Aniwaniwa to Sandy Bay Hut
27-28 September 2008
Lake Waikareiti, Urewera National Park
This is the last route Miranda and I walked together. For some time now her interests have been principally beyond the treeline, and mine have continued comfortably below it. We have decided to go our separate ways after nearly thirty years together, and she is leaving to live with Dan.
Candidates to fill her shorts to provide colour interest in pictures of the bush should queue on the left.
They should present, as Rex Fairburn described our flowering bush clematis, “like laughter in court”.
We first encountered Lake Waikareiti last year after we’d walked the Waikaremoana Lake Track and were looking for a walk to fill the extra available day. We walked as far as the lake, loaded up with lifejackets, and rowed, well, Miranda rowed, one of the great 3.6m aluminium tanks out to Rahui Island to see the lake on the island in the lake. This is written up in Two in a Row, and if you want to have a closer look at the first 60-90 minutes of walking, you should read this first.
When we called in at the DoC office to pick up our hut tickets – you have to book for Sandy Bay – we discovered a significant difference in the focus of this office and the Te Anau office where we paid a similar call to get our Routeburn tickets two years before. The Aniwaniwa officer was concerned that we had adequate clothing and equipment for sudden and severe changes in the weather. The Te Anau officer wanted to know whether we had sufficient plastic bags with us to pack out all our rubbish. Takes all sorts, I suppose…
This year we had spent much of the previous week improving our fitness down at Mt Holdsworth in the Tararuas, and we were in reasonable shape.
From the four lane highway that leads up to the lake, the track narrows, and, still easy underfoot, makes its way to the Ruapani Junction, about middle left in the sketch below. From here, the track is over grown, and while not seriously difficult in any way, the constant pushing through long grass and ferns becomes something of a drain after a while, especially for the elderly and stout such as I, and more especially after the drizzle had set in somewhat.
For a period, the track is more or less level until once more it reaches the lake edge, then heads inland across a series of decent sized ridges involving long downhill stretches followed by long uphill stretches, all the while pushing one’s way through vegetation encroaching from each side. As you can imagine, hiking poles become something of a chore, but do earn their keep providing stability along the way.
The descent to Sandy Bay should have been the highlight of the day but it was Windy Bay the day we were there and the last hour or two were in light drizzle, icy cold, with the wind funnelling across the lake from the south-east.
Elapsed fatman time from Aniwaniwa to Sandy Bay, including lunch, about six hours.
We take up the walk as we leave the day shelter where the track first meets the lake.
At this stage, it’s still fine, with white fluffy clouds, but they’re on the wrong side of the wind. Back towards Aniwaniwa, grey clouds are beginning to pile up and the wind has already begun to rise.
Just ahead of us is the oar locker. The bush, while lush and green has still just a few of the markers that tell you this could be an uncomfortable place to be in winter.
Initially we’re just a few metres above the lake, with lots of good views out and across.
This has obvious value and it’s smooth surface looks well used.
These dracophyllum have a tougher air about them, leaner and meaner than their softer cousins in the Waitakeres.
You can see the track has changed somewhat from the pre-shelter motorway. You do have to watch your feet, but overall it’s still open track and easy going.
A shrubby mingimingi is also showing signs that life is not all beer and skittles, but early growth is already on the way.
The bush opens out some along here, with not very much to show between moss at the bottom and big trees at the top
I pull my tummy in and ease my way through
This is a bit more of a challenge and I opt for a small detour.
Low branch!
From time to time a particular perspective or a combination of trees commands my attention in a way that is difficult to describe or comunicate. This is when I take a minute to stop and simply soak up the picture.
Then it’s on towards the Ruapani Junction where we have arranged to stop for lunch. Miranda is looking to stride out a bit. She has the prospect of a walk up Tongariro with Dan immediately in front of her in a day or two and she wants to make sure she is fit enough.
Ruapani Junction is a reasonable fatman goal for a day’s walk in and out. Along the way a bit we are passed by an energised Scot who is loping along at a fast jog. He makes the hut around 4.30pm and then turns around to jog back. We learn later that he got back to Aniwaniwa very late with a blistered foot, which stuffed up his ETA considerably. He wasn’t dressed for cold weather, but he wasn’t expecting to be out after dark.
Out of assumptions like these are emergencies created. The DoC officer who asked after our preparations had seen many others like him who take the bush lightly. They waste a fair amount of DoC time.
