Te-araroa walk
Hiking the South Island trail
I took this photo moments before the rain began, blissfully unaware of the challenges we were about to face. Little did we know that this day was going to be the most physically and mentally challenging of the whole South Island Te-Araroa walk. My cousin and I had just made our way up Martha’s saddle, an hour’s climb from the tin hut we stayed in the night before. This was a bit of a slog, but nothing we weren't used to. At the top, a brisk wind started to pick up, so we put our jackets on and set off down the other side of the mountain--which is where I took this photo.
Rain began to fall, and it was getting pretty chilly, but once again, nothing we weren’t used to. We continued to descend until we reached Top Timaru Hut which marked our arrival at the bottom of the valley, where we stopped to eat lunch. The weather didn't improve. We kept on following the river which, because of the rain, had swelled, making it more risky to cross. This meant, among other things, that we spent more time finding the safest locations to cross. Each time we crossed, we would have to link arms to ensure we didn’t get swept away. We had fifteen or so of these to do. Each time we made it across the river, we had to climb up the steep, muddy bank and sidle for a time before descending back down for another river crossing. Sidling in this weather was very difficult. The track was already extremely narrow but with the weather, some parts of the track had slipped away or would give when we stepped on them.
Five hours passed; all the while the weather was deteriorating. By this stage, Cameron and I were cold, exhausted, soaked, and quite ready to be done. Reaching the Timaru river junction was bittersweet. It marked the end of the gruelling river crossings and bank sidling but it also marked an hour and a half of one big, unbelievably steep climb. Rock slides and fallen trees had destroyed parts of the track making it very challenging to find the markers. When we weren't clambering up rock slides or over fallen trees looking for the markers, we were slipping in the mud. Some sections were reaching sixty degrees making it impossible for our boots to find any purchase on the muddy mountainside. In moments like these, we resorted to putting our walking poles away and grabbing onto trees, rocks, roots, or anything that we could use to haul ourselves up the hill.
At around the halfway point, we saw something that truly caught us off guard... an elderly lady, who we later found out to be seventy-two years old! We couldn't believe it. The track Cameron and I had just come through was one of the most technical of the Te-Araroa, and here was a seventy-two-year-old who’d just done it. We didn't chat for too long as the hut was only forty-five minutes away and we were freezing.
With heads down and with one foot in front of the other, the hut came into sight. Relief flooded in and our morale skyrocketed. We had finally reached our destination for the day and it promised food, warmth, and dry place to kick up our feet. So we couldn't help but smile and crack jokes as we came up to the entrance; it was the first time we had chatted in quite some time. I noticed smoke coming out of the chimney and I eagerly anticipated taking my boots off in front of a warm fire. I knocked on the door and opened it to find it full--a six-bunk hut, crammed with five people, and to our knowledge four more on the way. The sweet warmth of relief fled and took with it our morale as Cameron and I came to terms with the fact that we were going to have to push for the next hut. We agreed that the elderly lady deserved that free bed more than us. So on we went.
The next section to Pakatuhi Hut was supposed to take about four hours. It followed a farm trail along an exposed ridgeline. This was not a good time for the rain and wind to reach the severest it had all day. We were getting battered by the weather, and I was beginning to lose sensation in my hands. Cam and I had switched into survival mode. I have never walked with so much determination in my life!
We marched along the ridge line, making it to Pakatuhi Hut in only half the time, about two hours. By this point, I couldn't feel my hands, not even the achy pain of extreme cold. Stumbling up the stairs we flung the door open to discover the sweet sight of an almost empty hut. The single occupant, a bearded German guy, must have been very confused, and maybe a bit flattered by our teary relief as we saw him upon arrival. This was the moment we had been dreaming of all day.