The weather in New Zealand can take on a life of its own – words fail. But let us start at the beginning.
- Days 73-78
- This section: 79 km (instead of the planned 115 km)
- Total: 2024 km
The Waiau Pass Track from St. Arnaud to Boyle Village, with the crossing of the Waiau Pass – the second highest point of the Te Araroa – is scenically one of the highlights of the trail.
The section was not blessed with good fortune, however.
For some days, or weeks, there had been warnings that on part of the stretch, the Sabine Circuit, many walkers had been infected with norovirus, and that you should take extreme hygiene precautions or, better still, avoid the huts altogether.
On top of that the weather forecast sounded far from tempting: masses of rain, storms, even snow.
For both reasons we visited the visitor centre in St. Arnaud to get a clearer picture of the situation. There we were more or less given the all-clear on both counts: no new norovirus infections had been reported for several days, and the weather forecast had been similarly bad for a month – yet so far everybody had reported the best of weather on the route. That was what we wanted to hear!
On the first day, as far as Upper Traverse Hut, we had wonderfully blue skies and sunshine and could enjoy the route to the full.
When we woke the next day the sky was completely overcast and it was drizzling… Since the coming stretch leads over the Traverse Saddle (1787 m) and we wanted good visibility for it (more for the good photos than for the necessary orientation, admittedly), we were already toying with staying a night in the hut. The hut sits in a picturesque mountain setting – anywhere else it would have passed for a luxury alpine lodge. Not a bad place for a rest day. But towards late morning it cleared up, so off we went after all.
The play of clouds was not ideal for THE perfect photo, but the landscape and the view were no less impressive.
After the pass crossing our route led to Blue Lake Hut along the raging Sabine River through forest strewn with huge bare boulders. I wondered why these rocks were so clean and ice-grey, when many other rocks were completely covered in moss. It turned out later that these boulders had come loose during the big earthquake in November and crashed down into the valley! That does leave you feeling slightly queasy… Sadly I took no pictures as we passed, since I found the mossy stretches of forest far lovelier.
It rained without a break that night. And walking in the rain means
- no fun
- no breathtaking views
- no enviable pictures
- with a lot of bad luck, wet clothes the next day as well; and
- more difficult terrain (slippery ground, poor visibility and so on)
In that order.
So the next morning the question of whether we would carry on and cross the Waiau Pass did not even arise. Of course not!
Around midday the rain eased and three people from our hut (Felix, Ned and Brian) decided to risk crossing the pass. Jan, Stev, Amélie and I preferred to wait a day in the hut to see whether things would look better the next day (according to the forecast it was supposed to snow – but you never know…).
An hour later it started bucketing down again and did not stop for the entire rest of the day! Lucky us! And there are truly worse things than sitting by a warm little fire in a hut toasting wraps on the stove (alright, one wrap per person – the daily ration does not allow for more).
We were already in our bunks (alright, we had barely climbed out of them all day) when we heard voices outside and three figures blew in, completely drenched. Brian, who walks in a kilt, was immediately recognisable. And the other two really were Felix and Ned – who had returned ten hours after setting off!
The three of them had climbed over the pass. On the other side, countless streams were pouring down the mountain because of the rain. They fought their way through until, at the foot of the mountain, they came upon a river that had risen so much and was running so fiercely that it was impassable and would have swept them away instantly. On level meadow the water was in places up to their hips, so there was no possible place to pitch their tent. The only remaining option for survival (!?!) was to take the entire route back over the pass a second time and return to the hut!!! Luckily they made that decision in time and still had enough reserves of strength to manage the crossing a second time!
It is hard to put into words how dramatically the rain made the rivers swell and how dangerous it can become here from one day to the next.
It rained and stormed all night long. Our decision was clear: we would not be able to walk the Waiau Pass Track to the end. There was no telling when the rivers would have dropped back to a passable level – and there were supposed to be a number of river crossings on the other side of the pass. There is no money for bridges, at least not on the Te Araroa. Our food supplies were calculated for only two extra we-are-sitting-out-the-weather days. So back to St. Arnaud.
