nolife

There are points where I’ve got detailed narrative, but it jumps throughout the day, so I’ll fill in with the details I can remember to make this section of track more connected.

I woke at a reasonable hour, some time around sunrise. I remember cooking something warm for breakfast, but I don’t know what exactly. None of my warm meals were very memorable. I can recall looking out the window of the kitchen and seeing the young German woman leaving well ahead of the rest. I also remember how flat and easy the terrian looked from the hut window. There was lots of loose rock and the trail was only barely visible because of it, but it simply didn’t look too tough.

Once underway, I played leapfrog with Neil and Sylvia, managing to stay just ahead of the group of older Kiwis. The elevation slowly climbed as the trail wove along a dry riverbed. Eventually, though, we made it to the Rees Saddle. This was the point that made the trail’s difficulty level “moderately difficult.”

The first picture is looking up from the base of the saddle. Notice the person standing at the top. The second photo is just a little ways into the climb. I spent most of the climb leaning so far forward I was basically scrambling on all fours. As you can see, the path is rather well defined as you look back, but looking up you can’t tell. I have no idea how long it took me to climb to saddle, but I know I was happy once it was over.

At the top I sat and ate a snack with Neil, Sylvia and Stephen. We looked at the map and at the terrain in front of us while we rested. It seemed like it just around the next corner or so that we’d find the hut and could relax for good. Unfortunately, in a country like this, distance just doesn’t translate with the naked eye.

The four of us pulled our packs back on and headed down the saddle into the Snowy River basin. It wasn’t long before we broke apart, each at their own pace.

Eventually I took a break for lunch. I happily shrugged my pack off and dug into a tuna salad lunch pack. I sat a on a rock outcrop that over looked the river. The Snowy River is primarily glacier runoff, so it was a cold, gray torrent rushing down a tight ravine. I’d read that further down the river there was a swing bridge that the DOC had to remove during the winter and spring months because of the amount of water that pushes through the river would rip it out.

Just after I finished lunch, my stomach turned a few flips. I theorize, now, that my traveller’s diaherria had finally caught up to me and just about the worst possible moment. I scrambled as far up the hill as I could get and releived myself. Unfortunately being in an apline river basin, there were basically no trees, so I was completely visible to the track below me. Fortunately, I was just far enough ahead and behind of the others that no one interupted me. Once the episode had passed I felt much better, as before then I had felt slightly weak and warm. I worried for next hour or so that I had drunk some bad water, but as time went by my worries lessened.

My pace remained good after being refueled by lunch. The track continued to follow the tight ravine that was the river’s home. It was well marked and not terribly tough. Eventually I found the swing bridge I’d read about.

I now understood why they needed to remove the bridge when the water rose. As I crossed the bridge, I watched the water flow below me. Surprisingly (to me) I didn’t consider just what would happen if the bridge gave way. I’m certain it wouldn’t have been pretty, but I’m also certain that the DOC maintains the bridges and trails to great standards.

From the bridge the trail got a little rougher, a little dryer. I slowed down in the hot sun and dry brush. The trail climbed and wove around until eventually I caught sight of the hut. Yet again, though, distance cannot be measured by the naked eye. What seemed like it was close took another hour or so to get to.

Unfortunately, as I approached the hut, I was struck with another bout of GI problems. I took off into the trees (there were some this time) and threw my pack off as I ran. Once I’d cleared myself, I made my way to the hut – only 15 minutes further. I was embarassed even though no one knew, that I couldn’t have made it to the hut’s nice restrooms. Again I began to worry about giardia or some other illness.

The Dart Hut was huge in comparison to Shelter Rock Hut. I was greeted by Neil and Sylvia upon my arrival. They told me they’d saved a bed for me in their bunk room. I was delighted to know they were looking out for me. I dropped my stuff in the room and started exploring.

The hut had a giant common area with two large L-shaped counters for cooking. There were almost a dozen picnic tables for everyone to cogregate around. Off the common area I saw at least two bunk rooms, each with 8 beds. There were also two bunk rooms across the open breezeway from the common area which is where our bunk room was located. The whole hut was surrounded by a beautiful deck and while it was still slightly warm out, people gathered outdoors.

Over and after dinner everyone discussed their day’s hike and their plans for the next day. From the Dart Hut you could take a short day hike to the Dart glacier. I had planned on doing this along with Neil and Sylvia, but I discovered after dinner that I didn’t have enough food for an extra day in the wilderness. Neil offered to share their food with me to make sure I could stay the extra day, but I just couldn’t do it – I worried about all the things that could go wrong. I also considered eating my emergency rations, US Coast Guard dry rations, but again considered the fact that I just might need those for an emergency. Plus they sounded pretty disgusting. It was decided that I would move on to the next hut instead of exploring the glacier.

The sunset was beautiful despite my decision to leave my new friends…

Tonight was the first night that I remember really missing home. I was tired and worried about being sick. I found myself wishing for a phone, but that’s another night away. I also worried about the upcoming car trip a bit. I worried that it would be strange without a companion like Rachel. We were quite similar and both spoke English, but I figured I’d make do.
As I slept I woke a number of times covered in sweat. Its likely from the sleeping bag that was too warm, but it made me worry even more about having contracted some sort of illness that carried a fever.