Take me straight to the photos!

I promised then that I’d write up that trip, having found little other coverage on the web. Then, the other day, I came across this blog post by Tim Farley that brought back memories of those couple of days on Mt. Titiroa in early 2003. It’s a really good read, and includes some great photos (there’s a Flickr set too).

Climbing Mount Titiroa from Manapouri gave me an inkling of what New Zealand has to offer beyond the Great Walks, or indeed anything off the extensive network of marked tracks. The only other similar trip I made was the Upper Shotover—Dart traverse (via Lochnagar and Snowy Creek). On that occasion too, the going was notably more difficult than any marked route I’d attempted previously.

Increased difficulty and seriousness is attended by more intense solitude, “purer” wilderness, and a tangible sense of exploration and discovery. It’s worth bearing in mind that most of the New Zealand back country is like this. The Great Walks keep the vast majority of visitors who fancy a multi-day trek confined to a tiny proportion of the marked trails that are out there. Most of the remainder stick to the track network, leaving huge scope for anyone with appropriate skills and experience to embark on genuinely serious expeditions into vast areas of wilderness that are rarely visited. That such ventures are possible in a First World country with a such a small landmass, still astounds me.

As I mentioned in my earlier post, Moir’s Guide ( North and South [Amazon links – marked as unavailable as of Jan. 2010, but widely distributed in NZ] ) remains the classic tramping reference for the Southern Alps. One continually comes across passages that intimate just how rarely visited much of this land is. Here’s a paragraph from the Arawhata Valley section of Moir’s Guide North:

A bivvy rock on Williamson Flat is reported at roughly E39/512323 which does not seem to have been used recently. In the 1950’s there was a blazed track through the bush to it, taking about 5 mins from the edge of the last clearing up the Joe. It was said to be fairly dark but good shelter, and about 30m above the clearing. The editor would appreciate confirmation of this bivvy rock and its position. In 1965 a stretcher was carried down the true right of the Arawhata, from Arawhata Rock to Williamson Flat.

[ The above extract is from Moir's Guide North, edited by Geoff Spearpoint. Copyright 1998 Geoff Spearpoint and the New Zealand Alpine Club ]

Climbing Mount Titiroa from Manapouri is an ideal introduction to the world of serious tramping expeditions. Much of the 2½-day trip is on marked tracks. However, the bit that matters — the climb up the mountain itself — is off-track. You’ll need to bush-whack your way onto the upper slopes, and most likely wild camp quite high on the mountain.

In lieu of my own trip report, I’ve dug out some slides. I hope you enjoy them. And don’t forget to read Tim’s post for more inspiration.

Blue skies and quartz sand on Mt. Titiroa.

Wild camp high on Mt. Titiroa (tent bottom-right), looking out over Lake Manapouri.

Extensive views from the upper slopes of Mt. Titiroa.

Rock formations on Mt. Titiroa.

Approaching the summit slopes of Mt. Titiroa.

Looking out over Lake Manapouri and toward Lake Te Anau, from Mt. Titiroa.

Rock formations on Mt. Titiroa.

Starting the descent from Mt. Titiroa.

Checking the map beneath Mt. Awful, Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.

I’m rather fond of this image. To me it sums up the best part of 6 months’ travelling around New Zealand, trekking for extended periods, getting to know the wild side of the country intimately.

All it takes is a map, and a thirst for adventure. What follows is completely down to you…

If you’re looking for links to the best English-language content on the ‘net about the Kepler Track, this post should see you right.

No more waffle thanks — take me straight to the links!

The Kepler Track and “The Great Walks”

I trekked the Kepler Track in 2003 (see this post) and thoroughly enjoyed this, one of New Zealand’s “Great Walks”. The Great Walk label is applied by the NZ Department of Conservation (DoC) to eight tramping tracks, and one paddling trip. In NZ, the Great Walks are the tracks DoC has identified as offering a particularly fine trekking “experience”, and are heavily promoted, very well maintained, and, in some cases, booked up well in advance.

