can do about the wetness of gear so that just has to fester in the vestibule over night while I set about eliminating every sandfly in the tent.
I lie on my back reviewing the day, the plan for tomorrow and counting my blessings - 1. I'm not claustrophobic, 2. the tent floor seems to be holding.
Day four - East Sabine to Travers
Spoiler alert - that's most of the interesting stuff dispensed with as I've pretty much decided I don't fancy trying to climb Cotterell Peak today or camp on the tops with saturated gear.
It has rained all night but no wind to speak of. I lie waiting for a lull and when it finally comes set about breaking camp without the hassle of cooking breakfast. Everyone hates stowing a wet (and heavy) tent - and pulling on gear with water running out of it. It means I'm heading out at a late 0845 - at least it's not cold.
I could head down valley about a K to join the track but I decide to angle up through the bush to intersect it as it climbs to the saddle. It probably (definitely) doesn't save me any time but it staves off the moment when I rejoin the road most travelled by.
There's a couple of streams to cross on the way and it's not easy bush to navigate but I finally intersect with the track around the 1200m contour. There's a couple of mutterings of thunder from the East Sabine valley but in the south I can see a line of blue promising a break in the weather. And as I emerge from the bush into the first of many sign-posted avalanche zones, the cloud is already lifting and the rain has eased.
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| Mt Franklin (2340m) |
Before reaching the saddle about 8 or 9 people come by from the top - they stayed at Upper Travers hut and are on route to West Sabine Hut. About which I can tell them precisely nothing. They can tell me though that the saddle above is miserable with cold wind and driving rain bordering on sleet. I stop to pull on gloves and wish I had a dry layer somewhere.
A couple of kea, the first seen all trip, stop by to eye me up. They are mildly but not too interested which hopefully means that people are getting the message and not feeding them.
The track is a gurgling torrent on the final approach to the saddle but the saddle itself is soggy but calm. I splash across noting that there is an easy looking approach to Rainbow Pass to the South East.
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| Travers Saddle and Mt Travers (2338m) |
I won't say more about the track. It's a steep drop through avalanche debris and the rain has stopped. It's like walking through a carefully designed alpine garden with species laid out artfully for best effect - passing patches of sun make the colours pop.
Down valley I can see the slopes around Cotterell Peak and the bench with the tarn on it I had thought to camp by. I reconfirm my decision not to try to climb up there today.
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| Up to Travers Saddle - track runs up notch on the right |
A little before 1230 I clump onto the Upper Travers Hut verandah and drop my pack. It's empty but the warden has left a three day forecast (improving). It's overcast but I take the chance to air the tent and lay out other wet gear to drip if not dry. A cup of soup and the world improves another notch.
As I'm packing up, a (European of some variation) couple doing the TA arrive from John Tait Hut. We chat pleasantly albeit briefly. I'm surprised to see TA'ers in the middle of the trail at this time in the season but it turns out that they and many others are just doing the South Island.
The track drops into the bush and patches of sun come and go - it's pleasant to just amble along with out thinking about navigation or route finding. Five or six others pass on their way up valley, mostly in pairs.
I'm not sure what time I reach John Tait hut - there are four people already there and the fire is going. The prospect of getting gear dry is too much so I decide to stay. I'm not booked but I'll camp outside if needed.
In the end the hut is less than a third full and I manage to get everything dry. The punters are a couple of kiwi boys doing the Travers/Sabine circuit. Two separate Brit women also doing the circuit and two German women doing the TA, another woman in a tent never actually puts in an appearance. One of the Brits is interesting as she is doing conservation volunteer work including for Forest and Bird and on Kapiti Island - she would do such work paid and full time given half a chance. It's a reminder just how much unpaid conservation work is going on and the abject failure of market economics to allocate financial value to things that actually matter (like family and social work too).
After three days in my own company the hut feels very busy but mercifully there are no snorers.
Day five - John Tait to St Arnaud
There's a bit of rain in the evening but the morning is clear giving the lie to the forecast: 'partly cloudy.'
