Isolated. Untouched. Ever changing. Challenging.
Ultimately rewarding.
This is the North West Circuit on Stewart Island. A long sought after tramp – one that we had been mentally preparing for since our arrival to New Zealand. The longest circuit track (over 125km) in NZ, located in the Rakiura National Park.
I would have to say that it was the most memorable hike. A title that might not be lost as we continue our tramping. Twelve days of hiking. What Brent once called a right of passage in the NZ hiking world.
After two foiled attempts due to illness over the last two and a half months, this is the story of our biggest (well, at least it will always be the longest) New Zealand hiking challenge.
Bird Sanctuary
The moment you step foot onto Stewart Island you notice a strong presence of bird life. Kakas, which we had never seen in the wild prior to this trip, are flying all around you and singing through the trees. There are birds everywhere you turn. The birds are simply incredible. If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now – you cannot spend this length of time in the backcountry of NZ without truly appreciating and falling in love with their birds. You can’t help but be captivated by these animals. They are such curious creatures. Truly amazing. They showcase so many personalities, they are incredibly clever, cheeky (sometimes), beautiful in colour and in sound. There are just so many interesting species. I didn’t give birds back home as much attention as they deserved. I notice the robins when they first make their return in the spring, and I always notice the loons on the lakes in the countryside in the summer. But I’ve never found myself so incredibly drawn to them. Yet they sing to you every morning and provide this incredible soundtrack to your step as you hike in the bush.
These birds, they rule the island. And it’s incredible to see the work that has been done to preserve them. Rats, stoats and feral cats are major problems in this country. On Stewart Island, it’s mainly the cats and the rats that are the major threats to the native birds. But the perseverance and dedication of the DOC and other organizations to preserve the native wildlife in this country has allowed places like Stewart Island (a habited island) to see an increase in the population of their native birds over the years; and even more still with the predator-free islands that have been set up as bird sanctuaries (some not open to the public).
Oban. Half Moon Bay. The locals simply call their town HMB, and laugh at the people who call it Oban, stating that’s a tourist thing to say. Yet, half of their signs have it as their main name. This is the small town on Stewart Island. The only populated section of the entire island. The island itself is quite an extensive mass of land, with some incredible vistas that are almost untouched by man. Only the keenest and most experienced tramper would step foot in some parts of the island. Others might only fly overhead to capture a glimpse of the island’s natural beauty.
We flew into Stewart Island. It was cheaper by about $20.00 for both of us, and parking at the airport was super cheap. $10 for the first 3 days and $1/day for every day afterwards. I think two weeks cost us like $20. That probably wouldn’t even cover a day in Toronto’s parking lot! Heh. This would be Brent’s first experience in a small plane. Not too bad I would say, but growing up on an airport, you get to see some small planes. This one was a 6 seater. We had a couple in the back with their dog, Brent and this Canadian girl in the middle, followed by the pilot and yours truly as co-pilot. The trip was quick and smooth. Unfortunately, it was quite cloudy so we didn’t get to see a whole lot of the island flying in. A great quick trip. Beats an hour on the ferry.
On the island we settled our sleeping arrangements and ended up at this terrible hostel called “The View”, which stood at the top of a steep hill. Although it did provide a view of the harbour and town, it offered nothing more. The house was completely devoid of anything. The rooms had the bare necessity – a bed. The kitchen had a stove that was disconnected and the elements were removed so that backpackers wouldn’t use it. You were only allowed to use the microwave. There was a pool table on the lower level, but you weren’t allowed in that room. Luckily we were with the other Canadian girl from BC (who we met at the Invercargill airport) and spent the night chatting together and enjoying Fish & Chips from the local pub (where we met a girl from London, ON working in the restaurant).
A tour around the island saw us walking in circles by the end. We were trying to spend time outside the hostel as we had landed earlier in the day. We spent a good amount of time at the DOC office, signing our intentions, buying our map, purchasing one night at a Great Walk hut (which will be our last night on the track) and sorting out our locator beacon hire. Here we are, the North West Circuit, finally!!
The next day’s hike seemed daunting. Prior to flying over, our packs were weighed for the plane. Mine sat at 20.4kg and Brent’s was locked at 24.2kg. My happy back didn’t enjoy this hike so much after about three and a half weeks of no hiking, so Brent and I had to unpack everything and try to shift a wee bit more weight around to try to lighten my pack a bit more. In the end, on the first day, my pack might have been able to drop half a kilo. As the hiking would progress through the next two weeks, the hope was in knowing that our packs would get lighter. By the time we set out however, I was carrying most things that are carried throughout the tramp (non food items). It would be interesting to see where the days would take us and how much we could shed through our time on the island.
DAY ONE – Wednesday, December 3rd – to Bungaree Hut
We set out from the town’s centre early in the morning. It was a clear day, so we were expecting some nice weather along the way. The first hour and a half would be spent road walking to the start of the Rakiura Track – a three day/two night Great Walk that we spend time on before branching off to circle around the NW of the island. Aside from an oddly placed old-school phone and phone book, both disheveled from the weather; a few ducks that took a liking to us and some kiwi road signs (which was rather exciting and encouraging – maybe we could spot one!), there was nothing too exciting about the first part of our walk. Our bags were very heavy, and with the hilly nature of the island, it doesn’t take long to notice the weight on your body. Packed for 12 nights and 13 days (one day longer then expected – as a safety), and this being our first pack hike since Greenstone-Caples, this was a lot to take in at once. Adding on top of that, only recently recovering from our bout with Crypto.
We were passed by a tour bus near the end of our road walking, to watch a bus load of people step off and take a two minute hike into the park to take pictures before returning to their vehicle. That appeared to be the sounder option.
This felt like the start of our journey.
We spent the next three hours hiking on a Great Walk track, which really is quite a treat sometimes. These tracks are maintained to such a high level, and are easy for anyone to hike on (young/old). The goal of the GWs is to open up the doors to a broader spectrum of tourists. We sometimes refer to the tracks as ‘highways’ because of how wide and groomed they are. Streams and water crossings are almost always bridged, and a great deal of time, there are boardwalks to both preserve the fragile soil and also to facilitate a more ‘enjoyable’ experience. It just never feels like real hiking. Some other trails we’ve been on you almost feel like you’re lost in the bush when the overgrown vegetation takes over the track. You’re bush bashing. It was a real treat to start our hike on this type of terrain. Even the stairs are nice. The wooden steps are filled up to the top, unlike some hikes (*clears throat* - Egmont National Park). There are these hollow wooden steps (I know I’ve talked about them in the North Island), that are normally filled with sand or rocks to maintain their ‘step’ status. Unfortunately, a great deal of the time, these wooden steps have hollowed out and become empty wood frames providing easy access for pooling water or mud puddles that are sometimes difficult to avoid due to the slippery nature of the wood that is used (when raining) or the terrain doesn’t allow you to walk alongside it. They often become more of a hindrance while hiking then a help. Again, this being one of the real treats about being on a GW track.
Walking along the beaches through the track, I spent my time, as usual, hunting for live crabs. Mind you, I can’t imagine the best place to find them on a sandy beach (I would imagine them more in pools of water on a rocky beach) but I’ve always seen them walking on sandy beaches in pictures, so I figure it shouldn’t be too difficult to find. I always find a few washed up and scattered crab pieces, including tops & bottoms of body shells, but still no live crab.
Now, I don’t have the slightest clue as to why I get so excited about these things. It might be that crabs just seem exotic that they excite me. We don’t see them running around in my hometown. I could also be influenced by the presence of Claude on our trip – I am planning a family reunion for him. But I truly do express the most genuine glee whenever I see one on the beach – albeit they have all been dead at this point in time. But today, many deceased crabby creatures were fully intact, which is a step up for me. There are tons of empty shells and legs kicking around. I don’t let Claude see the dismembered crabs.
Every time I would see a bigger crab, I would get so excited. It could just be my love for nature. I’m genuinely excited about the wildlife here in New Zealand (actually, I love wildlife just about anywhere). None the less, the hunt continues for either a live hermit crab or a shell crab.
What does stand out on the sandy beaches is the multitude of holes through the sand, created by the birds as they peck into the ground to find their food. It’s amazing to see how many holes are all along the beach. As I walked along slowly, paying attention to the holes in the ground, one seemingly social bird surely peaked my interest. A lone Oyster Catcher. Sharply contrasting the sandy beach with its full black body, his orange beady eyes and long orange beak.
One way to really tick off an Oyster Catcher: approach its nest.
For a moment I was surprised that this single Oyster Catcher started to approach us when we emerged onto the beach after crossing a stream. This one was different, calling out to us to get our attention and then trying to lure us to walk along the beach with him. I always try to photograph these birds but they fly away so quickly, you never get a really great shot (well, not without a really good zoom lens). So it only took me a moment to clue in that this bird probably had a nest nearby and that it was trying to divert our attention. We followed the beach alongside the Oyster Catcher for a wee while before he turned around and lost interest in us. I decided to turn around and see where the bird was going to stop. Low and behold, he sat down in the middle of the beach. Curious me started to hike back to his new location, just to see if it truly was a nest. Immediately upon my return, the bird swiftly hopped up and walked away from the nest, quickly resuming his singing to grab my attention.
