Mt Arthur

Title: Mt Arthur.

Aside: Most of these blog entries are in a rough draft form, please bear with that. I don’t have the time to devote too much to review and making it all purty, but I WILL when I get back to the US and I am in Texas. I will edit the blog, post descriptions on the Picasa web album pictures, and do all that kind of thing then, while suffering from the jet lag.

Anyway, after the last posting the night before in Nelson, I met a german guy named Aljosha from Berlin. He was staying at the same backpackers (a hostel) we stayed at. He was an interesting fella who could tell a good story. He had been in Bali recently too, and he shared a very funny story about his return from Bali to Sydney. He had met up with some kind Balinese who gave him a tour of their island for the price of their petrol, and then invited him to dinner. When they asked him if he liked his meals spicy, he said yes, thinking spicy in a German sort of way, which of course is not very spicy. He said he ate two of these green bean looking things and that his mouth did not stop burning for 5 days! This meal with the Indonesian locals took place on his last night on Bali, and on his return trip to Sydney, he said he threw up something like seven times on the airplane! This made the Aussie’s a little nervous that perhaps he was bringing some kind of biohazard into their country, so when his plane landed, they quarantined the WHOLE AIRPLANE! And these guys came on board in full yellow biohazard gear, and the flight attendants all pointed at him, “he’s the one.” So they checked him out, but he was ok, it was just his stomach couldn’t handle that spicy Indonesian meal.

We talked a lot into the night (he was quite the talker), and I showed him CB on Google Earth and he showed me his favorite parts of Berlin, too. He was in New Zealand on a 12 month work visa, and then was going to fly to LA giving himself seven weeks to get to and fly home from Montreal. I said, "hey stop by Crested Butte on the way, I’ve got a guest room you can stay in." He said he might, and we exchanged email addresses and he said that he would let me know, one way or the other when he got to the states. I don’t usually just offer my guest room to total strangers, but he had a good feel about him, so why not?

So we made it out of Nelson a little late, but we made it to the Flora Saddle Carpark at 930 meters above sea level (Nelson was at sea level) in about 2 and ½ hours, arriving just before the day got dark. We drove up to Motueka (where Genevieve had lived on a farm for two weeks last time she was in New Zealand milking goats and making cheese, etc.), and turned up the Motueka River Valley, then headed off the main road and climbed up an incredibly steep gravel road past green New Zealand farms with sheep. Up, up, up and into the Kahurangi National Park where we planned to hike Mt Arthur the next day. It had been raining in Nelson, but it had stopped before we left, but it was still a very grey, low hanging cloudy day. As we went up this road, we got into the cloud, and it felt like cloud, misty wet and cold. It gave everything a mysterious quality, and the ever-present birdsong….

The sounds here, coming from the bush are very interesting. They are mostly bird noises, and I have described some of them before … the pleasant bird songs from the Queen Charlotte Track hike. None of the sounds are like the screaming we heard from the forest in Ubud (a monkey Ange and I finally concluded), or the constant cock crows of Tonga or Indonesia – those were harsh sounds. Here the sounds are all harmonious, soft, pleasant to listen to, never harsh. In Flora Saddle I heard a sound that sounded like a wet fart, or like some large fluttering of big birds. Genevieve tells me that there are really large pigeons, native to New Zealand called Kereou that are like the size of a chicken or even bigger, and they make very loud whooshing noises as they fly. That is what she thought I heard, she says that they are very loud when they fly. There are so many birds here, the Tui and the Bellbird and the Weka and so on, and all together they make up the majority of the sounds we hear coming from the bush.

So we are in Flora Saddle and the cloudy mist breaks every now and then to reveal a 3/4 moon, the strange upside down moon of the southern hemisphere (which is funny because it is the first time I can look at the moon and actually see the “man in the moon” – only in the upside down moon). This is a good sign as we plan on hiking Mt Arthur tomorrow, and we are praying for a break in the weather. (As you recall from my last entry, we spent the day in Nelson while it rained and I had my back adjusted by the chiropractor.)

