Day 36 – Maitland Stream to Maitland Stream Hut

In the morning I tried fording the stream, but still found no trail. The stream was rather high, too. If I took the bushman’s route and followed the stream all day, I’d be in and out of the water constantly. My progress would be so slow I’d most likely not meet my rendezvous with Blair in Glenorchy, and possibly I’d hit the panic date I left with Roxane for my safe return.

So I turned to walk back to Lake Ohau Road, defeated. But not before an exhausting scramble back up the hill, through gorse and brambles, to see if I had missed a blaze somewhere. Nothing, nada, zip.

When I came back down to the homestead, the huge man I spoke to yesterday was mowing his lawn. I waved, and he took off his earmuffs.

“Good to see you again. I thought you might be heading out the other side?”

“Well, ah, it looked pretty rough up there so I turned back.” I mumbled.

“Ah, the weather?” asked the farmer.

“No, the track, or rather I never did find it, and I guess it just goes up the river or something?”

“Hmm,” said the farmer, “nope, there should be a real good track up there. We go up there with chainsaws sometimes. I can make it to the hut in three hours on a good day.  Did you find the boot nailed to a post?”

“Uh… boot?”

Turns out I needed to follow the four-wheel-drive road much farther than I had, even as it climbs away from the river, till I see an old boot on a post. That marks the turnoff onto the track proper.

I looked at my watch – 3:30.  I could make it by dark if I really hustled, and if I made it to the Ahuriri tomorrow, I’d be set to hitch to Glenorchy on Monday.

I set off back the way I came, traversing that steep four-wheel-drive road for the third time, but this time I was on a mission, pumping my arms to go faster.  Sure enough, I found the boot and was soon gliding along a beautifully maintained track that descended into forest.  I was having a great time, until the rain started.

Before I split ways from the girls at Fox Glacier, Blair loaned me her favorite poncho. I was carrying it instead of my rain jacket and pants as an experiment. It’s lighter, and can double as a ground cloth.

Turns out the disadvantage of ponchos in general is that they are not good windbreakers. The disadvantage of this poncho in particular is that it is just the right size for Blair, making it a bit too short at my arms and legs. When I tried it on a week ago this hadn’t seemed a big deal, but today, in only a moderate rain, I was becoming thoroughly chilled because of that little bit of exposed flesh. When I tried, and nearly failed, to peel open a Snickers bar I knew I was in trouble. I redoubled my speed to generate extra heat, and soon I was at the hut.

A beautiful hut it was, too.  Tidy and well-sealed, it even had a fire built in the fireplace just waiting for a match.  It was clear the farmer who had been doing maintenance on the trail also put a lot of care into this hut. There was a stack of ancient National Geographics, and after changing into dry clothes, I ate dinner in my sleeping bag, reading about the Apollo 8 moon shot, with advertisements for Kenmore dishwashers, “now available in the popular new color, goldenrod yellow.”