Standing nearby I looked at this inconspicuous sand nest and three camouflaged eggs. I was amazed at how big the eggs actually were. There I was; sitting in one of those perfect National Geographic photo opportunities. The three beautiful eggs blending in with the nest’s materials in the foreground and the adult bird standing in the background. It was this classic moment that you only get once in a blue moon. I set up my shot, keeping a fair distance from the nest and before I could press the button, I took notice of the movement in front of me. Then I noticed the movement on the LCD display on my camera.
I guess the bird decided that I was too close to the nest and before I managed to snap the ultimate picture, I noticed el birdo running towards me and he began to take flight. Maybe it was the camera – it didn’t want its young photographed. None the less, I luckily noticed what was going on. The bird gave itself a running start to begin the chase and before I could blink, the wings were flung out and ready for take off. I did what most people would do, step away and duck. He barely missed me as I scurried out of the way before he was able to dive bomb me.
At this point, Brent was still down the beach, watching the scene take place. I asked him to distract the distraught parent so that I could at least snap a quick photograph of the sandy nest before leaving the poor thing alone.
And this is the story of how I was dive bombed by an Oyster Catcher. Look at their nests, but don’t you dare take your camera out. This bird came so close to my pack when I turned away. That National Geographic moment that I couldn’t get in time, is gone forever.
After surviving my bird attack, we continued along the beach, making special notice of our breath – which we could actually see in the air, despite the fact that it wasn’t that cold outside. At least to our knowledge it wasn’t. Maybe being hot and sweaty from the hiking counteracted the cold sensation.
We stopped in for lunch at the first hut on the circuit, which we intended to skip – Port William Hut. We met four DOC staff members at this hut and ‘hut book’ spied on some friends who had done the Rakiura track within the last two months (that would be you Rosie and some other American and Canadian friends we have met along the way). Brent decided to ask them about the famous Stewart Island mud – and the one guy scoffed at the question saying that there was only one bad patch just past the sign posting, but that the rest of the track was okay. Now would be a good time to mention that in the NZ tramping world, we’ve discovered that Kiwis like having wet and muddy boots. We don’t mind cold – cause that happens in Canada, and here, they don’t mind mud and water. Wet boots are typical.
Wet boots back home is usually associated with something that isn’t as nice. A soaker as you’re walking down the street in a downpour. Taking a step into deeper then expected slush in the winter and it turns out to be a giant wet puddle. You know, uncomfortable wet. Give me gumboots, I’m all for jumping in the mud. But hiking boots - not if we can avoid it. Gortex doesn’t dry very nicely. The mud and water is fine and dandy on the outside of our boots – but once it gets inside, we’re in trouble.
After walking back a short distance to the junction with the North West Circuit track turn off, we bumped into two other trampers who had come upon the junction and appeared to be carrying out an inspection. They originally thought about doing the NWC, but then decided to stick with the Rakiura. They told us about how they walked on the NWC track about 300m and were ever so glad that they had decided not to hike the terrain. The wee bit of mud scared them off. They wished us well, yet said that they might see us if we became discouraged by the track. If the first 300m towards Bungaree Hut are going to scare you off, you were probably never meant to hike the NWC.
It was an evident shift into a less groomed trail, which was expected. And in the end, today’s mud was not that bad. It might be because we only had to spend about 4 hours hiking on this terrain with an additional 4 hours on a GW track and then 1.5 hours on the road. I guess spending close to 10 hours trudging through mud could be discouraging, but today is day one. Besides, this mud was easy enough to skirt around if it seemed too sloshy. The mud wasn’t exclusive to low lying areas, but was ever present on both the up hills and the down hills. Brent did have one brief encounter with the ever famous Stewart Island mud, as he tried to show that there was nothing to it. Walking through the middle of a mud hole, he began to sink through the thick, sticky layer and in a panic pushed through to safety.
A taste of things to come perhaps. Maybe even a warm up for future hiking days. We had no idea. What we did know is that this track was going to be hilly, and in turn, was probably going to be quite slow going.
Oh, and the sandflies, yeah, they are terrible out here too!! I mean, you really have to come to NZ to understand what people are talking about. Mosquitos and blackflies are bad back home – but only in the backcountry, and I don’t even think the words ‘being eaten alive’ in Canada can sometimes compare to being eaten alive in NZ. Luckily, the worst spots are only in certain pockets. But when they’re bad…they are BAD. You will find yourself being swarmed by a massive mob.
The DOC recently introduced these track certificates over the last few years. It’s something we saw in the huts on some of the GW tracks we hiked during the off-peak season. Namely the Routeburn and Kepler. We kind of laughed at them, thinking they were amusing. Every hut had one on display as an example to encourage people to perhaps think about purchasing it, if and when they successfully complete the track. None the less, we never once thought about ever getting one of them because we thought they were kind of cheesy.
Well, when we were at the DOC office in HMB, I noticed the display under the glass on the counter and there were two certificates. One was for the Rakiura, and surprisingly, one was for the NWC. Originally we thought they would be for Great Walks only, but the NWC certificate was available for hikers, citing itself as the longest circuit track in New Zealand (which is true). Well, suddenly our tone changed, and this certificate was somewhat of a goal. Successfully completing this hike was going to be a big accomplishment, and we were excited about it. Earning that certificate after a long two week hike was a bit of a boost at times on the trail.
The sound of the ocean’s roar all around you started to be our soundtrack as we distanced ourselves from the busier port town area. The water’s presence filled the air with a rolling background sound as we looped around the northern shores of the island. Some of the bays were rougher then others, leaving the water to crash into the rocky beach or cliffs, while other bays provided gentle sounds.
Today was about ten hours of hiking. It’s supposed to be 7.5 – 8.5 hours. So straight away we saw what might become a pattern. At this point in time, we don’t know what could be influencing our timing. Either the DOC’s times are a bit short, our packs are simply too heavy just yet or I’m slowing us down. Time will tell. Today was a hard hike in terms of weight – as our packs were at their heaviest (especially for that type of terrain), but its 11 nights and 12 hiking days – and food for that length of time is heavy. Our time might be due to the longer breaks we have been taking as well. I mean, in the winter months we really didn’t have a lot of time to waste – due to the shorter hours of daylight, so our breaks were spent standing, while lunch was reserved for the special ‘take off your pack’ break. With the longer days and nicer weather, we are now able to simply take off our packs and enjoy the moment while relaxing (and not worrying about time). Oh yeah, and we also had a super long break for a mysterious piercing chest pain that I had after we stopped for our afternoon snack. Which is just what we need right now, more mysterious medical conditions. Being day one, it kind of freaked us out. It came and it went, and once it was gone it felt like it never happened. So strange.
We came upon a deserted beach near the end of our day before a short ascent (10 steps or something) to our hut for the night: Bungaree Hut. We were alone on the first night with our own private beach. It felt surreal. It was a nice beach which offered the sand for people to enjoy but also a lot of shells scattered along the sand and washed up seaweed, so it felt like there was a lot of life around. The area was also a fair bit rocky, allowing for cave formations and rocky paths and cliffs. A very interesting landscape. For dinner, Beef & Pasta Hotpot. Yum. Oh, and I spotted a person in the hut book who was from Powassan, ON. : )
End of day one: No kiwi sighting yet.
DAY TWO – Thursday, December 4th – to Christmas Village Hut
The fresh air of this island (well, of the whole country actually) feels rejuvenating. My lungs are happy being here. And after climbing uphill for a good amount of time, the breeze that greets you at the top feels like one of the most rewarding blessings in a day’s hike. The air simply smells wonderful. Today, it smelled a lot like pine trees.
We packed up early and headed out to the beach (before leaving the hut) to explore this one rock formation which apparently had three tunnels hollowing out the inside. A map was drawn in the hut intentions’ book, so we decided to go exploring. It was an interesting climb around, and we were lucky that the tide wasn’t too high, allowing us to access the tunnels inside.
The day was going to be interesting. Not mundane. I actually don’t think hiking on Stewart Island could be mundane. Every day was going to be a challenge, with the ups and the downs of the actual terrain, and the ever changing texture of the soil.
And today’s first challenge was a patch of overgrown vegetation that was hiding the actual track, and to top it off, not enough route markers were posted on the track. A lot of times we were hiking blindly hoping we would be able to spot an orange marker eventually, either ahead of us or behind us heading the other way. Even our GPS wouldn’t work in the thick bush at times. As it tried to collect data from the satellites, it would get confused and not know where to guide us. Real useful. There were a lot of hidden track sections on this day.
I wouldn’t really want to blame the DOC, but a lot of people would. Your immediate thought would be directed at them, but it truly is incredible what they do for this country. They have such a large mandate. They head conservation in the country, with more land every year transferring hands to become parks. And on top of that, they are expected to maintain the tracks and provide huts for all to use, yet probably about 75% or more of the people I’ve met on the tracks don’t even pay their hut fees (which could be anywhere from $5.00 to $15.00/night during the off peak season). Which is frustrating when you read about people camping out in a hut for over a month while they do white baiting in the rivers, making the huts their home for the duration. Yet they don’t want to pay their fees. It’s a blessing to have this type of hiking system in NZ, something that we would never find in Canada. Back home, you either go full on luxury or you tent it. Nothing even comes close to these huts. I just wish others understood. DOC is under-funded and being stretched very thin.
