The track up from Te Matawai Hut soon climbs out of the trees, steadily gaining height as it climbs up and over the many knobbly bits on the shoulder up to the summit of (?). I was in on a pinnacle of rock in a world of white, surrounded by tussock for as far as the eye could see...which was never more than about fifty meters. Down the ridge to either side the world just fella way into grey-whiteness.
Thus cocooned I turned my attention from the view that wasn't to the little things I could see and appreciate, namely the several different types of alpine plants. I was going slowly, trying not to build up a sweat that would only turn cold as I got higher, the wind got stronger, and the terrain less steep once I made the summit and the ridge (though I had my thermals on just in case). There was a lot to see besides tussock (which I managed to trip on a couple of times by one boot holding down the ends of the leaf blades while my next step with the other got caught in the anchored loop of grass...sigh). Mostly little mounds or creeping ground cover plants. One little bush in particular had nice little dark green leaves and often had several bright red round fruits scattered amongst it's foliage--it looked like little alpine pockets of Christmas. One of my other favourites was a nice little delicately-leafed plant growing in sheltered spots amongst the mounds of tussock or larger rocks that had a tall stalk (for an alpine plant) crowned with an array of white flowers. These were all currently closed up tight against the inclement weather but I guessed that on a nice day they'd be a very cheerful little flower scattered here and there across the mountain sides.
In part because of such pleasant diversions, but mostly due to the miserable weather, it took me 2 1/2 hours to gain the summit, and when I got there I nearly got blown off. Well, not quite, but it was a tough call as to weather my pack was performing better service as an anchor (due to the extra weight) or as a sail; it all depends on which way you stand against the wind!
I stood for a moment to watch the cloud streaming up and over the ridge, took a quick photo (which won't do it justice) and then beat a hasty retreat down the back of the peak and out along the ridge where, fortunately, though exposed, was not quite as windy (you had to be unlucky enough to be caught with one foot and two poles in the air at the same time as a strong gust before you were in any danger of being blown over). Tussocks and scrubby bushes often helped to provide a bit of a wind buffer, and sometime the steep angle of the slope meant the wind came whipping up and shot straight over my head. It was weird but kind of cool how I could be standing on the track in the center of the ridge in comparative stillness and stick my arm out into a cold buffeting wind!
On particularly exposed sections I tightened the strings on my hood to protect my face and trap a little pocket of warm air around my head. This works really well but I find it quite claustrophobic and so have to loosen the strings again as soon as I'm in a more sheltered spot.
After a while trundling along the ridge surrounded by white I started getting very tired. I stopped in the shelter of a bush to munch a second muesli bar and set out again. I probably should have had something more substantial but the rest of my food is in my pack and I didn't want to get it out in that weather. I was determined to make it to the shelter of Dracophyllum Hut for lunch, so I kept on keeping on...which was a mistake. Despite the weather I should have had more to eat and more rest breaks. Before I made it to the hut it was as if not only the inner furnace had died but my pilot light had gone out. Consequently it took an age to get to the hut. I was running on empty for the last two kilometres and when I finally saw the tiny little orange
building up ahead I was very tired and hungry. Actually I was bordering on hangry as the track through the forested sections had several downed trees that required scrambling over, energy for which I just did not have.
So I finally made it to the tiny 2-bunk Dracophyllum Hut, not I was unhappy to admit my destination for the day, but a welcome respite. Here I could get warm and dry, and eat!
Through a combination of rain, wet vegetation and sweat I was soaked through, and as soon as I stopped walking I got very cold (another reason is been reluctant to take more breaks). I stripped and changed into my dry set of thermals, donned my fleece and buffer jacket, then made and slurped a cup of tea and a pasta snack...and very gradually I was warm and cosy again. Dracophyllum Hut is a damp and grimy little hut (having me and all my wet gear in there won't have helped), but for me it was a welcome reprieve...though I kept a wary eye on the large spider living underneath the top bunk. I'm sure he/she was as grateful to be in out of the weather as I was, so if it stayed where I could see it and didn't move I was willing to share shelter.
In addition to pasta I scarfed some cookies, chocolate and scroggin. I don't ever remember being this low on energy on the trail! During a wee break in the drizzle I ducked out to the loo. On the way back there was even a momentary glimmer of sunshine, which I stood in for the thirty seconds or so it lasted before thicker cloud rolled over again.
I stopped for nearly 2hrs at Dracophyllum Hut, journaling, perusing the logbook (there were a number of humorous entries, most recently Tom saying this was "kind of like having fun but not quite"...I guessed he'd had similar weather to me), even clipping my fingernails. For some reason I was reluctant to go out in the wet and wind again...
