Mid Wairoa Hut - Hunters Hut

What an absolute motivation low point this morning was. My tent was soaked in rain and condensation from the nearby river, sleeping bag was soggy, we all moved around like sluggish zombies. Even Toby, usually the most pumped of us, was exhausted and quiet. It was unforgivingly cold as we started up the steep track right behind Mid Wairoa Hut. Starting the day on an uphill is the worst, my legs always cramp up when I haven’t warmed up properly.

The section of track along the Wairoa river towards Top Wairoa Hut is notorious for its bad conditions: poisonous plants, constantly wading the shallow rockbed of the river, and sidling for hours. We scrambled and crawled over roots and ledges at a hairy angle on the sides of the gorge above the river. The trail looked as if it had never been maintained. We knew today would be massive (it turned out to be one of the longest and hardest days on the whole TA). I was whiny and tired after a bad night’s sleep, and Toby shouted and cursed from being stung by a bee. Long parts of the TA are swarming with wasps, so beware if you’re allergic. They mostly left us alone, but today of all days they had to meddle.

And then, after a knee-crunching climb and our umpteenth river crossing, Toby spotted a calm greenstone-coloured pool in the river underneath a drooping beech tree. The river cascaded down in the morning sunlight, and we didn’t even need to speak out loud – time to make this day memorable. We peeled off our clothes – I was now in continental mode and ditched my sports bra too – and dove in. The water was freakishly cold, but felt wonderful the way only wild swims can, and we squealed as we splashed around. Patrick and Etienne followed close behind and screamed as they threw themselves in. What a morning!

We spread out on the warm white rocks and soaked in the sun. For two hours we just lay there, feeling that the world was ours. It’s amazing how such simple things can turn your day around. I thought about the signature song from Annie and knew what today’s blog title would be. Leaving our little wilderness resort to continue on toward Top Wairoa Hut, Toby and I promised one another that we would always stop to swim in the rivers. This is universal advice to all hikers: always stop. Always take the extra moment to make the day worth remembering.

On the steep climb towards the bright orange Top Wairoa Hut, the landscape changed completely. Lush beech forest was replaced by arid red desert. Prickly plants grew out of cracks in the black, volcanic-looking rock that tore at our boots. New Zealand sure knows how to stun at every turn! This was the kind of landscape I’d expect to see in Arizona. We stomped up a massive hill through the tussock and into alpine terrain. There’s no way my calf muscles will ever get used to this strain. Once dainty, they were now like logs to both touch and sight. Reaching the summit felt like a victory as always, and we stood in awe at the vast expanse spreading out before us. We could see the end of the Richmonds at last! Green mountains faded into hills before they popped up again into the Southern Alps. Snack tiiiiime!

It was almost 15.00 already. The hot afternoon sun scorched high above, and our Guthook map app told us Hunter’s Hut was still 8 km away. Dang! We’d spent so long on the first section of today, and we were by no means in for an easy stroll. Team Swiss were somewhere behind us, so Toby and I marched across a huge scree field and down into a riverbed valley. The trail was finally better graded, it undulated up and down amongst bone-dry trees endlessly. I was spent. And hungry. We were nearing the end of the stretch, and my food supply was growing thin. I spent hours torturing myself with thoughts of the New World superstore in Wellington. What would I grab if I had ten minutes in there? …or even just five? Fuck, I could grab a bunch in just one minute! Desperate longing for apples, avocados, pizza, zesty lemon meringue pie filled my head toward insanity. The walk was beautiful, but I felt only insatiable hunger. I needed Hunters Hut, now!

We were absolutely shattered by the time we crawled onto the porch. Hunters Hut lay perched on a small outcrop overlooking the valley. To our delight Anja and a spunky girl named El from Oregon were already there, and we had a lovely evening spread out in the spacious hut. We munched Team Swiss’ surplus energy bars, fantasised about emptying the store in St Arnaud, and stretched in the sunset light by the picnic table outside. Despite this day being hellishly long, it stood out as a highlight of the trail so far. To top it off, when Etienne reached the hut, he handed me my red La Sportiva trail runner, which had fallen out of my pack on the scree slope. “Did you lose a shoe?” he asked with a smile. I almost sank to the floor with relief. Not sure if I could take any more excitement now!