The forest hiking is interspersed with beach walks every once and a while. For lunch, we came upon a long sandy beach. The weather was beautiful when we arrived, which made for a great invitation to stop. The beach felt isolated and somewhat tropical. Dark storm clouds brewed over the mountains on the island, yet by the water, only puffy white clouds floated overhead. Once our packs were off, the wind started to beat down on us, and so did the sand. It almost felt like a low lying sand storm as the dry sand dusted across the more compact parts of the beach. And it got everywhere, even working its way up the rims of our water bottles through the day.
Lesson learned.
Further down the beach there were small streams that weaved through the sand. The edges of the waterways left unstable ledges of sand layers that were slowly breaking off. Keeping a safe distance, I used my poles to break off large parts of the sandy overhang and controlled their collapse into the creeks. Brent on the other hand stood right alongside his poles as he poked away at the unstable sand, eventually leading him to fall into the streams. Luckily he stayed upright. He learned his lesson. Well, at least after the second time he did it.
I rather enjoy stream crossings because it gives you a great opportunity to clean off your boots, or at least keep the mud moist. Now, that might seem like a strange desire, but if the mud on your boot stays moist, it won’t dry up against the leather and be such a challenge to clean off at the end of the day. It’s the little things that make your day easier once you arrive at the hut.
The first day hiking was great because of how many junctions we hit on our track. Anytime you hit a junction you are privy to a DOC sign. If you’re lucky, there is time information or a kilometer count provided to you. This is always nice to see where you are at in relation to what is expected. Today’s hike did not have any signs that I can remember. You almost see them as signs of hope, which are huge encouragements on those hard days. The signs can also be discouraging if you are falling behind when you compare your time to the DOC’s expected time, or if they list the huts that are in each direction but not say anything about distance or time. That sucks.
A new type of plant that has started to appear on this hike is this one type of vine. I can’t quite figure out what trees they come from, and even if I did figure that much out, I still probably wouldn’t know what the tree was actually called. These vines have taken me by surprise as they are quite rigid, and I always envisioned vines to be supple. They are a welcome part of the NWC challenge, as they create quite the road block at times. You can move through a location, but the vines are going to stop your pack (the top of which is over your head at times), leaving you to struggle as you entangle yourself up more and more. As long as you’re having a good day, you probably won’t even notice these plants. The moment you have a bad day, you could probably take it out on a vine if it happened to come upon you at the wrong time. Funny things.
Trudging and skirting through the mud, I decided to take the option provided to us by the DOC on this length of the track. Walking on the tree stumps placed in the mud for leaping. It does facilitate the hoping around. Some of them have three independent wires stapled down into them to create part of a thread to keep people on top of the trunk instead of in the mud. However, most of them have started to either rust away or simply have lost their metal beams through the years. But the ones with the three metal pieces stapled onto them for stability are as good as gold. If no stumps are planted for you, you can generally get across the mud bogs by following fallen tree limbs that have made their way into the mud through the years.
Up and down the hills we went. In and out of the Rimu forests (I love Rimu – and it’s not something that can be explained, in fact I also have a favourite fern tree – just because). Hoping around the tree roots in the mud, when possible. Some parts of the hike were very challenging though, offering slippery tree roots and slippery mud climbs. The track received your full attention. At other times, parts of the track seemed so different from the rest of the track, almost making it feel like a different hike altogether, providing flatter terrain with no mud.
The rain moved in and out, followed by the sun. It was a long hike today. We followed an historic tramline for under an hour today, showcasing both original and upgraded parts and sections. A welcome breeze always came at just the right time. Normally a 6 hour hike, I think we took 8 or 9.
I said goodnight to the Tuis who have been singing to us throughout the day. They have such a variety of sounds; they are wonderful to listen to. Still listening for kiwis, even though we don’t know what they sound like. We really should have bought that sound effects card in the DOC office which belted out the sound of a kiwi once it was opened. Then at least we could figure out what we were listening for. (Upon our return to the DOC, we found out that some people buy the cards and then in the middle of the night, they walk outside the hut and open the card, and the real kiwis will respond to the card’s sounds, as if it was one of their own.)
The end of our hike brought us to a rocky shore which you hiked along before discovering Christmas Village Hut. We arrived at the hut mid-evening, to what I would call a quite unsocial lot of three others. There was a Danish couple who were rather giggly and loud throughout the night as well as a guy from Oregon. Three other people. You wouldn’t know it if you saw the state of the hut. They spread out like they owned the place. This hut had two 6 bunk areas, and the one American guy made his side look like at least 5 hikers were bunking in the area. We needed him to shift his gear around so that we could access the upper bunk area. The atmosphere felt unsocial, and it appeared people were going to be obnoxious and loud.
Some people just don’t know how to share huts.
This hut is where we spent a good amount of time noticing who was on the NWC at the same time as us (with the help of the Intentions book) and who we might cross paths with on the trail. For dinner, apricot chicken (yummy). And for desert, scroggin. Although, this version is a wee bit sugary. Salted peanuts, sultanas, apricots (which we’ve decided to not include anymore, since I bring them as my dried fruit anyway), chocolate buttons (wafers), chocolate buttons (like smarties), chocolate covered raisins, yogurt covered raisins, and sunflower seeds. I think Brent also wanted to include chocolate covered peanuts, but we had enough sugar. And this time around, instead of trying to eat all the yogurt covered raisins, we kept putting them back because we had too many in our hands. Next time around we’re increasing the peanut content and lowering the amount of sugar. We found that we started to simply crave the nuts and fruit. Sugar is important, but I think we went a little overkill.
And in the end, we invented a new type of Euchre; you know just to keep things exciting. We even came up with two versions of it. Basic two person euchre, but the cards you discard are not selected by you. After you pick up your ‘helper’ hand of three cards, your opponent gets to choose three cards (face down) for you to discard. Now, they aren’t allowed to look at your cards until after the hand is played, but you could have called trump on the top three cards and have them plucked from your hand instantly. It’s challenging. Scoring two points can be quite the endeavour.
End of day two: No kiwi sighting yet.
DAY THREE – Friday, December 5th – stay at Christmas Village Hut, attempt Mt. Anglem side trip
It’s my NZ birthday today! And what a day it is. The skies are pretty yuck at the moment and it’s actually pouring rain outside. Today was the first of two rest days, which were scheduled for specific side trips near the huts selected. Unless the weather clears, we might be hut bound today. The rain is actually quite strong and heavy. None the less, we got ready as though we were going to head out the door.
Once the three other hikers set off in their respective directions, we decided we had waited long enough for the weather to clear. Slipping out of our sleeping bags, where we were playing cards (trying to stay out of the way from the others who were all over the main area), I started to feel a familiar chest pain creeping into my system. Stabbing and piercing pain took over my chest as I tried to figure out a position that would lesson its impact. Breathing hurt so much. It was excruciating. Two days ago, we thought maybe this chest pain was a one time thing, but today it came back with a vengeance. One attack lasted between 25-30 minutes, followed by another attack less then three hours later which lasted about 20minutes. If it happens again we may need to investigate our options. It could mean turning around from the NWC, but I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. We have the PLB for any worst case scenario (this time only costing us $40 for 12 days), and after my second attack, I had a conversation with Brent about what to do if anything did happen. We figure, I’m young and healthy, so it shouldn’t be anything too extreme, especially some of the options we found in the first aid book, and it could still be related to our cryptosporidium – as gastro-intestinal illnesses can lead to chest pains. What couldn’t be ignored was the general malaise I was in for the remainder of the day. I felt awful.
We still ventured out of the hut that day to see about getting up Mt. Anglem. Full rain gear on to protect us from the pouring rain, we left with only our water bottles and trecking poles. Approximately thirty minutes into our side journey we were met with mini hail and simply more rain. We stopped in our tracks and looked at one another with a similar face. Is this even worth it? We will hike in this torrential rain for three hours to arrive at the summit, and if it doesn’t clear up we will be devoid of a view. It had been raining all day already with no clearing in sight. Soaked and broken spirited, we decided to turn around; mutually sharing the feeling that today…it just might not be worth the hike.
Instead we sat in the warm hut with Claude and celebrated my birthday by blowing out a match and enjoying a bag of gummy candies instead of cake (it was easier to transport). I stood the birthday card that my parents had sent me on the table as I scratched the OLG ‘cash for life’ ticket from home. I won $6.00, but will have to send it home to claim the prize. Mom, Dad – you can buy yourselves something nice with the payout! :) We spent the afternoon playing cards and working through puzzles together from a magazine pullout we permanently borrowed from the bopping hostel we stayed at in Oban/HMB. We dined on Beef Teriyaki in the evening before calling it a night after our clean up/water filtration routine.
Like most nights, I didn’t sleep all that much. I simply wasn’t tired. I spent my time listening to the yellow-eyed penguins calling out to one another throughout the night, before focusing my attention on the water rolling in over the rocks. The night mirrored the relaxed day we just had.
Then there was our new friend, Mr. Rat. You count on knowing about a rat problem through hut comments left by other users, but this rat might have only recently dug his way into the hut through the box of firewood by the stove. Then there was a guy from the Czech Republic who left his bag of rubbish on the lower shelf of the hut, on OUR side of the room (meaning near our bunks, and not the ones he was sleeping on). Well Mr. Rat rather enjoyed the easy access dinner, and found himself rustling underneath of our bunk over the next few hours.
