under 1/2"

As I stood half way across my situation, slowly lifting my left foot over the cross wire and firmly planting it back on this so called bridge, I wondered how many people before me perished in this situation. Has anyone ever thought of that? I bet if they had found themselves in our situation, that thought would be running through their head.

What if I slip?

It isn't even a viable option. The outcome, which I am staring down at, was not a positive one.


Factors. Things that can add favour to or work against you in a situation.

Weather. Height. Speed. Distance. Support. Ground level obstructions. Tripping hazards.

Could I bear the weight of myself and my pack should my feet fail me? Or would I simply dislocate my shoulders on the way down, impeding any chance I had at surviving in the water?


Each step mattered.

Focus mattered.

Motivation to complete the task mattered.

Releasing your mind from the situation.

Your ability to complete this crossing depends on your sheer will and balance. In the type of situation where you dream 'don't look down' would apply, your only hope is focus as you stare down at raging rivers and rocky drops below you. All at varying heights.

What monster invented this contraption? What joy did they find when others found out this was their fate?

Do you trust less than 1/2" of steel?

The only thing standing between you and that water.

Gliding across a slick cable. One foot bearing your whole weight as your other one spins from behind to find the wire as quickly as possible in front of the other. A slow journey. A calculated fate. Your trekking poles dangling from your wrists, also fighting for survival as they get caught in the crossbars, inadvertently becoming tripping hazards and adding to your dire situation. But don't think about them, cause that could spell disaster.

Every turn, a new one. A bigger one. A longer one. A taller one. Just when you think you mastered the situation, BAM!


The Hollyford Track - Our longest hike which will only be topped by the North West Circuit on Stewart Island


Day 1 - Friday October 17th - The journey starts here

We packed for this trip in the early morning hours. We weren't in a huge rush today as we had only a short 2 hour hike ahead of us. A few errands around town including picking up our rented PLB - a 50$ insurance plan for this trip (so costly!) and setting up our intentions at the DOC office, started the day off. Still burdened by a never ending sore throat that started to worsen, I decided to pick up some throat medication from the pharmacy as well. My treat I would say. Brent had to buy a merino shirt the other day, and I was blessed with medication. :) Not the type of treat that wins your heart usually, but a necessary purchase.

Another drive down the Milford Highway. Today we would go a little further then the Divide, to meet up with Lower Hollyford Road, a long gravel road that takes you 20some kms to the start of the Hollyford Track.

The day started out with a bit of a concern. I was sucking on one of these lozenges, a Difflam, raspberry flavour. Suddenly, my throat started to feel funny, almost like it was sealing up. It was similar to an allergic reaction. As I was driving, I reached into the back seat to find the lozenges' packaging and asked Brent to find any ingredients it might have that I am not familiar with. We ended up pulling over in Te Anau Downs (a 20mins drive from town). I started guzzling water to try to figure out if it was a numbing effect from a medicinal ingredient or if we would need to turn around to seek medical attention. It was really scary. It was like discovering I was allergic to Basil all over again. Having your throat seal up on you is never a fun thing.

We waited for a while and when it stopped getting worse, I figured we'd be good to go. Worse case, I have an epi-pen. Thank goodness.

The drive was just as wonderful today. Winding in and out of the tree covered areas. Once we passed the Divide car park, we were in new territory. The road literally changes from that moment as the sheer cliffs come right up to the highway and you begin climbing at a steeper incline and winding around corners with sharper turns. Oh the drive to Milford Sound is going to be interesting.

A long gravel road brings you to the car park at the end where we pulled out all our gear and tried to enjoy a pre-hike snack of a carrot and some cheese. Your enjoyment depends on how well you can evade the pesky sand flies. You spend your time walking in circles to avoid them landing on you. If you stand still, you're toast. We were right beside a large river. They live around moving waterways. Better yet, they are attracted to sweat we found out from someone. That's how they track down hikers. Great!

Just before setting off with our packs on, we noticed a little gift that we would have to deal with upon our return to the car. Poor Sgt. McClaughwd has flattened one of his tires. Poo. What can we do now? I have physio on the 24th - our due out date, which means it will be an early morning start so that we can deal with this situation and make it back to town in time. Fun times had by all.

Our Tilley hats made their hiking debut today. And possibly, for myself at least, maybe their last hiking day appearance. Brent's Tilley lost its shape and didn't affect him in the same way, but my long brim was blocking any vision that I had in front of me. I could see the ground beneath me, but nothing in front of me. When you're pack is full to the brim, you can barely lean your head back all the way. So I couldn't cock my head enough to see in front of me. I had to flip up the front end to make it to the hut safely. From here on, I live with just the buff, which is a UV buff for a reason. The Tilley will get to hang out on my scalp after the hikes are done and I find time to leisurely stroll around the huts and side tracks.

The walk to the hut was quick and quite simple. Up and down some river beds as you bounce up and down the hilly parts, then a flattish final stretch to the hut's junction before a 10 minute turn off to a hidden valley. But the water... so blue. Some of the bluest we've seen yet. The river was beaming. It almost looked like the kool-aid mix we make. This surreal blue. Some of the cleanest water in New Zealand was zipping by us down in the river. And the water was everywhere, in typical Fiordland fashion, cascading down the sheer cliffs and across the track in front of us at points.

Once we reached our last swing bridge, we were able to get a rough glimpse of the base of Hidden Falls. A side track must be followed to actually see this powerhouse, but you could hear it roaring from far away. A pounding waterfall, falling into the deepest blue cove.

Hidden Falls hut was the type of hut we like to stay in. 12 bunks. Small space. 6 people can sleep on the bottom, and 6 on the top bunk. All confined to one room with the fireplace, cooking area and table & benches. We like the smaller huts, especially when we're alone. We don't like these huge spaces when its just the two of us. It really can be quite creepy at night. A massive hut built to accomodate 30-40 people with only two tennants. Too big. So we enjoy these smaller huts. And tonight we did find ourselves alone at this particular hut, just like old times in the winter months.

