Tātou Araroa – Episode 18- Ma te werawera o tou mata e kai ai koe i te haunga ahi o te kai. (By the perspiration on your face you will taste the piquant flavour of cooked food)
Progress: 2365.4km – 78.64%
Queenstown to Lake Hāwea
Sarah atop Jack Hall’s Saddle
Back at Christy’s in Queenstown, fresh off our relaxing and inspiring 5 days in the Catlins, we set a 6.00am alarm and felt ready to get back on trail and back into the flow.
We had completed the rather simple Queenstown to Arrowtown walk alongside Lakes Hayes and Wakatipu before we left for our Catlins sojourn, so a bus to Arrowtown and the start of Motatapu Track was the first order of business.
Lake Wakatipu out of Queenstown
We were graced by a fantastic sunrise to start the day, rich orange and red hues blotted the morning sky. Ignoring the adages regarding red sky and warnings we felt ready to seize the day.
Sunrise in Queenstown
We arrived in Arrowtown and began our walk up the Arrow River. Between Arrowtown and our first waypoint, Macetown, we crossed the frigid, but shin deep, Arrow over twenty times.
The track undulated in and out of the river as we pressed on further into the valley making good time. We arrived in Macetown, once a bustling gold and quartz mining town, now abandoned, with wet feet but loving life.
From Macetown we were presented with two options; take the track directly up the river or follow the marked route on the hills overlooking it. Due to the low river level and our own love of stream walking - we opted for the former. The river did not disappoint, it’s stunningly clear water glistened in the afternoon sun and the huge flat rocks that made up the riverbed provided primarily stable and logical foot steps. We loved this section and took much time to simply stop and look directly below our noses at the aquatic wonderland we found ourselves knee deep in.
The crystalline Arrow River
Keeping an eye open for markers on the hillside to ensure we were going the right way, we eventually saw the markers head directly away and up from the river, alas this was our sad cue to leave the superb stream, break through the seam of awful gorse, and head uphill. We continued uphill for a tough 600 vertical meters. The gusts buffered us as we walked on the comfortably wide, but very exposed, ridge up to Roses Saddle at 1270m.
We made slow progress up the ridge for two reasons: Sarah’s calf muscles were burning, and rest was needed to bring them down to a more manageable state was one, the view was the other. We had an incredibly wide field of vision down the valley from whence we came, but also of the numerous peaks, saddles and spurs that surrounded us. A result was stopping at short intervals to gawp at the magnificent vistas.
Bill on Roses Saddle
We finally made the top of the saddle and could tick off one of the “Big Four" climbs on the Motatapu. An equally arduous and tough journey down from the saddle along a steep and rocky spur made it even sweeter when we reached our abode for the evening – Roses Hut.
All three huts on the Motatapu are identical, all modern and beautifully maintained. It was warm, clean and felt immediately welcoming. We spent the evening sharing trail experiences with some Southbound folk and slept early and well.
The next day was to be a biggy; only 16km but around 2200m of ascent and a similar amount of decent. It featured three big climbs and culminated in the steep, exposed and (although we didn’t know it that morning) razor thin at times ridgeline up to Jack Hall Saddle.
We had successfully dried our shoes and socks in the glorious afternoon heat the day before, however the 6.00am start and dewy long grass meant this delightfulness was undone in our first dozen steps of the day.
The south west spur of Knuckle Peak was our first customer. 626m up before zigzagging back down into the gulley below. Any early morning cobwebs on us were quickly eradicated by the calf terrorising and, at times, unapologetically direct route upwards. We rested frequently and reminded ourselves we had a long day ahead as we gradually reached the turn off from the ridge some 300m from the summit of the impressive peak. The higher reaches of the mountain were rocky and pronounced so that the main ridgeline looked like a knuckle, it may not be why it is called Knuckle Peak but it will do for us.
View from the spur of Knuckle Peak
We immediately dropped down sharply from our lofty perch and zigzagged our way down to a beech forest at the foot of a gulley. We crossed the river that flowed down from the upper reaches of the mountain and, predictably, began climb #2 for the day. One Mountain- Two Climbs.