On my belly, my eyes sitting just above the wooden slat along the upper bunk, I spent some time watching this rat running around the hut aided only by the moonlight. Then I made it into a game, flashing the rat with the torch every time he got close to the rubbish bag. I was the only one awake, and in the end, this kept me entertained. At the same time this allowed me to keep tabs on where our rodent friend was at, especially with knowing that he was creeping closer to our gear with every whirl he did around the hut.
End of day three: Still don’t even know what a kiwi sounds like.
DAY FOUR – Saturday, December 6th – to Yankee River Hut
7:15am NZ time – I was born in Kirkland Lake, ON Canada 28 years ago.
Throughout the day things come to my mind as I’m hiking. They never seem to appear in a logical order, they simply arrive in my mind as though today is the day I should be writing about them. This morning, I found myself thinking a lot about kiwi birds. As we make our way around the circuit, I keep thinking about everything people have said about the best “kiwi sighting” locations. The further we get from the town, the closer we get to an opportunity of spotting one of these flightless birds. Or so they say. That being said, Stewart Island is quite large and only a small part of this island is actually blessed with a tramping track. If the kiwis were smart, they might stay at bay. Then again, the NWC does cycle around the island, leaving a mass of land in the centre untouched.
We are trying hard to identify kiwi birds. Thinking about the sound cards in the shops, we try to imagine the song that this bird makes. Maybe we’ll just remember it once we hear it again. A thought you might expect, but shouldn’t depend on. It feels like there are a lot of new songs in the forests of Stewart Island. New birds, new music, new life. None of which take me back to the memory of opening the kiwi card in the DOC centre in Te Anau. No recollection of any similarities to what we hear around us. Currently, we’re relying on sheer luck and a blessing to spot one of these in the wild. Needless to say, our hiking is quite quiet these days. I’m always listening for the rustling in the bushes and the supposed ‘loud sniffing’ the kiwis do while they hunt for food.
Through this trip I have also found a new friend. Mr. Codeine. Boy, does my back ever enjoy this little white pill. Our discovery of its effect on my back pain in Queenstown helped us a lot on this hike. Every morning before we go on the trail I complete a cycle of my back exercises and pop a codeine pill. This helps alleviate the pain of hiking uphill for at least the first four hours, after which I simply deal with the discomfort. We figure I could keep using the codeine for my back (once a day, only while hiking) until we run out of our prescriptions. That being said, it doesn’t speed me up any. It’s almost like there is something clicking in my back while I push uphill that slows my pace now. The only bonus is not really feeling the strain, which is something to be careful with as well. You don’t want to push yourself too far.
The map saga. We purchase the DOC maps of the parks to use as a guide while hiking the trails. Mainly as a reference, since the tracks are usually well marked, and also as a souvenir, since the DOC maps have a lot of park information on them. That being said, they aren’t always the best scale to be using. Our Fiordland map was a 1:250 000 scale, which is almost rubbish when it comes to information that might be useful to a tramper – as in how high is the ascent, how many streams are we crossing, how far is the hut really? Even when you purchase a better scale, say 1:50 000, we still find we would be in the same position in terms of water crossings. What’s a stream? What makes it worthy of being drawn on a map? Every day, on every hike, we find ourselves hiking in and out of gullies and crossing stream after creek after river after trickle after waterfall after waterway. What determines whether or not it will appear on our map? We can count the streams on a smaller scale map and set off in the morning, but with every water crossing you have to determine whether this was a marked stream/river/creek or not. A map could indicate 7 river crossings, but we only cross 15-20 streams, all with similar shapes & sizes. Counting streams can be discouraging at times.
We have also become the prey to a significant bully on Stewart Island. The mud. Literally, there is no winning in this game of war. And it isn’t even about skirting around the darn mud puddles. This mud wants to eat you alive, or at least steal your boots and legs and spirit. One minute you’re climbing steep mud hills with mud so slick it can slide you off the side of a cliff – and there is no alternate route. Even on your hands and knees, there is no escaping the challenge and potential of a slick slip. Sometimes, it’s important to find a path to skirt around the mud, if for nothing more then remaining on the mountain you are climbing. Today was a very muddy day. : ) It was actually quite brutal. We fought many never ending battles with the slick mud sliding us beyond our progress every time. I reckon we hiked at least an extra kilometer or two with our mud sagas.
Undulating. Our new favorite word. If one word could describe Stewart Island, it would be that. Undulating. There is no escaping the ups and downs of the track. In the daily descriptions that the pamphlet of the hike provides, you will find a variety of ways in which the NWC escapes being called ‘hilly’. Some days there is no mention of an ‘undulating’ track. That usually means that it is a typical day. When the word ‘undulating’ appears in the pamphlet, be afraid. If it’s bad enough for them to mention, it must be a wee bit more grandeur then on a daily basis.
Noticing trees in the forest. I don’t think I could say enough about lichens, mosses, birds and trees from New Zealand. It could be something to do with the fact that we are traveling as hikers, and spend a good amount of time surrounded by these things. We can spend a good amount of every day appreciating these gifts. You really do start taking notice of the smallest details. While hiking today, I had a moment where I looked up and spotted a single tree standing in the foreground of several familiar trees. It popped out to me like it was on display. It was a new one I had never seen before. It was alone. Standing in a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees at one time, I have no idea how this tree came to be so significant.
On the NWC, you also spend some time noticing the vines. I always pictured vines to be in the jungles of Africa. Strong enough to swing the likes of Tarzan, but supple enough to sway in the wind. They are completely opposite of anything I ever imagined. They create a tangled web of solid mass. I know I mentioned them before, but they were quite significant today. Vines falling from a certain type of tree, all slowly growing in and around one another until they start to touch the ground. A web of thick and hard vines. They are more like tree branches with their strength and durability, and less supple then a blade of grass would be. Best part, they pull you back hard as you’re hiking. If you find yourself just below one, you’re usually able to get it over your own head in time to pass the solid heavy mass, but then it has a tendency of catching onto the back of your pack just behind your neck. And if you’re not careful enough, it can yank you back so hard you fall into a mud pit on your bottom. My two impressions: they are not pliable, they come from everywhere.
While skirting the mud, we usually find ourselves walking through fern plants as we quickly zip through the medley of their leaves draped over the track. While walking through the bush, you can quickly forget that you are walking alongside fern trees that are starting to grow. I’m still trying to figure out if they will all grow up to become trees or if some of them are a different variety of ferns and are meant to be low lying bush plants.
Brent’s muddy dig. Not the best day for Brent and his trecking poles. He had an intense battle with a muddy tree root at the end of the day for the walking tip of his pole. He previously lost his other walking tip earlier today, and didn’t want to give the mud the satisfaction of taking both his tips in one day. The first one lost was his previous replacement tip, after losing another battle with wet mud in the North Island. Not the best of luck. It took some digging, but the rescue was a success.
Charlie Brown Christmas trees. Apparently they are called Lancewood trees. A new name for our vocabulary, although we enjoy the CB Christmas tree name better. They are such funny little trees, you would think a 4 year old designed it; but they end up changing a lot before growing to full maturity.
Still no kiwis yet, but there was one new bird that sounded more like a cackling child. It felt like it was laughing at us/mocking us. Tuis were singing all around us throughout the day. They have such different sounds and are incredible to listen to. The sandflies found during our beach hikes were quite aggressive. They must be hungry. It truly is incredible how quickly you become swarmed by these insects. They were especially vicious at the hut, leaving Brent to desert the idea of washing down his boots after being attacked at the outside sink.
At the end of the day, you enjoy the first moment you are able to strip your pack off your back and are encouraged knowing that you will lighten your bag once again with the more food you consume through the night. Yankee Hut was wonderful. And the weather was simply gorgeous all day. We met a tramper from Hamilton, NZ who had completed the Southern Circuit and was combining it with the NWC. We spent a great evening talking with him about his hiking experiences and enjoyed our Cooked Breakfast meal for dinner. From the window, we could see a Yellow-Eyed Penguin coming in from a day’s hunt close to 9.00pm. Slowly he waddled up the sandy bank across the river from our hut.
We spent some time outside, following a path to a small rocky beach by the ocean. Recounting the hike of the day, realizing that our 6hr hike took us 9 hrs. Ouch. When other trampers ask about our hiking, we simply say ‘Oh, we took our time’, so they know we can’t be examples of how long it will take them to hike the same distance. Now we figure we might as well just say it took us a ½ hour longer then the DOC pamphlet says. Otherwise we are greeted with a multitude of questions, which all end up pointing to the injuries which are holding us back a wee bit. Repeating the stories over and over can be quite discouraging. And right now, we need the encouragement.
We spend our time eating dinner browsing through the hut intentions book. It’s really interesting to read the comments, to see what others are thinking about as they hike through the NWC. What they think about the huts and the trail, did they have good weather, where they are from. The comments can help guide you on your next hiking day, preparing you for things you might come across in the section ahead. Today, something peaked my interest. An entry from two people journeying together; one person from Scotland and one from NB, ON Canada.
NB, ON. This sounds very familiar. This must be investigated.