It is still kind of spooky here at night as we are all alone with two vacant cars in the carpark way up at 930 meters above sea level. It is cool, but not as cold as that first night when it snowed just a few hundred feet above our camping spot on the beach. Everything is wet and dripping from the light, misting rain of the day, there are big puddles in the carpark and everything is wet. I heard a big spooky noise off in the darkness of the bush, something large falling from a tree, coupled with the foreign birdsong that continues even into night. And even though I know that there are no poisonous anything, and there are no large predators here, it still gives me a small fright.

But this has been the best night so far in New Zealand, because Genevieve has finally opened up and came out of this shell that she has been in since that first night in Tonga, and started to tell me about Antarctica. She has told me more about Antarctica, tonight than she has ever told me. Special things about why she likes it there so much. All I have heard before tonight is that it is the coldest, driest, harshest place on earth, and if you look at pictures of McMurdo on the web, it looks like a town made out of airplane hangars. How can such a place be such a fascination to her? Tonight she told me revealing items about living there that made me understand why it was so special. I cannot bring myself to repeat any of the things in such a public forum as this, since I have been chastised again and again not to talk about Antarctica. Ask her yourself (if you dare) and she will tell you (if she wants to). The things she described not only made me understand why she liked it so much, but also roused enough interest that I want to go there as well. And it touched me that she felt that she could share this with me.

The next morning (November 11 – the 10^th in the US) started out very promising as sunshine peeked thru the cracks in the vanette’s curtains, so I woke up thinking good, sunshine the weather had broke. Turns out that the sun was shining in between cloud layers, one below our position that undoubtedly meant that Nelson and Motueka were still grey, and the cloud layer above us, so that by 8 AM or so, it was a grey day again. Oh well, we were here to go into the Kahurangi National Park even if barely into it. I am not sure how big this park is, but it is frickin BIG … it takes most people something like 4 -5 days to cross it by foot, and our planned day hike to the top of Mt Arthur was just barely nicking the outside edge according to the map of the park. This park map also lists something like 12 different mountain ranges within the park! Clearly, I could spend a month or so in the Nelson area and still have places to explore in Abel Tasman and Kahurangi National Parks.

So off we start on our day hike. Now it was wet, it was really wet. It was not raining or anything, it was just a grey misty/cloudy day, but the ground was like walking on a big sponge. (It reminded me of that scene in Empire Strikes Back when they are inside the giant space worm’s stomach in the asteroid.) Every step was a squish, squish, squish. There is green everywhere – the ground is covered in moss, the trees are covered in moss, tiny ferns and tiny mushrooms. The big trees had green draped all over them. (Pictures will eventually show up in Picasa.) This hike started off great, my back felt good, if a bit sore from the adjustment, and the landscape is a feast to the eyes – very different from anything I have experienced in the US whether Colorado or the pacific northwest.

So I walk for a good hour to 90 minutes snapping pictures like mad, then I get up on the ridge and the giant beech tree green forest gives way to smaller trees that are bare except for what looks like an aloe plant on the top of them. (I’ll figure out the name of them eventually.) So I then come across snow in small patches along the side of the trail, or in a sink hole along the trail. The track is still very wet and muddy, and we are still not to the Mt Arthur Hut, which is like a 1/3, maybe half the way up the mountain. The sun is starting to come in and out in patches through the grey sky.

We get to the hut, and its time to decide what to do. Looking further up the trail (when the clouds part enough to see further up the trail) we see a mountain (not the top) that has a lot of snow on it. Two New Zealanders showed up at the bottom while we were having our breakfast. They, too, were going to climb Mt Arthur, they set off in shorts (of course – those hardy New Zealanders have been mostly wearing shorts since I have arrived – its spring doncha know), but taking with them ice picks and crampons. Then another pair of NZers show up (yes wearing shorts, of course) they came up a different path, from the Flora Hut (not at the Flora Saddle). They said that they were sure the guys ahead of us were going to need the ice picks, but probably not the crampons. On top of everything, I had left one of my made-for-my-(favorite)-pack water bottles in Nelson, and I was adamant that we return for it. (My fanny pack as anyone in CB will know is completely unbalanced with only one of these bottles.) So with all of these factors, we decided to make a loop out of the hike and go up just a little more to a false summit, take in what view we could, then go down the other track, see the Flora hut then up and back to the carpark. We figured that would take us out by 2 PM, back to Nelson by 4 PM and then make our way to Nelson Lakes National Park which is our planned hike for the next day. This suited us fine, and turned out to be a good choice. For one, we were not prepared for the snow at the summit, and for two, this would allow us to return to Nelson, but not screw up the near term schedule.