On the alpine section of the Kepler Track.

It would be all too easy to come away with the impression that trekking in New Zealand begins and ends with the Great Walks. That would, in fact, be akin to deciding that The West Highland Way, and the tourist route up Ben Nevis, constituted the sum of Scotland’s hillwalking and backpacking opportunities. That said, one needs to start somewhere, and the Kepler Track fits the bill in many ways.

If you don’t have long in New Zealand, have little experience of multi-day backpacking trips, or if trekking is just one among many activities you’ve got planned, than a 3- to 4-day track like the Kepler is ideal. In season (roughly late October to late April), the conveniently spaced and comfortable huts are provided with gas burners for cooking, reducing the weight you have to carry yourself. The trail itself is impeccably maintained, and takes you through magnificent country.

On the other hand, if you’re a seasoned trekker with the skills to look after yourself in the back country, but have never visited New Zealand before, the Kepler Track is a good warm-up — not so much in terms of physical exertion, but as a way to get a feel for the form and structure of the mountains, their flora and fauna, the weather — before moving on to bigger and more challenging tracks.

More importantly, whether you’re coming at it as a novice, or with years of trekking in remote parts of the world under your belt, accept the Kepler Track for what it is — a made pathway through a magnificent landscape. You won’t be alone (by any means), and you’ll probably have to book at least a couple of days in advance, whether you’re camping or staying in the huts.

Hardcore tramping it ain’t. But a magical journey on the bounds of one of the most pristine and beautiful landscapes to be found on the planet? Absolutely…

Kepler Track Resources — quality links to help you plan your trip

• NZ Department of Conservation (DoC) page on the Kepler Track: This should be your first port of call for current information on the Kepler Track, including track conditions, and online booking. Masses of useful information to help you plan your trip.
• Wikipedia Kepler Track article: It must be true, it’s on Wikipedia! To be fair, this is a well-structured article — to the point, and a good overview. If the DoC page (linked to above) has brought on information overload, this Wikipedia page should prove more palatable.
• Kepler Track description by Mark Moxon: Mark’s personal account of his Kepler Track walk is engaging and well written, and also includes lots of useful information. Be sure to check out the other articles on Mark’s site too. Inspiring stuff!
• The Kepler Track according to Tourism New Zealand: This is the official tourist board’s take on the Kepler Track. A mildly irritating audio commentary shouldn’t distract you from the basic information provided, and links through to additional resources. Destination Fiordland is a similar outfit (but in this case, the regional tourism organisation) and provides a page of useful information and links.
• Tracknet — Kepler Track Shuttle: One of the big plus points for the Kepler Track, is that it follows a circular route, starting and finishing very close to the town of Te Anau. So, unlike many other trekking routes in New Zealand, you don’t actually need additional transport to get you to and from the trailhead. That said, if you’re short on time, these guys can shuttle you between Te Anau and the Control Gates/Rainbow Reach. Their web page includes a timetable, and pricing information.
• Intensive Share — a personal account of the Kepler Track: A nice account of the Kepler Track by a first-timer (first NZ multi-day trek that is). Lots of pics to give you a good feel for the route; and a recommendation to stay at Moturau Hut rather than walk all the way out to Rainbow Reach! There’s an introduction, then separate entries for day 1, day 2 and day 3.
• Blue Gum Pictures — Kepler Track Gallery: High quality photographs taken from the Kepler Track. This sort of weather can’t be guaranteed, unfortunately!
• Exploring New Zealand — Kepler Track page: A useful overview of the track, including wildlife notes. I’d recommend exploring this site further. There’s extensive coverage of the other Great Walks, and a good overview of what to expect from a Great Walk, here.
• Tramping the land of the long white cloud – Kepler Track photo-diary: A really nice write-up of a 4-day Kepler Track trip, with a broad variety of photos. Pray that you get weather like this! An intriguing 3D-Maps page too.
• NZ Wanderings – Another Kepler Track blog post: Short and sweet this one, but well worth a read — gives you a good idea of the sort of weather you can get in midsummer!
• Don’t shake the Koala tree! – Ridge walking in Fiordland: Another personal account — mixed weather for this trip. Some great photos too.
• The Kepler Challenge: Something a little different for these links. 3 to 4 days for the Kepler Track? More like 10½ hours in John Lindsay’s case. Or a little over five hours as described in Galen’s entertaining report (which includes this impressive 3D map of the route). The Kepler Challenge mountain race event is held annually (official website here).
• [PDF link - 1MB download] Keeping Track of the Kepler, by Rob Greenaway: An illustrated article that presents some of the interesting history behind the Kepler Track, as well as commentary on the impact of events like the Kepler Challange.
• Stunning image from day one of the Kepler Track: One day, if I’m really lucky, I might capture such a moment half as well as this. The rest of Eric Hemphill’s New Zealand Gallery includes further images from the Kepler Track, as well as from many other areas.
• Kepler Track page from New Zealand Tramper: This is an extensive, community-driven site, with masses of information regarding tramping all over New Zealand. If you’re planning trips that are rather more adventurous after you’ve completed the Kepler, a while spent exploring New Zealand Tramper should provide plenty of inspiration.
• Accultured Robot — Kepler Track Diary: A different approach for these hikers, who completed a clockwise round of the track (most folk do it anticlockwise), and camped rather than staying in the huts.