Ultimately rewarding.
This is the North West Circuit on Stewart Island. A long sought after tramp – one that we had been mentally preparing for since our arrival to New Zealand. The longest circuit track (over 125km) in NZ, located in the Rakiura National Park.
I would have to say that it was the most memorable hike. A title that might not be lost as we continue our tramping. Twelve days of hiking. What Brent once called a right of passage in the NZ hiking world.
After two foiled attempts due to illness over the last two and a half months, this is the story of our biggest (well, at least it will always be the longest) New Zealand hiking challenge.
Bird Sanctuary
The moment you step foot onto Stewart Island you notice a strong presence of bird life. Kakas, which we had never seen in the wild prior to this trip, are flying all around you and singing through the trees. There are birds everywhere you turn. The birds are simply incredible. If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now – you cannot spend this length of time in the backcountry of NZ without truly appreciating and falling in love with their birds. You can’t help but be captivated by these animals. They are such curious creatures. Truly amazing. They showcase so many personalities, they are incredibly clever, cheeky (sometimes), beautiful in colour and in sound. There are just so many interesting species. I didn’t give birds back home as much attention as they deserved. I notice the robins when they first make their return in the spring, and I always notice the loons on the lakes in the countryside in the summer. But I’ve never found myself so incredibly drawn to them. Yet they sing to you every morning and provide this incredible soundtrack to your step as you hike in the bush.
These birds, they rule the island. And it’s incredible to see the work that has been done to preserve them. Rats, stoats and feral cats are major problems in this country. On Stewart Island, it’s mainly the cats and the rats that are the major threats to the native birds. But the perseverance and dedication of the DOC and other organizations to preserve the native wildlife in this country has allowed places like Stewart Island (a habited island) to see an increase in the population of their native birds over the years; and even more still with the predator-free islands that have been set up as bird sanctuaries (some not open to the public).
Oban. Half Moon Bay. The locals simply call their town HMB, and laugh at the people who call it Oban, stating that’s a tourist thing to say. Yet, half of their signs have it as their main name. This is the small town on Stewart Island. The only populated section of the entire island. The island itself is quite an extensive mass of land, with some incredible vistas that are almost untouched by man. Only the keenest and most experienced tramper would step foot in some parts of the island. Others might only fly overhead to capture a glimpse of the island’s natural beauty.
We flew into Stewart Island. It was cheaper by about $20.00 for both of us, and parking at the airport was super cheap. $10 for the first 3 days and $1/day for every day afterwards. I think two weeks cost us like $20. That probably wouldn’t even cover a day in Toronto’s parking lot! Heh. This would be Brent’s first experience in a small plane. Not too bad I would say, but growing up on an airport, you get to see some small planes. This one was a 6 seater. We had a couple in the back with their dog, Brent and this Canadian girl in the middle, followed by the pilot and yours truly as co-pilot. The trip was quick and smooth. Unfortunately, it was quite cloudy so we didn’t get to see a whole lot of the island flying in. A great quick trip. Beats an hour on the ferry.
On the island we settled our sleeping arrangements and ended up at this terrible hostel called “The View”, which stood at the top of a steep hill. Although it did provide a view of the harbour and town, it offered nothing more. The house was completely devoid of anything. The rooms had the bare necessity – a bed. The kitchen had a stove that was disconnected and the elements were removed so that backpackers wouldn’t use it. You were only allowed to use the microwave. There was a pool table on the lower level, but you weren’t allowed in that room. Luckily we were with the other Canadian girl from BC (who we met at the Invercargill airport) and spent the night chatting together and enjoying Fish & Chips from the local pub (where we met a girl from London, ON working in the restaurant).
A tour around the island saw us walking in circles by the end. We were trying to spend time outside the hostel as we had landed earlier in the day. We spent a good amount of time at the DOC office, signing our intentions, buying our map, purchasing one night at a Great Walk hut (which will be our last night on the track) and sorting out our locator beacon hire. Here we are, the North West Circuit, finally!!
The next day’s hike seemed daunting. Prior to flying over, our packs were weighed for the plane. Mine sat at 20.4kg and Brent’s was locked at 24.2kg. My happy back didn’t enjoy this hike so much after about three and a half weeks of no hiking, so Brent and I had to unpack everything and try to shift a wee bit more weight around to try to lighten my pack a bit more. In the end, on the first day, my pack might have been able to drop half a kilo. As the hiking would progress through the next two weeks, the hope was in knowing that our packs would get lighter. By the time we set out however, I was carrying most things that are carried throughout the tramp (non food items). It would be interesting to see where the days would take us and how much we could shed through our time on the island.
DAY ONE – Wednesday, December 3rd – to Bungaree Hut
We set out from the town’s centre early in the morning. It was a clear day, so we were expecting some nice weather along the way. The first hour and a half would be spent road walking to the start of the Rakiura Track – a three day/two night Great Walk that we spend time on before branching off to circle around the NW of the island. Aside from an oddly placed old-school phone and phone book, both disheveled from the weather; a few ducks that took a liking to us and some kiwi road signs (which was rather exciting and encouraging – maybe we could spot one!), there was nothing too exciting about the first part of our walk. Our bags were very heavy, and with the hilly nature of the island, it doesn’t take long to notice the weight on your body. Packed for 12 nights and 13 days (one day longer then expected – as a safety), and this being our first pack hike since Greenstone-Caples, this was a lot to take in at once. Adding on top of that, only recently recovering from our bout with Crypto.
We were passed by a tour bus near the end of our road walking, to watch a bus load of people step off and take a two minute hike into the park to take pictures before returning to their vehicle. That appeared to be the sounder option.
This felt like the start of our journey.
We spent the next three hours hiking on a Great Walk track, which really is quite a treat sometimes. These tracks are maintained to such a high level, and are easy for anyone to hike on (young/old). The goal of the GWs is to open up the doors to a broader spectrum of tourists. We sometimes refer to the tracks as ‘highways’ because of how wide and groomed they are. Streams and water crossings are almost always bridged, and a great deal of time, there are boardwalks to both preserve the fragile soil and also to facilitate a more ‘enjoyable’ experience. It just never feels like real hiking. Some other trails we’ve been on you almost feel like you’re lost in the bush when the overgrown vegetation takes over the track. You’re bush bashing. It was a real treat to start our hike on this type of terrain. Even the stairs are nice. The wooden steps are filled up to the top, unlike some hikes (*clears throat* - Egmont National Park). There are these hollow wooden steps (I know I’ve talked about them in the North Island), that are normally filled with sand or rocks to maintain their ‘step’ status. Unfortunately, a great deal of the time, these wooden steps have hollowed out and become empty wood frames providing easy access for pooling water or mud puddles that are sometimes difficult to avoid due to the slippery nature of the wood that is used (when raining) or the terrain doesn’t allow you to walk alongside it. They often become more of a hindrance while hiking then a help. Again, this being one of the real treats about being on a GW track.
Walking along the beaches through the track, I spent my time, as usual, hunting for live crabs. Mind you, I can’t imagine the best place to find them on a sandy beach (I would imagine them more in pools of water on a rocky beach) but I’ve always seen them walking on sandy beaches in pictures, so I figure it shouldn’t be too difficult to find. I always find a few washed up and scattered crab pieces, including tops & bottoms of body shells, but still no live crab.
Now, I don’t have the slightest clue as to why I get so excited about these things. It might be that crabs just seem exotic that they excite me. We don’t see them running around in my hometown. I could also be influenced by the presence of Claude on our trip – I am planning a family reunion for him. But I truly do express the most genuine glee whenever I see one on the beach – albeit they have all been dead at this point in time. But today, many deceased crabby creatures were fully intact, which is a step up for me. There are tons of empty shells and legs kicking around. I don’t let Claude see the dismembered crabs.
Every time I would see a bigger crab, I would get so excited. It could just be my love for nature. I’m genuinely excited about the wildlife here in New Zealand (actually, I love wildlife just about anywhere). None the less, the hunt continues for either a live hermit crab or a shell crab.
What does stand out on the sandy beaches is the multitude of holes through the sand, created by the birds as they peck into the ground to find their food. It’s amazing to see how many holes are all along the beach. As I walked along slowly, paying attention to the holes in the ground, one seemingly social bird surely peaked my interest. A lone Oyster Catcher. Sharply contrasting the sandy beach with its full black body, his orange beady eyes and long orange beak.
One way to really tick off an Oyster Catcher: approach its nest.
For a moment I was surprised that this single Oyster Catcher started to approach us when we emerged onto the beach after crossing a stream. This one was different, calling out to us to get our attention and then trying to lure us to walk along the beach with him. I always try to photograph these birds but they fly away so quickly, you never get a really great shot (well, not without a really good zoom lens). So it only took me a moment to clue in that this bird probably had a nest nearby and that it was trying to divert our attention. We followed the beach alongside the Oyster Catcher for a wee while before he turned around and lost interest in us. I decided to turn around and see where the bird was going to stop. Low and behold, he sat down in the middle of the beach. Curious me started to hike back to his new location, just to see if it truly was a nest. Immediately upon my return, the bird swiftly hopped up and walked away from the nest, quickly resuming his singing to grab my attention.
