Blue Lake Hut
Introducing some discord into our world of harmony. Today was supposed to be the day we climbed Waiau Pass, perhaps the most famous stretch of the entire Te Araroa. However, large rainclouds loomed on the horizon. Our experience with the Rintoul mountains in the Richmond Ranges had cautioned us, we weren’t about to embark on another blind journey across treacherous mountain terrain. We had enough food to spare for an extra day, so we decided to stay on at Blue Lake Hut for another night. Hiking parties came and went, but many decided to stay put like us.
How I hated the guts of the postman in St Arnaud who had lost my resupply box containing Into the Wild. I was desperate for entertainment, we had absolutely nothing to do except wander around the hut aimlessly. Toby, being eager to rid himself of his absurdly large supply of crappy energy bars traded me five of them in exchange for half of my Whittaker chocolate stick. I’ve always been prone to boredom overeating, and after nibbling down three bars I felt sugar-poisoned to the bone. Sigh.
Yesterday’s glory
Going up to Blue Lake in the bad weather wasn’t exactly tempting, so I settled for listening to The Savage Lovecast and frequent naps. God, I bore myself just recollecting this day. I was desperate to get back out there and hike – I longed to see the iconic Lake Constance glittering at the bottom of the basin whilst savouring the victory of having reached Waiau Pass (this very image features on most covers of TA-guides I’ve read). The elevation profile on Guthook promised a real challenge, but after the Richmonds nothing could phase us.
Etienne and his bars
Unlike planned rest days in town, forced rest days on trail feels more like being stranded than resting. Also, I had awakened to a gory period nightmare in my sleeping bag liner, which was now utterly ruined. I’d completely forgotten about my cycle’s existence. Post-John Muir Trail when my body gave me a complete free pass, I’d just assumed the strains of hiking would keep the red plague at bay. No such luck.
I felt bad counting on other female hikers to rescue me, but Laura from Germany carried such an impressive stack of sanitary items that I felt almost charitable relieving her of the weight – her tampons surely weighed as much as my food bag. Ever heard of resupply boxes…?
As darkness finally settled, I was itching to head up and onwards on our journey. After Waiau Pass we’d be tantalisingly close to the end of the Nelson Marlborough section. We’d hitchhike into Hanmer Springs for New Years before embarking on the flatter, tussocked plains of Canterbury – the longest section of the South Island TA.
It really felt like we were making progress. Crossing a country on foot seems like an impossible endeavour in itself unless you break it up into smaller pieces. We were so close to the end of our first out of four pieces. Bring on the wilderness!