Tramping New Zealand

DAY 16 - Kepler Track 2/4

This is the most important day of the trek — the one where good weather is most important.  It looks as if we will have it, too; for the skies are fairly clear.

Morning at the Luxmore Hut

At breakfast, with the help of the water bottle that still is on the window sill, we actually have oatmeal instead of oatsoup.  Dave also had thought to pack some extra brown sugar, which is great.

Dave has no actual water bottle after having lost his over on the Routeburn Track.  He has been using a left-over plastic milk bottle that leaks if it is turned upside-down.  After pointing out that the one here must have been left behind by someone, he consents to take it along.  Hooray!  Now we will be able to cook without guesswork.  The only downside is the extra weight of having to carry the old bottle also.

Heading out — or rather, up

As we depart, a party of hikers is gathering.  It seems that the seven-year-old boy in our group has gone missing, and a search is being prepared.

Still above the clouds

The trail ahead
The trail behind

View to the southwest

Mount Luxmore summit

Dave and I elect to eschew the detour up to the mountain summit.  It doesn't look as if the view would improve much, and the trail looks crappy, and it's a bit windy and cold already.

The Hardy Boys

The trail winds up, and up, and up some more

At the two-hour mark, a welcome shelter

Somewhere in here Dave and I learn from a guy who has a walkie-talkie that the lost boy has been found.  It seems that he simply opted to starting walking with a couple of adults who were not his parents, and it apparently never occurred to them that something might be amiss.  See?  I'm not the only one doing stupid things.

Fully outfitted, I am not at all cold; but it is quite windy

There are few butterflies around
Daisies are a rarity as well

Forging ahead

In command of all he surveys

The trail continues to wind up, and up — to the ridge top

I am dressed for winter conditions.  How can she do that?

Up toward the infamous saddle

It turns out that there actually are three saddle-like traverses.  On at least one of them, it is such a steep dropoff on both sides of the trail that when the winds are fierce enough, the DOC places a sentry at both ends to prevent hikers from attempting a risky crossing.

Today, fortunately, is not one of those times.  Although the gusts of wind are enough to make me glad I have a walking stick, they aren't threatening to send me into orbit.  In any case, here we are at the most spectacular portion of this track — the place you see on all the brochures:

This is why I came to New Zealand

At some point in here, the ridge top eats my new headband, meaning that apparently I didn't stuff it far enough into a pocket, and now it is gone forever.  Bummer.

Yet another ridge top to conquer

At the scheduled four-hour mark, the next shelter/potty combo is right atop a high-point.  The local birdies know all about it:

This kea wants my apple

See our trail in the center distance?

Even the lichen are beautiful

This is where we start down

Before long we're back in the trees

We never would see one of these guys

My knees begin to hurt about now, because the downgrade is so steep.  We pass a couple more signposts that understate the walking time required by mere mortals such as Dave and me.  Finally, we pass one that tells us that the hut is just past Trap #24 — one of some 2,000 stoat traps placed along the various trails throughout this country.

Heart of the rainforest

Even when we go down, we go up

Nifty configuration

Our destination is down there somewhere

The Iris Burn Hut does show up eventually, of course.  At this one we must leave our boots and any heavy rain gear outside.  That is something of a problem, because there are so many sand flies present that the time spent outside in taking off a boot is hazardous to one's health.

Inside the hut there is another crisis in progress.  A young man has sprained an ankle while running the trail, and he is getting it taped up.  Dave offers him an ibuprofen for the inflammation, but Mr. Macho declines.  Then, when the taping is finished, Dave again offers him two pills this time, which he ultimately takes.

Perhaps this incident will help this man to learn before it is too late that the worst thing he can do to his legs is to run on rough trails and risk becoming severely hobbled in the future.  In any case, now there are no more big ibuprofen pills for my sore back; but the sacrifice was in a good cause, I suppose, and Dave did the honorable thing by offering them.

Down with a sprained ankle

The cook's new helper

On tonight's menu is another package of Chicken Tikka Masala, the same dish prepared when I opted for no dinner at all over on the Routeburn Track.  It is extra-spicy, but good.

Most of my sand fly bites are on the right hand

Ranger Robbie tells us of a local resident known affectionately as Grandma Kiwi, who lives nearby.  Having been abandoned by her mate for some reason, she now calls out every night to the local males, but receives no reply.

Robbie also explains the two big groups of hikers we encountered on the trail today.  It seems that 36 students and two teachers from nearby Cromwell College have split into two groups that are tackling this track in opposite directions.

This was our most ambitious walk to date, with a total climb of 2,000 feet followed by a steep descent of 3,600 feet.  The trail had only a couple of particularly rough spots, though.