The Routeburn Track

 If you will allow me to digress from the usual chronological flow of my blog (actually, you have no choice, sorry), I will skip slightly ahead to our second great block of adventure: the Routeburn Track. I'll return to the journey from Aoraki/Mt Cook in my next post and tie it in with a recap on Queenstown and Milford Sound.

We woke up at the confusingly named Melbourne Lodge Hotel in Queenstown, New Zealand. The previous night we had repacked our bags for backpacking and so, after popping to a grocery store and finally acquiring the elusive powdered milk for Granola's granola, we saddled up and headed north out of Queenstown.

We had an hour drive to the trailhead for the Routeburn Track. The road followed along the edge of Lake Wakatipu, the serpentine, glacial lake on which Queenstown is located. The translucent turquoise water showed stunningly beautiful whitecaps in the wind. Overhead we had sun, but misty clouds lay ahead in the distant mountains. After passing the northern tip of the lake, we entered a wide and rocky river basin down which the Dart River ambled. Looking across these flats to the mountains on the other side was exciting because this was the filming location for Isengard in the Lord of the Rings films. You could picture Saruman's tower domineering over the landscape; the ents emerging from Fangorn forest and tearing down a dam to flood the plain. Only today there are no remnants of the filming from 25 years ago; Google Maps includes a landmark called Isengard Lookout, but not even a single placard marks the space today.

We parked the car at the trailhead, which had a beautiful pavillion with signboards advocating for the protection of New Zealand's endangered species. There are no native small mammals on the South Island, so introduced species of rats, stoats, possums, and cats wreak havoc on the island's native birds. As a result, around 8 or 10 bird species are threatened or endangered, including birds like the aforementioned Kea, the Whio (a blue duck), the Morepork (an owl species), along with well-known species like the Kiwi and Kaka. Throughout our trip we heard several presentations and read many signs regarding efforts to control preditor populations. The DOC has thousands of traps set throughout the national parks and checks them on a monthly basis. It's great to see how serious New Zealand is about protecting its native fauna and I hope their efforts prove successful.

Setting out from the trailhead, we immediately realized that this would be a much different environment than we had experienced in Aoraki. Rather than the dry semi-arid grasses of the Hooker Glacier valley, we found ourselves in a lush temperate rainforest. Tall beeches created a high canopy over a densely ferny understory. Every surface was covered in olive-green moss, from the tree trunks to the ground. As a very mature forest, blow-downs and shattered tree trunks filled the forest, but nothing here was freshly fallen; everything was rotting and covered in moss.

The Routeburn Track is what they call a Great Walk in New Zealand, one of several multi-day backpacking tracks through the Southern Alps. In total, this end-to-end track is a couple dozen kilometers and I believe it usually takes 3 days to complete. The trail roughly followed the Routeburn, a mighty glacial river, on its way up into the high peaks. There it followed a ridge up to The Divide of New Zealand before descending down into the Milford Sound valley. More on that in the next blog. There are 3 or 4 huts along the route where backpackers can overnight. We had unfortunately been unsuccessful in booking huts along the entire route and therefore our plan was not to do the entire Routeburn Track. Instead, we would backpack in to the Routeburn Flats hut where we would spend two nights before exiting the way we entered. We would day-hike from our outpost, covering a bit more of the Routeburn Track.

Everything in the rainforest was damp or dripping. The mist and rain we anticipated on the way in wasn't too bad, but nonetheless the wetness abounded in the forest. The track went up gently and wound through the forest until we came around a corner and were met with the first of several wonderfully wobbly suspension bridges. At each bridge, the raging and tumbling Routeburn gushed with foamy white water, bashing and tumbling violently down the forested gully. Each bridge offered me a chance to relive my doctorate as our heavy packs easily excited the structures vertically and laterally.

