New Zealand tramp: Wills River - Wilson Pass - Hunter River - Scrubby Flat Creek - Makarora River - Haast Pass

According to the weather forecast my tramp would be just about entirely through rain. But it turned out a lot better: two days of rain and snow and three with beaut weather.

Even though I left Dunedin in good time and arrived in Wanaka in less than 4 hours travel, the road from there to Haast Pass is not particularly easy to travel on, so that it was past 1pm in the afternoon when I finally got my backpack on and hit the track. A nice New Zealand couple in a campervan had seen me sneak my bike into the bushes at Haast Pass and seeing me now disappear into the bush at the Gates of Haast wished me the best of luck. The woman of course asked with concern whether I had sufficient warm clothing. I may have looked a bit scantily dressed on this rainy and windy day, though by now it had petered out to a drizzle. Nevertheless within a few minutes on the track I was warm enough. I also got my first important lesson quite early when I slipped on a large rock and sat down unceremoniously: don't trust wet rocks. The whole track was quite slippery. The more recent parts of the track where detours had been made around slips were certainly a lot more awkward, than the more established route. At one stage I had to walk along roots on a wall while holding to some more roots at eye-level. There's also a ladder, leading the track onto a ledge. Like so many rivers in this part of the Southern Alps, the Wills River has wide open flats further up-river and then makes its way through a gorge before joining another major river valley , in this case the Haast River. There are tracks in the lower reaches through the more gorge-like valley, where travel through bush and scrub would otherwise be very difficult. I expected to reach Wills Hut within about 5 hours, so was pleasantly surprised when I realised my good progress and popped out onto the open flats. I was at the hut before 4pm. It sits at the edge of a grassy river flat right beside a small stream. I made myself busy chopping wood and then had a lazy evening reading and trying to get the fire going.

Maybe my good progress on the first day made me a little bit too relaxed, as I had no concern about the long tramp on the next day. Maybe that's why I left at the fairly late time of 8am. It was still drizzling and I noticed that snow had fallen on the higher slopes. At first I could travel along easy flats, but then it continued to get more difficult, especially since I wasn't keen on crossing the river too often. Even though it clearly had been higher some time ago, it still seemed to carry plenty of water. That meant that I had to pick a few detours through the bush. As I got higher up the valley, travel got more difficult and I resorted to bush bashing more often. This took plenty of time and energy. As a result I reached the bush line much later than expected and very exhausted, so that I had to have lunch. Up here the views were quite spectacular with waterfalls dashing off the mountains and white peaks rearing eerily into swirling clouds. Higher up the valley (approximately 1200m above sea-level) the tussock and rocks were covered with snow, and by now it had started snowing again. Travel became harder across the rocks and visibility became quite low. I briefly thought about turning back but the thought of bashing through all that bush again drove me onward. Luckily the route to Wilson Pass in the upper reaches was not quite that obvious so that Moir's Guide Book contained a relatively detailed description which I could follow even without seeing too far. Along a creek I reached a tussock ledge and made my way up to the pass through a winter wonderland of snow. I actually reached the pass quite quickly and was elated. But the strong biting wind and snow flurry up there didn't give me the opportunity for a photo stop. With some of the snowdrifts half a metre high, it wasn't easy going either. I soon descended on the other side and the wind subsided. It was actually quite fun at first sliding down the slopes - until my expensive pants ripped, that is.

By now it was obviously clear that I wouldn't reach the next hut in daylight, so I tried to get to the start of the marked track before daylight faded. Unfortunately with the poor visibility I found it a bit hard to orientate myself. Nevertheless at some point I struck a lone warratah and followed a track for a while (though that certainly was not "the track"), but lost it. When I came to the bush edge, I searched frantically for the track entrance: it was now getting dark and I used my head torch. Crashing through scrub I achieved nothing except of further damaging my pants and losing my drink bottle. Finally I decided the best thing was to settle down for the night, especially since it was now completely dark and even if I found the track, still more than 2 hours through demanding bush. I went and plonked down under some scrubby trees, where I hoped it would be relatively dry, windstill and without falling branches and the ground not too steep. I sucked some sweets and then melted some snow on my gas cooker to get some soup cooking. There was no wind at all here, so I didn't have any problems. It was nice to get something warm into the tummy. Unpacking my backpack I stowed most things in a few plastic bags, hung up my jacket and trousers on a tree and put whatever else had to be kept dry with my sleeping bag into the packliner. In nice dry clothes I crept into the sleeping bag. Those packliners are good things, but unfortunately a bit small for me, so that my shoulders stuck out into the cold. My beanie provided an excellent pillow and sleeping cap. It continued to snow lightly, but only the occasional drop fell on me. By 3 am I noticed the clear starry sky. Of course I hardly slept, but do distinctly remember dreams of tracks clearly marked with orange triangles.

The next morning I was on my way as soon as light dawned. I crashed down to the river and hopped along the boulders. I was again gently reminded to keep those slippery rocks in mind. In the hope of striking the track I went up a creek bed and indeed came upon one of those big orange triangles: I had found it! From here the track was clearly marked and easy to follow, gently leading down to the Hunter Forks through nice bush. I did find the river crossing at the forks a bit difficult, but got over to the other side. When I came out of the bush, the sun shone brilliantly and I could see the peaks in glistening white. Along the river flats I traveled to Forbes Flats Airport. It even has its own terminal building, otherwise known as Forbes Hut. It's a nice place, but was in the shade in the morning. Nevertheless I had breakfast there, as I only had had a snack earlier. Luckily somebody also had left behind a drink bottle in the hut, so that I thankfully replaced my lost one.