Standing nearby I looked at this inconspicuous sand nest and three camouflaged eggs. I was amazed at how big the eggs actually were. There I was; sitting in one of those perfect National Geographic photo opportunities. The three beautiful eggs blending in with the nest’s materials in the foreground and the adult bird standing in the background. It was this classic moment that you only get once in a blue moon. I set up my shot, keeping a fair distance from the nest and before I could press the button, I took notice of the movement in front of me. Then I noticed the movement on the LCD display on my camera.
I guess the bird decided that I was too close to the nest and before I managed to snap the ultimate picture, I noticed el birdo running towards me and he began to take flight. Maybe it was the camera – it didn’t want its young photographed. None the less, I luckily noticed what was going on. The bird gave itself a running start to begin the chase and before I could blink, the wings were flung out and ready for take off. I did what most people would do, step away and duck. He barely missed me as I scurried out of the way before he was able to dive bomb me.
At this point, Brent was still down the beach, watching the scene take place. I asked him to distract the distraught parent so that I could at least snap a quick photograph of the sandy nest before leaving the poor thing alone.
And this is the story of how I was dive bombed by an Oyster Catcher. Look at their nests, but don’t you dare take your camera out. This bird came so close to my pack when I turned away. That National Geographic moment that I couldn’t get in time, is gone forever.
After surviving my bird attack, we continued along the beach, making special notice of our breath – which we could actually see in the air, despite the fact that it wasn’t that cold outside. At least to our knowledge it wasn’t. Maybe being hot and sweaty from the hiking counteracted the cold sensation.
We stopped in for lunch at the first hut on the circuit, which we intended to skip – Port William Hut. We met four DOC staff members at this hut and ‘hut book’ spied on some friends who had done the Rakiura track within the last two months (that would be you Rosie and some other American and Canadian friends we have met along the way). Brent decided to ask them about the famous Stewart Island mud – and the one guy scoffed at the question saying that there was only one bad patch just past the sign posting, but that the rest of the track was okay. Now would be a good time to mention that in the NZ tramping world, we’ve discovered that Kiwis like having wet and muddy boots. We don’t mind cold – cause that happens in Canada, and here, they don’t mind mud and water. Wet boots are typical.
Wet boots back home is usually associated with something that isn’t as nice. A soaker as you’re walking down the street in a downpour. Taking a step into deeper then expected slush in the winter and it turns out to be a giant wet puddle. You know, uncomfortable wet. Give me gumboots, I’m all for jumping in the mud. But hiking boots - not if we can avoid it. Gortex doesn’t dry very nicely. The mud and water is fine and dandy on the outside of our boots – but once it gets inside, we’re in trouble.
After walking back a short distance to the junction with the North West Circuit track turn off, we bumped into two other trampers who had come upon the junction and appeared to be carrying out an inspection. They originally thought about doing the NWC, but then decided to stick with the Rakiura. They told us about how they walked on the NWC track about 300m and were ever so glad that they had decided not to hike the terrain. The wee bit of mud scared them off. They wished us well, yet said that they might see us if we became discouraged by the track. If the first 300m towards Bungaree Hut are going to scare you off, you were probably never meant to hike the NWC.
It was an evident shift into a less groomed trail, which was expected. And in the end, today’s mud was not that bad. It might be because we only had to spend about 4 hours hiking on this terrain with an additional 4 hours on a GW track and then 1.5 hours on the road. I guess spending close to 10 hours trudging through mud could be discouraging, but today is day one. Besides, this mud was easy enough to skirt around if it seemed too sloshy. The mud wasn’t exclusive to low lying areas, but was ever present on both the up hills and the down hills. Brent did have one brief encounter with the ever famous Stewart Island mud, as he tried to show that there was nothing to it. Walking through the middle of a mud hole, he began to sink through the thick, sticky layer and in a panic pushed through to safety.
A taste of things to come perhaps. Maybe even a warm up for future hiking days. We had no idea. What we did know is that this track was going to be hilly, and in turn, was probably going to be quite slow going.
Oh, and the sandflies, yeah, they are terrible out here too!! I mean, you really have to come to NZ to understand what people are talking about. Mosquitos and blackflies are bad back home – but only in the backcountry, and I don’t even think the words ‘being eaten alive’ in Canada can sometimes compare to being eaten alive in NZ. Luckily, the worst spots are only in certain pockets. But when they’re bad…they are BAD. You will find yourself being swarmed by a massive mob.
The DOC recently introduced these track certificates over the last few years. It’s something we saw in the huts on some of the GW tracks we hiked during the off-peak season. Namely the Routeburn and Kepler. We kind of laughed at them, thinking they were amusing. Every hut had one on display as an example to encourage people to perhaps think about purchasing it, if and when they successfully complete the track. None the less, we never once thought about ever getting one of them because we thought they were kind of cheesy.
Well, when we were at the DOC office in HMB, I noticed the display under the glass on the counter and there were two certificates. One was for the Rakiura, and surprisingly, one was for the NWC. Originally we thought they would be for Great Walks only, but the NWC certificate was available for hikers, citing itself as the longest circuit track in New Zealand (which is true). Well, suddenly our tone changed, and this certificate was somewhat of a goal. Successfully completing this hike was going to be a big accomplishment, and we were excited about it. Earning that certificate after a long two week hike was a bit of a boost at times on the trail.
The sound of the ocean’s roar all around you started to be our soundtrack as we distanced ourselves from the busier port town area. The water’s presence filled the air with a rolling background sound as we looped around the northern shores of the island. Some of the bays were rougher then others, leaving the water to crash into the rocky beach or cliffs, while other bays provided gentle sounds.
Today was about ten hours of hiking. It’s supposed to be 7.5 – 8.5 hours. So straight away we saw what might become a pattern. At this point in time, we don’t know what could be influencing our timing. Either the DOC’s times are a bit short, our packs are simply too heavy just yet or I’m slowing us down. Time will tell. Today was a hard hike in terms of weight – as our packs were at their heaviest (especially for that type of terrain), but its 11 nights and 12 hiking days – and food for that length of time is heavy. Our time might be due to the longer breaks we have been taking as well. I mean, in the winter months we really didn’t have a lot of time to waste – due to the shorter hours of daylight, so our breaks were spent standing, while lunch was reserved for the special ‘take off your pack’ break. With the longer days and nicer weather, we are now able to simply take off our packs and enjoy the moment while relaxing (and not worrying about time). Oh yeah, and we also had a super long break for a mysterious piercing chest pain that I had after we stopped for our afternoon snack. Which is just what we need right now, more mysterious medical conditions. Being day one, it kind of freaked us out. It came and it went, and once it was gone it felt like it never happened. So strange.
We came upon a deserted beach near the end of our day before a short ascent (10 steps or something) to our hut for the night: Bungaree Hut. We were alone on the first night with our own private beach. It felt surreal. It was a nice beach which offered the sand for people to enjoy but also a lot of shells scattered along the sand and washed up seaweed, so it felt like there was a lot of life around. The area was also a fair bit rocky, allowing for cave formations and rocky paths and cliffs. A very interesting landscape. For dinner, Beef & Pasta Hotpot. Yum. Oh, and I spotted a person in the hut book who was from Powassan, ON. : )
End of day one: No kiwi sighting yet.
DAY TWO – Thursday, December 4th – to Christmas Village Hut
The fresh air of this island (well, of the whole country actually) feels rejuvenating. My lungs are happy being here. And after climbing uphill for a good amount of time, the breeze that greets you at the top feels like one of the most rewarding blessings in a day’s hike. The air simply smells wonderful. Today, it smelled a lot like pine trees.
We packed up early and headed out to the beach (before leaving the hut) to explore this one rock formation which apparently had three tunnels hollowing out the inside. A map was drawn in the hut intentions’ book, so we decided to go exploring. It was an interesting climb around, and we were lucky that the tide wasn’t too high, allowing us to access the tunnels inside.
The day was going to be interesting. Not mundane. I actually don’t think hiking on Stewart Island could be mundane. Every day was going to be a challenge, with the ups and the downs of the actual terrain, and the ever changing texture of the soil.
And today’s first challenge was a patch of overgrown vegetation that was hiding the actual track, and to top it off, not enough route markers were posted on the track. A lot of times we were hiking blindly hoping we would be able to spot an orange marker eventually, either ahead of us or behind us heading the other way. Even our GPS wouldn’t work in the thick bush at times. As it tried to collect data from the satellites, it would get confused and not know where to guide us. Real useful. There were a lot of hidden track sections on this day.
I wouldn’t really want to blame the DOC, but a lot of people would. Your immediate thought would be directed at them, but it truly is incredible what they do for this country. They have such a large mandate. They head conservation in the country, with more land every year transferring hands to become parks. And on top of that, they are expected to maintain the tracks and provide huts for all to use, yet probably about 75% or more of the people I’ve met on the tracks don’t even pay their hut fees (which could be anywhere from $5.00 to $15.00/night during the off peak season). Which is frustrating when you read about people camping out in a hut for over a month while they do white baiting in the rivers, making the huts their home for the duration. Yet they don’t want to pay their fees. It’s a blessing to have this type of hiking system in NZ, something that we would never find in Canada. Back home, you either go full on luxury or you tent it. Nothing even comes close to these huts. I just wish others understood. DOC is under-funded and being stretched very thin.
