Downhill from Here...

We drop something like 700 metres today en route to Lewis Hut. Both Miranda and Carol have been troubled by sore legs so I stuff a few extra kilos in my pack. What's the weather up to?

Miranda and Rob consult about exactly what is required.

I head out to the toilet, an unbelievable luxury this far from "civilisation".

I'm not sure what else I'd be using, except perhaps old Readers' Digests. Mackay's toilets can be accessed with dry feet. But who on earth would have anticipated sanitation at this level. Not me. It being the West Coast and all, I was anticipating a kind of outback dunny minus redbacks but with a few resident wetas instead. Well done, DOC.

I mention the sign to a fellow tramper and he goes a bit gruff, puts a hand to his mouth and suggests in a whisper it might be something to do with the women......

.o0o.

My attention is drawn by a strange sound from outside. I poke my head outside to investigate. It is Dave the Englishman with his electric toothbrush. OK. Mine not to comment. I have all this extra food. That's the Ranger's hut up the back beyond the campsite.

It's still more rainy than not, so coats it is when we set off. We have not yet cottoned that coats are only for wet and cold. In fifteen minutes we are steaming and remove rainwear. Under our coats we are soaked in sweat.

Just down the track, and I mean down, for a change, there's some new colour from a small fungi beside the track.