Fathmandu

I took this at first for a tmesipteris but on reflection I think it's more likely to be a small orchid, growing out of the side of a punga

We're still going down quite steeply and it's a measure of the small amount of rain we've had that leaves still form a dense carpet on the track.

A still generous track, but I have internal alarm bells as I think about the return journey. Never mind, I say to myself. you don't have to do it in one bound.

A small step here and there is unobtrusively placed to make life easier. the surroundings now are lush indeed.

Just here and there is evidence that someone has quietly and almost invisibly gone about their job of thoughtful track maintenance. This is one aspect of this track that I really do enjoy.

One last precipitous metre or two, which I am far too preoccupied to photograph, and here we are: an archetypal Waitakeres stream.

Here, there's about three metres of sloping wet slippery rock to cross. Some helpful person has chiselled footsteps, but they are just too far apart to be comfortable for my stretch and a touch small for my size thirteens. I move down towards the stream a little for another perspective and I see a way across that wasn't obvious before and I pick my way over holding gingerly onto some kiokio fronds.

Just past here is a large patch of parataniwha celebrating the presence of water to spre. I imagine this plant has done it hard over this summer in the bush.

We rise above the stream a little, cramped, and making each new footstep a separate expedition.

We stop just past here for lunch. Not a wise decision, as it turns out, though the spot is idyllic. The food has not been open for 5 minutes before the place is swarming with wasps, and Alice traps one in her face hair.

Nasty. the last time I saw her jump like that was when she hit the electric fence on Long Road last year. We pack up hastily,

and Alice, told, "Off you go," is away like lightning and over the river before you can say ouch.

The trip up has started rather more quickly and somewhat earlier than I might have wished. A few minutes later I am already regretting my haste as a too vigorous step up a bank leaves me with that post-cross-country-race nausea I recall from my teens.

I face facts and lie back on my pack for ten minutes or so, drinking from my water bottle, and idly figuring how a helicopter might get me out. There's a hell of a lot of steep hill to go yet and I am feeling rotten. Fortunately for helicopter pilots and rescue services, my ongoing training has been useful, and at the end of ten minutes I have my legs and my stomach back again and raring to go.

I think this is an asplenium, a wonderful example, and I realise that I have my enthusiasm back again as well.

Down by the side of the track is the only kawakawa I have seen all walk. How does a single representative of an ordinarily super common plant find its way into a biggish area where it has no kin?

Here's a fine colony of lance fern

We're back at the clearing, Cool running from here on out. I must confess to a certain amount of relief. That feeling of nausea had somewhat alarmed me.

Alice draws my attention to a large puriri moth, and stands back while I get the camera into action.

The sign at RGB junction says 30 minutes. In the event, I manage it in around 17 minutes.

On the way I spot a bright orange red rata flower.

Here we are again and a cold bottle of Mac's Hop Rocker Pils awaits me in the fridge.

Chateau Mosquito Track