I had set my alarm for 7:30. Imagine my annoyance then when at 5:30 someone else's alarm went off in the deserted bunk room. It was the bunk room next door but I could hear it ringing away through the wall. Now my alarm goes to sleep if left alone for too long but after ten minutes this thing was still ringing away so I finally hauled myself out of bed, stumped out the door and into next door, and zeroed in on the offending handbag where it was stacked against the wall amongst other possessions not taken on the school's overnight trip in the bush . I had a moments hesitation about diving into someone else's handbag before reaching in and extracting the phone that was so excitedly announcing it was time to get up. One swipe silenced the thing and I carefully put it back and replaced the handbag before returning to bed, not to be disturbed again...until my own alarm went off of course.
I had avocado on toast for breakfast courtesy of the last of Sally's food parcel. Emily has the day off today so we sat chatting away about outdoor guiding and walking in the Tararuas. Sally came in to check on the school lunches; finding some of the sandwiches had been made with bread containing tree nuts she was on the verge of throwing them out but instead offered them to Emily and I. As far as I know no hiker has never turned down a free lunch.
As I went to pack up my gear I met another of the resident guides, Alan. Like Emily he was very friendly and full of advice, even suggesting I do the South Island from south to north (northbound or "NOBO") to maximise chances of finishing before winter weather. It's not a bad idea, but I like the idea of doing the whole trail in one direction...plus the further south I get the easier it will be to get a mercy pick-up off the trail if the weather really does get too bad (ok mum?!).
I finally set out just before 9:30...so much for getting an early start.
A quick five kilometres down a road that in several places looks like it might slip away down into the river at any minute brings you to a bridge and a short walk to the trailhead into the Tararua Ranges. I filled in the intentions book (Tom is now two days ahead of me), contemplatively munched a muesli bar, and then set off, up the farm track that would lead me into the beech-forested mountains.
Sally, Emily and Alan had recommended skipping Waiopehu Hut. There are actually three ways of getting to the same point today: i. Following TA up the ridge past Waipehu Hut, ii. Taking an alternative and slightly shorter route up the neighbouring Gables End ridge, or iii. going up the Ohau River to South Ohau Hut and then scaling the ridge directly up to Te Matawai Hut. I hadn't made up my mind which to follow until it came to the first track intersection. I chose left, so option i. was out. At the next intersection I then chose the river. Emily had said it was a quick short cut to Te Matawai, but she strikes me as an amphibious mountain goat so I suspect this may actually take me longer than the ridge. Oh well, it can be penance for taking the shorter route!
The reasons I decided to take the river were the water level is very low so I shouldn't have to get too wet, plus apparently there was a heavy rain last week that should have flushed all the clay out of the river and should mean that the rocks aren't so slippery, and finally, I just like rivers. I hoped I still would by the end on the day!
There was no chance of not getting wet feet, but I did manage to only go in up to my knees at any point during the numerous crossings of the river, going from gravel bank to gravel bank. The river is picturesque; the sun was shining and it was nice and cool by the water. The first part it quick and things only really got difficult about two thirds of the way up where the river narrows and becomes semi-gorgey. Here you pick your way between and over large boulders (like, the size or cars or bigger) and a couple of times I had to walk delicately over some rocky outcrops tilting unnervingly down toward a short drop into deep pools in the river. One pool I managed to cross by walking across a large log, only to look down to see one if the largest (and on reflection, prettiest) spiders I have ever seen. Huntsman-like it was the size of my palm with moss-coloured mottled legs splayed in all directions. It was pretty determined to stay out as well so I had to carefully step round it with slipping if the log.
After one if the more challenging sections my tired legs tripped and I landed in a seated position on a gravel bank--guess my body was telling me it was time for a break! Time-wise I completely lost track, but distance wise I eventually came around a bend and spotted the hut almost as and when I expected. It's a lovely modern hut situated on the river bank at a fork in the river (and above high water mark). I wrung out my socks and squeezed out my boots as best I could, briefly changed out of my trousers to let them dry, threw on a dry pair of socks, and sat down to have a late second lunch (the free sandwich was long gone). I flipped through the logbook to find one or two other TAers who had tried this alternative route. All had only attempted it in good weather and thoroughly enjoyed it.
At 4:30 I set off up the 450m gain in elevation (slog) up to Te Matawai Hut. It actually wasn't as bad as I expected at first. The first part is steep and I had lots of breath breaks, but then the gradient decreases slightly and the going gets easier. The gradient decreases a second time and you're lulled into a false sense of "I must be getting there quicker than I thought!". This undulating upward section seems to take a lifetime and after a while I sat down in a heap and viciously munched a muesli bar and drank water until I had regained some degree of perspective. The river walk had taken longer than expected and I was keen now just to get to the hut.
Of course, 200m up the track from my mini-tantrum was an intersection with the ridge line track and then it was an easy 1.5km to Te Matawai Hut. Unexpectedly there was someone there. He proved to be a guy named Hamish, a commercial pilot from the UK out here visiting family and fitting in some tramping on the side. We had a long chat over dinner about life as a pilot and as a geologist respectively, and also (inevitably) compared some of our gear. I shared my cookies for desert and he very kindly made me a second cup of tea so I could indulge without using my precious gas supply.
With only two of us in the large bunk room we had all the space in the world. Curiously, and kind of sweetly, someone has scattered glow-in-the-dark stars all over the ceiling and the underside of the upper bunks--make a change from the usual plain painted wood, occasional graffiti and/or cobwebs! It's a nice touch in what is for sone reason a not altogether welcoming hut. I had a flick through the logbook before going to bed. Tom has written "there were three black possums playing round the hut...and then there were two...". Hamish and I looked at each other quizzically; does that mean he killed one or just scared it away? If I ever catch up to him I'll ask.
Oh, in other news, I've officially lost my first toenail. It's taken all this time since before the Tongariro Crossing when I first bruised it to finally come off, but it's gone. Something pinged when I took my sock off when I got to the hut; only when I looked down and saw I had four silver toenails in my right foot and one flesh coloured one without even a fleck of silver (I painted them all silver for the wedding; two purple toenails wouldn't have looked with those shoes!) did I realise the 'ping' must have been the missing toenail. Oh well. I was warned from the outset that most people would lose two or three doing this thru-hiking nonsense!
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