So we went up to the false summit, and our luck continues to hold, meaning on our days off, the weather sucks, when we go hiking, the weather is awesome, or in this case decent. While on this false top, the clouds did lift (mostly) and we could take in the view into the park proper. OMG! It was stunning. Miles and miles and miles of untouched wilderness, with spectacular mountains in the two directions we could see into the Park. And of course, we could only see just this one enormous area that is just the tiniest bit of this huge Park. No roads, no houses, just snow covered peaks over greeeeeen forests. We made our early lunch there and left the little peak at about 11:30PM. (Lots of pictures still to come.) I was a little emotional as I left the top, I am not sure why, I suppose the shear enormity and beauty of this place touched me. Plus I am disappointed in myself that my bone-headed forgetfulness cut short our first peak attempt. But I did resolve myself at that point to come back to NZ sometime and stay long enough to do it right! I want to explore this Park! And I want to see the Abel Tasman (where they filmed the wood elf scenes in the Lord of the Rings), which is one of the NZers favorite of all their 14 national parks. So I am putting it out there now to all y’all . . . I am targeting January and February of 2010 or 2011 for a 8 week tour with multi-night tramps (as they call it) on the South Island of NZ. Any of you wanna come, let me know. I am starting to plan for it as soon as I get back!

Starting down the route to the Flora Hut, the track was especially wet and muddy. In fact it must have been the wettest muddiest hike I have ever done. To make matters worse, the descent was STEEP through the trees, and I mean like staircase (ladder? – well at least in a few places, where I literally went backwards) steep. I am slipping and sliding down this trail, and going SLOW. At first it is funny, but soon pain replaces fun, and by the fifth or so major slip on the wet roots of the trees (hidden by a layer of last falls leaves), makes it not too much fun anymore. It is so wet that not only is the ground wet, but even if I grab what looks to be a dry part of a tree to help me keep my balance, it too is sopping wet – like a sponge. Luckily, skiing reflexes take over, and I just start to go with the slips and slides, instead of tweaking my back with each one. And also luckily, I did not fall, and I had ibuprofen on me, that all helps. And again, what looks like solid ground, is like a sponge. Sometimes I step on what looks like the most solid part of the trail only to get a sense that I am going to fall into some kind of hole, as if it wasn’t ground but quicksand (tho the deepest I ever really go is about 1 ½”). Soon enough, my boots are as grey as the muddy ground, and the bottom ¼ of my pants are a pretty good mess, too. It is really good that this trail is well marked with red triangles on the trees (it is not the wide track that most of these trails in NZ seem to be), because in many places it is hard to tell what is trail and what is plain old forest floor, even for me, accustomed as I am in picking out game trails while bushwacking (“hunting grouse”) with Kraig in CB.

Somwhere near the bottom, the sound of a helicopter invades the squeely chimes of the birdsong, and I think, “huh, a helicopter tour.” As I get toward the bottom, where the Flora hut ought to be, it is clear that the helicopter is at the hut. Just before getting to the Hut, the chopper takes off and heads away. Genevieve is waiting for me at the bottom and she tells me it is the DOC (Dept of Conservation) people who were unloading things. While I am resting after that hellish decent, the ‘copter returns, flies right over head and lands in the small amount of open space here on the valley floor next to the hut. The DOC guys unload items, load other items (and a dog), one of them gets in and heads back into the park (down the valley) from where it had just come from. (Gen took a cool video of it with her camera.) This helicopter continues to do this as we walk out, obviously ferrying supplies from the carpark to the Hut to points beyond.