Before too long the narrow gully started to open up. We were on the left bank heading upstream, still in the woods, but on the right the river flattened out in a wide flood plain. A steep but short conical mountain could be seen across the flats; in this plain, the main branch of the Routeburn intersected with the North Branch prior to funneling out the way we had ascended. This was the Routeburn Flats and we arrived at the hut bearing its name.

Imagine the conical mountain at the center of the flats, flanked on the north by the North Branch and on the west by the main river. The flats were huge, yet roughly horseshoe shaped, wrapping around this conical mountain. The flats had no trees; only vast swaths of grass on the perfectly flat terrain. This was in sharp contrast to the steep, forested walls of the valley on the outside and the conical mountain on the inside.

The Routeburn Flats hut was situated just on the edge of the flats, tucked into the trees. I would say the hut was maybe just a meter or two above the level of the swiftly flowing Routeburn. The hut featured three buildings. One, a three-hole latrine with flush toilets (luxury!!). The next was the main quarters with a sheltered outdoor area for day hikers, a kitchen with steel sinks and gas stoves (luxury!!!!), a common dining room with old-fasioned iron fireplace, and two bunk rooms with cushy mattresses (luxury!!!!!!). Finally, a small building served as quarters for a full-time DOC warden (Mitch) who looked after the site and gave us lovely endangered species talks.

On one such talk, Mitch informed us that the huts used to have lead nails. The DOC discovered that the Kea population was contracting lead poisoning and, after minimal investigation, it was found that the parrots had been pulling the nails out of the roof panels. Not only was this detrimental to the parrots, but it had been causing leaks in huts throughout New Zealand....

The walk in had not been arduous by any definition (admittedly I haven't consulted my crew for their concurrence on this statement), but we settled in and made ourselves at home. We enjoyed some tea, snacks (coconut date balls, chili almonds, and Whittaker's NZ chocolate slab), and photography, opting to enjoy a casual long evening looking out the hut window rather than pursuing additional walks. With card games, crosswords, amazing window views, and fellow hikers to entertain us, the time passed quickly. Dinner evolved into nighttime and soon it was off to bed.

Where the evening had brought beautiful skies, the night brought rain. I awoke in the middle of the night to lightning and thunder powerful enough to shake my bunk. Stan and I had independently wondered if it was an avalanche or earthquake - but ultimately we decided thunder was the only cause. But thunder was the least of the impacts. With approximately 70 mm (3 in) of rain overnight, the idyllic Routeburn overtopped its banks; the Flats were awash with angry flood waters. Thankfully the hut was well out of the way, but it became obvious why the flats were as flat as they were: so much sediment coming down from the high peaks being deposited at this bottleneck in the river. The forces of nature are truly inspiring.

It came to light that poor Pola was on day one of illness, so Stan, Grace, and I would day hike while she "manned the fort". It was really sad that she couldn't join us, but there are certainly worse places to be holed up with a cold than the scenic Routeburn Flats hut.

The three of us set out after a massive granola and powdered milk breakfast. We were head to toe in waterproofs as the day promised to hit the dreaded trifecta of cold, windy, and rainy weather. In the steady rain, we headed west along the banks of the Routeburn, climbing through the forest and occasionally crossing the river by more suspension bridges. A few kilometers in, we reached the Routeburn Falls hut, a veritable hut complex next to an incredible surging waterfall. Climbing up and over the waterfall, we exited the forest in favor of a rugged yellow-brown marshy grassland. "Hills" on both sides and in front of us bounded the river valley, which twisted out of view to the right. We continued near to the still-surging Routeburn, but we wondered where all this water was coming from since we could see the ridge above us.

The trail sloped up along the walls of the rounded valley and unfortunately it had become a stream in its own right. Along the way, I noticed we were walking on some of the most interesting rocks and minerals. First we had a stretch of delightfully light green granular rock, which Stan and I agreed was likely due to copper content. Then we entered into a stretch of tantalizingly deep purple rock, similar to the color of Amythyst, but opaque. These rocks occasionally had marble seams. Also there were some sections with quartz. Finally, higher still, we found shiny grey rocks which were almost metallic in nature. As you can tell, I have yet to do the back research on all this great geology, but when I do, I'll add a brief addendum to the bottom of the post.