On the other hand, for guys like the “Kingston Flier” on the Heaphy Track, years of experience have enabled him to earn a living jogging the track. He delivers you to the track start, takes your car and drives to the other end, then jogs along the track, delivers your keys and continues on his way. We took 6 days but to a competent distance runner its about one and a half marathons.
This is, I think, a species of Uncinia, the hook grass that carpets much of the goblin forest on the track up to Panekiri Hut above Lake Waikaremoana. The fern immediately beside it is also a creature of the goblin forest. Both of them send messages about cold winters.
Speaking about the goblin forest, here’s a tree that, given a beard of lichen, would not be out of place there either.
I carry on. I am starting to get a bit peckish and grab another piece of biltong. I don’t know how accurate it is but the (Zone Diet) theory goes that if you have a protein snack instead of a heavy carb snack, your body gets “permission” to use some of it’s fat stores. Maybe. I nearly always lose about 3kg minimum over a week or so solid walking. Probably the most pleasant way to lose weight that I know…
The way that the light changes in beech forest is quite remarkable.
A tree stump to the side of the track sports a striking looking creamy fungus. It’s about 15cm across.
One of the problems about photographing lichens and mosses is that they tend to confuse the camera’s focussing mechanism, and when you have a narrow depth of field, as you mostly do in the pale gloom of moss and lichen country, your photo is seldom as sharp as you’d like. Parsley presents similar problems but normally grows in much brighter surroundings so the depth of field is adequate.
It’s still bright and sunny, but even with a couple of hour’s walking under my belt I am beginning to feel an approaching chill in the air.
Here’s another denizen of the goblin forest, the horopito, New Zealand’s version of the chilli pepper. These leaves add a fiery heat to any casserole or stir fry, a heat which is quite distinctive from chillis or black pepper. Try nibbling one, gently…..
I’m pretty sure this is a fern, but I haven’t been able to track it yet.
I am enjoying walking at my own pace and taking time out for small details. The surroundings are pleasant.
Round the corner and here we are.
Miranda already has the kettle on. Out here, our roles reverse to some extent. I have organised the de-hy meals but she takes care of everything else.
Off to the left is a long way home should we choose to follow it on the way back. For fatman trampers, this is about a half way point. I’ve been walking a touch under three hours to get here and although the DoC sign says
It lies grossly. Fatman time to the hut from here is about 3 hours. And a much tougher three hours.
We finish our lunch, and unship a few thermal garments from the pack. It’s getting colder.
Within seconds the new track mode asserts itself.
Not exactly bushcrashing, but over several hours the constant brushing against your legs and lifting your sticks as you walk is a bit of a drain, as was the constant effort involved on the Panekiri hill to keep lifting your feet just an inch or two higher than normal to beat the tree roots, over and over and over.
Nevertheless it’s pleasant surroundings, and the next little while is agreeably level for the most part.
If there was a bird I could quite happily see extinct it is the spur-winged plover whose ugly cries shatter the silence around our house in Helensville, and if there is a plant I would happily consign to the same fate it is Uncinia, the hook sedge.
Fortunately at present it is not in seed mode, but even without that, it still recalls to me that dreadful day walking through the goblin forest along the Panekiri clifftops, when Uncinia, horopito, and Coprosma foetidissima provided the principal immediate ground cover beneath the goblin trees.
Waitakeres NOT!
Here and there the track opens up briefly, and once again as we pass the big chainsawed log I confer a quiet blessing on the DoC teams who keep the tracks open.
We pass a huge mass of hanging bush lawyer. It’s not all that common along here but when we do see it it’s big.
Miranda has picked up speed again and I amble along quietly taking in the surroundings.
You don’t often get such a fine example as this.
It’s pleasant but pushing through it gets to be a chore in the end.
Now and again there are some truly magnificent beech and I am prompted to stop “to give and receive a blessing”, a ritual that expresses something of my sense that here we have life forms in their way as important and vital as our own, and something that Maori spirituality, as I know it,encompasses easily and naturally.
And here we are down at the lake shore once more.
We begin a long slow climb to the top of the first ridge.
An historic bridge. As easy as falling off a log, I think.
For a period the forest is thick with dracophyllum
and their leaves carpet the track.
It’s a long climb, but a gentle one, and we seem to be heading a long way inland.