Satellite photo of Taranaki (NASA).

The nearby town of New Plymouth (with its whimsical wind wand) has an ample selection of hotels and hostels in which to spend a night prior to entering Egmont National Park, the boundary of which is clearly delineated on the ground by old-growth forest — very obvious in the satellite photo above.

The Around the Mountain Circuit then offers 4 days of interesting trekking, which, depending on the exact route taken (there are many possibilities), passes through thick forest, marshy plateaux and bare volcanic slopes. All the time, the peak itself looms above, tempting an ascent.

Steepening slopes towards the top of Mount Egmont/Taranaki.

Though probably reachable from most points around the mountain’s circumference, the voie normale on Taranaki starts from the north, heading up past a ski-club lodge, and tackling the ever steepening volcanic screes that eventually lead to a small col between the Shark’s Tooth, and the summit proper.

Shark's Tooth, Mount Egmont, New Zealand.

Given clear weather, the central volcanic region (Tongariro, Nguarahoe and Ruapehu) is easily made out, eighty miles to the east. It’s also worth bearing in mind that the upper reaches of the mountain may well be iced up even in the summer, so an ice axe and crampons could well be required to negotiate the route to the summit in safety.

Tongariro and Ruapehu, from Mount Egmont/Taranaki.

Of course, such grandeur can be admired at well-known stop-offs on the tourist trail, such as Milford Sound. Who could fail to be impressed by the sight of Mitre Peak, one of the highest sea cliffs in the world, soaring over a mile skyward from the shore? Think how much more mesmerising it’d be if you’d had to trek for three days through virgin temperate rainforest to get there, fording rivers, scrambling over slips, making route-finding decisions. And if that was the only access, you’d pretty much have it to yourself.

Of course, Milford Sound is in fact a tourist honeypot, and while it may seem churlish to whine about the heaving crowds taking a little of the shine off the place, there’s no doubt that they do. Those with that yearning to climb and explore will soon be tracing possible routes up the shimmering ridge on the far side of the Sound, letting their imaginations run wild as to what lies just out of sight, beyond the peak.

Now, climbing Mitre Peak is quite a serious proposition — well out of my league anyway. But the scope for somewhat easier (if not easy) expeditions that have the capacity to reward with unforgettable situations, is vast. Consider the picture below. We (that is, myself and my friend Chris), pretty much stumbled across this scene, 4½ days into a 7-day trek based around the Young and Wilkin valleys in Aspiring National Park.

Disappearing Tarn, Wilkin North Branch, Aspiring, New Zealand.