We have no doubt that the color of the rocks and minerals were improved by the wet conditions. It had continued to spit rain and in some sections we were met with showers. As we gained elevation, the wind picked up; I found myself persistently adding and removing a winter hat and my raincoat hood in various combinations, attempting to balance body temperature, outdoor temperature, and the inconsistent rain.

But for all that, we were having fun as we gained remarkable views. Below us we could finally see the winding oxbow path of the Routeburn through this upper valley. And ahead, we finally found the source of this mighty river: Harris Lake. Our trail did not go to the shores of Harris Lake, but above it, along some bluffs. What was interesting is that this glacial-fed lake sat at approximately El. 1000 m (3000 ft), well above the upper Routeburn valley (maybe El. 900 m) or the Routeburn Flats (El. 700 m). Similar to the Sealey Tarn, this Lake had been captured by a long, narrow outcrop, which limited the outflow of the lake to a very narrow funnel. But unlike the Tarn, which had a tiny surface area, Harris Lake was truly expansive. If we had to guess, Stan and I would say it was probably on the order of a half mile long by maybe a quarter mile wide. Under the dramatically cloudy skies in this damp yellow-brown terrain, the lake took on a dark, turbulent slate-grey appearance: mysterious and tempestuous.

Following the bluffs high above the lake was a windy endeavour, but rounding the corner, we had reached Harris Saddle. We walked up to an enclosed day shelter and, going inside, we were immediately met with a grim collection cold, soaked, and dejected backpackers. Indeed, we were fairly wet and cold too, but thankfully the fact that we were day hiking had kept our spirits high. Most of these poor backpackers had spent their way picking their way along the far side of the ridge, being buffeted by the wind, and walking entirely in cloud. No views, no warmth, no fun.

Indeed, it was warmer in the hut than outside, but it was certainly not warm. Sitting there eating lunch made us all cold and the humidity from all the steaming hikers made everything sticky. We didn't stay long.

On the bright side, when we set out again, the rain had largely stopped. We walked about a half kilometer along the ridge just to get a taste (cloudy, rugged, grassy) before turning back the way we had come. The trail back to the Routeburn Flats hut was largely uneventful aside from taking some selfies with my favorite rocks. Of course, uneventful does not mean uninspiring.

That evening, we again enjoyed dehydrated hiker meals. I had some carbonara thing augmented with more Whittaker's chocolate slab and other snacky treats. We worked on - and failed at - a crossword puzzle by candlelight. As we prepared to turn in, I went out to the toilets. On my way back, I heard a squawking in a tree just in front of me. Turning on my light, I looked up at the low branches and there were not one but two tiny Morepork owls! I suspect I accidentally blinded them but they were very patient as I took a few photos. I was super happy to see two of this amazing and uncommon bird hanging out at our hut!

The morning of the third day was getaway day. My boots were still soaked through so I deployed my hiking sandals to great effect, sloshing through every puddle and stream in utter defiance. Spirits were again high and we had a lovely walk back through the rainforest. We took a little side nature trail and saw some fantails flitting from tree to tree, fanning their tails in a showy black and white display. We enjoyed the sights and scenes, but most importantly we enjoyed being in each others' company. 

That night, as I started to come down with the same cold, we picked up venison and beef burgers from Fergburger in Queenstown and we took them to a permanently moored bar boat on the water. The scene was utterly splendid with the late day sun hitting the bright light-blue water, the undulating Remarkables mountain range providing a perfect backdrop. We also went to Patagonia Ice Cream and I enjoyed a dulce de leche scoop on top of a kind of carmel/chocolate swirl scoop in a chocolate dipped waffle cone.

This is the life!