More adventures with camp mother in Mt Aspiring

Lake Lucidus was formed by an old glacier. The large moraine wall still dominates the landscape. Pictures by Kay Bayley

It IT WAS three years ago but due to snow and bad weather, we never made it over the pass.

To vary it she decided to firstly explore the upper Wilkin Valley referred to as Jumboland. As we had done the five-hour trudge up the valley last time we opted for the 20-minute jet boat ride to Kerin Forks Hut which was a pleasant way to start our six-day tramp.

With a blurb reading ‘a six-to-eight hour jaunt up a bush-clad valley opening to river flats’, you would think it was going to be plain sailing, right?

Wrong! It was an epic 10 hours — in and out of steep-sided creeks, negotiating hairy slips with care, then, when the orange poles ran out, crossing the main Wilkin River numerous times and when it was too deep, scrambling up banks to bash our way through the undergrowth.

I was one happy camper when finally we reached Top Forks Hut, home for the next three nights. There was no sign of anyone in residence and a slim chance of anyone else turning up, so we set about making ourselves at home.

I’m not the tidiest person, besides which whatever you want is always at the bottom of your pack, so everything came out before finally laying my hands on the meal I wanted — the heaviest of course, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to carry it to the next destination.

Happily, I set about cooking then consuming it before collapsing into bed to rest my weary bones.

Next day came around pretty fast and as I am an earlier riser, I crawled out of bed, tested the legs to see if they still went around (Yes) and crept out the door to capture the rising sun. This was going to be one of those blue bird days which bode well for our walk up the north branch of the Wilkin Valley.

By the time I got back inside the others had stirred and were in the throes of making brekkie. I hurriedly prepared mine, wolfed it down, grabbed the essentials for the day, pushed my mess under the bunk just in case somebody arrived while we were out and headed for the door.

With no time restraints and free from our heavy packs we set off. Within five minutes of the hut, we were tackling a tricky side stream, but by linking together we managed to get to the other side without any dramas, just wet boots and cold legs from the icy water. Not good this early in the morning but they soon warmed with the short, sharp climb through the bush, which opened to a picturesque valley.

Classic small lakesThe first two lakes we passed (Disappearing Tarn and Lake Diana) were classic small lakes that mirror the surrounding mountains. This was a great place to have a breather and to try our luck at capturing the magnificent scenery through the camera lens.

Lovely as it was, we had a lot more to see so we set off for Lake Lucidus 20 minutes away. This was a very different lake as it was formed by an old glacier. The large moraine wall still dominated the landscape, which of course begged to be climbed for a better view.

Instead of returning the same way we decided to bash our way through the bushes leading down to the banks of the outlet stream. After gingerly wading across, we caught up with the track again which took us through tussock and alpine vegetation,the main plants being the Mount Cook lily (above left). This was an amazing sight. Large clumps of the beautiful white flowers clinging to every available space. I have never seen them in such abundance.

The going was much steeper now, so we decided another break was needed. Picking a nice spot perched high above the valley floor, we set about eating our lunch. Due to the warm day the ice had started to melt creating avalanches in the surrounding mountains followed by booming sounds vibrating around the valley. We could have stayed in this sheltered spot playing “spot the avalanche”, but with Lake Castalia still some way away, we packed up and continued the climb.

The last 200m was over loose boulders blocking the view of the lake so when we finally got a glimpse, it was pretty impressive. This amazing glacial lake was nestled in an amphitheatre of towering rock faces and had its own icebergs floating in the blue water. That was the icing on the cake for me, and certainly worth the walk.

Unfortunately we couldn’t stay long as it was now late afternoon and we still had to do the return trip to the hut.

During the day we did receive some company — a group of Koreans were seated around the table eating this amazing array of food, all fresh and smelling divine. It turned out they had come in by helicopter. This elaborate meal took two hours to consume, which was too much for us, so we retreated to the old hut to eat our just-add-water meal.

Clouds buildingDay three was still fine but the clouds had started to build. We planned to explore the south branch which leads to Rabbit Pass. The track started behind the hut winding forever higher through the bush, before sidling around the edge of a cliff above the river, (not my favourite kind of track) then changing tack, we were on hands and knees up a water course. Lastly, with blinkers on, we negotiated a tricky slip that lead us to Waterfall Flat, a beautiful ‘U’-shaped valley again filled with Mount Cook lilies and ringed with snow-capped mountains.

In the distance, we could see our destination, Waterfall Face. It looked reasonable easy walking, but we soon discovered that the going was slow due to the clumpy grass hiding lots of rocks, bumps and hollows, which if we were not careful, could do serious damage to our ankles.

After zig-zagging our way through the vegetation we finally made it to Waterfall Face. I had always assumed you clambered up the waterfall itself but looking at it, I realised that you followed a track starting well on the right which then brought you back to the left, high above the falls before disappearing over a lip which I presumed led to Rabbit Pass.

It looked way out of my comfort zone so I was quite happy to leave it to the more adventurous — anyway, the weather had deteriorated with a few sleety showers which meant it was not the day to be doing it. With all the standing around discussing the ins and outs of Rabbit Pass, I was getting rather chilly even though I had put on every layer of clothing from my daypack. I thought we had better turn around and head for the hut where it would hopefully be a bit warmer being at a lower altitude.

Because it had taken 10 hours to get to the hut on the first day, we decided we had better be quick smart out the door the next day as we had to retrace our route down the valley ready for the zip across the Wilkin River at 1pm. When you have a deadline, it’s amazing how the pace can quicken so, of course, we were early for the boat which enabled us to eat our lunch in comfort on the veranda of the Kerin Forks Hut.

Once across the river, we were on familiar ground as we had covered this bit to Siberia Hut on our previous tramp. The track started off on an easy gradient but when you are in the mountains there is always some sort of climbing and this track was no exception. We changed gear for the relentless climb (we had forgotten this part) through the bush to the pass. Rain had set in’ so to help me forget about my aching body and the soggy mess happening under my raincoat, I focused on what we were going to find at the hut. Had the fire been lit? Was it full? Both questions were answered with the smell of smoke in the air and lots of faces peering through the window as we neared the hut.

Sorry we're fullOne of the teenagers came to the door and greeted us with “Sorry the hut is full — you can’t come in.”

What did that mean? Anyone can shelter from the rain. Muttering under my breath, ‘Nobody’s going to stop me going in,’ I removed my wet weather gear, picked up my dripping pack and marched inside making a beeline for the fire for some warmth before working out what to do next.

After a bit of sweet talking to the guys in charge of the teenagers, we managed to cram into a corner of one of the bunkrooms. It turned out the main party was a bunch of students on an outdoor education programme. They too were sheltering from the weather and were well-equipped for tenting with bedrolls, so they bunked down in the kitchen.

The forecast for the next day was worse, with snow down to 500m and gale-force winds forecast, so once again it looked as though we would not be going over Gillespie Pass. A hut warden was in residence so he was able to radio through to the jet boat company to change our arrangements.

The next day actually started off with a lovely sunrise, but you could see that there had been a dusting of snow on the higher peaks overnight and the rain clouds were building.

After packing up we made the two-hour tramp back over the pass, this time walking down the 25 switchbacks to the river flats where the jet boat was to meet us. Waiting in the rain and sandflies was no fun, but when we heard the sound of a helicopter instead of a boat, our spirits lifted.

Yippee! Eight minutes of pure luxury. I could get hooked on this type of travel.

Would I try again? Who knows? If I did, I would start with the Young Valley, as we managed to do a day trip up to the snow line on Gillespie Pass on the first tramp but the heavy snow and weather prevented us going over . . . so I still don’t know what awaits on the other side.