I'm decided to just potter down valley and follow the western lake track out so keep out of the way as the others get on with their exits. The conservation volunteer (Ella, Eli, Emma?) is the last to leave which is good as we can have a brief chat about her work. It's somewhat embarrassing when visitors show a greater interest in and commitment to our species than many kiwis (and successive governments) can muster. We redress the balance a little by thanking each other for our respective volunteer efforts.
It's a stunning morning in a beautiful valley. One of my formative tramping memories is a family trip in here when I was in single digits. It dumped down in torrents and we had to camp beside a tiny stream that had become impassable. After a couple of days under the fly feeding soup to passing trampers (and probably driving our parents mad) we made an aborted attempt to get up to a hut (probably Angelus) before making an ignominious retreat down valley to catch a boat out from Cold Water Hut (the height of excitement) - what were they thinking? I guess it technically means I've done part of this track before.
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| Up the Travers Valley |
About an hour after leaving the hut I meet a TA chap coming from Lakehead Hut. He says to look out for a women who stayed there last night and who is not feeling the best - possibly with a sore knee. I promise to stop and check in with her.
Half an our or so later I see her stopped on the track. She's clearly upset and says she's not feeling well and has just decided to turn back. It's a little unclear what is wrong but she doesn't need any meds and is physically getting along ok. She insists she doesn't need any assistance and will make it back to the hut fine. I head on down the track but wait at the next clearing for her to catch-up. Across the valley the Arnst River joins the Travers - and I take a mental note of the slopes leading up to the Camel which I understand are navigable. I also spot the scree slide I came down after a night at the Paratahi tarns last time I was here.
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| Mouth of the Arnst and approach to the Camel |
I walk the next 2 K with her, chatting about nothing but taking the chance to reaffirm she has made a good decision as attempting the Travers Saddle would not be wise if she's not feeling up to it. She's a trained musician from Burgundy in France and I find out a little about her and her family - including that her mum is coming over in a couple of months to travel with her. She was doing the TA in the South Island and has only done the Queen Charlotte track so far. I suspect she is feeling overwhelmed as she notes that the tracks here are nothing like in Europe - she also seems a little distressed by what her family might think about her pulling out.
Our ways part at the swing bridge - she seems in a little better shape and agrees that she will take a couple of days to think about things and not make any hasty decisions. I give her a list of top-of-the-South tracks like the Abel Tasman that might build her confidence and experience while she decides her next steps. I guess it is an example of the sort of personal drama that plays out daily on the TA as people discover their limits and deal with the consequences.
A couple of minutes later I bump into two Aussie fishers. There are apparently three parties on the river today from Cold Water Hut and they've agreed to head up valley to give each a fair crack at harassing fish along an undisturbed stretch of river. I task them to check in on the TAer and they happily agree. She's going to wonder why all these strangers keep pestering her about how she's doing.
A little while further down the track I find a chap working on one of the many traps. His colleague emerges from behind a tree and I discover they're from Friends of Rotoiti - they've come in by boat and are doing the traps up to the swing bridge and back down to Lakehead Hut. They've already extracted four stoats and multiple rats which seems an awful lot although the traps around here all seem to be double traps in one box. One is from St Arnaud and the other from Wakefield.
I potter on enjoying the easy track and sunshine and it's not long before another figure comes into view. Andrew is a fly fisher (not an angler) with 28 years experience and very keen to share his wisdom and opinions. I never quite get enough of a word in edge ways to explore the yawning chasm separating fly fishers from anglers. He quizzes me keenly as to whether the Aussies fishers are heading upstream as far as they said they would - then regales me with horrific tales of untrustworthy specimens that deliberately start just upstream of you keeping out of sight and disturbing all the fish ("it can take three hours for the fish to settle down again"). He got his revenge on one such specimen by returning the favour and chucking rocks into all the pools he didn't actually fish.