Not surprisingly, there was no one else about. You have to commit yourself to 5 days in the backcountry to get here (2½ days in; 2½ back out). That means carrying a minimum of 5 days’ food. This isn’t completely wild land — there are a network of marked tracks and routes, and comfortable backcountry huts for shelter. New Zealand’s backcountry hut network is a wonderful resource, and one that I’ll surely be writing more about.

Huts and track markers don’t make trekking here a piece of cake though. Some experience (and hence acquired skill) when it comes to river crossings — including having the nouse to know when not to cross — is very valuable. The NZ Department of Conservation’s notes on the Wilkin Valley Tracks indicate that the “track is mostly unformed with steep, rough or muddy sections” and that “moderate to high level backcountry skills and experience, including navigation and survival skills are required”. Which is probably fair enough.

Adding another layer of excitement to this trip (and another potential barrier to the wonders that lie within) is the Makarora River. This typical NZ braided river has to be crossed at the start and end of the trip, lying as it does, between Makarora Township, and the mountains to the west (though you can choose to charter a jet boat if the river’s too high to cross safely).

I hope to return to Disappearing Tarn someday. Perhaps as a preamble to the Wilkin/East Matukituki traverse — another route on my ever lengthening “to-do” list…

Despite the best of intentions, I’ve yet to spend any meaningful time working on the visual design and layout of this blog. The default ‘Kubrick’ theme that comes with WordPress is of course clean, subtle, and eminently suitable for a fledgling blog. Without considerable care and restraint, I could quite easily wreck things as they stand (though of course, I do have backups — more on that some other time).

In lieu of any more fundamental work, replacing the default plain-blue banner (or header if you prefer) seemed like an easy change to effect, and so it proved. A little simple pixel-pushing with Paintshop Pro to resize, crop, and add rounded corners to my selected image, and I was done.

Choosing the image was a little harder. I knew I wanted an image that included a human figure, preferably silhouetted, and diminutive in comparison to the sweeping landscape (or indeed, ‘vista’!) in which it should appear. Mountains would be good too. Whichever image I chose would require a substantial crop — the proportions of a blog banner are completely different to the standard 3:2 of 35mm film and most digital sensors.

And so, here’s the original (uncropped) image that I went with:

Taking in the view from Mount Titiroa, Fiordland, New Zealand.

All the elements I wanted are there, and the required aspect ratio meant I could crop out the distracting lens flare that crept into the top half of the frame. Another plus point for me is that the image is predominantly of the same hue, making it subtle enough to sit well as a banner, and not cause undue distraction.

As for the location, well, I took this on a 2½ day trip out of Manapouri — a small settlement a little to the south of Te Anau, on the edge of Fiordland National Park in New Zealand’s South Island. There’s a fairly easy track in to the base of Mount Titiroa, but having crossed the (unbridged) Garnock Burn, you’re left to your own devices. Bashing your own route through steep beech forest is quite invigorating, especially when carrying camping gear!

A camp high on the mountain, just above the bushline, allowed for an early start the next morning, climbing the summit ridge to the top of Mount Titiroa (1715m), and making a leisurely descent back to camp, and half-way out to Manapouri. The photo in question is from the summit ridge, and includes one of the many wind-carved quartzite boulders that create so much interest on this mountain.

Mount Titiroa from Manapouri is an enjoyable little expedition, which I’ll probably write about in more detail at a later date. There’s some more information about the adjacent area on the NZ Department of Conservation (DoC) website (here), though their reference to Mount Titiroa is limited to: “Mt. Titiroa can be reached from the Snow White clearings (refer Moirs Guide South).”. ‘Moir’s Guide’ will also be the subject of a future post. If you want to get a feel for the scope and scale of the trips and explorations you can make in the NZ backcountry, Moir’s Guide is as good a place as any to start.

The Dusky Track is a challenging trek on the South Island of New Zealand. Its 84km take at least 8 days to complete, and will immerse you in the remote, primeval, temperate rainforest of South West Fiordland.

Dusky Sound (Liam_OMalley / Flickr)

Completing this track in 2003 was the highlight of my trip to New Zealand. It’s also one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. If you fancy a serious challenge, this list of links to various resources about the Dusky Track will be a useful starting point. The links comprise a mixture of official information sources, important commercial operators (you’ll need boat or air transport to reach the ends of the track), and personal diaries and galleries.

• Department of Conservation (DoC) — Dusky Track pages: official information from the New Zealand Department of Conservation. The best starting point, and the place to check for important updates on current track conditions.
• Lake Hauroko Tours: If you’re going to trek the Lake Hauroko section of the track, then you’ll need some way of getting to the track terminus. Val McKay and his boat, “Namu”, will see you right.
• The Dusky Track, by Mister Moose: an illustrated personal diary that really brings alive the remarkable nature of the Dusky Track. See also a Dusky Track letter from the same author.
• The Dusky Track, by “eD in boots”: an honest, no-holds-barred write-up of a Dusky Track trip. Read this, and you’ve no excuses for underestimating what you could be letting yourself in for…
• FiordlandNZ.com: basic information and a route description.
• Burkhard Wünsche: another nicely illustrated personal journal.
• fiordland.org.nz: basic information and transport contact details.
• Dusky Track tramping trip: a nice photo set on Flickr, by jasoux.
• Doin’ the Dusky (PDF): amusing recollections of a trekking trip along the Dusky — a good read!
• Dusky Track, Fiordland: a Webshots gallery, by amaciar
• Jason Friend (stock photography):stunning photographs from the Dusky Track, by landscape photographer Jason Friend.
• Nick & Jenni’s Wanderings: an illustrated personal blog at Boots n’all.
• Let’s Go Fiordland:a general guide to the Manapouri area, which includes information and a route description for the Dusky Track.
• The journal of a Kiwi: another illustrated Dusky Track diary.
• The mighty muddy dusky: personal recollections at offyonder.com.
• Sebastian is out …enjoying New Zealand: blog entries on a Dusky trip, including some great photos, here, and here.
• Fiordland Brown Kiwi (YouTube video): remarkable footage of a Kiwi taken on the Dusky Track.
• Princess Mountains traverse — February 1979: a fascinating record of a much tougher trip, that happens to include most of the Dusky Track.
• Wings and Water — Te Anau: if you’re planning to start or finish at Supper Cove, then you’re going to need a charter flight from these guys.

During that period, I explored landscapes as diverse as the 2500m ice-encrusted volcanic cone of Taranaki and the pristine temperate rainforests of remote Fiordland. With the best part of half-a-year unfettered by a full-time job and the associated frustrations and minutiae of the daily nine-to-five, I really got under the skin of New Zealand. And New Zealand got under my skin.

Taking a break at Crucible Lake, Aspiring, New Zealand.

With little interest in patronising the adrenaline-driven, meticulously organised, “adventure” tourism outfits that play such a large part in attracting thrill-seeking travellers to NZ, I’d instead set my mind on spending time trekking in the backcountry.

Though not so immediately accessible to all as bungee-jumping or jet-boat rides — safe, independent back-country travel away from the easier tracks and ‘Great Walks’ really does require at least some basic skills and experience in map reading & navigation, ability to cope with steep and rough terrain, river crossing techniques, and of course, fitness — the opportunities for trekking in New Zealand are virtually boundless. And anyone with, for example, hillwalking experience in the UK, can get out and explore this incredibly diverse landscape, getting away from the beaten tracks, and having a real adventure.

Now, I’d like to put my experiences to good use by putting together an online guide to trekking in New Zealand. This is still very much in the early design stages, but is intended to provide a useful starting point for those planning an independent trekking holiday in New Zealand. If you’ve got any thoughts about the types of information you’d like to see on such a site, I’d be interested to know!

I’m not a morning person. Really, I’m not. So setting an alarm for any time before 6am requires some serious payback. Here it is:

Early morning on the Kepler Track

What you’re looking at there is the ‘alpine section’ of the Kepler Track — a four-day loop amongst New Zealand’s Kepler mountains, on the edge of Fiordland. With easy access from the charming little settlement of Te Anau, the Kepler Track is a spectacular, yet straightforward introduction to multi-day trekking in New Zealand (or ‘tramping’ as the Kiwis call it).

The Kepler Track is also one of the eight ‘Great Walks’ — the NZ Department of Conservation’s (DoC) premier walking tracks. For the Kepler Track, this means that:

• You have to book (this isn’t the case for all the ‘Great Walks’)
• The track is maintained to a very high standard — no pesky tree roots or marshy bits to worry about here
• The huts are palatial (with flushing toilets, no less!)
• The timings (ie. how long it’s suggested it should take you to walk from A to B) are extremely conservative
• You’ll be sharing your tramping ‘experience’ with many others
• If the weather or ground conditions are dodgy enough, they’ll ‘close’ the track

Put another way, the Kepler Track is a carefully managed tourist attraction that has been planned and built with that specific purpose in mind. The Kepler was designed to take the load off two other Great Walks in the region: the Routeburn Track, and the Milford Track.

If this seems to be putting a bit of a downer on the Kepler Track, it isn’t really meant to be. But I think it’s helpful to make it clear what the track’s about — that is, irrespective of the stunning landscape that you’ll be immersing yourself in as you complete the circuit, the Kepler Track might just end up feeling a bit more like a theme park ride than an authentic outdoor adventure, especially if you’re already experienced and used to looking after yourself in the mountains.

The key to enjoying a trek like this of course, is to accept it for what it is, and revel in the extraordinary surroundings. For my trekking companion Chris, and I, the Kepler Track probably seemed excessively groomed and manicured, as we’d recently come off the Dusky Track. Eight days of mud pools, swamp, unavoidable waist-deep water, hook grass, prodigious sandflies, and incessant tangles of slippery tree routes had hardened us somewhat. In that respect, the Kepler was actually a blessed relief!

Another way of looking at it is to consider the track as a thread of relative comfort and safety, passing through terrain that would otherwise be inaccessible to your average Joe (and I count myself as such). The Kepler Track is to this part of Fiordland, what the cables and ladders of the constructed via Ferrata routes are to the sheer rock faces of the Dolomites.

As an example of just how rugged and inhospitable the Fiordland landscape is, consider the following photo:

The Murchison Mountains, from the Kepler Track

Looks good doesn’t it. On the second day of the Kepler Track (assuming you’re doing an anticlockwise circuit), given clear weather, you can gaze north directly into the Murchison Mountains, which lie only a couple of kilometres away. The map excerpt below (from the 1:50 000 TopoMap series) shows the alpine section of the Kepler Track towards the bottom, with the southern boundary of the Murchison Mountains at the top:

Part of the Kepler Track and the Murchison Mountains — click to enlarge. (Contains data sourced from Land Information New Zealand. Land Information New Zealand gives no warranty in relation to the data (including accuracy, reliability, completeness or suitability) and accepts no liability (including, without limitation, liability in negligence) for any loss, damage or costs relating to any use of the data. Crown Copyright Reserved.)

These peaks lie between the South and Middle Fiords of Lake Te Anau, and are within 10km of the town of Te Anau itself — a settlement with over 1500 permanent residents. I tell you all this, because, in 1948, Geoffrey Orbell found a population of Takahē in the Murchison Mountains. This flightless member of the rail family is a large bird, that can reach over 60cm in length, with an average weight of 2.75 kilos — a fair-sized critter then. And declared extinct in 1898.

That a population of Takahē could go completely undetected for the first half of the twentieth century, in a developed country barely larger than the UK, within 10km of a sizeable township, is, to me, remarkable. That this was possible, can of course be attributed to the extreme difficulty of accessing and travelling through these mountains. The lush temperate rain forest so clearly seen in the above photo, acted as an effective barrier to all but the most persistent and competent of explorers. These days, the Murchison Mountains still support a viable population of the birds, and are designated a Takahē Protection Area, putting them out of bounds to any would-be casual visitors.