Jan and Stev set off the next morning to take a look at the first big river on the way back that we would have to cross: that one too had turned into a raging, impassable torrent. So there was no way out, neither forwards nor backwards! Another day in the hut…
The difficult part is that you have no phone reception anywhere in the New Zealand backcountry. So we had neither a current weather forecast nor any way of contacting other walkers who might know more about the state of the track.
Amélie, Stev and I used a rain-free window in the afternoon to walk towards the Waiau Pass, at least to have seen a little of the landscape before starting back the next day. What a breathtaking, beautiful landscape around Lake Constance.
The following night was ice cold. That can only mean one thing: a cloudless sky. Which is exactly what greeted us the next morning. That at least made Stev and Amélie change their minds and give the pass crossing a chance. But Jan’s and my sensible decision stayed the same: back to St. Arnaud.
After ten minutes on the way back, and longing glances at the blue sky, it simply broke my heart not to spend this picture-perfect weather climbing the Waiau Pass. So on the spur of the moment we turned around. Not entirely to Jan’s liking (“If we have to walk back over the pass, that is it for the TA!”) – but sensible decisions are not exactly my department.
Just look at the pictures of the pass crossing. Incredible. It does not get more beautiful.
Of the flooding of the previous days there was barely a trace left. We quickly grew hopeful that we really had made the right decision.
The first torrent to cross was already fairly wild, but quite manageable. We celebrated our first genuine river crossing – everything before it had been a gentle warm-up by comparison.
Sadly it did not stop there. Several times we had to cross rivers in a chain of four for safety reasons, since alone – particularly Amélie and me – they might well have swept us away. Before long it stopped being fun at all. No sooner had we crossed one river than the next came into view, which we had to search for a passable spot. To say nothing of the flooded paths. To make matters worse the water was ice cold and the wet chill crept slowly but surely through the whole body.
We were longing to spend the night in a hut again, but for that day that meant covering 42 km. The river crossings ate up so much time that at 3 pm we still had 30 km ahead of us…
Yet after another 10 km the rivers became fewer and the path easy and level. Could everything really have worked out? Not all the rivers were behind us yet, though…
Around half past seven we approached the Ada River. We could hear it from a long way off. Not a good sign. As we came closer, our hopes sank through the floor: the river was several metres wide and flowing very fast. We spent a full hour trying to cross the river at all sorts of different points. But it was simply too deep and the current too strong. No chance.
So what now? Pitch the tent and try again the next morning? And if the water level had not dropped by then? Wait another day? Walk 30 km back over the pass?
Luck was at least on our side to the extent that the only house on the entire section stands right by the Ada River. There were “No trespassing” signs everywhere, which hardly encouraged us to ask for help, but never mind. Without a current weather report we felt more comfortable camping on private land than in a meadow that had been under water a day earlier.
At the farm we found a few people who thankfully agreed to let us pitch our tents in the paddock. On top of that they offered to help us across the river the next morning. Now that sounded promising!
So the next morning we rumbled down to the Ada River in the jeep. Sadly there was nothing doing: the river was too deep even for the jeep.
But the Kiwis would not be the nicest people in the world if they did not, in this moment too, prove to be the most unimaginable rescuers in a crisis:
The ranch belongs to Chris and Jill, who spend only a few days a year there and had arrived with their children and grandchildren on that very day because of a big upcoming horse auction (how lucky can you get?!?). After the failed crossing attempt they first let us warm up with a hot coffee by their fireplace (did I mention that we felt ever so slightly uncomfortable that after six days without a shower we might smell – let us say – “strong”?). Then Chris drove us 30 long kilometres of rutted track out of the valley and handed us over to his friend Ally, who took us another 30 km into the small village of Hanmer Springs, from where you can hitchhike fairly easily to the actual end point of the section, or rather the starting point of the next one.
Once in Hanmer Springs we could finally get in touch with the outside world again. It turned out that the coming stretch of the trail had taken three times as much rain as the last one and, like many other parts of the Te Araroa, is currently impassable. Which means, for now: an enforced break until the weather settles down.
Jan and I have therefore travelled to Christchurch and are considering from here what to do with the unexpected off-trail week. Above all, satisfying our food cravings for the time being. Mine look like this:
