No one had come along at some ungodly hour of the night and I still had the place to myself. The immediate advantage of this was that after breakfast, while packing up, I could wander around rather more underdressed than I would otherwise. Some hikers have no quarms about wandering around populated huts in their underwear but I'm not one of them. However, if no one else is about and I can pack up my camp clothes but not put my still-cold-and-wet-from-the-day-before walking clothes on til the very last minute then that's exactly what I'll do. There's always that cringe moment when you pull on your walking trousers and shirt when they haven't been washed for a few days. I'd sloshed mine about in the river yesterday so although not all gross and sweaty like they are lost mornings, they certainly hadn't dried over night and when I finally was ready to leave it was a little like putting a loose fit in pair of yesterday's togs.
Keen not to get cold after that I quickly donned pack and set off. It's a short day today kilometre-wise but the sign for the track says 7hrs and the trail notes say 10--what kind of horrendous track will I be encountering today?!
The answer: no kind! It's a beautiful walk along mostly good track (though some f the sharper corners could do with a bit more marking so you do just plough off between the trees). The first half of the walk follows the Waihaha River upstream along a lovely easy track through two-storey forest with towering rimu trees. There are some short uphill sections as Te track divers up and around a huge landslide on a steep bank of the river. Nearby someone has built a small lean-to bush shelter out of fern fronds and I wondered if they had built it for fun or if they had been forced to spend the night under it in the rain.
If you have a tent with you there are several nice spots to camp along the river along the way, including several broad green open areas, that look grassy at first glance but are dominated by other kinds of low ground plants. In one of them I saw a bright red and black moth-like butterfly(?) that I'd glimpsed once before on the way to Te Kuiti but otherwise had never seen before.
The Waihaha River flanking the track is crystal clear with a grey-green sand and rounded boulder base; in places black streaks of concentrated heavy mineral or light organics (couldn't tell which) have been streaked out by the current forming cool patterns on the river bed.
Kaka could be heard calling from across the valley at regular intervals along the route, as well as bellbirds. Then at one point in the track through the I realised I could hear a parrot, but that it sounded far to high pitched to be a kaka. It sounded like the agitate alarm call of a large budgie and it was coming from a tree just above me. Screeching to a halt I peered eagerly up through the branches and yes! There, sitting on a branch and clearly not very happy with some big ground dweller walking under its tree was a small green parrot with the characteristic red and yellow cap--a kakariki. I had seen one! I got very excited and didn't a quiet little celebration as I watched the bird hop about on it's branch for a bit chirping, before deciding enough was enough and flying as way to a tree further off the trail. I left him or her to it and moved on, grinning from ear to ear for the second time in two days.
Now I knew what to listen for I kept my ears open, and before the day was out I'd seen another kakariki and heard at least two more, along with a myriad of bellbirds, grey warblers, kaka, tomtit, a few other birds I couldn't identify, and the odd tui and fantail, and what I think was a robin.
I had planned to walk out to the road end today, in order to make the long road walk out to Taumarunui tomorrow a bit easier, but as I walked I found myself wanting to stay in this forest a little longer. I decided to get to the hut and make my decision then.
After crossing a stream track diverts away from the river and heads up a ridge. It climbs the ridge in three steepish sections separated by gentler shoulders that are an easy walk and a welcome break in between the more strenuous climbs. Heading up the ridge the forest slowly changes. Leaving the two-storey forest of the valley floor behind the rimu get smaller and the forest more open. Not far up you enter this surreal garden-like patch of forest where the undulating ground between the silver-grey trunks of the trees is carpeted in a strange little ground-dwelling plant with upright green leaves that are faintly shovel-shaped, distinctly veined, and bright green when young but darkening with age. Though it was nothing like Lothlorien I wouldn't have been at all surprised if Haldir had suddenly appeared and observed that the noise of my breathing was making me an easy bow target.
But there were no Elven arrows in sight and I traversed up the ridge alone in a little forest wonderland. The spell was briefly broken when I went astray in a low section on a shoulder between two ridges, but finding the trail again I headed on up. As the forest became denser and mossier the clouds closed in and it started to rain. Back in cloud forest I put my was down and switched my focus to getting to the hut.
I was already wet so there was no point putting on my raincoat, but I was starting to get cold. I hadn't had lunch as I seemed to be making good time, despite dawdling along admiring the birds and river and trees. My plan was to get to the hut and have a late hot lunch there. Just like anything you anticipate covering the last kilometre or so to get to the hut seemed to taken forever, but finally I came to a junction an a sign indicating the hut was 75m down a side trail. Off I went and in moments was stands on the small porch of a small hut perched just below the too of a ridge, looking out over a forest-clad valley...or what I assume was a forest-clad valley from the odd glimpses I got through gaps in the passing wet clouds.
No one was about so I stripped off my wet clothes outside and hung them up before taking the rest of my gear inside and putting on lovely warm dry thermals. First things first--I was starving! So out came the pot and the stove and on went the gas. Though eager to preserve the warmth I diligently cracked the door a little to let any carbon monoxide fumes escape (there are sins in all the huts warning you to do this if cooking inside).
