I have made my way through the Richmond Range, a geologist's dreamscape. Red, black and purple rock, rock that glows luminescent like pāua, rock that would have grated my skin off had i stumbled, rock that slips and slides underfoot, rock that offered crevices for fingernails to prevent me from falling off the mountainside ... all interwoven with gushing streams and patches of beech trees. The forest changed as I descended to Pelorus River and included all the podocarps and ferns you could wish for.
The range is touted as the hardest section of the TA, and so it was! But like all challenges so far, once faced it delivered a huge sense of accomplishment. I crossed Mt Rintoul alone in thick dry fog that cleared gradually as i clawed my way up Little Mt Rintoul and down the other side. The famous views eluded me, but the clouds offer their own shifting light and tantalising glimpses of distant ridges and valleys.
Pelorus River is stunning, its pools ever deeper and greener as it descends the valley, and the voracious sandflies ensured that I submersed myself quickly and fully ...
The huts in this range are mostly 6-bunk and were groaning under the weight of all the southbound walkers coming through. Several I stayed in had about 20 people present, so lots of tents outside. The sheer numbers of people is straining the infrastructure and leading to water shortages, full and dirty toilets and a general sense of grime on everything. With over 4000 TA walkers on the move this year, I do wonder how sustainable this all is.
But evenings in these huts bring fascinating and varied conversations with people of all ages and nationalities. There is so much to learn from others.
I have been teaching some basic self defence as I go to receptive groups of women, and wish someone had videod the five who were practising yelling outside Starveall hut. They were awesome!
I have decided to skip the Queen Charlotte Track for now as the weather is damp and gloomy. I'll come back and finish it at a later date in better weather. My good friends Rob and Amanda Inkster scooped me up and took me to Picton instead, where they have spoilt me with food and a soft bed. Yet another example of the magic this trail brings.
And so, on the first day of my eighth week, I am heading to Wellington for a rest with whānau before beginning the north island leg. I know it will be quite different ... very little backcountry, almost no huts, many holiday parks to negotiate, towns to pass through. It will be interesting to see how my brain responds!