There are times when not even the most awe inspiring collection of kauri can take hold of my senses as do the big beech trees. I find myself almost instinctively tip-toeing past so as not to disturb them, and, rather embarrassed, revert to normal stride. Anthropomorphism is a terrible weakness.
We shuffle and dragstick our way along
and the track opens out again as we pass another huge trunk. It would be rather nice if the hut was just along the way a bit.
Whoops. Time for a drink and a piece of biltong. Other things being equal, when your attention goes inwards to your own discomfort, 9 times out of 10 a drink of water will fix it.
The sky outside has greyed over completely, but the light in the bush is still that beech green that I’ve found nowhere outside of the beech forests. I still recall the morning after rain that we set off on the first day of the Heaphy, and the brilliant sun turned the rain drops on the leaves above us into rainbow prisms. The colour of the light was the same.
Low branch!
A slim man in his forties with a microscopic back pack comes padding up the track behind me at speed. I pull over to let him past, and he greets me in a broad Scots accent and charges off ahead. The flying Scotsman referred to earlier….
The next hour or so consists of a series of ridges which take the track on long downhill stretches before heading back up and down the next one. Nothing gutbusting, but Duke of York tracks have never appealed strongly to me. But hey, if you’re in the mountains, as they say, that’s lucky enough.
I am passed by a couple of guys heading up to the hut, this time walking, not running.
The DoC teams have been busy here. Somewhere along here I meet the mad Scot on his way back.
I’ve never got round to wearing gaiters, but in seed time along tracks like this you’d need them.
Sometimes there’s a bridge at the bottom of the valley, but mostly not.
I feel like I’ve seen this bit of track before…..
A natural arch formed by a fallen tree. I crouch a little to go past, or should I say waddle. I hate wondering what it was that my pack scraped off the tree and sent down the back of my shirt.
Hullo, they’ve sent out a rescue party.
Miranda has reached the hut and unloaded her gear when the two guys arrive and reckon I look just about beat. That’s all relative of course. I’m certainly travelling more slowly than they are, but the endorphins have kicked in along the way, and cold and blowy though it is, I am in very good spirits. Miranda sets out to meet me with an empty pack to assist if necessary. “Thanks, but I’m enjoying myself…” She is considerably relieved.
We’re about twenty minutes out. We pass the turn off to the lagoon, a biggish wetland area further inland
Lies are so unnecessary! It’s at least double that…..
From here on does have the merit of being mostly downhill, however.
And here we are.
It’s squally and cold and the wind is coming straight across the lake right into the bay.
No picnicking on the beach this evening, for sure. We head inside where the guys have the gas heater fired up, introduce ourselves and organise a coffee.
It’s an older style hut with an ex-hospital stores paint job. The bunks are comfortable, one bunkroom at each end of the central kitchen.
It’s still drizzling, and it’s still cold. We organise breakfast and get ready for the trip back. Definitely raingear today.
I’ve never before needed polyprop longjohns for walking in but this morning they seem like an excellent idea.
Well, at least you’ll see me coming. The Rainbird jacket is very lightweight, and for that reason I prefer it to a heavier Goretex model, but the downside is that it’s vulnerable to tearing if I’m scrub-crashing – something I abhor in principle. But plenty windproof, especially with a layer or two beneath. The shorts are swimming baggies minus the mesh lining – excellent lightweight and fast drying.
I sound like something out of Tramping Vogue…. (Boots are Merrells. Can’t go past them. Not if you’re wearing them.)
We head on out, making good time. Part way along a short flurry of hail passes over and later we learn that at Aniwaniwa there was a brief dusting of snow. Morning tea is at the point where the track once more meets the lake. Originally we used to boil the billy along the way, but these days we reckon a small thermos is preferable, and worth the little extra weight.
Mostly we’re carrying our water anyway, and being able to stop, packsoff, and climb straight into a hot coffee or milo is a preferable option to fiddling with gas stove, finding a sheltered spot and waiting for water to boil.
Shoulder packs and off we go. The sky out over the lake is starting to clear in patches and the wind has dropped.
Miranda takes a brief break at Ruapani Junction.
By the time we reach the day shelter, an hour along the way, the day is idyllic. Damn. We stop for lunch and enjoy the view.
Down the hill, and 45 minutes later, we’re back at the DoC headquarters.
Fatman time, 6 hours in, 5 hours out.