Off to the Dog Box

Since I joined Hutbagger, I have been just a little obsessed with visiting backcountry huts. My flatmate belongs to the local tramping club, and I have attended a few meetings myself, including giving a talk to them about The Bibbulmun Track. So when I noticed they were planning a trip up the Eyre Creek to visit an old musterers hut I decided to join them.

The trip was led by Mike. A friend of his had passed last year, and the Eyre Creek valley was a favourite fishing ground. A keen angler himself, Mike planned to take some of his friend’s fishing tackle, and a specially made scarf memento, up to Dog Box Bivy in the upper reaches to leave as a lasting memorial to his friend. The rest of us just fancied an easy tramp up a river valley and back.

We drove down to Eyre Creek in the morning, stopping in at Athol for morning tea and to pick up a memorial scarf from Mike's departed friend's crib. Then off up a farm road with a stop at the farm house to pick up the code for the locked gate, then on up the track to a spot where we could park the cars. There is a 4WD track all the way to the first hut which crosses the river a few times but is pretty washed out in sections. Besides, we had come to tramp!

Packs on, we stayed on the true right the whole way up to Shepherds Creek Hut. The river was flowing fairly high and fast, and was still discoloured after recent heavy rain so we weren't keen to cross it unless we had to. We followed tracks most of the way, except where the river had cut in and washed the track away. Then we climbed higher and bush bashed our way over a few bluffs back to the track.

About halfway we encountered a large colony of black billed gulls nesting on the river shingle. Seeing these critically endangered birds was another reason for this trip. They weren't too happy about us approaching their nesting colony and sent out a warning party of screeching circling birds. It felt just a little Hitchcockian!

We kept our distance and stopped a little north of the colony for lunch, before finishing the rest of the 11km walk to Shepherd Creek Hut, a two roomed six bunker with an efficient firebox. There was lots of dry driftwood around from previous flood events, it even looked like the hut might have had some water through it from the dustiness of the floors.

The hut doesn't get a lot of visitors, and most of them seem to be foul mouthed 4WD enthusiasts from the calibre of the hut book entries. The farmer told us he had only just begun locking the entry gate after finding people had been vandalising the hut, punching holes in the walls and ceiling. What is wrong with people?

We stayed two nights at Shepherd Creek Hut, which meant the next day was a leisurely amble further up the valley to Dog Box Bivy, an old musterers' hut on a high terrace above the creek. We had to cross the creek to get there so we used the ford just in front of the hut, although there were a few more crossings, some thigh deep, to get there. We coupled up for the crossings for added safety. Although the water had dropped further overnight it was still flowing quite quickly and care was required.

In days of old the cattle were mustered up the Mataura and then over into Eyre Creek. This tiny bivy was used for shelter for many years, and the mustering teams wrote their names on the chimney iron. Because they used graphite pencils, it reacted with the tin leaving a permanent memento.

Mike found a place in the bivy to place the tackle box and scarf he had brought up to remember his friend Mauri by, and we had lunch before venturing a little further up the valley. Jane Peak, the tallest in the Eyre Mountains, graces the end of the valley, but the usual route to its summit is from the Oreti River on the northwestern side.

Back at the hut Rod and Mike collected firewood, and Jan swept out the hut a second time. Both days were quite short so there was lots of time to doze and read a book, or chat. Jan and I discussed lightweight tramping gear choices, trying to convince Mike to dispense with his heavy 3kg pack and buy something lighter that will keep him tramping longer. Rod and I discussed cameras, and the tradeoff between a smaller camera for tramping vs image quality. As technology improves, a cheap point and shoot camera no longer takes a better image than the camera on a smartphone. My iPhone is also in a waterproof case, so it's my go to for packrafting missions. My Sony RX100 takes superb photos with its 1 inch sensor, and is considered the best compact camera in its class, but it's also super expensive. Last year I spent quite a bit of money on repairs, but disappointingly, it's playing up again. Perhaps it's time to buy a new camera, maybe the latest iteration in the RX100 series, which has a much better zoom, but isn't as good in low light. Let's hope my current camera keeps working a little longer....

The final day we walked back to the cars, although with the water being lower we avoided the bush bashing and crossed the creek a few times instead. We popped in to have a look inside Mauri's crib at Athol with its collection of old Chinese ceramic pots and pictures of his family (very impressive handlebar moustaches) and enjoyed a coffee at The Bomb at Garston on the way back to Wanaka.

