North West Circuit
Day 6: Hellfire Pass - Mason Bay 14km 8hrs
- Hut nights: 7
- Solo hut nights: 6
- People in huts: 4
- Overall people: 6
- Kiwi: 1
After a good solid sleep I fossicked around the hut for some firewood as the stock was fairly low. I had another look at the sand dune and the view was illuminated by a stunning cloud burst fanning rays over Mt Benson and the Ruggedy Flats. I rushed back to the hut for the camera. The clouds ranged from dark grey to sun-drenched glare, and the whole scene gave the feeling that God's hand would appear out of the sky in a Monty Pythonesque pose at any moment.
To Little Hellfire Beach
Back on the track I was happy to find less mud and was feeling refreshed from a good night's sleep. From the vantage of Hellfire Ridge there were good views looking back at the receding Ruggedy Range and the broad flat area of the island's interior, lovingly lit with sun and cloudburst combinations (as in this panorama). After the first couple of dull days on the east coast the west had many moments when I just had to stop and grab my camera, the light and landscape combining sublimely. Moving along the ridge I started to glimpse the elegant sweeping curve of Mason Bay, on this day being pounded by surf breaking well out to sea. I passed the 399M (1300ft) summit of the ridge and started moving back down to the coast. It wasn't long before another stunning image appeared in front of me: Little Hellfire beach , beyond that Mason Bay, a hazy grey sky, thrashing surf with a spotlight of sun causing the whitewash to gleam. I waited for a while for the sun to illuminate just the right spot, directly above me there was enough blue sky to light the surrounding bush. I got a great image of this magnificent coast, and took a self portrait just to remind myself how good it all was.
Mason Bay
Though I could see Little Hellfire Beach beneath me and it didn't look too distant it was a couple of hours till I was standing on it. Now only a point of land separated me from Mason Bay and a long yet leisurely stroll along a flat beach to the next hut. By the time I reached the northern end of the 15km crescent of Mason Bay another couple of hours had passed and it was half past three. From the beach level the surf seemed to be breaking out to the horizon with an accompanying roar. My flat beach dreams disappeared as I noted the raging surf surging up to the rock and driftwood strip that separated the beach from a virtual cliff of sand and rock. In fact the only way I'd get along this coast was hugging the bottom of the cliff and stumbling over the driftwood or rock hopping. It was slow progress. At least what I was walking on hadn't been soaked by the sea lately - hopefully I would not get wet or washed out to sea.
The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
As I looked ahead I spied a potential problem. About 500M (third of a mile) away the surf was pounding against a rocky point with a fearful amount of whitewash and spray. As I got closer I saw that at times the waves would recede to leave some beach in front of the point, but it was not long before another surge thrashed at the rocks and the water became a seething moshpit of white wash. Getting caught there at the wrong moment would be suicidal. This was the third time this week I'd been faced with dodging waves. I ruled out going round the point and weighed up the other options. Wait for the high tide to recede - could take hours and it was not a comfortable place to wait. Judge the timing of the waves and clamber up the side of the rock - a: might get washed off before I get high enough, b: don't know if it is climbable with full pack on and c: don't know what's on other side.
The only thing left was to go up the cliff behind me. I made an attempt straight up but only slid back in the soft sand. Even if I could make it beyond this soft sand it only got steeper as it got higher. At least it wasn't completely vertical. It was high enough to do damage if I came unstuck though, a four of five storey building perhaps. Even if I made it I could only see to a certain point and didn't know what was beyond. What if I got stuck and couldn't go up or down? I wanted to get to the hut though. A week ago I would have probably waited for the tide, but after a week of being tested by this Island I felt the only option was to face fears, conquer the cliff and reap the rewards of personal achievement. I could use the grass and plants to haul me up. There were places where the clay/earth protruded from the sand that would give footing. I could see a possible path above me.
I started up the cliff, placing huge responsibility on the plants to hold part of my weight as I dug my boots into the shifting sand. Bending to keep my centre of gravity low and seeking any hard ground I could I made it about three quarters of the way up. Then the moment the solo cliff climber dreads, a slightly moist clay/earth ledge that I would have to hoist myself up to carry on. I calculated the move in my head, leg up to a foothold of sorts, push off with other leg and hope for all hell that whatever my hands found on the ledge above would enable me to pull up without slipping back. It was a risk I deemed to be worthy of taking. I go for it, reaching that sickening moment when you know your body balance has gone past the point of no return. If I didn't scramble up I'd be dropping back not knowing where or in what condition I'd come to a rest. A moment that encapsulated the solo thrills of the last few days. Two days before, walking along West Ruggedy Beach, I'd pumped my walking pole into the air and shouted my general approval, I was revelling in this environment. It had been a time of high emotions, adrenalin and relief, exertion and wonder, exhaustion and exhilaration.
History tells us that I judged the ledge correctly. Above it the going was immediately easier, not as steep and firmer underfoot. Still I had to negotiate the unknown of what was above the cliff, but in the end a way through the tight coastal scrub, a way down to a creek and a way up again, and a way down to the beach were found. Since first coming into the bay it had taken nearly an hour and a half to cover what should have been a fifteen minutes stroll along the beach. Meanwhile it was still an amazing late afternoon. Dark clouds loomed, bright sun burst through, surf rolled in, a golden grass covered the dunes whilst a brisk wind tugged at my clothes. An elemental wonderland. Now at last I could take the easy road along the sand to the hut. I turned inland at the marker buoy and through the dunes to the hut. I spent my last solo night there.
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