Back on the Kepler Track, Chris and I had hit a problem that comes with the territory of a carefully managed and controlled visitor attraction. Having to book in advance (and this applies whether you’re staying in the huts, or camping) means you immediately lose flexibility when it comes to delaying or modifying your itinerary due to bad weather. A few days before we were due to start the track in mid-February (we’d made our bookings a couple of weeks before), an unseasonal quantity of snow had fallen on the mountains — indeed, this was from the same storm that had soaked us on the final day of the Dusky Track. At the DoC office in Te Anau, we were told that the central alpine section of the track was closed, and was likely to remain so for a few days.

We made some cursory enquiries re. hiring ice axes and crampons in town, which would potentially enable us to complete the alpine stretch of the track (assuming the avalanche danger was manageable) but in the end, we didn’t go ahead with this, deciding to start on the day we’d planned, and hoping that the track would open fully the following day.

That first evening on the track, at the Luxmore Hut (after the warden had given us all a safety briefing designed to ensure that we didn’t set fire to the hut or each other, or do anything else moronic), we learned that the alpine section would indeed remain closed the following day. We didn’t get anywhere trying to persuade the warden to let as ‘have a look’ in the morning, so left it at that.

The following morning, DoC laid on a series of helicopter flights to take us overnighters at the Luxmore Hut to the far end of the main ridge, thus bypassing the highlight of the route, and leaving us with a tame descent down to Iris Burn. Still, at 45 NZ Dollars each (about £17), it seemed like a bargain. The only alternative was to walk back to Te Anau again and pick up refunds on any unused hut tickets. Staying an extra night at a hut isn’t an option when a string of ticket-wielding punters are already marching up the hill for their night’s lodging.

Flying alongside the Kepler Track

We tried to walk slowly down to the Iris Burn Hut after our short flight, but had still arrived by 3pm. One advantage of trekking on such a well engineered track, is that you can let your mind wander to some extent. Steep sections are furnished with staircases, or carved into precisely graded zig-zags — on the Dusky Track by comparison, a moment’s inattention would have you on your face, eyebrows full of hookgrass seeds, and wallowing in yet another foetid mire.

Having been denied the majority of the airy ridgewalk we’d been anticipating, it was time for a cunning plan. Rumour had it that the alpine section of the track would reopen the following day — not that that was a great deal of use to most of us at the Iris Burn Hut, as we were supposed to be continuing on down towards Lake Manapouri and the Moturau Hut — the last overnight stop on the trek.

The cunning plan, and what led to the ‘awesome day on the Kepler Track’ referenced in this post’s title, went as follows:

1. Get up at 05:30. Pack a day sac, leaving most of our kit at the Iris Burn Hut.
2. Reverse the previous day’s descent by climbing back up onto the ridge, then walk the alpine section of the track back to Luxmore Hut (the ground we’d flown over the previous day).
3. On reaching the Luxmore Hut, turn round, and walk all the way back to the Iris Burn Hut, thus doing a double crossing of the alpine section.
4. Back at the Iris Burn Hut, have a brew, then pack the full sacs, and walk the ‘day’ we were meant to have done to start with, to the Moturau Hut.

This did seem rather ambitious, but to her credit, the warden at Iris Burn Hut (who had by now confirmed that they were opening the track fully the next day) concurred with our plan — but did think we were slightly mad…

And so it was that the 05:30 alarm led us out into the blackness by 6am. There was a fine drizzle in the air, and it wasn’t long after we’d passed an overhang festooned with glow-worms, that we began climbing steeply up the switchbacks, and entered a thick mist. Perhaps the early start wasn’t going to reward with a fine mountain day.