The forest hiking is interspersed with beach walks every once and a while. For lunch, we came upon a long sandy beach. The weather was beautiful when we arrived, which made for a great invitation to stop. The beach felt isolated and somewhat tropical. Dark storm clouds brewed over the mountains on the island, yet by the water, only puffy white clouds floated overhead. Once our packs were off, the wind started to beat down on us, and so did the sand. It almost felt like a low lying sand storm as the dry sand dusted across the more compact parts of the beach. And it got everywhere, even working its way up the rims of our water bottles through the day.
Lesson learned.
Further down the beach there were small streams that weaved through the sand. The edges of the waterways left unstable ledges of sand layers that were slowly breaking off. Keeping a safe distance, I used my poles to break off large parts of the sandy overhang and controlled their collapse into the creeks. Brent on the other hand stood right alongside his poles as he poked away at the unstable sand, eventually leading him to fall into the streams. Luckily he stayed upright. He learned his lesson. Well, at least after the second time he did it.
I rather enjoy stream crossings because it gives you a great opportunity to clean off your boots, or at least keep the mud moist. Now, that might seem like a strange desire, but if the mud on your boot stays moist, it won’t dry up against the leather and be such a challenge to clean off at the end of the day. It’s the little things that make your day easier once you arrive at the hut.
The first day hiking was great because of how many junctions we hit on our track. Anytime you hit a junction you are privy to a DOC sign. If you’re lucky, there is time information or a kilometer count provided to you. This is always nice to see where you are at in relation to what is expected. Today’s hike did not have any signs that I can remember. You almost see them as signs of hope, which are huge encouragements on those hard days. The signs can also be discouraging if you are falling behind when you compare your time to the DOC’s expected time, or if they list the huts that are in each direction but not say anything about distance or time. That sucks.
A new type of plant that has started to appear on this hike is this one type of vine. I can’t quite figure out what trees they come from, and even if I did figure that much out, I still probably wouldn’t know what the tree was actually called. These vines have taken me by surprise as they are quite rigid, and I always envisioned vines to be supple. They are a welcome part of the NWC challenge, as they create quite the road block at times. You can move through a location, but the vines are going to stop your pack (the top of which is over your head at times), leaving you to struggle as you entangle yourself up more and more. As long as you’re having a good day, you probably won’t even notice these plants. The moment you have a bad day, you could probably take it out on a vine if it happened to come upon you at the wrong time. Funny things.
Trudging and skirting through the mud, I decided to take the option provided to us by the DOC on this length of the track. Walking on the tree stumps placed in the mud for leaping. It does facilitate the hoping around. Some of them have three independent wires stapled down into them to create part of a thread to keep people on top of the trunk instead of in the mud. However, most of them have started to either rust away or simply have lost their metal beams through the years. But the ones with the three metal pieces stapled onto them for stability are as good as gold. If no stumps are planted for you, you can generally get across the mud bogs by following fallen tree limbs that have made their way into the mud through the years.
Up and down the hills we went. In and out of the Rimu forests (I love Rimu – and it’s not something that can be explained, in fact I also have a favourite fern tree – just because). Hoping around the tree roots in the mud, when possible. Some parts of the hike were very challenging though, offering slippery tree roots and slippery mud climbs. The track received your full attention. At other times, parts of the track seemed so different from the rest of the track, almost making it feel like a different hike altogether, providing flatter terrain with no mud.
The rain moved in and out, followed by the sun. It was a long hike today. We followed an historic tramline for under an hour today, showcasing both original and upgraded parts and sections. A welcome breeze always came at just the right time. Normally a 6 hour hike, I think we took 8 or 9.
I said goodnight to the Tuis who have been singing to us throughout the day. They have such a variety of sounds; they are wonderful to listen to. Still listening for kiwis, even though we don’t know what they sound like. We really should have bought that sound effects card in the DOC office which belted out the sound of a kiwi once it was opened. Then at least we could figure out what we were listening for. (Upon our return to the DOC, we found out that some people buy the cards and then in the middle of the night, they walk outside the hut and open the card, and the real kiwis will respond to the card’s sounds, as if it was one of their own.)
The end of our hike brought us to a rocky shore which you hiked along before discovering Christmas Village Hut. We arrived at the hut mid-evening, to what I would call a quite unsocial lot of three others. There was a Danish couple who were rather giggly and loud throughout the night as well as a guy from Oregon. Three other people. You wouldn’t know it if you saw the state of the hut. They spread out like they owned the place. This hut had two 6 bunk areas, and the one American guy made his side look like at least 5 hikers were bunking in the area. We needed him to shift his gear around so that we could access the upper bunk area. The atmosphere felt unsocial, and it appeared people were going to be obnoxious and loud.
Some people just don’t know how to share huts.
This hut is where we spent a good amount of time noticing who was on the NWC at the same time as us (with the help of the Intentions book) and who we might cross paths with on the trail. For dinner, apricot chicken (yummy). And for desert, scroggin. Although, this version is a wee bit sugary. Salted peanuts, sultanas, apricots (which we’ve decided to not include anymore, since I bring them as my dried fruit anyway), chocolate buttons (wafers), chocolate buttons (like smarties), chocolate covered raisins, yogurt covered raisins, and sunflower seeds. I think Brent also wanted to include chocolate covered peanuts, but we had enough sugar. And this time around, instead of trying to eat all the yogurt covered raisins, we kept putting them back because we had too many in our hands. Next time around we’re increasing the peanut content and lowering the amount of sugar. We found that we started to simply crave the nuts and fruit. Sugar is important, but I think we went a little overkill.
And in the end, we invented a new type of Euchre; you know just to keep things exciting. We even came up with two versions of it. Basic two person euchre, but the cards you discard are not selected by you. After you pick up your ‘helper’ hand of three cards, your opponent gets to choose three cards (face down) for you to discard. Now, they aren’t allowed to look at your cards until after the hand is played, but you could have called trump on the top three cards and have them plucked from your hand instantly. It’s challenging. Scoring two points can be quite the endeavour.
End of day two: No kiwi sighting yet.
DAY THREE – Friday, December 5th – stay at Christmas Village Hut, attempt Mt. Anglem side trip
It’s my NZ birthday today! And what a day it is. The skies are pretty yuck at the moment and it’s actually pouring rain outside. Today was the first of two rest days, which were scheduled for specific side trips near the huts selected. Unless the weather clears, we might be hut bound today. The rain is actually quite strong and heavy. None the less, we got ready as though we were going to head out the door.
Once the three other hikers set off in their respective directions, we decided we had waited long enough for the weather to clear. Slipping out of our sleeping bags, where we were playing cards (trying to stay out of the way from the others who were all over the main area), I started to feel a familiar chest pain creeping into my system. Stabbing and piercing pain took over my chest as I tried to figure out a position that would lesson its impact. Breathing hurt so much. It was excruciating. Two days ago, we thought maybe this chest pain was a one time thing, but today it came back with a vengeance. One attack lasted between 25-30 minutes, followed by another attack less then three hours later which lasted about 20minutes. If it happens again we may need to investigate our options. It could mean turning around from the NWC, but I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that. We have the PLB for any worst case scenario (this time only costing us $40 for 12 days), and after my second attack, I had a conversation with Brent about what to do if anything did happen. We figure, I’m young and healthy, so it shouldn’t be anything too extreme, especially some of the options we found in the first aid book, and it could still be related to our cryptosporidium – as gastro-intestinal illnesses can lead to chest pains. What couldn’t be ignored was the general malaise I was in for the remainder of the day. I felt awful.
We still ventured out of the hut that day to see about getting up Mt. Anglem. Full rain gear on to protect us from the pouring rain, we left with only our water bottles and trecking poles. Approximately thirty minutes into our side journey we were met with mini hail and simply more rain. We stopped in our tracks and looked at one another with a similar face. Is this even worth it? We will hike in this torrential rain for three hours to arrive at the summit, and if it doesn’t clear up we will be devoid of a view. It had been raining all day already with no clearing in sight. Soaked and broken spirited, we decided to turn around; mutually sharing the feeling that today…it just might not be worth the hike.
Instead we sat in the warm hut with Claude and celebrated my birthday by blowing out a match and enjoying a bag of gummy candies instead of cake (it was easier to transport). I stood the birthday card that my parents had sent me on the table as I scratched the OLG ‘cash for life’ ticket from home. I won $6.00, but will have to send it home to claim the prize. Mom, Dad – you can buy yourselves something nice with the payout! :) We spent the afternoon playing cards and working through puzzles together from a magazine pullout we permanently borrowed from the bopping hostel we stayed at in Oban/HMB. We dined on Beef Teriyaki in the evening before calling it a night after our clean up/water filtration routine.
Like most nights, I didn’t sleep all that much. I simply wasn’t tired. I spent my time listening to the yellow-eyed penguins calling out to one another throughout the night, before focusing my attention on the water rolling in over the rocks. The night mirrored the relaxed day we just had.
Then there was our new friend, Mr. Rat. You count on knowing about a rat problem through hut comments left by other users, but this rat might have only recently dug his way into the hut through the box of firewood by the stove. Then there was a guy from the Czech Republic who left his bag of rubbish on the lower shelf of the hut, on OUR side of the room (meaning near our bunks, and not the ones he was sleeping on). Well Mr. Rat rather enjoyed the easy access dinner, and found himself rustling underneath of our bunk over the next few hours.