We start up the trail back to the car park. By now, the cloud cover has broken completely and it is a stunning blue-bird day. We are now walking past a beautiful crystal clear stream, with the occasional small waterfall. It is like all the water I have seen in NZ – salt or fresh, it does not seem to matter – so incredibly clear, every detail of the streambed is clearly visible, as if there was no water there at all. As we walk up this road (it’s a road, although nobody but the DOC is allowed to drive on it), the moss covered sidecut is weeping with water that is draining out of the forested hill above.

On our way, a gorgeous blonde woman who also showed up while we were breakfasting, and took off into the Park on her mountain bike, came upon me. She stopped and got off her bike and started up a conversation. Seems like everywhere I go, the New Zealanders stop and talk. They genuinely seem interested and are so very polite. We pass a couple of Wekas and she asks me if I know what birds those are. I say, they are wekas, I think. She seems somewhat impressed as apparently most tourists think they are the reclusive Kiwi birds. She asks about my plans, and I tell her we are on our way to Nelson Lakes and then down the west coast. “Be sure to stop at the Pancake Rocks.” About the 20^th time I have heard that I have to stop at them, and it has long been part of the plan.

She tells me a great tale about having to sneak around the guy at the Flora Hut. Apparently there is some confusion as to mountain bikers being allowed in the park or not. She thinks that they are allowed on this road, but not allowed on any of the tracks or trails. She said that she road her bike down this road, and then hiked up to this other hut further in the park (probably about double –or more – the mileage Gen and I just did). Anyway, she confides that she hopes there aren’t any DOC guys at the carpark. I ask if she will get a ticket for having the bike. She said, “No, just a good jabbering.” Or something like that – typical Kiwi attitude. For example, there is no law (I don’t think) about having your seat belt fastened, its just you want to because then you wont die in an accident, but if you want to die, go ahead, don’t wear your seat belt. Or like the guy who we hired the vanette from (Grant): didn’t need the CC number to hold the reservation, just wanted to be sure we HAD a credit card.

Anyway, we get to the vanette about 2PM; head into Nelson; my water bottle is still at the internet place. I pick it up; we check email, and as I step outside while Gen is online, there is Aljosha across the street. I walk over and say, “hi.” And he says, “hey I thought you were leaving!” “We did, but I left this here, so we came back for it. Off to Nelson Lakes next though.” He looks a little forlorn and says, “I’ll get there too, one of these days.” Gen comes out gets to meet Aljosha who tells her another story about not being able to find a shirt that fits him in this country – something about his neck is too wide for how narrow the rest of his body is, and the shirts he finds are either ridiculously big or way too small. Gen confirms the “he’s a really good guy” feeling I had the night before, and tells him he has to stop by CB next June, we say goodbye and pick up some more groceries. As we drive between Nelson and it's bedroom community of Richmond, we get stuck in the same afternoon rush hour traffic as we did the day before! (There even is a sign by the side of the road saying, “PM Queues” as if we didn’t know we were stuck in the afternoon rush!)

We head towards Nelson Lakes, and stop at a lookout spot the DOC info office had told us about called Hope Saddle just in time for the weather to break in all directions, and we can take in a splendid evening view (sunset being about 8PM in the southern spring, with long twilight). Included in the view is Mt Owen, Mt. Arthur, the mountains around Nelson Lake, and far in the distance, some of the Southern Alps! The spot was off the highway somewhat (up a dirt road), it had a bathroom, so we decided to spend the night there…why not? We are living out of the vanette after all, and we are just 35 KM from Nelson Lakes. There is also a flat grassy area that sure looks like an inviting place to pitch a tent, AND there is no sign here telling us that we cannot camp here (many other places are very specific in their signage). The cold grey clouds rolled in during the fading twilight, and it looks like rain (or misting) again. What is very similar to home is that when the sun is out it feels hot – the blue bird hike of today was warm in a t-shirt – but when the sun goes down, or the clouds roll in, it gets cold, and fast.

Tune in next time for the Nelson Lake day…. coming up real soon.

Newo-out