Monday, July 22, 2019

Diamond Lake

A neat and very accessible hike in the greater Wanaka area is to Diamond Lake (and above). It's short and easy and accessed from a paved road, which means that it can be a fan favorite in winter or on bad weather days or on hangover days when bigger missions might not be such a good idea for the delicate flowers in the group.


The goods from the upper overlook


Ice and green bookend the snags in the lake


Low winter sun


Goopy mushies

It's only about a 10-minute hike to the lake itself, and then another short stint gets you to the lake overlook and then up Rocky Mount where you can see the rest of the observable universe, give or take.


The goods in the other direction

Good fun and a high bang-for-the-buck little tramp, especially on a crisp winter day!

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Thursday, July 18, 2019

Rob Roy

I'm just gonna do the thing where I pretend like it hasn't been a year since I posted.

Dear friends Jesse and Lisa visited us sans kiddos earlier this year, and we took half a day of brilliant weather to go to one of our favorite hikes. The overlooks for Rob Roy Glacier out in the Matukituki Valley are somewhere between easy and hard to get to, but the payoff in views is worth every drop of sweat. For context, it's a 14km round trip from the carpark with a few hundred vertical meters of climbing between here and there.


Nature hard at work


Wispy waterfall


Calving glacier

Global warming is super scary and sad, and one way it's manifested 'round here is by bits of the glacier calving off high above. As such, hanging out with a picnic and waiting for an icefall could be considered to be making the most of a dire situation.


Walls and falls


Ethel puts in the hard work...


...while they just look pretty and demand lattes


Dense beech


Big country

We've been out here during most seasons and in lots of different weather, and it's never disappointed. There are certainly more remote and grander landscapes to ponder, but this ticks all the boxes nicely!

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Sunday, July 29, 2018

Ulva Island

Ulva Island is a wee little island in Paterson Inlet at Stewart Island that's a pretty special place. It's predator-free after a huge effort by DOC, and they take substantial measures to keep it that way. Their efforts have made it an exquisite bird sanctuary, and it's one of the only places in NZ where you stand a chance of seeing a wild kiwi during the day.

Raki, our host Manfred's son, operates a ferry business between Stewart and Ulva Islands, and we've got a few hours to explore it before we head home. It's a short boat ride, it's cheap as, and Raki gives us our return ticket, written on a rangiora shrub leaf (there's a photo of the ticket on the ferry's website as of 29 Jul 2018). These leaves are famous for being used as postcards because they took ink well and didn't deteriorate, and have been sent worldwide even though NZPost wasn't really a fan of the practice. When he drops us off, we pick a return time and disappear into the dense canopy.


Oystercatchers scurry along


Faint light finds Murphy

Spoiler: we do not see any kiwis, although Raki tells us that some other passengers he had that day got lucky with a sighting (they're nocturnal, but the lack of predators on Ulva gives a chance for a daytime sighting). There's also a complete lack of services on Ulva at night, so that's a complicating factor.

However, we see a bunch of other cool bird life while we meander on the island's little network of tracks. Some of the tracks are, um, less accessible when the tide is in.


Good luck


Tui


South Island robin / toutouwai


Stewart Island Weka


Extra cheeky weka


Ulva Island port

Raki picks us up in his wee boat at our agreed-upon time, and before too long, we're back to SZS and airborne for IVC.


Short hop

'Til next time, Stewart Island.

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Tuesday, July 24, 2018

Rakiura Track and Other Shenanigans

Waking up on Stewart Island with nothing planned feels like a gift from the gods. Manfred feeds us a stunning breakfast, enough to make us feel like anything is possible, and then we realize that the weather isn't meant to be complete crap. That is even MORE of a gift, and while Murphy isn't feeling super duper frisky, I'm only pricked with a twinge of guilt when I ask her how she feels about me disappearing off into the bush for a few hours while she finds her own adventure. The puppy dog eyes work.

You see, Stewart Island is home to one of NZ's Great Walks, the Rakiura Track, and it's billed as a 3-day tramp. For these multi-day walks, you can kinda do a rough conversion where the recommended number of days if you're walking is about the right number of hours if you're running.

The Rakiura Track isn't even Stewart Island's longest or best-known track. The North West Circuit and Southern Circuit Tracks are WAY longer and carry the notoriety of circumnavigating a huge chunk of the entire island. The North West Circuit Track is billed as a 9-11-day hike over 125km, which, with our aforementioned rough conversion, might suck to run. The Southern Circuit Track is shorter at 71km (4-6 days), but both of them are pretty explicitly backcountry tracks with higher probability of things going pear-shaped.


Rakiura Track profile; not that bad, but enough

So the Rakiura Track is a lot less to bite off, and is relatively well-maintained due to its Great Walk status, and considering that I've come here without any specific distance running gear, much less proper backcountry route-finding and survival gear, seems to be the right call. By "without any specific gear," I mean ANYTHING except for decent trail shoes and a rain jacket. The worrywarts among you will be horrified to think about starting a remote 35ish-kilometer run without any water, no contingency gear, and a whopping half a granola bar, but it's certainly not the dumbest thing I've ever done.


Sendoff

Manfred's son Raki (yes, for Rakiura) is kind enough, along with his visiting brother Julius and Ethel, to deposit me at the Lee Bay end of the point-to-point track. Ethel gets a swift smack on the ass and I disappear into the unknown. Don't worry: I won't be burdening you with a km-by-km recounting of the track, but at a high level, it's a stunning ribbon of NZ to see, and I will say a bit about each major section.

I feel compelled to point out that much of it is perma-mud, which is just kinda something that happens in places where it rains shitloads and there's nowhere for the water to go and the sun never shines. I also gather that running it is not too common, at least based on the bemused observations of the well-laden trampers I encounter as I flit by with nothing on my back and nothing in my hands.





As noted, it's a point to point track, and I've chosen to go counterclockwise (rather, anticlockwise, as they say here). The first section of the track winds from Lee Bay past Maori Beach and to the Port William Hut. There are a couple beach sections, which are more exciting with the tide in, but this whole first third is only 8km long, so it's over pretty quickly.


Maori Beach shelter





Maori Beach has a tiny shelter, and the Port William Hut is a proper DOC accommodation with features like walls. I drink water through my cupped hands at the hut, have a bite of my bar, and am back underway in about 2 minutes.







The next section of the track backtracks a tiny bit from Port William Hut to a junction and then goes through the wilds of the island to North Arm Hut. This is the wettest part of the track, and it feels pretty remote, too. It's also the segment with the most elevation change, and at 13km, it's the crux of the whole run. I've got no photos of the muddy bits, because I'm too focused on forward propulsion and not falling into any mud pits to simultaneously work the camera. So you'll just have to take my word for it when I say that it's swampier than an alligator's asscrack.






North Arm Hut

North Arm Hut provides me with another few handfuls of water and an excuse for another bite of my bar, and then it's time to disappear into the bush yet again before I get any questions from the trampers that might force me to incriminate myself with regards to my lack of preparedness.







The final section of the track follows on from North Arm Hut and makes its way back towards the main village of Oban, ending in the hills above town and not too far from SZS (I'm testing your goldfish memories).









It's only 11km from North Arm Hut to the official end of the track, and it's not quite as swampy, and you also know that it'll be done soon, so it doesn't feel nearly as wild as that middle bit. The last couple of kilometers are on a much wider trail, too, so it's clear that civilization is near.


Paua shell bench

It's only a couple of kilometers from the end of the track to town, so that's my cooldown. Murphy has just arrived in town as well, so I lurch towards her with all the grace and aplomb of a zombie and she deftly redirects me into the open door of the pub instead of the ocean, where I'm yet again on the receiving end of more bemused looks.

While I assume that many of the pub's customers arrive muddy and famished, it being Stewart Island and all, I can only assume that they're not typically wearing split running shorts with a 1" inseam. Fortunately, I've reached a point in my life where my propensity for giving a fuck about how I look after a run has been greatly diminished.

So it's a godsend that the pub is open, but we've arrived in that funny time between lunch and dinner, so there's not much on offer. They do, however, have some soup, which is delicious, even when inhaled, and which I accompany with a pint of Speight's, which tastes about like I imagine the blessed nectar of the forest nymphs tastes, although I wouldn't know one way or the other.

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As a nice interlude between the two runs I'm boring you to tears with, it's worth pointing out that we'll find ourselves back at the pub tonight, partially because it's the only joint with food and drink, and partially because it's Quiz Night. We come back with Julius, and since we're half short of the typical 6-person team, we make fast friends with a couple from Invercargill, and we're also eventually joined by Raki.

In a shocking turn of events, we end up third in a fairly competitive field, but this is one of those things where, unlike horseshoes and hand grenades, close counts for nothing, so we're a single question away from winning and a $50 bar tab, and that's probably best for all of us in the long run. Instead, our nightcap is some unsuccessful kiwi hunting (not -that- kind of hunting, thanks), and we fall asleep back at the house to the sound of some proper lashing rain.

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The following day breaks with something of a plan in place, but the morning weather is nicer than expected and the best thing after a long run is obviously to go running again, so I lace up and hobble out on a jog that's noteworthy for no other reason than some sightseeing.







This route takes me from Oban and Halfmoon Bay past Bathing Beach, Butterfield Beach, Bragg Bay, Sarah Cove, and to Dead Man Beach, where it becomes apparent that looping all the way around to Horseshoe Point and Horseshoe Bay is waaaay more than I should sign myself up for, so I waddle home atop jello legs and call it good.


Sarah Cove


Dead Man Beach


Dead Man Beach again

With a run in the books, the rest of our plans for the day beckon...


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Sunday, July 22, 2018

Jensen Bay

Right; more from Stewart Island. It's really not that big of an island, but in the same breath, it's huge. There's simply no chance that we'll come close to seeing everything in a few days. Instead, we focus our efforts on becoming acquainted with our neighborhood, which is Jensen Bay.

We've returned to the AirBnb that Ethel and Nate discovered on their trip a few months prior. Not only is the house amazing, but the host and his family are first-rate human beings.


Our digs at dusk

The hospitality and warmth shown to us by Manfred and his sons far exceeds our expectations. Should any of my seven readers be contemplating a visit to Stewart Island, I'd insist on making a recommendation...

The house is solar- and wind-powered, fed with captured rainwater, and heated with pipes in the walls. Necessity, it turns out, is the mother of invention, and Stewart Island's climate tends to breed necessity.


From the balcony at dawn

One whimsical aspect of their house that really makes it cool is the family of kaka that have made it their adoptive home. Not as destructive as the kea but equally clever and curious, the kaka is a gorgeous parrot with tons of personality. The family that lives here knows where the treats come from, and they really only get unruly when the treats run out.


Oh HELLO

Also a feature of our neighborhood of Jensen Bay is a notable lack of light pollution. On an exploratory run not long after our arrival, I scope a few spots for photos should we win the veritable lottery of a clear night.

Astonishingly, our lottery ticket hits and we spend maybe an hour and a half wandering the 'hood with necks craned skyward.


Dry-docked


Acker's Cottage


Nearby :)

Visible in that last photo are the Southern Cross, Jupiter, the Milky Way, Ethel, the Large and Small Magellanic Clouds, a shooting star, and some airglow. Not bad for a single frame.

Our decision to strike when the iron is hot is a good one, as we won't see the sky again during our stay; such are the whims of high-latitude coastal NZ weather during autumn!

We finally go to bed wholly unencumbered with plans for the following day; sometimes it's important to plan lots, and other times, it's important to plan absolutely nothing.

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Past Detritus