The hut sits in a huge valley. The river can be heard in the distance across some tussock like grass. Surrounded by mountains. Giant snow capped peaks with their own waterfalls created by the snow melt. The clouds started to roll into the valley floor. A light drizzle began before strengthening through the night. Back inside we go to enjoy some spaghetti with meatballs, a Mountain House dinner from back home. So delicious.

A quick look through the visitor's log in the hut and we found AK1662 & AK1663. The two trampers who bought their annual hut pass directly before we did in Auckland. AK = Auckland. And Brent and I are AK1165 & AK1664. Something that pretty much will only matter to us. But worthy of being remembered. :)

Today was a 'bad back day'. With the extra long hike (8 days, so pack for 9-10), we were carrying a lot more food weight. Post dinner exercise time is always fun.

We sat and played cards as we listened to the pitter patter of the rain on the hut's roof and the veranda's cover. It was nice to be inside and dry, and it was a warm evening even without the fire. The weather is starting to turn for the better.


Day 2 - Saturday, October 18th

The clouds roll in from all around you. Sneaking into the valley covering. Climbing over the mountains' peaks and dropping into the valley floor. Hiding the lush green rolling rainforest that covers the lower part of the mountains. You understand why they call this place shadowland. The mountains in the distance fade in their own shades of gray. The clouds clinging onto the valley walls as they dance around, changing shape and storm.

I love the valley huts the most. Surrounded by the mountains. These rocky beauties, with their own scars and ever changing face. Above the tree lines, the rock faces pierce the clouds, yet with snow coverage, they blend in just as much. There is still so much snow left on some of these peaks. The snow element changes the way the mountains look. It gives them a certain depth that is lost when they are devoid of the white stuff.

The intensity you feel while looking up at these mountains sends shivers through your spine.

Quiet. Sheltered from the outside world. Spinning around to find you are completely surrounded. I could stare at these peaks for hours on end and never get bored. They change every second. With the clouds, with the snow, with the sunlight, and as darkness falls.

My vocabulary does not do this trip justice. I guess I didn't read enough as a young adult (my own fault). I feel that I can never find the right words to describe the scenery around us. This park is beyond words, but if I had the talent, I imagine poetry may do it justice.

I should also apologize to our blog followers for the repetitive nature of these blog posts. Since the trip is all about hiking, there's a lot of walking that happens, and some days pass by without any special happenings, which could be a good thing for us - cause at the beginning the drama was never ending. :) In the end, a lot of the posts end up being about the zig zagging trails, the ups & downs, the river crossings, the waterfalls, the bridges and so on. Every hike brings something different to our lives. I just hope every new adventure will be of interest to our friends & family back home.

Today was a long hike. We completed two days worth of hiking in one. From Hidden Falls Hut to Demon Trail hut, bypassing Alabaster Hut. We set out early to compensate for what was to come, however it felt like a never ending battle with the DOC trail times being off all day. It could be due to the fact that we are carrying more weight then normal, and we're trailing behind a bit, but we're not quite sure.

This is the type of hike where you're in bush 95% of the time with only brief glimpses of the mountains against the blue sky popping up here and there. Being a valley walk, we weren't expecting this. It was a like a curtain of trees were teasing you with every turn. You could see an opening and think 'when I just turn this corner, I'll be able to see over this ridge', only to be blocked by another obstacle. You want to clear cut the trees in front of you just to see what it is they are hiding.

But the bush was nice too. The birds were chirping all around us from the moment we set foot outside the hut so early in the morning. Happily making music for us throughout the day. And the butterflies are starting to make an appearance with spring, floating in the air around us, landing nearby and dancing in the morning light. I spent a good part of the day just enjoying the flora. I love the fern trees and seeing how they grow. Pushing up from the centre, the adult sporophytes roll out draping the old leaves that slowly lower themselves against their trunk before they die off letting the new branches and leaves to blossom and beam bright green while new sporophytes start to grow from the center once again. Beautiful.

Shortly after the Lake Alabaster Hut junction, you cross a long swing bridge. A DOC warning sign is found at the foot of the bridge, warning trampers that the track beyond the bridge is not maintained to the same level as the parts already hiked. How bad could it be?

It was like night and day. Smooth, wide, gravel trail turned into steep, slick, rocky obstacle track, followed by a maze of mud and water. You could only laugh at how different the track was, and wondered if the next few days to the coast would be like this. Stark differences. Climbing up and down giant boulders, teetering on the edge of a cliff's ridge like walking a tight rope along the river's bank, only you're anywhere from the a rocky beach up to hundreds of meters above the water, with very little supporting you below. In fact you can see the turquoise green water beating on the rocks directly below you. Not a good place to slip.

After about an hour of this, we arrived at a patch of relatively flat land.

A muddy kind of flat land. We skirted around a good amount of muddy bogs through the day, sometimes only to land in a massive puddle running up your boot & gaiter. Wet feet. A part of tramping for a kiwi - and something that the NZ tramping magazines make fun of North Americans about. We don't like wet feet. But for those who live and tramp here, it's part of the trip. But Gortex, really doesn't dry out nicely at all. It's just too good at its job. Keeps the wet out, but once water gets in, it keeps the wetness in as good as it was keeping it out before. Bugger.

But today, no soakers.

Just dancing and jumping in and out of deep puddles. All part of the fun. This is where tramping poles become useful. Once you start to lose sight of your pole in the water/mud, beware!

This continued until we hit the beginnings of the famous Demon Trail. This was a preview of what was to come during tomorrow's hike. Steep climbs up slippery, moss covered rocks, quickly followed by a mirrored descent on the same terrain. It was challenging. This being over 9 hours into our hiking day, we were starting to wonder when the hut would appear in the horizon.

At last, a junction. McKerrow Island hut - 30 mins / Demon Trail Hut - 1 hr 30 mins. Odly enough, we continued on this roller coaster trail to the Demon Trail Hut. The Island hut is only accessible if the flood channel has a low water level. We figured we would lose an hour on the trail if the water was too high to cross, and at this point in time, the sun had already set behind the mountains. The light was slowly melting away on the tree covered track.

