Day 101: Pelorus Bridge to Captain's Creek Hut (22.5km; 1826.5km total)

Brrr! It was cold last night. So cold I woke up and had to fetch my woolly hat out of my clothes-bag-come-pillow. There was no dew on the outside of the tent, but my breath must have condensated in the cold as the underside of the fly was coated in a thick film of water. Who knew you gave off that much moisture in your sleep?!

I woke at 6, but went back to sleep and didn't get up until 7. My German cyclist neighbour was still asleep so I quietly got up and went to have breakfast before striking my tent and packing up, chatting to the UK guy every now and then as we crossed paths during our morning routines. It's funny really; after so much talking yesterday and today we seem to have entered that grey area between strangers and almost-friends that would exchange email etc. in order to keep in touch. Neither of us felt quite inclined to push things that far however (probably because we'd both forgotten each other's names and felt rude asking again) and we merely bid each other farewell and safe travels. This was reiterated with the American couple from last night; they showed an interest in reading my blog so Hello! if you're reading this. I hope you had a blast in NZ and had a safe trip home!

The Pelorus River

Setting out just before 9:30 I re-crossed the bridge and paused briefly to chat to a stop-go sign operator at the intersection with Mangatapu Rd. Fortunately whatever was going on did not effect my route for the day and off I went, reassured in the knowledge that it was a "long walk" up the road to the start of the track...

Mangatapu Rd follows the Pelorus River upstream, wending its way through rural farm properties that steadily get more remote. Several of these look like lovely lifestyle blocks and one in particular, bathing in sunshine on top of a low hillock and with a lovely view down the valley, struck me as being a place I would be very happy to call my own. Sure enough the farmer looked like a happy old chap when he waved to me as he drove past in his tractor.

A cool sculpture along Mangatapu Rd

Some way along the road I was passing another farmhouse when the resident dog took exception to my presence. It came barreling up to the fence barking its head off. I carried on, telling the dog to "shush", more because I felt like I should make some effort to quell the racket than because I thought the dog would listen, which it didn't. Then suddenly another dog came hurtling out of nowhere from the road behind me, went right up to the fence and barked back in Dog #1's face. Dog #1 got the message and let me walk on with only the occasional "woof!" for good measure. Meanwhile Dog #2, a friendly-looking sheep dog, jogged back onto the road, turned round to look at me for a moment, and then set off at an easy trot ahead. It wasn't long before it went round a corner and out of sight. I followed--not at an easy trot--and when I came round the corner, there was Dog #2 sniffing around the side of the road at the next corner. Shortly after I came in sight the dog turned and trotted off out of sight again. We continued in this way, with the dog waiting for me each time I fell behind and out of sight, and then carrying on ahead once I came into view. I only managed to draw level with it once when a particularly interesting ditch by the roadside occupied the dogs attention long enough for me to catch up.

Several kilometers later I'd come to accept the dog as a walking companion, and was feeling quite chuffed that the dog had chosen me this. But I was beginning to wonder when the thing would turn around and go home. Surely it wouldn't follow/lead me all the way into the Richmond Ranges?

Things came to a head when we passed another farmhouse that had a kenneled dog in the front yard. My companion saw this as an opportunity too good to miss and shot in the gate, sniffed around the yard for a bit, and then squatted right in front of the dog kennel and did an enormous poop on the farmer's front lawn. I was waiting for an irate farmer to come roaring out of the house (the hysterical barking of their own dog surely having alerted them to the fact that something was up), but apparently no one was home. A few carefree kicks of grass later my hiking companion trotted back out of the gate and went to set off along the road again. But I decided that enough was probably enough. Calling to the dog as it went to trot past me it stopped, a little suspiciously and let me catch its collar. I'd noticed that it had a yellow cattle's ear tag attached when I first saw it and I soon found out why. Written on the ear tag in faded permanent marker was a note: "My name is Missy. Please tell me firmly to GO HOME!". Huh, I guess I'm not that special after all. Apparently Missy follows people a lot. I gave her a pat and then said in a firm but not unkind voice "Missy, go home!". Well, the reaction! The poor thing leapt away from me as if I had struck her and stood back looking at me with a very sad and uncertain face (yes, dogs have faces). I felt bad--clearly she's had the instruction reinforced by being hit at some point--but knowing it was for the best I repeated the order. Deciding I was clearly as nasty as I sounded Missy turned tail and set off at a brisk trot back the way we had come, leaving me to head on up the road alone. Part of me couldn't help wishing she'd ignored me.