On my belly, my eyes sitting just above the wooden slat along the upper bunk, I spent some time watching this rat running around the hut aided only by the moonlight. Then I made it into a game, flashing the rat with the torch every time he got close to the rubbish bag. I was the only one awake, and in the end, this kept me entertained. At the same time this allowed me to keep tabs on where our rodent friend was at, especially with knowing that he was creeping closer to our gear with every whirl he did around the hut.
End of day three: Still don’t even know what a kiwi sounds like.
DAY FOUR – Saturday, December 6th – to Yankee River Hut
7:15am NZ time – I was born in Kirkland Lake, ON Canada 28 years ago.
Throughout the day things come to my mind as I’m hiking. They never seem to appear in a logical order, they simply arrive in my mind as though today is the day I should be writing about them. This morning, I found myself thinking a lot about kiwi birds. As we make our way around the circuit, I keep thinking about everything people have said about the best “kiwi sighting” locations. The further we get from the town, the closer we get to an opportunity of spotting one of these flightless birds. Or so they say. That being said, Stewart Island is quite large and only a small part of this island is actually blessed with a tramping track. If the kiwis were smart, they might stay at bay. Then again, the NWC does cycle around the island, leaving a mass of land in the centre untouched.
We are trying hard to identify kiwi birds. Thinking about the sound cards in the shops, we try to imagine the song that this bird makes. Maybe we’ll just remember it once we hear it again. A thought you might expect, but shouldn’t depend on. It feels like there are a lot of new songs in the forests of Stewart Island. New birds, new music, new life. None of which take me back to the memory of opening the kiwi card in the DOC centre in Te Anau. No recollection of any similarities to what we hear around us. Currently, we’re relying on sheer luck and a blessing to spot one of these in the wild. Needless to say, our hiking is quite quiet these days. I’m always listening for the rustling in the bushes and the supposed ‘loud sniffing’ the kiwis do while they hunt for food.
Through this trip I have also found a new friend. Mr. Codeine. Boy, does my back ever enjoy this little white pill. Our discovery of its effect on my back pain in Queenstown helped us a lot on this hike. Every morning before we go on the trail I complete a cycle of my back exercises and pop a codeine pill. This helps alleviate the pain of hiking uphill for at least the first four hours, after which I simply deal with the discomfort. We figure I could keep using the codeine for my back (once a day, only while hiking) until we run out of our prescriptions. That being said, it doesn’t speed me up any. It’s almost like there is something clicking in my back while I push uphill that slows my pace now. The only bonus is not really feeling the strain, which is something to be careful with as well. You don’t want to push yourself too far.
The map saga. We purchase the DOC maps of the parks to use as a guide while hiking the trails. Mainly as a reference, since the tracks are usually well marked, and also as a souvenir, since the DOC maps have a lot of park information on them. That being said, they aren’t always the best scale to be using. Our Fiordland map was a 1:250 000 scale, which is almost rubbish when it comes to information that might be useful to a tramper – as in how high is the ascent, how many streams are we crossing, how far is the hut really? Even when you purchase a better scale, say 1:50 000, we still find we would be in the same position in terms of water crossings. What’s a stream? What makes it worthy of being drawn on a map? Every day, on every hike, we find ourselves hiking in and out of gullies and crossing stream after creek after river after trickle after waterfall after waterway. What determines whether or not it will appear on our map? We can count the streams on a smaller scale map and set off in the morning, but with every water crossing you have to determine whether this was a marked stream/river/creek or not. A map could indicate 7 river crossings, but we only cross 15-20 streams, all with similar shapes & sizes. Counting streams can be discouraging at times.
We have also become the prey to a significant bully on Stewart Island. The mud. Literally, there is no winning in this game of war. And it isn’t even about skirting around the darn mud puddles. This mud wants to eat you alive, or at least steal your boots and legs and spirit. One minute you’re climbing steep mud hills with mud so slick it can slide you off the side of a cliff – and there is no alternate route. Even on your hands and knees, there is no escaping the challenge and potential of a slick slip. Sometimes, it’s important to find a path to skirt around the mud, if for nothing more then remaining on the mountain you are climbing. Today was a very muddy day. : ) It was actually quite brutal. We fought many never ending battles with the slick mud sliding us beyond our progress every time. I reckon we hiked at least an extra kilometer or two with our mud sagas.
Undulating. Our new favorite word. If one word could describe Stewart Island, it would be that. Undulating. There is no escaping the ups and downs of the track. In the daily descriptions that the pamphlet of the hike provides, you will find a variety of ways in which the NWC escapes being called ‘hilly’. Some days there is no mention of an ‘undulating’ track. That usually means that it is a typical day. When the word ‘undulating’ appears in the pamphlet, be afraid. If it’s bad enough for them to mention, it must be a wee bit more grandeur then on a daily basis.
Noticing trees in the forest. I don’t think I could say enough about lichens, mosses, birds and trees from New Zealand. It could be something to do with the fact that we are traveling as hikers, and spend a good amount of time surrounded by these things. We can spend a good amount of every day appreciating these gifts. You really do start taking notice of the smallest details. While hiking today, I had a moment where I looked up and spotted a single tree standing in the foreground of several familiar trees. It popped out to me like it was on display. It was a new one I had never seen before. It was alone. Standing in a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees at one time, I have no idea how this tree came to be so significant.
On the NWC, you also spend some time noticing the vines. I always pictured vines to be in the jungles of Africa. Strong enough to swing the likes of Tarzan, but supple enough to sway in the wind. They are completely opposite of anything I ever imagined. They create a tangled web of solid mass. I know I mentioned them before, but they were quite significant today. Vines falling from a certain type of tree, all slowly growing in and around one another until they start to touch the ground. A web of thick and hard vines. They are more like tree branches with their strength and durability, and less supple then a blade of grass would be. Best part, they pull you back hard as you’re hiking. If you find yourself just below one, you’re usually able to get it over your own head in time to pass the solid heavy mass, but then it has a tendency of catching onto the back of your pack just behind your neck. And if you’re not careful enough, it can yank you back so hard you fall into a mud pit on your bottom. My two impressions: they are not pliable, they come from everywhere.
While skirting the mud, we usually find ourselves walking through fern plants as we quickly zip through the medley of their leaves draped over the track. While walking through the bush, you can quickly forget that you are walking alongside fern trees that are starting to grow. I’m still trying to figure out if they will all grow up to become trees or if some of them are a different variety of ferns and are meant to be low lying bush plants.
Brent’s muddy dig. Not the best day for Brent and his trecking poles. He had an intense battle with a muddy tree root at the end of the day for the walking tip of his pole. He previously lost his other walking tip earlier today, and didn’t want to give the mud the satisfaction of taking both his tips in one day. The first one lost was his previous replacement tip, after losing another battle with wet mud in the North Island. Not the best of luck. It took some digging, but the rescue was a success.
Charlie Brown Christmas trees. Apparently they are called Lancewood trees. A new name for our vocabulary, although we enjoy the CB Christmas tree name better. They are such funny little trees, you would think a 4 year old designed it; but they end up changing a lot before growing to full maturity.
Still no kiwis yet, but there was one new bird that sounded more like a cackling child. It felt like it was laughing at us/mocking us. Tuis were singing all around us throughout the day. They have such different sounds and are incredible to listen to. The sandflies found during our beach hikes were quite aggressive. They must be hungry. It truly is incredible how quickly you become swarmed by these insects. They were especially vicious at the hut, leaving Brent to desert the idea of washing down his boots after being attacked at the outside sink.
At the end of the day, you enjoy the first moment you are able to strip your pack off your back and are encouraged knowing that you will lighten your bag once again with the more food you consume through the night. Yankee Hut was wonderful. And the weather was simply gorgeous all day. We met a tramper from Hamilton, NZ who had completed the Southern Circuit and was combining it with the NWC. We spent a great evening talking with him about his hiking experiences and enjoyed our Cooked Breakfast meal for dinner. From the window, we could see a Yellow-Eyed Penguin coming in from a day’s hunt close to 9.00pm. Slowly he waddled up the sandy bank across the river from our hut.
We spent some time outside, following a path to a small rocky beach by the ocean. Recounting the hike of the day, realizing that our 6hr hike took us 9 hrs. Ouch. When other trampers ask about our hiking, we simply say ‘Oh, we took our time’, so they know we can’t be examples of how long it will take them to hike the same distance. Now we figure we might as well just say it took us a ½ hour longer then the DOC pamphlet says. Otherwise we are greeted with a multitude of questions, which all end up pointing to the injuries which are holding us back a wee bit. Repeating the stories over and over can be quite discouraging. And right now, we need the encouragement.
We spend our time eating dinner browsing through the hut intentions book. It’s really interesting to read the comments, to see what others are thinking about as they hike through the NWC. What they think about the huts and the trail, did they have good weather, where they are from. The comments can help guide you on your next hiking day, preparing you for things you might come across in the section ahead. Today, something peaked my interest. An entry from two people journeying together; one person from Scotland and one from NB, ON Canada.
NB, ON. This sounds very familiar. This must be investigated.
- TO BE CONTINUED -