Two more huts bagged! Although I later discovered there's another small private hut hidden up the valley that we must have passed close to. Damn!!

The Goat Track to Arrowtown

There are sections of the Te Araroa that I've thought of doing, but the entire trail doesn't really interest me. Since the TA's main goal is to take you from the north to the south of the country, it doesn't afford the luxury of including tracks that don't go from north to south. There are still fairly large segments that involve walking alongside roads, some of them major highways, in order to link up with another track. That doesn't rock my boat either. But there are certainly parts of the route that are well worth traversing.

The Motatapu Track links Wanaka with Arrowtown and was made possible about 15 years ago due to the land being purchased by an overseas investor, who was required to provide access for the TA through his land. The track built was somewhat controversial, as it avoids the river valley completely, but has three superb huts in stunning locations.

The track begins at the Fernburn carpark, a short distance up the road from Glendhu Bay, which can be reached by walking along the lakeshore from Wanaka on the Millennium Track. In theory I could have walked all the way, on walking tracks, from my home in Alberttown, but instead my flatmate Karen kindly drove me out to the carpark at lunchtime on Monday.

Rain was forecast for the afternoon, but that didn't bother me, as it was only a 3-4 hour walk to Fernburn Hut, and the following days were forecast sunny and clear, so any wet clothes would quickly dry. By the time the rain began I was in the beech forest, where I stayed relatively protected. For pictures of the first section, check out my walk up the Fern Burn earlier in the year. 

Once out of the forest I encountered steady drizzle for less than an hour before it cleared, and the sun even made an appearance. Fernburn Hut is situated about half way up the valley on a tussock terrace above the stream. With the tap on the water tank broken, access to water was either via lowering a bucket into the tank from the top, or dropping down to the nearby stream. I was alone in the hut overnight, but a returning walker told me there was a couple walking through to the next hut who would be staying there two nights.

It was clear overnight yet nice and warm in the well insulated hut. I left just before 9 with a steady uphill sidle above the burn which got steeper as it climbed to the saddle. The views were awesome, in front of me across the Motatapu were the Harris Mountains, still covered with snow, but behind me I could see down to Lake Wanaka.

From Jack's Saddle the track followed a narrow ridgeline on a steep descent to cross a creek. I stopped there for lunch before crossing the creek, climbing over a smaller ridge, across a second creek then an easy sidle around a second ridge to Highland Creek Hut. Aside from goats I saw no other sign of life. Just as I arrived a met a TA tramper, Matt, continuing on to Fern Burn Hut, having walked from Roses Hut that morning. He believed it would only take him another 3 hours, it took me five!

Soon after I arrived at the hut I was joined by a second TA walker, Kim, who had also walked from Roses in about 6 hours, but was taking a more leisurely approach and staying the night. The hut is situated in a glorious alpine meadow, and we were treated to a paraglider soaring the thermals above us, and a view of Treble Cone ski field out the front windows. 

Later in the afternoon two others arrived, Robyn and Greg, who had walked in from the carpark the day before, then done a day walk over to Roses and back that day. They were heading back out in the morning. 

Knowing the third day would be tough, I left at 8:30 but was still last to leave. It was a long slow uphill slog! Up and up the track climbed, then over a stile then a high sidle over to another ridge and over another stile. Which is where I saw a NZ falcon.

For some inexplicable reason, instead of staying high, the track then descends steeply down this second ridge into a nice beech forest with a burbling stream. It's a great place to stop for lunch, and refill water supplies, because it's the only shade all day. My timing was spot on, arriving just after twelve to sit on a well situated log and refuel before the next climb of the day.

Once across the creek the track climbed steeply out of the beech forest and began a gruelling ascent of the southwest flank of Knuckle Peak. Halfway up there is another stile to climb over, and here I was swooped relentlessly by a territorial magpie. There were no trees so the nest must have been in rocks. The others had warned me about this pesky Aussie bird, so I was well prepared with Akubra, sunglasses, and a walking stick above my head.

At last the ridge was climbed and I could look down on the Golspie Valley, all private land inaccessible to the mere public. Down in the valley was a perfectly useable farm track and there were views again back to Lake Wanaka. Not for us a gentle wander down a wide river valley, but an arduous triple ascent and descent to avoid disturbing the rich overseas landowners. The views certainly made up for it though.

