Nights to remember

Famous arrivals

It was 1992 when my friend Darryn and I reached Crow Hut. It was deserted, pleasing us no end. Nothing like having the whole hut to ourselves. We spread out and settled in.

Then, damn it, three old codgers appeared wearing woollen Swanndris, carrying Mountain Mule packs and swinging ice-axes long enough to reach their armpits. I was 23 and am ashamed to say that my first thought was ‘Bugger, now we have to share the hut with some old farts that look like they’ve stepped out of the 1950s.’

But these were not just any old farts. Even as an ignorant youth, I knew enough backcountry history to recognise the names ‘Mannering’ and ‘Hamilton’.

ALL TRAMPERS WILL CLOCK UP MANY DAYS IN THE BACKCOUNTRY, THERE’LL BE MANY NIGHTS TOO. SOME WILL BE HAPPILY MEMORABLE, OTHERS SO MISERABLE THEY’RE BEST FORGOTTEN.ANY ONE CAN SEAR THEMSELVES INTO YOUR MEMORY.