Day 16 – Greenstone Hut to Whakaari Conservation Area
The first leg of today’s hike went great guns. I had tons of energy and the Greenstone Track where I joined it to descend to Lake Wakatipu was broad and easy. The DoC documents describing the various standards of track building distinguish a “cut” track from one that’s “cut and benched.” I had assumed they meant there were benches along the route, but on today’s track I saw what it really means – if a benched trail goes around a hill, the trail builders chop into the hill a little bit so that the trail provides a level surface.
Along the way I met a couple of very friendly birds. One, a black robin, I had seen before. His dead ringer, anyhow. The other was a fantail, and despite the fact I had never heard a fantail described, I instantly recognized this bird by name. He had a black and white tail about as long as his body, and as he sat on a branch staring at me, he would flick it back and forth rapidly like a dancer flipping a Chinese fan. Both of them flitted about me attentively while I ate my snack. I enjoyed thinking of them as friends, but later a DoC worker in Queenstown informed me that the birds were simply chasing the bugs I stirred up in passing. How they knew I was a programmer, I have no idea.
I arrived at the bottom of the trail around one, with plenty of time for lunch before the bus-boat-bus shuttle arrived to take me to Glenorchy. This may sound like cheating, but it’s the official route - there’s no other good way to cross the Dart River or Lake Wakatipu nearby. The water taxi dropped me in Glenorchy, 48 km north of Queenstown, where I had a choice. I could pay another thirty dollars for a bus to Queenstown, or I could walk there along the road. The road is meant to be quite scenic, and I was several days ahead of schedule to meet Roxane in Queenstown anyhow, so I chose the walk. Now I had a second choice – I couldn’t make it all the way to Queenstown today, and there was no clear camping along the way. Should I pay fifteen dollars to camp at the holiday park in Glenorchy, or get a headstart on the walk and trust I’d find something? After brooding and pacing a bit, I looked again at the map I’d got from the info center. Evidently there is a newly opened conservation area just fifteen minutes’ walk south of Glenorchy, and it has huts – only three or four hours walk to get to them! I wasn’t keen on spending money to stay at the holiday park, with its noisy children and diesel generators. So Whakaari was an easy choice.
This park is centered around old scheelite mines that used to be quite active in the area. Scheelite (calcium tungstate) is used in light bulbs and artillery barrels. The track from the road headed straight into the hills to tour the old workings and mine entrances. I’d just been grousing that Te Araroa has led me mostly through flat river valleys so far. I was keen to do some heavy breathing, and not just because it had been three weeks since I last saw Roxane. This track provided exactly what I wanted, a continuous steep climb that had me huffing and puffing in no time. Soon I was high up the side of a ridge, with fabulous views of Lake Wakatipu, the Dart River, and the Greenstone track I had just come from. I rounded a bend and had a view across to the neighboring mountain, with old mining tracks zigging across its face.
After a couple hours I was ready for a break, but unfortunately the trail wasn’t. I still had at least an hour of climbing to reach the Heather Jock Hut where I planned to spend the night. By this point my quadriceps were twanging like a badly tuned piano, and I stumbled a few times – worryingly given the steep terrain. I thought “This was a stupid way to save fifteen bucks.”
I reached the Bonnie Jean Hut, an old miner’s hut set up with a historic display inside, and steel bars to prevent sleepy trampers from trying to stay there. It was getting windy and overcast. I ate a candy bar for energy to finish the last stretch to the overnight hut, and set off. Found one marker, couldn’t find the next – oops, there it is, ninety degrees to the right of the trail, with no trace of a path running to it. Scrambled up there, and… nothing! I dropped my pack and scouted around a bit, but there was no next marker in sight. I could push on anyhow in the indicated direction and hope to pick up the trail again, or I could give up. I stared for a minute at the sun, quite close to the ridgeline by now, and turned to go back down. I definitely did not want to get lost on top of this mountain in the dark.
Bonnie Jean Hut wasn’t an option. The mountain sides were completely devoid of trees – they had long been cleared for use as goat pasture. But about an hour back down the mountain was a turnoff towards another day-use hut that looked wooded, so I went back down there. When I arrived, I was especially glad to have my hammock, since there weren’t many sheltered flat spots, but there were plenty of trees. Setting up the hammock on a slope is no problem, so I set about making camp. The only tricky bit was that I had to tension the rainfly very tight, because strong winds were whipping up from the east, and would set the rainfly flapping noisily if I didn’t tie it well. After a couple rounds of adjustments – setting up my hammock has become a rather pleasing evening ritual – I got it to hold tight and flat. I expected it’d be a cold night since I was still rather high up, so I wore my hat and clothes to bed. I fell asleep warm and happy.
Tomorrow would be a long day…