Oh, and we later found out that the island hut IS currently inaccessible, except by boat. Cause that flood channel that once was there, is now a full fledged river at least 12 feet deep. Thank goodness we didn't even try.

Light fading. Tired bodies. Challenging day walk. Last trail snack of the day consumed, and already thinking about dinner. You would think that things would be peachy keen all the way to the hut.

You would think that if you hadn't met our next friend. The questionable 3 wire bridge.

Three wires.

All less then 1/2" thick.

All dangling over rapid water ways.

All questionable. All absurd.

And unfortunately, our only option.

Unless giant boulders are your friends and would promise to support your body as you paddle through white frothing water that is ripping down at high speeds, peeling away minuscule layers of rock on your boulder friends, making them an even bigger challenge to hang on to, all the while quite possibly providing enough of a water pooling effect to dip you into pockets of ice cold water just over your head.

Three wire bridges. Not three, wire bridges. But, three-wire bridges.

The wires held together by a small collection of V shaped crossbars. The wires spun around trunks of trees on either side. Trees that I really can't trust, because I've seen enough of them in this country easily thrown to their sides with the rapid change of water levels and the fact that these trees are shallow rooted and clinging to life on clay, limestone or rock surfaces, supported only by the mosses and lichens that allow life to actually grow on inhospitable terrain.

Trust the trees. The trees that are constantly rejected from the ground they grow on. Because technically, they should never have been allowed to grow there in the first place.

Give me a wire to cross 6 inches above the ground, over a nice patch of grass in my backyard back home. No problem. Consider it done. Maybe on a windy day, I'll have to give it a few goes, who knows. But realistically, what could go wrong? I trip and get a grass stain on my pants? I'll make sure to wear a scruffy outfit that day.

Add to that a 35 lbs backpack; two trekking poles; a very real fear of heights; a raging river below that provides not only a sound distraction, but a visual one as well; significant height between the water and the level of the lowest wire; and a major swaying effect that is heightened by even the lightest wind - and you'll get a new dreadful bridge situation. Swing bridges are no longer something to be bothered by. They have been usurped tenfold.

If you slip, your arms will not be able to hold your weight and that of your bag. A thought that runs through your head as you perilously take that first step, followed by an even more uncertain second step. This is so not worth the mental image of a surely limb-crushing fall. We reckon that should your arms be able to comprehend the fact that you may slip and fall and even try for a moment to stop the unfortunate situation, the pressure would snap against your limbs so hard that you would dislocate one or both of your shoulders, causing you to complete your fall into the waterway below. Then you would be left helpless as you would no longer have your arms to assist you in keeping afloat. You think about the potential of a fall.

It's a pretty nasty fall.

This is not my own vision, but one that was shared by many people (who we met on this track) I asked about the evil 3-wire bridges.

Just when you think the trail will never end, an oasis in the evening light. The hut. Late into the evening, but there at last. We were greeted by six other kiwis, two tramping parties, all wanting to share their day's experience and hear about the others. A nice evening that came and went so quickly, as we rushed through our evening routine of water filtration, dinner and setting out our bunks.


Day 3 - Sunday, October 19th

One of the points of interest on this track has to the history behind the trail. In every hut a snapshot of the area's history is captured with information for trampers to read about, both in books and on large scale posters on the hut walls. The story of the trail and the settlement, original tramping adventures from the early 1900s. They were incredible to read about.

Another thing to note about this country is how litter-free the tracks are. It's quite impressive. I think I saw my first thing of litter on the trails today - a candy bar wrapper. Mind you I couldn't pick it up, as it was below a 3-wire bridge over a river bank.

Ah the three-wire bridges, trust me, they just kept getting better and better with every passing day. I wish I could actually take a picture of where my feet are teetering when I am on these things. But you couldn't pay me to remove either of my hands from the upper wires even for a second, nor would I risk my digital camera. It would surely be a gonner, and I wouldn't be holding a rescue mission for it.

To mask the sound of the rushing water, and ultimately try to forget the fact that I'm also staring down at it as I focus on every step my feet are taking on this dinky wire, I start to sing out loud whatever song that's in my head at the time of the crossing. The most random music. Half the time the lyrics make me laugh because of the irony they create with my situation. Then I start to lose focus and realize that maybe singing won't be of much help.

To avoid tackling more slick rock problems on the trail, we opted to cross one river while straddling a giant log that had fallen across the gorge. Unfortunately I bummed my knee on this treefall. What a day. All the uphills were straining my back. All the downhills were straining my knee. I am 80 years old!!

The Demon Trail. Demon cause of its reputation, the terrain and I would add due to it being devoid of any view. You can't really imagine how they used to walk farm stock up and down this trail. Over the slick rock path all day long.

We only bought a general Fiordland National Park map to save on money - leaving us with the horrible scale of 1:250 000. This provides you with zilch information. So needless to say, we never really knew how far from the huts we were. At one point, we were passed by two kiwis we spent the night with at the last hut and they showed us their 1:40 000 map and figured we were about an hour from the hut. I looked at David and asked why we couldn't be more optimistic and pointed to the last water crossing hoping that we were at that location, which would only be another 15mins to the hut.

Funny enough, that's exactly where we were. But we didn't know it at the time, so we had stopped to have a snack on the trail, while the other two continued on their way. Once they got to the hut, Christine was going to send David back down the trail to tell us we were almost there. But we were eventually on our way, to join them shortly after.

Hokuri Hut. Another small 12 bunk hut. Tonight, with great company. Dave & Christine from Auckland and an Austrian guy who they had met on another trail weeks before.

Today also marked the introduction of real fruit bars to our food intake on the trails. And a fabulous addition it was. We packed a lot of extra food on this track, due to our constant cravings. We each brought a dried fruit of our liking (apricots pour moi, bananas for Brent) and these bars. We wanted to up our fruit intake on the trails.

