Blue Lake Hut - Waiau Hut via Waiau Pass

Today is the day. The skies looked like they couldn’t quite make up their mind, but we were running out of food. There was nothing for it, we had to traverse Waiau Pass today. We stepped out of the hut and headed up the stony trail. Christ! It was icy cold, our breath came in puffs around us. Up and up we went, past Blue Lake, onto the next outcrop, through patchy forest and soggy tussock.

Climbing the steep scree from Lake Constance

That’s when it started to snow. The skies were blue, and still it snowed. What in the world… We’d all read the DOC warnings of snow occurring year-round in high alpine areas, but come on, this is New Zealand in summer! We’d been sweating for over two weeks now! But snow it did, so thickly that we could hardly see the far shore of Lake Constance. It wasn’t like snow at home, where thick flakes would come down in sheets from a grey sky. No, this snow was fine and glittery, falling almost like rain as we battled up the crazy steep banks of the lake. The scree had no discernible trail, but we either had to go up or swim across the huge lake. We tripped over tussock and desperately tried to warm our fingers in our armpits. The cold was numbing, we lost the feeling in our feet. To hell with it. We were from Norway, Switzerland and Canada. Mountain people. We had to make a shelter now or freeze.

Who knew that the Swiss spaceship tent would come to the rescue? How beautifully ironic that the beached whale we’d made fun of for weeks would end up saving us. We set it up on the stony and flat south shore of Lake Constance, battling the fierce wind to fix the guylines. Fitting four people inside was a beastly tight squeeze, but with all of us spooning one another we managed by a hair. Snow pelted down on the tent. An hour went by. Then two. I knew we were in deep shit. There was no way we’d get over Waiau Pass in these conditions. The thought of turning back and exiting the park through the Travers Sabine Circuit was devastating. Suddenly nature felt hostile, this dream of the trail so fragile. I felt very, very small.

Then Patrick went out to pee. I’d buried my head in Toby’s chest and looked up to see a big smile across Patrick’s face. “Come outside” he beckoned. And will you believe it. It was like the storm never happened! Lake Constance surface glistened calmly, sunshine streamed down, blinding us as we tumbled out in delirious joy. Only a faint sprinkling of snow on the mountaintops revealed that morning’s troubles. We lunched in the vestibules, willing our socks to dry out in the still cold air. We dismantled camp and made our way across the wide basin towards the intimidating-looking pass. There was just scree so steep you had to crane your neck all the way back to see the top of it. But I’d never felt such energy.

Can you tell how crazy steep this wall is?

My calves burned as I pushed straight up the mountain, thinking back to Glen Pass on the John Muir Trail with its dainty switchbacks. Waiau Pass offered no such leniency, but we were flying all the same. The white stones gleamed up at us before they gave away to alpine tussock and mountain outcrops. This was it, time to turn around.

I looked out over the stunning valley backdrop, Lake Constance gleaming like a sapphire straight out of all the Youtube videos I’d watched so hungrily for 18 months. Everything I’d dreamed of back when I sat rotting in university was all around me, the beloved trail beneath my feet. I am walking into my life.

Reaching the top of the pass high on adrenaline surpassed Fort William, Mount Whitney, every graduation and award I’d ever earned. Climbing Waiau had taken an hour, but somehow also seven years since I’d first discovered New Zealand. The journey spanned across a whole universe of existence. The four of us whooped with joy, hugging each other and celebrating with chocolate and selfies. Right there and then we were the coolest people in the world.

The southern side was equal parts mind-blowingly steep and beautiful. We inched our way down, our minds already swept clean by that morning’s drama. Slippery rocks led down into a lush green basin speckled with small waterfalls and wildflowers. I felt like I’d lived three days packed into one. Coming down towards the bottom of the valley we navigated several river crossings, and I nimbly hopped on the stones, determined to not get my boots wet. We came to a particularly daunting crossing. Toby and Etienne charged over like bulls while Patrick and I, the smaller humans, stood whining at the jump. The big boys rolled a boulder over the edge of the bank into the river, drowning us in a spectacular splash that left us wetter than we would have been wading over the river. We laughed so hard I almost fell right in…!

The valley opened up into a great expanse. Afternoon sunlight warmed us, lush forests crawled towards the tips of the mountains. We cruised breezily onwards on the flat trail until we came to a wide rushing river.

Crossing time! Toby in his trail runners hopped right through and over. Patrick switched out his high La Sportiva boots for sneakers, and I stood barefoot waiting for Etienne to take off his massive leather boots to cross. He stood on the bank for a while, contemplating the easiest way to transport himself and his gear across the river.

“I might just throw them over” he said. We looked doubtfully at his giant boots. He stepped back and braced for a massive swing – arms outreached, the boots left his hand-… and SPLASHED right into the river! Holy shit!

For half a second we all stood stunned, watching them get swept away until Toby recovered his wits and raced down the bank. He threw himself into the rapids, soaking himself from head to toe but recovering Etienne’s boot! I almost peed myself laughing, we all stood crippled in hysterics at the thought of Etienne making it out of Nelson Lakes without underwear and barefoot. The misfortunes of this dude!

How long this day had been, and yet I felt I could keep hiking forever. The four of us hiked side by side, spread out in the golden grass of the great valley. Shadows grew long until they engulfed the valley floor. At long last we caught sight of the small but perfect Waiau Hut at the far end of a great meadow, nestled against the edge of the forest. The hut had opened only a few months before and was squeaky clean. Gobbling down my freeze-dried butter chicken in the unbelievably cosy Waiau Hut, I felt extremely content. There wasn’t a single thing I would have changed about my life in that very moment. This day had taken us from the lowest low to the highest high. My body felt smashed but so accomplished. Please go hiking, readers. There is nothing better in this world!