But go out I did. Warm, dry and resting I was tempted to stay put, spider or no spider, but knew I should press on. Putting my wet clothes back on again was akin to putting on wet togs, except completely covering your body, without the anticipation of soon enjoying a nice swim in a warm pool. Thermals went on first and I stood steaming as I got my other layers ready. Finally I was dressed, packed up and ready to go, eager to be moving lest I get cold in wet clothes again.
It's a mere 5km to Nicols Hut from Dracophyllum Hut. Looking at the map I couldn't understand why they put the huts so close together. On a day like today I was grateful as hell. Still it would prove to be a challenging 5km.
Before long the track had become steep and more than a little bit scary for someone who hasn't hot the surest feet in the world, especially on wet rocks, and who is more than a little apprehensive about heights. There were a couple of steep scrambly sections, one of which I slid down (controlled!) on my bum to save myself from inevitably falling over. There was just so little to hang on to or put a firm footing on!
The signage on the track says this section between huts takes 2hrs, the TA notes say 3-4hrs, and I took 5. The chief delay, other than moving slowly, was I got lost. As visibility was no more than fifty meters this was not enough to see from one pole to the next and you have to follow the beaten track on faith for a bit, hoping another orange marker will materialise out of the gloom. At one crucial point it didn't.
Tired as I was I noticed a cairn next to a pole, but failed to note it's significance. So I kept trundling along the top of the ridge following what was as much a beaten track as the actual track had been...until it wasn't. It just seemed to fade out into nothing among the tussocks. Figuring I must have gone astray down the side of the ridge as I was and that the track must be on top of the ridge I headed up the rise on my left, until I could go up no more, to find there was no track and no poles. I was on the rounded top of an Island in the cloud. I couldn't even see where I had come from, let alone the last known pole. The first sickening tendrils of panic flexed in my gut and the back of my throat, but I'm glad to say I stomped on those in a heartbeat. Panicking wasn't going to help. As it was 5pm and I would start to lose daylight in an hour or so I was tempted to pitch tent and hope for better weather in the morning, but I really wanted to get to the hut and be warm and cosy again...
From my memory of the map and guess at distance covered I figured I was now on top of a peak called Kelleher. I sat down and briefly imagined the very nice view there must be from here in a clear day while turning in the GPS and waiting for it to find satellite. A few moments later suspicion confirmed. My coordinates according to the map put me smack bang on top of Kelleher. Somehow I'd gone up and over where the trail goes aside, round and down. Ok that was fine, but how to find the trail again? Strike out southeast and hit the trail somewhere down the lower ridge below, or backtrack northeast and try to find the last pole I'd seen. Southeast had the advantage that it might get me further along the trail, but there was a steep valley between me and the trail on the map (but hidden in the cloud) that if I wasn't very careful I'd end up going down without any sure way of getting back up the other side. Whilst northeast I knew was doable since that's the way I had come. I hauled out the compass to check my direction (I don't quite trust the compass on the GPS) and after scoffing another muesli bar set off. Happily I soon recognised some of the rocks I'd been past on my way to getting lost, and within a couple of hundred meters or so spotted the pole I had last seen. I can honestly say I've never been do happy to see a trail marker.
Looking around I soon spotted the next pole, way down on a small ridge leading off the the other side which I had previously followed (which is what the cairn is there for, as the next pole is easy to miss if you get into the rhythm of following the main ridge...like I had!).
The fear of being lost followed by the shear joy of giving the trail again was a good recipe for adrenalin to help me through the remaining kilometres. Unfortunately it didn't last all the way to the hut and once, as I noticed the light fading during a sheltered section down in mossy cloud forest I contemplated stopping and pitching tent for the night. But I was so close! So I kept going, and sure enough, finally up and over one last hillock on the ridge I came the signed intersection indicating the side trail down to Nicols Hut. It was a bit of a scramble to get down but at long last a corrugated iron roof loomed out of the grey cloud. As I walked up to the door my GPS pinged happily. Knowing that meant "arriving at destination" I was chuffed my estimate of the hut's coordinates from the map had been so remarkably accurate!
At 7:40pm I opened the door on a grimy little hut (though probably four times the size of Dracophyllum!) that hasn't seen much use since the bulk of the TAers passed through over a month ago. First things first though, I got changed into my dry set of clothes again before setting about sweeping and wiping down the various necessary surfaces. I hung up my wet things from the assortment of nails in the walls. Unfortunately there was no wood except for one half-charred log with which to make a fire so I didn't bother. Instead I dug out my torch as it was now getting properly dark, and made tea and pasta for the second time that day. I didn't actually feel much like eating--my stomach was feeling a little queasy--but I wolfed it down anyway, knowing I'd need the sustenance for tomorrow. I am determined not to let my pilot light go out again!
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