And for those who ever question why we filter water - today's flavour of the hut is the perfect example as to why we will not stop. Due to some technical glitch of the chimney at this hut, the smoke has a tendancy to fall into the rain gutters, which is where the water supply to the hut comes from (rain water), flavouring the liquid just a tad with what some would call a smokey flavour. Others call it bacon water.

Inviting. Can I have another glass of bacon water?

Great company. Good conversation. Great laughs. Good night.


Day 4 - Monday, October 20th

The final stretch to Martin's Bay, where ocean and a new kind of wilderness await us. An interesting mix of trail. The tail end of the Demon Trail, followed by a few hours of walking on rocky beach, then into a forest for a flat trail, topped up with a climb to the finish line through both sand and bush.

A light morning rain storm started the day. Thank goodness we had completed the demon trail the day before. That track does need the assistance of water to be a challenge.

But what could be better then starting off the day with a 3-wire bridge. Are you beginning to see a pattern with this track?

This is by far my favourite 3-wire bridge moment.

Half an hour into today's hike, we encounter the emergency bridge junction. Should the Hokuri river be too high to cross, it is advised to take a 20minute detour. Even though it was raining, we decided to go check out the river's mouth down the track, following the start of the beach walk, before making a judgement call of the crossing. It's about a 15 minute walk further down before you reach the mouth of the river. Probably a safe place to cross a river, considering the worst that will happen to you is that you will be pushed down into the shallow end of the lake. Not a bad turn out - one of the factors you have to look at when crossing a river - where will you end up? Colour, depth and speed are other key factors to determine if you should tempt a crossing or not. General rule of thumb, toss a stick into the river and walk along side it. If you can walk faster then the stick, you're probably good to combat the current. But if that stick is kicking your ass as you walk alongside the river's bank, don't be stepping foot into that river unless its like ankle deep. Not worth it.

We arrived at the river's mouth which was rapid and wide and deep. But clear as day. The water here really puts waterways in Ontario that I'm used to seeing (exception - water at Tobermory) to shame. But it's also quite deceiving. The water is so clear, you don't always have the right concept of its depth. Most people look down at the rocks at the base of the waterway and judge a good 2-3 feet too shallow. Suddenly you step in and that 'thigh deep water' is under your arms. A factor you need to take into account.

None the less, the mouth of the river wasn't looking too sharp for us today. Further up the bank, the river found its way around obstacles and at certain points had split up to four times, making crossings more likely, yet today still very deep. And at the start of a rainy day, neither of us wants to assist our bodies in getting any wetter. That could just make the day miserable.

So, logically, we decided to pull back and opt for the "20 minute detour" instead of trudging through thigh/waist deep fast moving, swirling water. I mean, we were three-wire experts at this point in time, and we figured that's probably what the emergency bridge would turn out to be. How bad could it be?

Best advice: when those five magical words ever pop into your mind or out of your mouth, may I suggest spending a moment to re-assess the situation before setting on a new course of action? Those famous last words usually precede something bad.

Today, bad came in the form of probably the longest three-wire bridge I will ever step foot onto. 150-200 meters long. Not only that, but quite substantially higher above the large rapidly moving river then other bridges we had taken. Oh, and on top of that, it was still raining when I started my crossing. Oh, and it was windyish. Oh, and you also had to climb up a LADDER (that was weaved through the lowest wire) to get onto the wire.

A ladder.

Getting onto these bridges can be just as dangerous as crossing them. We have had to do some aweful climbing earlier on this track. From ground level, the wire might be up to your neck, or even over your head. One of the bridges didn't have any assistance to hop onto the wire, yet it sat at my shoulders when I was standing beside it. Again, hop onto these things without a pack - no problem. Become back & top heavy, and you can't get your foot anywhere. Some of the bridges you had to climb over giant boulders and then sort of slide down onto the lowest wire and hope you landed right on target. Other ones only had one support wire as you walked the first bit, so your balance was off. And then others started off being taped off by electrical tape-like black covering. Add a spritz of water to that and your foot is flying off that thing. I remember trying to hoist myself onto one of the bridges on a previous day and slipping straight off when my foot connected with this black stuff. Great bode of confidence right there.

Cause that makes me want to cross. Eep.

But today, this was our everest. These bridges just keep getting better and better every day. And the best part, knowing that we have to repeat every one of them on our way back out of this track. Ugh.

The crossing. I couldn't even muster up a song. This giant bridge was too long and I didn't want to lose focus. Literally, it took 10-15minutes each to cross. It was massive. And that's moving at a reasonably fast-ish pace.

What in the world do people do if someone in their party freezes up and just stops in the middle of the bridge? Cause I can see that happening once you're half way out there. Especially on this bridge. You just count the crossbars that you have to cross over to get to the end. But this one was never ending. It just felt like the bank was growing further and further away from you. And you can only cross one person at a time. Mind you, once you get out to these big bridges, there is no way you would WANT anyone else to step foot on this thing with you. It sways far too much on its own to warrant a bouncing buddy.

They just sway so much.

At one point I really started to get dizzy on the bridge. You have to stop and refocus your energy on the walking and not the spinning. I was concerned that I would fall into a spell of vertigo. That would just add to the challenge of the crossing. Brent also suffered from a dizzy spell on this bridge. It might be the fact that you're focusing on a solid object that is so small, while the world under your feet is speeding by you. I could actually imagine that some people could get motion sickness from these types of crossings.

Another perk to these bridges are your new friends. The sandflies. You are just a sitting duck for them on these bridges. You are walking at a slower pace then you would on the track. Usually, you could out walk them. But here, you are sitting over their territory. Water. And you are just a slow moving target. Worst, if they do bite you, what are you going to do? You can't just start swatting them away, you would set off your balance and fall off the bridge. Jerks. They know you can't do anything.

Usually, you're pretty okay with these things. At least with some of the species (I think there are like 7 or more types of sandflies). They swarm you, yes, but usually they suss you out before they start to bite. So you have a bit of time to react and get out of a situation before it gets too bad.

Not on these bridges.