As we (he) talks he stops and points to the river 80m away - "See that shadow just down stream of the rough? I can see a good sized trout in there." He proceeds to relate just how an experienced flyfisher like him would make the approach and set the fly to behave as a trout would expect an insect to.
I can see why he isn't a guide or fishing with a companion, but admit that I learned a lot and he's happy to answer any question that I manage to smuggle into the stream of consciousness.
After pointing out another fish he is abruptly gone - I haven't asked him to look out for the French woman as I figure she already has enough to contend with.
It's 1200 as I reach Cold Water Hut. A couple of boats are fishing (probably angling - sheez) around the head of the lake and two upended ducks are systematically hoovering the sediment next to the jetty.
A couple and their daughter have done a rapid walk in and are batting sandflies as they have lunch before heading back to their home near Ngatimoti. They're originally from Rotorua but are doing the tiny house thing and loving the change in outdoor adventure that is possible here abouts.
We chat over our respective lunches before they don running shoes and head up the track. I find reason to linger over lunch and don't get away until 1345.
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| A less famous Rotoiti jetty |
A short way along the track (I think it was the creek by Prospect Ridge) a voice hails me and a couple emerge from near the lake. They are casting around for the track as there is a lack of markers - I'm already following a positive lead and cross the creek to confirm before coming back to show them the way. They are English and very grateful for the assistance and for a helping hand across the creek. They are staying in the camp ground and seem to be loving their adventures even though clearly completely unused to even mildly rough tracks. It would have been nice to stay and chat but the pace is a little too slow for my comfort so I head on for Whisky Falls.
It's a short diversion up the hill and the falls are impressive but there are more people about including a chap in the process of having a falling out with his wife (who has refused to climb the 10 minutes up the track to view the falls). I just don't fancy clambering up to the base of the falls for a better look with all these people about and return to the lake side track to say a brief hello again to the nice English couple before continuing on my way ("you disappeared so fast we thought we'd imagined you.")
I have to say I think I prefer the track on this side of the lake. It is generally pretty good although the constant stream of people coming towards me is starting to wear a bit thin.
I reach the track end at 1545 - when I say 'end' I mean it deposits you on the side of a gravel road with no info about time to St Arnaud. However, there had been info on the signs at the head of the lake and I did know that there would be a long road hike so settle in for the grind. One car passes and ignores my outstretched thumb. I eventually find my way to the trails around Black Hill (unfortunately taking the long way around) and arrive at my friend's bach about an hour 10 after exiting the track. Job done.
Postscript
A bit of a logistically challenging trip but the first part went to plan and was very satisfying. There's unfinished business around the St Arnaud Range but no regrets about not pushing it this time.
If you like people, the Travers - Sabine circuit is clearly a fantastic trip. The requirement to book huts is somewhat constraining though and I think I will just be doing chunks of it as necessary adjuncts to other missions.
After a much needed shower and sleep I hitch back to Blenheim the following morning (no public transport through St A). I start by the cafe but it's only local traffic and no takers until a guy on the way to Nelson drops me at Top House saddle - this means less traffic but all of it heading down the Wairau. The chap turns out to be from Wellington and has hoofed it out from Angelus hut this morning - impressive.
I knew there was a monument at Top House Saddle but couldn't recall what it marked (beyond it being a watershed between the west and east coasts). Turns out it is to one J.S. Cotterell ...
Fancy clever John discovering the route to the Wairau from Nelson ahead of the Maori and apparently (going by the plaque) without local guides. However, he is an interesting character - a Quaker whose life was cut short at the tender age of 23 in a
certain incident much further down the valley.
The traffic is still largely local contractors and logging trucks but eventually a lovely East German couple stop and take me all the way to the airport. They are recapitulating a trip they had to NZ 17 years ago with their young children. The driving is a little alarming but they deposit me safely outside the airport with an apple ('we gif to all the kiwi trampers we pick up').
The beauty of Sounds Air 10 trip tickets is that they change my booking on the spot and I have just enough time for a salmon bagel before the 1300 flight to Wellington.
