Rees Dart Track
Glorious Morning
- Hut nights: 1
- Solo hut nights: 1
- People in huts: 0
- Overall people: 0
After the rain of yesterday I awoke to a beautiful morning surrounded by snow laden mountains. Glenorchy is one of my favourite spots in the South Island, it has a happy coincidence of natural features that combine for a sublime landscape. It sits at the northern extremity of Lake Wakatipu on the braided river plain of the Rees and Dart rivers. The two rivers run either side of the Forbes Mountains down through their respective deep valleys and meet just before the lake in a wide bed of shingle. An idyllic rural feeling comes from a mix of established agriculture and old exotic trees mixing with the natives. Whether you look up the valleys, across the lake, or behind the town snow capped mountains rise everywhere. On this excellent morning this mix of pastoral and alpine was looking fine, and I was off out into it. The local DOC office did say there was a big dump of snow that may impede getting over the 1400M Rees Saddle, but if the going got tough the tough could always turn around and come back again.
I made my way up the Rees Valley as far as my car would take me, a seemingly endless narrow dirt road over fords, finally reaching the end of the road (for non 4WD). Blue skies and stunning air clarity gave me clear and uninterrupted views up the valley, the dominant Mt Earnslaw 2800M (9200ft) rose to the left. The track follows alongside the Rees River through an often muddy boggy swamp of farm paddocks for a good three hours. After a while I diverged from the vaguely marked track and got into deep tussock swamp. Like an arctic explorer jumping ice floes I had to navigate over the solid mounds around the grassy bog, barely managing to keep water from going over my ankles and into my boot. I was able to get to the valley edge where the land starts to rise steeply and follow what seemed to be sheep tracks for a while, or maybe it was the main track, I couldn't really tell any more. I had to cross a smallish river by taking my boots off. The water was not more than calf deep but bracing.
Nature's Wrath
Eventually the farm ran out and I entered the bush and started climbing. It was a gradual climb with the sound of the Rees river never too far away. After an hour or so it began to rise a bit and patches of snow appeared. By the time I broke out of the bush the sun was below the high curving ridge above me. The alpine tussock was mostly covered by a thin layer of snow and ahead of me I could see an avalanche that had come from up high and settled on the gentler slopes above the river. It having been a lovely day, the hut not to far away, I was quite relaxed and took a photo of a smiling me with the avalanche and ridge behind. Five minutes later I had reached the first stream valley running to the river. I hadn't seen anything in this valley till I was on top of it so was quite stunned to see that an arm of the avalanche had traveled down this valley and come to a stop leaving a huge bank of snow tottering above the stream. I would now have to walk directly under this multi-ton tongue of broken up snow and the thought of that alone got the adrenalin pumping. I gingerly got down to the stream, the dirty grey lumpy snow of the avalanche towered above me and though it seemed stable enough it was un-nerving all the same. Considering my reaction to this arm of the avalanche you'll understand I was beginning to freak a bit on reaching the top of the valley and discovering that what I'd seen of the avalanche so far was but the tip of the iceberg - well about only a third of the total anyway. Acres of lumpy snow and ice stretched before me more than double if not triple my height in many places. The arm I had seen in the stream was but the thumb to the rest of the hand. The fleshy palm of the avalanche spread into three more fingers, each one way higher than humble old me. There was no way I was going to attempt to go over it. The fingers of the avalanche had embedded themselves into shrub and rock at the edge of the plateau before it plummeted into the ravine of the river. All of a sudden the warmth of the hut seemed far away, and the light appeared to be fading fast. Just getting close to this mass was spooky enough but try and get round it I must. It turned out I could get round the bottom of it without tumbling into the river but it entailed an adrenalin fueled battle through the shrub and rocks that often appeared to become impassable. The thought of a 3 hour plus return to the previous hut in the dark spurred me onwards. This brush with the brutish nature of the mountains put me in a mood of apprehension. I'd passed the avalanche but the hut was still not in sight and the light was fading. The snow and lack of markings was making navigation increasingly difficult, I had a tense half hour of straining to see the track and wondering where the hut was. I was most relieved to glimpse the hut over a swing bridge above the Rees.
Moonlit Sonata
Once at the hut I summoned up the energy to light a fire, it took me two attempts to get it going and I was stoked when the coal started to burn. Then the nerve was summoned for a bucket shower out in the snow before blissfully sitting at the fire with tea and biscuits. Once the nerves had settled I could enjoy a night never to be forgotten. The Shelter Rock Hut (900M - 3000ft) sits right at the end of the Rees Valley. Looking out from the hut the view is dominated by a 2000M (7000ft) plus snowy mountainous ridge that wraps around you in a near semi circle. You look up at it as a gladiator would the stands of the coliseum, it is above and around you through your complete field of vision. The fresh snowfall covered the whole area. Add to this primo mountain view a full moon and you have a super illuminated magical valley all to yourself. The moonlit bounced of the highly reflective snow wall opposite so that the hut and surrounds where as light as you can possibly get by the light of the silvery moon. Magic. One thing was for sure after that avalanche though, I wasn't venturing any higher on this trip, so in the morning I would return the way I came and would fully relax once I was past that monumentally massive avalanche.
Another glorious day for making plans
The next day was another superb day and it was not long before I was back at the avalanche. In the full morning sunlight its thousands of snow tonnage was more photogenic than life threatening and I could figure a relatively easy way through the shrubs this time. (View avalanche panorama in the gallery) Having aborted the Rees Dart Track my mind turned to the signature expedition of the winter - the circumnavigation of Stewart Island. On the way back to my car I planned my modus operandi for the following days. I'd make the three hour trip back down to Invercargill today, get supplies tomorrow, and catch the ferry to NZ's third isle on Saturday morning. Meanwhile I enjoyed the air clarity of central Otago and the glorious radiant blue sky winter's day. By the time I was driving along Lake Wakatipu away from Glenorchy it was mid afternoon and the light was sparkling. There is a great roadside lookout just before you round the point to the Queenstown arm of Lake Wakatipu. The view looks up the lake past Glenorchy into the Rees and Dart valleys and deep into Mt Aspiring Park. On this afternoon the always stunning view was utterly cosmic. The horizon was a mass of peaks that I'd never seen before from this vantage point. The view was made gob dropping stunning by virtue of seeing the furthest mountains with extraordinary detail all reflected in a mirror surfaced lake. I turned my back on this vision of the alps and headed for the Southland Plains and New Zealand's third island.
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