Following the first swing bridge, was a shorter one just down the track. All of this followed by a good long hike through the bush, back up and down tree roots and steep rocky drops, before re-joining the beach track.

20 minute detour. What they really should write at that junction is: maybe 20minutes to the emergency walkwire, followed by a very lengthy crossing, and another half hour at least through bush before joining the track JUST on the other side of the river.

All we had to do at the river's mouth was get across to start the bulk of the beach walk. This was a good 1.5 hour detour, maybe more. To emerge literally on the other side of the river's mouth was quite a blow. We lost so much time.

When we first turned back from the river crossing, we crossed paths with Dave & Christine who have been keen trampers for years. They decided to look at the river themselves before taking the detour. They definitely crossed the river, or else we would have seen them at that ridiculous 3-wire bridge. And they kicked our butts with travel time to the hut that night.

The long beach walk led us right into the arms of a group of hikers doing a guided walk of the area. I don't know why people would pay thousands of dollars to be guided on this track, but they do. They fly into a certain point, have their packs carried for them, jet boat around when there is water, and only walk two very small parts of the actual trail. This is almost something that is expected of you on the tracks in this country. If its not a circuit, you are expected to either bus from one side to the other, or fly into one side and walk out, or hire a boat to get to the start of a track. When people hear that we are walking into a dead-end track and then turning around and walking back out, they are dumbfounded.

Why would you do that, they ask.

Financially, this option agrees with me. If we spent all our money on getting to and from our car, we wouldn't last very long in this country. These bus rides are NOT cheap. Multiply that by the number of times we are tramping on incomplete loops. We are broke after a limited amount of tracks.

After a gentleman sent off his group of hikers on their fancy jet boat ride across the lake (the one we would spend 2 hours or so skirting around), he found some time to try to sell us on their jet boat. Its one thing to have a friendly chat, its another thing to stall hikers to try to sell them on things.

He stopped us straight away to ask us about our trip and find out what we were doing once we reached Martin's Bay. "Oh, we're walking back out starting tomorrow.", we replied to his querie. Puzzled, he didn't understand why we wouldn't be flying out, or why we had started on our end in the first place. Why do this track twice was really what his face and 'pitch' were saying. We explained that we were in the country to tramp, and found that if we decided to take the easy way out on all the trails, we wouldn't be able to financially fund our trip the way we wanted to. It just wasn't the direction we wanted to be focusing all our money. We like to hike. This back and forth doesn't bother us. There might be some days that you wish you didn't have to repeat, but you deal. Besides, more days on the trail means you are saving more money because our DOC pass covers our accomodation. All you have to do is deal with carrying that much more food weight. Then again, as the days go by, your pack gets lighter.

Go in. Go out. Or pay mega bucks. The life of the non-circuit tramps. But we have a lot of time to do the tracks that we want, so we can't be bothered by this unnecessary cost.

Obviously, not really paying much attention to our actual story, this guy started to try to sell us on a jet boat ride. "Well, tomorrow, on your way back, you should stop in at the lodge. We could run you down the river for a really good price. $110 per person. That's a really good price deal right now. You know, with petrol and all."

Brent and I just looked at each other and tried to get away from this guy. Clearly, he didn't quite get our reasoning. I mean, I know the tourism industry is hurting, but after someone explains to you why they have to be choosey about what tracks they spend money on return transportation for, you really shouldn't try to be 'selling' a ridiculously expensive 'ride'. And besides, we knew that this 'really great deal' would only save us a day of walking. They don't bring you down the trail very far.

And we were being eaten alive by the sandflies at this point, cause he wouldn't let us go. Sitting ducks. All the while, he's caked in DEET.

We continued our walk and found our way around the lake, through the bush and over sand dunes and steep sandy cliffs that led into even more bush. All to reveal beautiful Martin's Bay. I reckon this is what Stewart Island will be like. A hut overlooking the ocean. The sound of the roaring tide moving in and out. The wildlife coming to life as we shift into the evening light. The wildlife is so rich and wonderful out here. The shags, the seals, the penguins. All basking on the rocks as the ocean roars around them.

We dropped off our packs in the hut before enjoying some fine dining. Two minute noodles, fruit sticks, scroggin' and another new food addition: a can of tuna. A Brent test. He claims he didn't like tuna before, but I'm beginning to wonder if he ever gave it a chance. Cause he really like it today. We have been on a quest to incorporate more food into our hiking, especially protein. I could just eat crackers and cheese all day on the trails, purely because of the cheese. Even though the silly thing is processed, it's exactly what I need in the hiking day. That protein. So we thought we would test out some tuna on this track. And thank goodness, it was a winner. I have been craving tuna for a while now. As we pass it in the supermarket, I can't help but ask for its incorporation every time. Its so easy and portable. And yummy.

We set out further down the track to explore the wilderness in the area. We cut through some tall grass to come upon what we suspect is a seal nursery. There was a large number of young seal pups and only one larger one. Suspecting that it might have been one of the mums who I guess could be babysitting while the others are out hunting. They were everywhere. We tried our best to keep our distance, but there were moments where you would turn around to find yourself face to face with another seal pup.

I climbed on a few rocks in the opposite direction from the big group of seals and heard a noise. Looking back at Brent, I thought it might have been him grunting or something. Then a loud slapping water sound. As I peared over a giant boulder I noticed a lot of water moving down below. I thought that it might just be from the tide coming in. Just as I was about to hop up onto this last boulder, a seal pup comes splashing out from underneath me. I jumped back so quickly to try to keep away from him. He was so small. I just didn't need a bigger seal thinking I was getting too close to their young. These things are a heck of a lot faster on these slick boulders then we could ever be. And they can be quite ferocious if alarm bells are raised.

They were just everywhere. In typical seal fashion, they blended in with the rocks perfectly. You had to survey an area before approaching, cause you needed to know where they were lounging.

Further down the path you crossed a penguin trail. As the Fiordland crested penguins returned from the a day of hunting in the ocean, they slowly hop their way into the bush line. Not expecting too much straight away, we were quite surprised to see a penguin right in the path around a bend just a short walk from the hut. Trying not to make a sound, I grabbed for my camera, but it was too late, this penguin already caught a glimpse of me. These penguins will scoot right back into the water if they see people. It doesn't matter how far away the water is.

Our goal wasn't to scare the poor things. A strong evening storm rolled in as we stood at the front of the penguin zone. A heavy yet quick downpour. Enough to keep us from moving forward as we contemplated a return to the hut. But the storm moved out just as quickly as it appeared. Leaving us with a beautiful and clear evening sky.

We spent some time photographing a few penguins that we found hopping around on some boulders. And just enjoying the view. The peaceful and beautiful view. Devoid of people. The ocean tide pulling back, but still crashing in strong against the rocks, as the freshwater from the lakes and rivers roll out to the salt water. An interesting mix.

Back at the hut, we all tested our luck with the ferocious and man hungry coastal sandflies, as we tried to snap pictures of the gorgeous sunset we were blessed with on this night. The stars started to shine, and soon after started to take over the night sky. This was our fourth day of hiking, and so far only had rain the first night, this morning for a short bit, and that freak rain storm in the evening. Other times, it was clear and sunny. Beautiful.

Tonight would be our last night with the Pop Tart loving couple Dave & Christine. We have been with them since the Demon Trail Hut. They were amazing to share time with. They have so much experience on trails, as they have travelled around the world to do hiking. Amazing people to share a hut with. It's been a lot of fun, and the conversations and laughs have been great.

Tomorrow, we begin our return.


Day 5 - Tuesday, October 21st

Happy Birthday Father!! : ) Our blog’s biggest fan. Was thinking about you!

Tonight, our record will be broken. Spending five nights out will be the longest hike we have yet to do. We will spend a total of 7 nights and 8 days on this track. Only to be usurped by our two week stay on Stewart Island.

Our return. A leisurely pace today. We know what to expect with every part. And we once again, are blessed with a mighty fine weather day. We said our good byes to Dave & Christine, and also to the seals in the nursery. This alarmed one of the sleeping pups, who literally tapped his buddy on the shoulder to alert him of our presence. The second seal pup looked up at us and just went back to lounging. He didn't care.

We made our way back through the sandy dunes and bush before coming up to the airstrip once again. Part of the track is actually a grassy air strip in the middle. One runs north/south and a second one runs east/west. A single windsock sits at the intersection of the two runways. Today there was more activity as we walked through the area, with planes taking off and landing down the southern strip.

Now there are these trees. Couldn't tell you their real name even if I wanted to. But I can tell you that we call them the Jurassic Park trees. They just really look like they are from the movie. These giant trunks towering over the tree line with this bushy top that pierces the sky. You have to see them to understand what I mean. None the less, there was a lot of them that were visible over the trees near the airstrip. You can't help but start singing the Jurassic Park theme song, accapella style of course. A moment that has repeated itself several times throughout this country.

We have since decided to rename all their trees as we are inspired.

Greenstone is present in the area, but our beach walk turned up nothing. My head was down in the rocks the whole time. Mind you, I have no idea what unpolished greenstone looks like.

A joy of being the first in the day to walk part of a track would be the natural delicacy of spiderwebs. Every day. You are just eating spiderwebs as you walk around. You turn a corner, whap. Yum. Not talking is sometimes a good idea. Or, if you're lucky, the cobweb is over your head or taken out by your lower body.

Jerusalem creek was hilarious. This is our second time crossing this waterway, or lack there of. We really want to know what it looks like when there is water running through it. It's a long and wide rocky bed. Yesterday there was a trickle at the end, today there was nothing. A sign warns people who might cross the river of certain dangers. The first note, as you stand on the bank: if your shoes are wet, it may be too deep to cross. A sign post then marks all the different water levels and what water activities could be undertaken should the water be that high. From the doggy paddle, to kayaking, to jet boating, to the ark.

It's quite funny.

But Jerusalem creek was not the concern today. Once again, we would come face to face with Hokuri river. And today, we aren't going to be taking the emergency walkwire. Not only do we not want to waste our time on the crossing and detour, but we don't have a particular desire to relive that 3-wire bridge.

So we decide we will cross the river. Dave & Christine said it was only thigh deep, and with the dry evening, we figure it might have since dropped. But we were prepared to get wet none the less.

We got to the waterway only to find it was no longer raging at the mouth. Could a river recede this much? I figured it was a permanent river and wasn't greatly affected by rain levels. None the less, we were face to face with a small challenge, that meant nothing more then getting your boots into the water. We scooted along a rocky trail that topped a rapid area. It was quick and we were dry. We celebrated with smiles.

The celebration didn't last long as I turned to Brent and said that I didn't think that was the river. We had crossed two bridges the day before, and that must have been the small river that was crossed by the short bridge after that super long bridge. Which meant that we still had the Hokuri river to cross. I don't think Brent wanted to believe me. It didn't take long for the sound of the river to appear. We stood atop a bank, completely discouraged. We were misled.

This river was just as swift and just as deep today. But we were on a mission to avoid that one bridge and really to avoid wasting our time, as that detour was a sham. So, we took out our keen sandals, took off our boots and socks (bad idea - always keep your wooly socks on!!!) and hiked up our long johns. It was time to dip our feet into the river.

We took our time sussing out where best to cross each section. We followed the river up stream for a while to where it splits into four distinct sections. Choosing the right spot to cross was a challenge. We couldn't cross too close to the rocks. There were never enough to get all the way across, and the rocks created traps, holes with fast moving water. The current was too strong to risk. My frame is a concern for the current we were crossing. It's best to find slower moving areas that are deeper, then to risk falling prey to these water holes.

Brent crossed first each time, so that I could find out how deep the water really was. Again, the water is so clear its deceiving. You would think it might only be knee deep, but turns out to be waist deep.

The moment your foot steps into the water, you start to lose your fight to cross. Open toed keen sandals. Feet without the safety of our merino wool socks. Ice cold water from snow melt and just classic NZ cold. Their rivers and lakes never really warm up through the year.

Ice cold.

Every step was hard work. It didn't take long for your feet to stop working properly. But the crossings were quick enough. They were short distances. Once your feet were out of the water, you were golden. They warmed up so quickly. But that third crossing almost did me in. It was the longest period of time that our feet would be in the water for. I was literally trying to convince my feet to keep moving forward once we hit the half way mark. The cold just shuts down your system. Even though the rest of my body was fine, it was hard to muster up the lower body strength I needed to keep my feet moving. Remember, we're in deep water with a strong current. Your focus is on maintaining balance and moving forward without stepping in any deeper. When you lose full control of your feet, that sucks.

Anything to avoid crossing that giant bridge again. No regrets.

Especially once I put my socks back on. That felt great!

We found our way back to Hokuri Hut, this time without our fellow hut mates (Dave, Christine & the Austrian). Fine dining on Back Country’s Cooked Breakfast meal. Decent. The baked beans didn’t hydrate properly...er...at all. But the egg, hash brown and beef bacon scramble was edible and filling. The food is really good, the only problem with these dehydrated meals is the emulsifiers and sulphates that are used as preservatives. You can smell that there is something off in the food right after cooking it (ie. Adding boiling hot water).

I miss my kitchen.

As always, we’re snacky. Always hungry – which is a result of the hiking. It’s the fact that we’re missing key things. If I’m craving something and just snack on other things, I could binge on food until I get it right. It’s the protein that we’re missing. Once we figure out the right foods to bring on the longer hikes, the better we’ll be. My weight has actually stayed pretty consistent since arriving in New Zealand, which is a good thing (I hope). Then again, lately, I haven’t been eating the best. We’ve become bingers. When we’re off the trail, we just want to eat everything. We give ourselves allowances for eating a bit more then we probably should. To make up for the calories lost on the track. I think it’s having an adverse effect on us. Brent on the other hand, has lost a good amount of weight since arriving in New Zealand. Mind you, a great deal of the weight loss is muscle loss. When you’re used to working out every day in a gym, pumping iron, and then turn around to not lifting weights in the same way or consistently, your body will start to change shape.

Don’t worry, he’s healthy.

During the evening, we enjoyed a quiet time with a nice view and the company of a bold little fantail that kept perching on the veranda nearby.


Day 6 - Wednesday, October 22nd

Happy Birthday in Canada dad! : )

Our first time reaching six consecutive days on the trail. I think Brent was pretty proud of this moment.

Today, we hike back to the memorable Demon Trail hut. Actually the hut isn’t very memorable. And really, the track isn’t fantastic in the least. And it’s not the worst thing in the world we’ve ever done. It’s just slick. I actually enjoy the up and down. It makes me feel like I’m actually doing something. A lot more interesting then the flat hikes we end up doing on some days.

Demon Trail take 2. To truly appreciate this part of the track, you must hike it in both directions. Those who only do it once have no grounds to complain.

We once again decided to take a bridge detour on this day. This was a decision made to avoid a pretty steep climb up and down a valley gorge we had done two days prior. Nothing terrible, but really something that you don’t want to do more than once. Once you crossed this one river, you literally hit a wall. And you had to scale this tree root wall. An amazing physical challenge if I was sporting a day pack. But tossing your poles vertically and hoping they remain on the upper ledge as you try your luck at this natural vertical madness...not really something I want to try to jump off of. And that would have been today’s direction. Down.

Alternate bridges come at a price. But when you don’t know what to expect, anything seems possible. When you know what you are avoiding, a solution is welcome.

The alternate route. Not a detour, as both directions took about the same amount of time. One climbs up, crosses and drops down. The other drops down, scales over and winds upward. And today, we found ourselves about to cross the highest 3-wire bridge yet. Not as long as the last one (thank goodness), but definitely the highest. Best sign of that was the double support wire system. So you have your initial “V” structure. Base wire is where your feet go. The upper wires are where your hands glide across. Today’s bridge had a second run of wires between the hand wires and the foot wire. So I guess, if you fell, you might only become tangled in a mess of pack, pole and wire. A bit of assurance I guess.

But it was a clear sign. These things were ever changing.

Most people we have met on this track think these bridges are madness. These things are completely nuts. What is their purpose? Do they need to really be dangling this high above the ground? Do they really save money by not adding a second foot cable and running mesh in between? You have to get passed the idea that the sand flies OWN you when you’re crossing and you also have to get passed this ever wobbling effect that always pulls you to one side of the bridge. You would think you could fight your way to keep this thing stable and straight. In your dreams. Most times, it sways harder to one side and you are left crossing it while on an angle. Fun times!

They clear the Hollyford track once a year. A big spring cleaning you could say. Around the end of September or early October a team hikes through the track and cuts down the tree fall over the track. This just means that they come in with their chainsaws and try to hack away at the trees that are trying to hide the marked track. I figure that if a major storm struck the area and the DOC received a great amount of complaints about large tree falls, they might just go back out a second or third time to do some investigating and track maintenance. That means this track is not due until September 2009. I would hate to be on this track in August right before they have cleared the darn thing out.

Well, we had recently found out that the DOC had been on the Hollyford not too long ago. Brent met a DOC track worker at my physiotherapy clinic and got some inside information. Since that clearing however, many wind storms had swept through the area. The results were a good amount of large tree falls on the freshly groomed track.

The end result of a tree fall depends on a few things. How big is the debris? Is it one tree or a mass of vegetation? How wide is the tree fall? Is the track passable on either side or do you need to scale the mass?

We found ourselves face to face with a lot of tree falls. Some which we had to crawl underneath (this is why you wear rain pants – they are the better mud pants), others we had to straddle over, some we just scooted around, while others forced us into “bush bash” mode. Bush bashing was required when several trees had fallen in the same area, along with a lot of other vegetation, where climbing around the darn mess was possible, and climbing over it was not. This one pile was so high, and would have meant hiking up and down massive tree trunks and avoiding black holes in between.

The black holes. The giant gaps. Discovered when you are walking over a tree fall area and suddenly your weight snaps a dead tree branch below you, sending your leg into an abyss. You find yourself proportionally challenged as one leg has plummeted into a dark hole up to your thigh. All the while, your trekking poles (which are looped around your wrists), are lodged in smaller holes pulling your arms in cockeyed directions. You’re stuck. Today, in a very awkward state.

The hut. Once again. We sit, eat, play cards, and enjoy the view. Later in the evening two Irish girls joined us in the hut. One of them went to bed early while the other joined us for some card games. We taught her how to play crazy 8s, and she taught us how to play shithead. Now, I remember this latter card game from high school, but it was called something different. None the less, it was a new card game to add to our much needed game sampling. We cycle through only 2-3 games regularly. New additions were always welcome.

Through the night, we listened to the morepork owls calling in the night (people say that the owl sounds like its actually saying ‘more pork’...and I guess you could imagine how it could be those two words that it’s shouting out. It’s definitely more than a hoot), and the possums running around.


Day 7 - Thursday, October 23rd

Our repeat performance of the long treck from the first day. Just a long haul kind of day.

The water was truly wonderful to look at through the day. It’s kind of hard to miss when you’re on the edge of the rocky cliff and the river is the sheer drop to your side. But the water is incredible. Fluctuating in hues from turquoise green to light sapphire blue. So crisp. So clean. So varying.

A nice change from the dry creek beds we were hoping over throughout the day. A good amount of dry weather was a blessing for this hike. Although the Hollyford track is the one people recommend when the weather outlook is not so good. Kind of strange knowing how challenging some of the river and creek crossings would be when they are in flood.

You can rest assured however. The waterways may be nonexistent, but you can always count on those mud patches to be well hydrated and slick, slimy, thick and sticky. I can’t believe how many times I lost sight of my feet and shins. The poles were sinking in everywhere, so there wasn’t always an alternative option. At one point, Brent and I got lost in a maze of mud bogs, and missed our route marker (which by the way, were few and far between in this direction for some reason). We were lucky to spend an additional 20 minutes hopping around these sinking sand pits of muck as we found our way again.

Only three 3-wire bridges today. Out of a possible 18 bridge crossings (9 each way), we crossed 15 times. Each bridge was completed at least one time. The uber long and uber tall were never repeated. For good reason.

The forest was blooming today. The moss covered trees were spectacular as always. The draping mosses looming over the track and glistening in the sunlight. The wind howling through the forest as the birds competed for a moment to sing. The views over the homer saddle were still lost behind a wall of trees, but there were moments where the snowy peaks made brief appearances. Still so impressive. Wonderful to imagine, as I paint the missing pieces in my mind.

On today’s walk, we were supposed to get a view of the tallest mountain in Fiordland National Park, Mt. Tutoko. I wouldn’t be able to point it out to you if I was standing on the track. I blame perspective for that. Where I stand in relation to the other mountains in these giant chains can sometimes dwarf the giants in my eyes. Judging heights is not my specialty. I probably captured it with my camera however.

My pictures can sometimes be quite amusing. How many mountains can one capture in a digital world? You keep trying to get that one amazing photo, so I never delete them. One of them will be just right; while the others will all closely resemble it. But the moments that they represent, those are forever engraved in my heart and mind.

After a long traverse over hilly terrain, we cross the long swing bridge to the Alabaster junction and find ourselves on a groomed track, that I would call a cake walk compared to the world on the other side of that bridge.

At the hut, after a long hike, a well deserved back stretch and our boots earned a nice bath. Complete with sand fly infestation. Hidden Falls hut. Our last night on the track. Flying solo in the hut once again. By far my favourite hut on this track, and definitely in the top three for NZ thus far. It’s all about the view. Sitting deep within the valley walls, surrounded by the most surreal landscape. I can hear the waterfalls trickling down the rock faces. I can smell the fresh air. I can see the colours merging together on the horizon. I can feel the dry tussock grass and the wind against my face. You feel life in a different way. So much freedom. You’re alone with nature in a way that I have only ever dreamed was possible.


Day 8 - Friday, October 24th

Good bye Hollyford.

I leave you with a new appreciation for swing bridges. I move much faster on them now, feeling more secure in the perma-meshed fenced in bridge. I can even overlook the rusty patches of wire that are starting to wear down on the sides of the mesh, or the parts that are detaching themselves altogether, the boards separating from one another and clapping up and down as you walk across the structure. I can surprisingly love you now.

I’ll even forgive you for the bad route markings in this second direction of the track. The lack thereof which left us walking over the land slip danger area that one day. Nothing more than an inch or less of decaying soil beneath our boots. A rapidly moving waterway batting against the soil beyond our steps. A healthy drop of 6 feet or so. It was like walking on thin ice, only we didn’t know about it until we reached the other side.

A quick side trip to visit the Hidden Falls before high-tailing it out of that track to go deal with our flattened and defunct vehicle.

Forever grateful for our boots, without whom we would surely have rolled our ankles several times on this track. A necessary item to survive hiking in any country. We leave with a true appreciation of this track, having seen it in both directions, in different lights.

Remembering the hidden gems on this trail; even though we could not capture a clear picture of the mountains at times, the still water would reveal wonderful and poignant mirror images of the majestic land.

Eight days of good weather. To have such consistently good weather, especially in Fiordland, is pretty remarkable.

We arrived at the Sergeant to perform minor surgery. The culprit for the decrepit tire, a screw drilled into the rubber from the gravel road. The first time I’ve ever participated in the changing of a tire. Cool as.

An adventurous and speedy ride home. Dealing with pretentious twits who don’t know how to drive on a gravel road, unable to move their cars to their respective side and almost sending us into the forest. Stupid drivers. Learn to share the road.

Surprisingly, driving on the left is normal, and has been for some time now.

Twenty minutes late for physio. We never fell into mobile reception until we hit Te Anau’s town border. Thank goodness for a forgiving doctor who understood it was our due out date.

Physio never felt so good!