This one was another 500m, initially a steep scramble up the gulley formed by the river we had just crossed, then a sidle and climb up another of Knuckle Peaks many spurs. This climb was far more successful, fewer stops, more momentum and less.... anger. We knew when we got to the top that we would have broken the back of the climbing today, and that felt great. We even experienced a rare Te Araroa moment – a cut corner! With our minds engaged simply on struggling up to the next orange post we hadn’t checked the map. It seemed for all the world we’d be climbing all the way to the summit but, all of sudden the markers on the ridge disappeared and then reappeared on the left hand side heading towards a saddle about 300m below the height of the summit. A great moment where we both believe we actually felt our calves breath a sigh of relief.
View towards Lake Wanaka from another spur of Knuckle Peak
Following the pattern of the day, a down followed. We were aiming for lunch at Highland Creek Hut, which was 3.9km away and 638m down. The view from the saddle was breath taking but overwhelming- not a single spot of flat ground to be seen anywhere. This was going to be tough.
We dropped off the saddle and sidled just below it towards another spur. We walked just off the top of the spur along a fence line (quite why a fence was needed at such a precarious and remote location we could not imagine).
We then saw some figures coming the other way, slowly ambling up the hill. As the came closer we realised we knew them. It was Rose and Silas – we had met them on the Devonport ferry coming through Auckland and last saw them in Mercer some 1300km ago. They were smashing it and seemingly a mixture of keen and saddened to be close to finishing. We had a good 5 minute chat with them and parted ways. Ten minutes later some more figures appear beneath us winding their way up the ridge – it was Sally and John who’d we met on the 2nd night on the trail at Manganui Bluff. Sally was really excited to be nearly finished but had loved the trail so far. They were among our very first trail friends and it was great to see them doing well so close to the finish line.
Well wishes and farewells exchanged, we carried on down. The complex nature of the surrounding land made predicting distances and next sections tough. We were tired and needed lunch. Our shared tuna sachet and (seperate) peanut butter wraps were calling us. An hour of 30 meter drops into creeks and equivalent climbs back out followed. One especially brutal drop was perhaps the steepest single section of descent we’d encountered on the trail. Our hangry-ness further exacerbated by being able to see the Highland Creek Hut but being taken on a convoluted and undulating path towards it.
Finally we scrambled up one last climb and rolled into the hut. We quickly scoffed down lunch and sat silently for a moment. We were both thinking the same thing; “we’ve been going for 7 hours already, climbed and dropped over 3000m total, that’s a good days walk in anyone’s book. Let’s stay here". We knew we shouldn’t because we knew the plan was to get over the final saddle and out into Wanaka the following day. If we had removed our shoes before walking into the hut for lunch (which we always always do – just too hungry this time to stop), we would have spent the night. We sucked it up, chucked on our bags and went for it. With only 450m up to go, how hard could it be?
View from Highland Creek Hut
More sidling and awkward crossing of minor streams made up our first hour after lunch. The looming spectre of the jagged and steep ridgeline up to Jack Hall Saddle (1286m) loomed larger and larger as we approached. We had learned from the Tararua section that often ridges and spurs look less steep as you approach and begin to climb. We hoped this would be the case again.
As soon as we reached the bottom of the spur at Highland Creek, we realised it wasn’t the case. It was very very steep and, at times, had tremendous exposure to a number of 300/400m sheer drops on it’s right side. You may remember from previous episodes that Bill does not do well at this, so we took a deep breath and pressed on.
The next two hours were amongst the most physically and psychologically pressing on the whole journey. The ascent dominated by a horrid Catch-22. Sarah’s calves were not playing ball at all and regularly needed breaks to let the overwhelming pain abate before she could continue. Sarah wanted slow. Bill on the other hand felt (irritatingly for Sarah) very chipper and fresh physically and wanted to get up this monster and past the terrors it might hold. Bill wanted quick.
A primarily positive dialogue proved to work for most of the slog upwards. If Sarah wanted a break, she would find a less exposed and narrow spot and we would break. If Bill was struggling, Sarah would try and press on past the immediate concern. At one point however with the fire of Hades burning through Sarah’s calves and with the track offering less than a foot of width between sheer drops, this dialogue was stretched to breaking point. We took a break, Bill hyperventilated into the ground, and we pressed on carefully. We could see the highest pole and gradually we could see it coming closer, each section of nerve jangling struggle bringing us ever nearer to the end.
