THIS PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE TOP OF THE LIST FOR MOST YOUNG NEW ZEALANDERS AT THE START OF APRIL. THE PROMISE OF WILDERNESS AREAS, ROARING STAGS WITH STRONG OTAGO BLOOD AND FOLLOWING THE FOOTSTEPS OF GOLD MINERS HAD US LOCKED IN.
I had flicked through Moir's Guide and taken some screenshots of a route off the Divide and into South Westland from tramper's reports during the summer. Drowning my phone in a flooded bivvy bag only a few days earlier while hunting with my father in the Minaret was not part of my plan. These screenshots were now gone, but our “she'll be right” attitude had us full of confidence as we shoved gear into Ronan's ute.
The car park was eerily quiet when we arrived. With just a couple of vehicles scattered about, it was a far cry from the typical swarms of trampers here in summer. Just as we started throwing packs onto our backs, another truck arrived, and we heard the familiar clunk of ice axes hitting the ground. Unfortunately, hunting is one of those few sports where you'd rather not have anyone else about. The chance of them having the same destination in mind was low, but always causes slight unease. We went over to have a yarn and found out they only had three days which was a great relief. A short 30 kilometre jaunt to the Main Divide followed, and we stashed the walking poles, planning to return in a week or so on the way out. The excitement of discovering a couple of bucks that evening made us eager to see what the even more formidable countryside over the top had in store.
The next morning we broke camp to a sense ofbreaking the scrub line and heading for the top. We could see helmets swinging off a pack. Selfish thoughts once again come to mind. Are these hunters too? It turned out they were not; just an adventurous family on a mission for the day. Once at the top, the beauty of hanging glaciers and dramatic West Coast vistas put the East Coast to shame. We spent far too long discussing the viability of late-season glacier travel with the trampers while resting on a warm and sunny snowgrass bench. Graciously accepting their Afghan biscuits we peered off the ledge. Now later in the day, we chose a ridge and sent it.
