Mackay Hut

Feels like we've been doing a lot of climbing today but looking at the altitude compared with Saxon Hut and there's not a lot in it.

The hut is an older one, but very comfortable, with the added value that the (flush) toilet can be reached with dry feet.

Trish and co are here, but have decided to continue on to the Lewis Hut, having a few hours up their sleeve.

I had assumed these huts to be served by septic tank fields, but apparently, given the numbers using the hut, DOC research has established that this is not a long term viable option, and airlift the sewage tank out on a regular basis.

The campground being vacant at the moment, I seize the opportunity to nip up to the campground wash basin, out of sight of the hut, and strip off for a cold sponge down.

I did feel better afterwards but it does take a little discipline. I also gave my blue shirt a wash. In hindsight, neither was perhaps the best idea as old hands tell me subsequently that the best way to repel sandflies is not to wash. I had reached a point, however, where I was repelling myself and others, and that is not good.

Someone has reserved a bedspace for me by the looks. I claim it gratefully.

We unload and brew up the regulation cuppa, and lunch on ryvita, crackers, jam, cheese, honey, and so forth. Generally the most popular lunch given the warm sunny weather. Our estimates of how much to use were probably generous, though we will probably take more crackers and ryvita next time and skip the noodles - save possibly one lunch reserved for a cold and wet day.

At the far end of the hut kitchen, Elaine is reclining on a bench as comfortably as she can, reading some 15-20 year old Readers' Digests that some thoughtful soul has left behind. I succumb to their fatal charm later on.

On her third day in from Brown's, her heels have become intolerably painful and it is all she can do to hobble a yard or two. The rest of her party has gone on to Lewis Hut and the Ranger has been notified. It is early and nobody else has arrived as yet. Trish, Brian and Shona have gone on. I offer to do what I can, and we organise a mattress from the sleeping area on the kitchen table and Elaine hobbles the yard or two to climb up.

I reckon it's bruised heels which I can't do much about, but I can work on the muscles in protective and painful spasm around the bruising. I spend about an hour, and she is much more relaxed, but the heels are still fairly painful. She is, however, able to cover a good distance with her stick, so I feel I have helped at least some. There is no question, though, of her walking out on those feet.

Ranger Louise arrives while I am working and arrangements are set in train for the Karamea chopper to take her out, though when is not yet clear. Neither is it clear yet who will pick up the $400 odd tab for the chopper flight.

On both our previous nights it has been obvious that I have overcatered on food considerably so we are able to fed Elaine without too much problem. She's had an apple and a cup of soup all day. The need for a reserve day's food is clear, however.

I have a yarn with Louise about heights and suspension bridges, and we decide that if I can't do it, the others will head on to Heaphy Hut and tell her and she will come back, throw me over her shoulder if necessary, "and have your wicked way with him" says somebody from the sidelines. We leave it at that and somehow I feel a lot better about the whole business. Louise is a gem.

Various others arrive, Dave from England, about my age, a tanned solo yachtsman in a lavalava, taking some time out ashore, John and Margaret, old tramping hands from Oz, Hans and Rob, and a couple who are doing some kind of track evaluation and seem obsessed with the litter on the track that I have so far seen not a single example of, and the dangerous areas along the Heaphy that I don't want to know about.

As a Heritage Trail it must meet certain specifications, and by the sound of this guy, anything short of a 5 star Hilton every couple of hours and coaches in between is just not good enough. Later we will see Punakaiki, where the track is tarsealed (it's true, dammit!!), but trying to envisage a tarsealed path through the Heaphy is more than I can do without spluttering.

Louise drops in with the news that Elaine is heading out tonight as the weather is closing in somewhat down Karamea way. She stops, and chats for a bit. Soon the chopper is spotted coming up the valley.

Out to the west in the gathering twilight we can just see the mouth of the Heaphy River.

Two days from now, if the suspense does not kill me.

Miranda goes outside to investigate some weka that have arrived She is cautious, having discovered last year that it is far safer to handfeed English Bull Terriers than weka.

.

After dinner we sit round the table in a mixture of candlelight and LEDs and talk and do crosswords. LEDs are great for rummaging in packs or going to the toilet, but rotten for talking as you blind anyone you look at, unless you go down to 1 LED only.

Rob is an accountant, and we tell him Trish's accountant joke: A pessimist looks at a glass and says it is half empty; an optimist looks at the glass and decides it is half full. An accountant determines merely that the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.

Then Carol notices that Rob has his munchies stored in a BNZ coin bag. We produce Miranda's biohazard bag first aid kit for a photo opportunity. Hans has a Commonwealth Bank of Australia bag. What other professions make use of sealable plastic baggies?

It is a sociable evening and I have a thoroughly restful sleep, despite a gloomy weather forecast. Miranda has it in hand so I am not too worried....

 

 

Advice: Heaphy

Browns to Perry Saddle
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Perry Saddle to Saxon
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Saxon to Mackay
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Mackay to Lewis
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Lewis to Heaphy
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Heaphy to Kohaihai
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