Finally, the terrain to our left levelled off and Bill moved away from the exposed edge on our right and completed the final section on the tussock filled safety of the lower reaches of the saddle. We passed the final orange marker pole, the climb rounded off and we saw the sign marking the top of the saddle. We were up. In the end, we concluded that, above everything else, that we were strong for each other and both proud of ourselves individually and as a collective.
Top of Jack Hall’s saddle — note Bill holding on for support!
An irritatingly slow and indirect drop down to the Fern Burn Hut followed. Our feet, legs, lungs, brains and souls yearning for its sweet embrace. As with all the huts on the Motatapu, you see them long before you are there and it can be maddening.
Fern Burn Hut welcomed us with open arms as strolled in. An Irish couple heading the other way were well established and settled in the hut. They offered pleasant conversation and recommendations for good food in Wanaka the next day. Joining us also was the half German half Argentinean Julian. His way of keeping track with people he met was to get them to sign one of his playing cards which we thought was a cool idea. We slept well, as expected.
Wanaka was our aim the following day. The day started off in tremendous fashion with Julian making us a pancake with peanut butter and banana. Buoyed by this lovely gesture we made good time following the, primarily downhill, route. As we dropped down the valley began to open up and the warming morning sun peaked over the surrounding hills. Finally we had a flat track to work with and we stomped our way towards the end of the trail near Lake Wanaka.
Once we completed the trail, we treated ourselves to an indulgent morning tea of Pork and Apple Pie and a smoothie from the delicious Velo Cafe at Bike Glendhu, a mountain bike park. With protein and natural sugars coursing through our veins we reached the edge of the lake and began our lakeside walk towards the township of Wanaka itself.
Beautiful Lake Wanaka
The shared use trail was busy, hot and tough underfoot but we enjoyed the 5km pace after 3 days of averaging under 3km an hour. The stunning views of the surrounding mountains combined with the azure lake also helped lift spirits. The tough gravel underfoot was causing issues with Bill’s feet but knowing we had a planned rest day the following day worked better than any pain medication.
We arrived in Wanaka in the hot sun, took the inevitable picture of “The Wanaka Tree" (apparently the most photographed tree in the world), and then completed The Trampers Post Walk Trifecta – Beer, Chips and Ice Cream. Joy filled the balmy afternoon.
Obligatory Wanaka Tree Photo
Another contributing factor towards our great mood was that we were going to spend the evening with a friend of Bill’s in Wanaka. Meg had asked Bill exactly what meal we’d like that evening before we even left Queenstown so we knew some prime New Zealand lamb was inbound. Combined with being a lovely person and a great anticipator of a trampers needs, Meg has also been a keen follower of our journey and asked us some really thought provoking and different questions which was great.
As if life wasn’t good enough, Meg and her husband Barry have two Labradors called Bazil and Willow. We revelled in their playfulness in Meg and Barry’s beautiful home.
Whilst the perfectly medium rare Lamb was the star of the dinner, the sweet potato dauphinoise and the fig, goats cheese and walnut salad were greedily consumed. Our stomachs lapping up the strange sensation of healthy and tasty kai.
We slept well once more in a bed as wide as it was long. Whilst it was a planned rest day per se we needed to do some serious logistical planning. Some sections ahead have limited food options so many hikers will send packages of food ahead of their arrival. 23 sachets of tuna (amongst other gross quantities of things) later, some mind bending maths and we were all set. Nothing left to do but to check out a recommendation for food from the Irish couple we had met at Fern Burn Hut. Firebird Chicken delivered in droves. The generous 6 pieces of chicken, chips and coleslaw were perfect. Hot but not too hot, crispy not greasy and lots of it. If you ever find yourself in Wanaka – Firebird Chicken.
Firebird Chicken- delicous
Reluctantly we left Meg and Barry’s this morning, headed to Lake Hāwea on the flat and easy River Trail. We spent most of the day along either the Clutha or Hāwea River and lapped up their transparent and rapid flowing water. It was a hot day and the swim upon our arrival at Lake Hāwea Camp was refreshing but essential.
The swift and beautiful Hāwea River
What’s next?
We are cashing in a few of our Great Walk KMs and going to give the next little section a miss and head for Twizel on Wednesday. From there it’s a few days extra walking around Mount Cook then heading north towards the highest point of Te Araroa – Stag Saddle.
Bonus photos
