Havelock to renwick

Log trucks were parked in both directions on Havelock's main street as I walked out of town seven days ago. Those drivers needed their coffee. For a few kilometres I had a nice outlook over a marsh near the mouth of the Pelorus River.

Then a long bit of back road before a way at the edge of Dalton's dairy farm. I met a Philipino farm worker still adjusting to NZ temperatures and found a nice bump on a poplar where I could sit to have breakfast.

Breakfast might not be the correct word. It's my first meal of the day and is always an apricot One Square Meal bar with a long drink of water. Usually I don't feel hungry until about 0900hrs and then not again till 1230 or so.

After lots more farm walking and a scenic reserve I reached Pelorus Bridge where I could cross the river, 

and go collect my food box and new power bank at the campsite office. I tented near these lovely kahikatea. 

On Saturday morning (8 Dec) I headed off with a heavy pack, 3.5 hours of roadwalking in front of me. 

Some sculpture at a farm gateway took my eye and a wandering cow may still be stuck down a bank after she ran ahead of me. 

Maybe 2 hours along, I heard a vehicle speeding along so I got out of the way, only to have it screech to a halt beside me. "Clare, what are you doing here?" It was one of my former colleagues! He was taking a couple of radio hams to change a battery at Maungatapu and happily agreed to take my pack as far as his turnoff. 

The radio guys confirmed that part of the Trail ahead of me was "bloody terrible, really frightening" and gave my Plan B the tick of approval. So when I caught up with Deuter again I was feeling more cheerful. Instead of climbing the Rintouls (infamously steep, shaley, and narrow) I would drop down to the Goulter River after the Old Man summit. 

The road became a track along the Pelorus, 

and I overnighted at Middy Hut where a nanny goat and her kid were doing lawns maintenance. 

Next morning I climbed to a ridge covered in fallen beech trees, 

dating from a cyclone twenty years ago. From there I could see the range I was heading for, 

and now there were signs I had entered the Mineral Belt, as this area of ultramafic rock is named by locals. 

However I still had to go down to Hackett Hut for a night before heading uphill proper. When I did, on Monday (10 Dec) imagine my chagrin at reaching Starveall Hut after a 4 hour climb just as the track cutters flew in! 

However they helped with a weather forecast and I could tell them where saplings obscured the track so it was win-win. 

Things got suddenly more alpine, 

until I reached a saddle vegetated with a pole stand of beech, 

and made my way up to Slaty Hut.

Overnight, the clouds came in and I sat at the hut reading until 0800hrs when it seemed a bit brighter. 

Which is to say, I could see one orange snow pole at a time. Part of me was horrified at my intrepity and part of me enjoyed the mountainness of it all. At one point I heard "Clare, Clare" only to realise a lonely goat somewhere was bleating "mair, mair". 

However, after I looked back at this wee ledge I'd crossed, 

and gone round and round looking for the route a couple of times, I was over the novelty.

It took 5 hours from Slaty to Old Man Hut, in clag all the way. I celebrated with tea and nougat (packed with that powerbank, thank you NOH). And goat watching. 

Just when life couldn't get any better, it did. In walked the two guys who started from Cape Reinga with me! 

We shared the Waikare Inlet journey and then I lost sight of them but they knew from hut books that I was just a day ahead. Wonderful evening of yarns and trivial pursuits with a baffled American, amused Canadian and amusing Brit. 

When they all climbed uphill again on Wednesday, I went down to follow the Goulter River. 

The headwaters are beautiful but as I descended I began to see my Plan B had a flaw. If the forecasted rain arrived, I might not be able to cross the mouth seven hours downstream, to bushwack my way up the Wairau to Wash Bridge.

After a couple of hours of walking and worrying, I hatched Plan C. Strike out east to Lake Chalice, 

which I duly did and it duly rained. All night.

This morning I walked up the access track, 

along the forestry road for nearly five hours, 

until I was below the clouds. 

I was just settling in for the next 33km roadwalk when a white truck going the other way stopped. Bloke in DOC uniform, horrified at my plan. "That'd be a death walk. Jump in, I'll run you to Renwick". The truck was so new it didn't yet have the door decals,

and when my white knight put me down it still only had 300km on the clock! 

This is what Good Luck looks like. 

My next problem will be escaping Renwick. 

  I asked around and the only way to St Arnaud, an hour from here, is to hitch. So that's tomorrow's challenge.