Approaching the boundary of a temperature inversion from below, one gets the same feeling as when nearing a col, or a summit. Somehow, the transition is felt — sensed before it’s reached. So it was here. The thick fog was perceptibly thinning in the dawn glow — the quality of the light altering subtly. Gradually, in what had been featureless fog, a solid object appeared in the sky above. The moon.

Shortly thereafter, we broke through the surface, and could now see the cloud extending away from our feet, thick and grey and stifling, lapping against distant peaks in every direction. Not 20 minutes later, the alpenglow we’d been admiring faded as the sun crested a nearby ridge. This was going to be one hell of a day in the hills. Time to let the pictures do the talking (all clickable for larger versions):

Dawn in the Kepler Mountains

Alpenglow — reserved for early risers

The sun crests the alpine section of the Kepler Track

Mountains stretch to the horizon

This is what it's all about...

The ridge is revealed, layer by layer

The cloud finally clears to reveal Lake Te Anau

We had the entire ridge to ourselves. By the time we dropped off Mount Luxmore, and back down to the Luxmore Hut (we’d promised the warden at Iris Burn that we’d sign-in there before we came back) much of the the cloud had dissipated. We still had a wonderful day ahead of us, but the dawn magic was gone. At the Luxmore Hut, the warden was only just letting that night’s cohort go, having held them until 10am to allow the snow to soften up. It was frustrating to think of what they’d all just missed.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. Retracing our steps across the ridge; covering the section of track down to Iris Burn Hut for the third time in 24 hours; a rushed brew and feed at the hut; the pleasant but seemingly never-ending trek to Moturau Hut. The day ended with a magnificent sunset over Lake Manapouri from the hut porch. Earlier frustrations over the regimented inflexibility imposed by a pre-booked trek had dissolved along with the morning’s cloud…

Sunset from Moturau Hut

Kahurangi (formally the North-west Nelson Forest Park), covers 4,520 km², and is the second largest of NZ’s national parks. I was trekking the Leslie-Karamea & Wangapeka tracks — an eight-day trip through Kahurangi that promised to be reasonably challenging (particularly the Leslie-Karamea), and relatively quiet. Indeed, coming to the end of this fifth day of travel, I hadn’t seen anyone for three days. As I was trekking solo, this was slightly concerning, getting me wondering how long it might be before someone found me if I came to grief somewhere along the way.

Having crossed the Taipo River on a swing-bridge, I was now climbing steeply up alongside the Karamea River again, through very dense forest, though on a good track. It was probably no more than another mile or two to Helicopter Flat hut, where I’d find my bed for the night, but I was knackered, and had to stop for something to eat. I stopped on a vaguely flat section of track, and dropped my rucksack heavily to the ground.

I was about to start rummaging around in the lid for food, when I became aware of an almighty commotion in the shrubs just in front of me. A robin was kicking off about something — they have an incredibly loud alarm call at close range — but that wasn’t all. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom under the thick canopy, I could see a couple of fantails, also agitated, and a group of maybe ten or so riflemen (Acanthisitta chloris) — tiny wren-like birds no more than 5 or 6 cm long — also showing signs of disturbance.

South Island Robin (Petroica australis)

And then I spotted what was causing all the excitement. Sat on a branch not 10 feet away, was an owl. I don’t know whether it was a morepork (NZ’s native owl), or an introduced little owl. Whatever, I’m pretty sure this was what was getting the surrounding wildlife all het up, though it seemed to have its eye on me. I tried to get a photograph (with flash), but with 50 ASA slide-film in the camera, it was pretty much a lost cause. You’ll have to do with a photo of a fantail instead (this one was taken elsewhere in South Island).

Fantail (Rhipidura fulginosa)

It did make me wonder just how many possible wildlife encounters I was missing day-to-day, with my head down, and eating up the miles. I was always on the look out for interesting comings and goings, but reckon that, as in this case, unless you actually stop and wait around for a bit, much can be passed by. Definitely a good reason to build in more “rest” days into trips like this, when it’s possible to drop the mileage, and take things a lot slower.