Somewhere along the way the road passed through a pine forest and I stopped for a break on a small grassy shoulder of the road that was one of the few patches of sun now that it was hemmed in by trees. While having lunch I watched as numerous bright golden specks fly back and forth across the road: bees shining like tiny beacons in the shafting sunlight. Far from being haphazard there were definite highways coming out of the forest as two major angles and disappearing into the trees on the opposite side. I hazarded a guess there were at least two hives, or alternately two rich pollen-collecting areas on the far side of the road. After lunch I sat for a bit, soaking up the sunshine and listening to the sounds of birds and crickets singing, and bees buzzing through the dandelions at my un-booted feet...and the slightly deeper buzz of a solitary wasp. (Thwump! Having heavy boots to hand comes in handy for doing your bit for pest control). One car drove past, but other than that the road was deserted.

Pelorus River - just gorgeous

The sun tracked overhead as I was having my break and when the last of grass was thrown into shadow I laced up my boots and set off again. The road continues to wind up the valley and has occasional views of the beautiful Pelorus River below. I wandered along in a bit of a daydream until at last the road plunged into native bush and I figured I must be getting close to the start of the track. Finally, around a corner I came to a carpark (read "broad clearing near the end of the road"), where the car that had passed me during my break was now parked. A runner was stretching next to the car, apparently having just returned from a run along the track. I wasn't encouraged at first by his assessment of it being "horrible", but felt more hopeful when he added "but it would be a good walk". Not far away the walking track begins, dropping down into bush and following the road for a short distance (which continues on to the gate of the last farm) before veering off and following the river upstream. While the track is not difficult, I could see why someone running would have trouble; placing your feet properly among roots and round holes at speed would be difficult, but at a walking pace wasn't bad.

3.5km through mixed beech and podocarp forest brings you to the Emerald Pool, where a large bend in the clear blue-green river offers a nice spot for a swim. There's a picnic table among the trees, and a short rough track leads down to the river. I left my gear at the table and went for a swim. While I'd intended to have a decent paddle, the water was so cold I barely managed to get in and under and gasp before having to paddle back to shore and clamber up and out onto the boulder bank. I lay in the sun for half an hour or so to dry, by which time the sandflies had found me and I beat a hasty retreat back to the picnic table. Shortly before 3:30 and after a quick afternoon tea I set off again. From the Emerald Pool its 5.5km to the hut and supposedly takes 4hrs. I thought I might be able to do it in 2.

Emerald Pool

From the pool its a steady climb up but not so steep that I had to stop. Before I knew it I was up and had begun the sidle around the hillside. The track had gotten more difficult by this stage but still wasn't too bad. After 4km I was getting tired and a bit stumbly so stopped for another break, just before the track begins zig-zagging down the hill. Even with the rest I still managed to nearly twist both ankles on the way down, so I slowed right down and dawdled the rest of the way up-down-up-down to the hut.

Captain's Creek Hut

Captain's Creek Hut is just off the trail, down in a flat grassy clearing on the river bank. It was a gorgeous spot in gorgeous weather and I had it all to myself. The hut itself was nice and tidy and I was encouraged by the fact that the logbook had no mention of rats for several months. There were several other amusing entries, including one about a dog hanging around the hut; I wondered if it had been Missy. TA hikers were well represented in the book. This is the first hut heading south in the South Island so its a bit of a landmark for those who are only doing the South Island leg of Te Araroa, as it is either their first or last hut depending on their direction. Consequently several people write some poignant things. One person squished a load of sandflies, suggesting they could be used as nutritional supplements. My contribution was not very poignant or practical, but ran thus:

"There once was a hiker who went for swim,

Then she rinsed out her socks on a whim.

She sat down to dry, got eaten alive,

And now she has slap marks all over her skin!"

Epilogue: several tiny fish came to investigate

and enjoyed eating the sandflies post-slap

A...er...practical?...contribution to the logbook

While I had the hut to myself upon arrival, just as I was having dinner I heard voices and popped my head out the door to see two guys striding down the track. They turned out to be two Americans, Jeff and Slater, out here doing seasonal work in the vineyards. Slater returns to the States to guide white-water rafting trips in their summer; I couldn't help thinking he would have been a handy companion on the Wanganui River (not that that had what any pro would call white-water!). The two of them were a nice but funny pair. They'd had night out last night and so set out late today, severely hungover. They're planning to head up Mt Richmond tomorrow, while I will be following TA, hopefully as far as Rocks Hut.