The track along the Hunter River was easy to follow, especially since only three days before cattle had been herded down the river. It is a nice valley with plenty of quaint huts, though I think a number of them will soon be removed. I arrived at Ferguson Hut at around 2pm and proceeded to empty my entire backpack. Just about everything was wet to some degree from the walk through the snow and the night under the trees. There's a nice fence in front of the hut which was soon covered with my belongings. After lunch I sat in the sun, reading a book and watching the clothes dry. The insect repellent came in handy for that: Unfortunately the sun soon disappeared behind some clouds. I cut some wood and took the afternoon slowly. In the evening I got the open fire going, read a bit and went to bed early. With the logs crackling in the open fire place I went to sleep. This is a beaut hut with the water tank just outside the door and the toilet down in the bush, so that one does not have to walk through long wet grass to get there.

After a long sleep I got up before 6am ready for another big day. Somehow I seem to take my time to get ready in the morning, especially if I need to totally repack my backpack. So I got away just after seven. In the dim light I came upon some cattle who must have been left behind a few days earlier and now ran ahead of me for a while. Crossing an arm of the braided Hunter River a few times I came to Scrubby Flat Creek. This creek leads far into the mountains from the main river valley. A marked route leads up the lower reaches of the creek where it flows through steep gorge-like mountainsides. The track is quite steep itself and I was glad I was going up and not trying to descend it. Two fantails accompanied me for about an hour, chirping around my head. The track stops quite abruptly and I had to sidle along gravel and scrub slopes above the creek. It took me some time before I reached the open flats further on. Travel here is quite easy and really inspiring among those high mountains. As I got further along the creek I could also clearly see the pass and tried to pick a route up to it. The weather had become really good and only a few clouds wafted along the higher peaks. I only wore my jacket during lunch and a few minutes after that. After lunch I went further along the flats and along one of the tributaries of Scrubby Flat Creek to ascend a ridge. I was surprised at how little I had to bash through scrub. I quite like this tramping in open country.

To the minute exact I reached the Scrubby Flat Creek Pass at 14:30. At a height of 1570m there were only a few remaining pockets of snow here. Views were great and the wind wasn't too bad. I soon descended steep tussock slopes to reach the bush line. Here I had to follow a ridge down to the Makarora River. There's no track or route here, but the bush is not too dense. I sometimes had to retrace my step and at one stage stood at a the top of a 15m-high cliff. Also I had to continually keep between the two streams which descend the mountain through a series of chasms. It's also quite pleasant walking on the soft forest floor and not hitting the hard track, especially going down-hill it makes it that much easier on the knees. I reached Makarora Hut at 5.15pm, though I had could have walked the last 20 minutes in half that time, if I had been keen. Again I occupied myself in gathering and cutting wood for those coming after me. Not that many people come here: Only 15 persons had stayed in the hut in the past year. I cooked my most elaborate meal yet: rice with vegetable and cheese sauce.

Clouds covered the valley when I set out the next morning. I soon left the flats behind and started on the track. I had read a bit about this track in the hut book with some calling it "hard", others "good", some "dangerous" and somebody remarking that it's "nice, but difficult enought to keep the idiots out". Well, I certainly wouldn't recommend anybody brining their children out here for their first experiences of a bush walk. It is challenging and certainly nothing for short legs. In parts it is very steep, in others very narrow with decent drops to one side. One certainly needs sure footing. At one point the track goes along a cliff and is less than two boots wide (i.e. you couldn't put one foot beside the other) with a drop of 10 to 15m; and if you were to fall that distance better hold on quick because there's another 50m to go down to the river from there. As it was a bit drier that day, I did find it less slippery than my tramp on the first day. Just before 11 I met the first people since setting out on Tuesday. They passed me very quickly on the track and seemed to be equipped with the latest and most fashionable gear available including those cool Nordic walking poles. The Makarora River here flows through a wild, wild gorge and the track goes over the hillside to rejoin it later on. This means a bit more of hill-climbing. According to the sign, this track takes 7 hours, but I did it in under 5 including lunch and leisurely morning tea, otherwise about 4.

At Davis Flat I crossed the Makarora River which is quite shallow here and then walked along the Bridle Track. This is a metalled track with easy grades, bridges and the whole gadgets. It is quite wide, but nevertheless goes along some quite steep drops. I had left my bike at Haast Pass and was glad to still see it there unharmed. Leaving my backpack in the bush, I pedalled my way down the road to the Gates of Haast, where I had left my car. I have to say I felt quite uncomfortable doing that. The road is quite narrow and I could so easily have been hit by a car. It's also quite steep in parts and ever since one snapped on Ravensbourne hill (though without serious consequences) I'm not trusting my brakes too much. I rather tramp through some challenging territory than rely on the alertness of my fellow man. When I packed my bike into the car I saw one of those tourists with his fully-laden bike go down the road. Good luck! Have they still not realised that New Zealand is not really bike-friendly? I'd rather walk long distances through it.

I enjoyed Lakes Wanaka and Hawea this time, stopping at a few places. I had tea at a restaurant in Kurow where I was the only dine-in customer, sitting just a table away from the cat's favourite chair. When I came home, I listened to the news, but it was still the same old story.