North West Circuit
Day 7: Mason Bay - North Arm 26.5km 8hrs
- Hut nights: 7
- Solo hut nights: 6
- People in huts: 4
- Overall people: 6
- Kiwi: 1
It was the Friday of my solo week and on Saturday afternoon I'd be back on the ferry to Bluff. Today I'd be heading back to quasi-civilisation, leaving behind the life affirming experiences of the west coast. By distance this would be the longest day of all, I was out the door of the hut not long after 7 psyched for a big day. By now the pack was lighter, I was fitter. The first 15kms were along the marshy flat interior which the guide points out is impassable in very heavy rain due to flooding though has large segments of boardwalk. My plan was to cover this as quickly as possible and leave ample time to cross Thomson Ridge.
Close Encounter
Only twenty minutes out from the hut I came across what, despite our national moniker, is a very rare occurrence for a New Zealander. They are virtually extinct on the main islands due to the european borne predators. Most kiwis have only seen them in the half light of carefully constructed habitats in zoos. But there, right in front of me, in plain daylight, on the track, a real, wild, iconic, live kiwi bird. And what an improbable animal they are. The small head with the long narrow beak sits on an out of proportion massive stomach. Only in an environment of no predators could such a beer bellied couch potato of a bird have evolved. Once it had registered my presence it ambled back into the bush and out of sight. I still had the majority of the day ahead of me but short of a genuine UFO sighting nothing could upstage my encounter with a kiwi in the wild.
Thomson Ridge
Triumphantly I moved along the low lying interior towards Freshwater Landing. The morning was dull, the sun occasionally peering through the stunted forest and manuka groves. After a bite to eat at the Freshwater Hut I made the start up the hill that would take me back to the populated side of the island. Up on top of Thomson Ridge it started to rain steadily and the going for a while was slow progress through wet, tree root infested track. The fabulous bush of the east coast returned and I stopped a few times in the afternoon to try and catch some essence of the jolly green garden in the digital realm.
It was another long day and it was about 5pm by the time I reached the junction of the North West Circuit and Rakiura Track. After seven days of solo expedition it was time to say goodbye to the track that redefined my ideas of tramping. The comparatively popular 2/3 day Rakiura Track was a veritable highway and I skipped along the wooden boardwalk and steps. It was nearing six o'clock by the time North Arm Hut appeared, and for the first time this week there were signs of people at the hut. Humans no less.
Civilisation
I'd been following a couple of days behind a guy all the way around, his entries in the hut log books lead me to think I'd find him in the is hut. He was there along with three french nationals. I discussed with Dave, a Southland local, the amazing journey we'd both covered, me in seven days and he in ten. The frenchies had come in from Oban with a supply of beer and wine. They'd harvested some mussels from the mud flats next to hut so we collectively enjoyed a candle-lit meal of fresh seafood and whatever we could rustle from our packs. One of the Frenchmen was national coach of the New Zealand ski team, the couple with him were friends on a visit from New Caledonia. We talked ski, snow, weather, Stewart Island and wine, then hit the bunks for my last night on the island.