It was only 3:30...I could have had loch and pushed on, but it kept raining intermittently and I was cosy and dry inside, and besides I wasn't yet ready to leave this nice forest.
Maybe it was the altitude or maybe it was the weather but there weren't many birds about to watch. I seemed to have long left the kaka and other birds behind down in the valley and only a determined little grey warbler was intent on singing out the weather up here on the ridge.
Though the setting may not have been so nice, the hut was much more my size, with only 6 bunks, a small corner table, stainless steel sink bench and a fireplace. I found myself hoping no one else would show up again so that I could reign happily for one more night in my own private cabin in the woods.
I checked the log; Taylor had made it the night before, and presumably was hot footing it to Taumarunui as I stirred the last of the salami and cheese into my pasta. I recognised a number of other names as well, as I had done in the logs in the other huts. Symi, Janosch and Celestino seemed to still be hiking together and were some if the few who, like me, had stayed a night in each hut along the way. Billy had gone through, seemingly on the same day, or a day ahead of Sophia, as he left a passing comment saying "Come on Sophia!" in the notes. John had been through, as well as Nathalie, and several days back Andy, and before him Niko. There were several other names I recognised from discussions about other hikers, but whom I had not met, and still more (though surprisingly few) names of hikers I hadn't met or heard of. The Waihaha Hut log had had the names of several people who were not TA hikers: tramping groups, weekenders and hunters were common, likely reflecting the huts position at the junction of two trails. But Hauhungaroa, near the end of a single track, seems to be the domain of TA hikers, and even then, only those not quite ready to leave the forest and hasten back to civilisation.
Seeing comments in the log dated approximately a week ago saying there was no water at the hut I made a quick trip outside to test the flow from the water tank. It was clear and strong. Relieved, I went back inside to finish my perusale of the log and eat lunch. Someone has written in white marker on the wall about how to get the water tank running if it blocks up. They've signed off "Trek 3000". Taylor's trail name is Trek so I wondered if it was him that fixed it; I must remember to ask him if I see him again.
There was one lone book on the table, 'the Autograph Man', plus a handful of magazines. I read the first couple of paws of the book, but then decided there was no way I'd finish it and time would be better spent catching up on diary and blogs.
I had at first decided not I waste wood by lightin a fire solely or myself, but then considered that if anyone else showed up they might like to come in from the rain to a nice warm hut. Also there wasn't much dry wood (though plenty of wet) so I reasoned that if I could get the fire going I might be able to help dry more wood for the next lot of hut users. Plus there's just something cosy about a fire. So I set about it.
I am ashamed to say that even with a ready supply of cardboard, matches, wood and even a hunk of rubber and a box full of coal...it took me about an hour to get the fire going. At first I tried the generic pile of starting fuel and kindle, but it all burnt out without even getting enough heat up to sustain itself and achieving nothing more than smoking out the hut. (Note to concerned hut users: after the first failed attempts I switched to using my own matches to preserve the hut supply! Also I was trying to use as little of the cardboard as possible since there wasn't a great deal). Finally I gave up and set about lighting a fire 'my way' (which I should have done from the start).
How to light a fire--Jen's way:
Get two equivalent sized small logs and lay them down each side of the fireplace (with a large gap between them). The ones I used were damp but that didn't matter--they're only the props. Next tare and scrunch up cardboard and put it in the gap, along with a few small bits of coal and a good handful of the smallest and driest sticks you can find in the wood bin outside. Next stack the absolutely driest finger-width sticks you can find, arraying them on top of the 'props' like a tower game of Jenga. Finally on top of the tower rest the driest large log Yiu can find: in my case this was a half-burned stump left over from whoever had a fire in here last. Mentally crossing my fingers I struck a match and lit the three accessible sides of the kindling pile before quickly pushing the door to (I'd quickly learnt that having the door open rapidly helped put the fire out). Peeking through the gap in the door I was geaifise to see tongues of flame licking up the inside and outside of the tower as the fire began to softly crackle and purr. The purr grew into a roar and I peeked again to see my tower engulfed in flames. Opening the door quickly I stuck a handful of large lumps of coal into the inferno and shut the door. The roar settled into the ongoing rumble and crackle of a happy fire...which made for a happy Jen. Inevitably the tower burned through and collapsed but by then there were enough burning embers to keep the bigger log burning and put a fresh log in on top before returning to my blogging.
The weather cleared a little as I typed and I got a brief view of the valley as the sun set, tingin the clouds with red. I got my camera out ready to take a photo once the view properly cleared, but the clouds closed in again into a dull grey twighlight.
No one else came. I was alone for a second night in my own little private cabin in the woods, but this time with a cheerful crackling fire to take the edge off the silence. It was perfect, and I reflected that this was where I felt most peaceful and happy, and strangely at home in this space that, just for a night, I could call my own.
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