The track followed a fence along the ridgeline, at first on a gradual descent until Roses Hut could be seen way below on the Motatapu Valley floor. Then the descent got steeper, and my feet got sorer and sorer. 

The river had to be crossed, at a ford where the station track traversed the valley. I took my boots off and waded that stream twice. First I took my boots across, and then I returned for my pack. Oh my gosh my feet enjoyed that! The short walk up to the hut was bliss, my feet felt fabulous.

 

I arrived at the hut just after four, having taken considerably longer than those fitter TA walkers going in the opposite direction. I did some stretching and had dinner and decided to go to bed early as I was exhausted. Then a TA tramper, Chloe, turned up, then another tramper, Karl, arrived. They had both walked all the way from Arrowtown that morning, hence the reason for their late arrivals. So we chatted a while before I at last went to sleep. 

The others again left before me, I left at 9:20. Although a long slow climb to Roses Saddle it was considerably easier going. This portion of the track had once been part of an old pack track linking the gold fields at Macetown and Arrowtown with Lake Wanaka, so the track had many switchbacks, in comparison to the more direct line of the previous two days. I stopped for a muesli bar at the saddle enjoying new views to the west, including Walter Peak way off in the distance. 

The track down from the saddle was long, and there were many more weeds, like gorse, bracken and briar, on this side. I stopped for lunch when I got to the river, taking my boots off to enjoy another icy immersion in a stream. This was the junction between the high route, sidling above the Arrow River, or the low route, following the stream bed with numerous crossings. Karl had taken the low route, and said the river was still quite high and flowing strongly at some places, and he was well over a foot taller than me! So the high route it was.

The high route was tough, with some dodgy scrambles across slips and some precarious sidling. There was lots of gorse and bracken and with few people having been through over the winter months the track wasn't always easy to follow. Not only did it actually resemble a goat track, I even saw one goat having a sleep in the middle of the track, but she got out of my way as I approached. 

In the end it took me about 6 hours to get to Macetown, where I wandered around looking for a suitable campsite. There are no facilities besides two simple drop toilets, not even picnic benches. There are a couple of restored stone cottages, with bars to stop people using them or otherwise damaging them, and there are lots of signs asking 4WD users to keep to marked tracks due to a history of misuse and abuse.

I set up my tent not too far from one of the toilets, near a log I could sit on and use for wind protection when cooking. There was a nearby stream to collect water, and it was a warm evening so I had a leisurely dinner before climbing in to my sleeping bag for a refreshing sleep.

I woke to a dawn chorus, though mostly magpies. I had a lazy breakfast then headed up the Rich Burn to check out Homeward Bound Battery. The valley narrows very quickly, but there is the old mining track to follow though there are lots of river crossings at the start. Homeward Bound Battery is pretty special as the ore bins are still intact and you can even see the ore race bearers that would have carried the ore down to the stamper. On the way back I found a nice spot by the river for lunch and a bracing swim, then dried out in the sun reading my book for an hour or so. 

I got back to the campsite just before the hoards arrived. It was Labour Day weekend, but I hadn't expected so many people to arrive quite so early on Friday afternoon. A very large group of stereotypical Southland Bogans, affectionately known as Gorons, decided to camp very close to where I was. They had souped up 4WDs with lift kits, they had mullets, big chunky girlfriends, beerguts and appalling taste in music. Which they cranked up to a deafening volume about 7 pm and didn't let up until midnight. I actually had quite a chuckle at the music selection: it literally alternated song for song between either some soppy country music classic or Idol classic, and appallingly offensive deff metal motherf^&%$er music. What that selection would do to a young bogan's psyche can only be guessed at!!!

I put my earplugs in, and although it didn't completely block out the noise it gave me enough peace and quiet to get a decent night's sleep. Apparently, I heard from some other trampers camped there overnight who I met the next morning, they went driving in the river bed around 2-3am!!

I struck camp after breakfast and began my final day's walk to Arrowtown. I met Jill and Karl, who had been a day behind me on the track, and walked with them initially until I diverged to take the Big Hill Track. They were staying on the Arrow River 4WD track.

The walk up to Big Hill Saddle took an hour and then it was a longer descent to Arrowtown. I passed lots of day trampers, including a group from the local Wanaka based tramping club, whom I recognised. I got into Arrowtown about 1:30, and celebrated with a double scoop of ice cream from Patagonia Chocolates.

Finally, I hitched back to Wanaka. Thanks to three lovely drivers.