A thick band of monkey scrub separates the steep bush-covered valleys from the rugged mountain tops above. Rough battered tracks weave their way up the gorge riddled rivers - it has a certain allure to it. You know it always has the potential to offer up that trip of a lifetime. That's exactly what Chris, Raddy, and I were searching for when planning a week of hunting into one of our bucket list spots. We'd spent hours poring over maps, analysing route guides and reading stories of other adventurers' trials and tribulations experienced in the remote headwaters of the area. All we needed now was a bit of luck with the weather forecast and we were off.
Rain. Bucketloads of it. Our second Westland trip was cancelled for the year.
We wanted to just suck it up and go anyway, but with around 100 mm of rain forecast for most days of the trip the chances of us reaching our destination would be slim to none. We scrambled together a Plan B for the week by finding the only place in the South Island with a half decent forecast. Instead of our epic West Coast adventure we strung together a tops trip into an area none of us were familiar with. With no idea on animal numbers, or if our intended tops route was even possible, we set off into the unknown, hoping for a trip half as good as our original plan. Our route was a big loop trip across the tops which involved a 15 kilometre road walk to round out the week. To get around this we each brought a pair of running shoes and dumped them at the trailhead up the road – a punishment for someone if they missed a shot!
Dooshka! Twenty minutes into the walk Chris dropped a pig on the riverbed. We could hardly believe our eyes as the two pigs spooked out in front of us from about 20 metres. If we wanted a sign our Plan B wasn't such a bad alternative, a pig on a platter was enough to change our expectations for the week. We whipped off the back steaks and started our hike
