Doing the Hump

Our search for real wilderniss (see previous entry) has led us to Tuatapere, to the Humpridge Track. Created by the local community and opened only five years ago, this 55km, 3-day tramp is still relatively unknown, as opposed to i.e. the Milford Track (widely described as “the finest walk in the world”, already fully booked for the entire summer season - that’s until the end of april) and advance booking is not required. Rough Guides says the track “requires a good level of fitness” (hell, it does), and that it “isn’t for beginners or kids under ten” (hell, it isn’t).

The Route

Map is clickable for a large version. 

Day One
The Lonely Planet lists the total time for this day as 5-7hrs, Rough Guides as 6-9hrs and the back of our track map we received from the information centre says it’ll take 8, including a 10-minute stop every hour. Based on our experience from Switzerland, where time indications allow for a leisurly pace and frequent stops, and where you can easily complete tracks in two-thirds of the indicated time, we weren’t too worried about leaving early, and didn’t start walking til 10.30. A DOC sign at the start of the track listed the time to Okaka Hut as 9 hours. We still didn’t worry about it until we had been going for two hours and came across a sign that said we still had 7 hours to go. Shit.
We also had to climb from sealevel to about 900m this day. Not too shabby, but this isn’t my first multi-day tramp. When you’ve gone from 1400m to 3000m and back to 2500m and the next day from 2500m to 2800m to 1100m, what then is a 900m ascent? What we were soon to find out though, was that vertical metres say as little about time and fitness required as horizontal ones. This ascent turned out to be an endless stairway of slippery treeroots and mud, and it wasn’t too long before Nienke stepped in a puddle too deep for her boots: wet feet. Shit.
As the day wore on, so did our ascent. Rain began to fall, turned to hail and then to snow. When we finally arrived at the end of our climb, Stag Point, we were cold, wet, and walking in a cloud. The spectacular views the brochure had boasted about were not to be seen, in fact nothing was to be seen if it was more than 15 metres away. From Stag Point, it was about one more hour to Okaka Hut. All in all, we had walked 8 hours that day.
At night, temperatures dropped below freezing, and the toilets at Okaka are outside. Shit.

Day Two
A little wiser then before, we left at 9. The stunning views we should have had the first two hours from the mountain ridge we were walking on were again blocked by the cloud we were walking in. After the ridge, our descent through the forest started. 1000 metres downwards (we had climbed slowly over the ridge) through deep mud and over slippery rocks and roots. On the way down, the soles of my feet began to hurt. When we finally got down to about sealevel, at the Edwin Burn viaduct, it had risen to unprecedented levels. Half an hour later, just after Percy Burn viaduct, the largest wooden structure of it’s kind in the world (see photo’s), it had gotten almost unbearable, and we still had two hours to go. Shit. The fact that every three steps I was stepping on an old nail from the 1920′s logging tramline we were now following didn’t help either. We eventually reached Port Craig, 8,5 hours after we had left from Okaka.

Day Three
Thankfully, this day was to be the shortest. We left the hut as early as 8.15 – I almost feel like I’m at school again. We walked along the coast through the forest, traversed several sandy beaches and crossed more than one mudpool before getting back to Track Burn, the place were we saw the sign that said “Okaka Hut – 7 hrs” two days before. From there, the route was the same as on the first day. Some people that were walking the track the same time as we got picked up by a 4WD here – a $35 option. They also had the helipack option: let all your heavy stuff be flown in instead of carrying it. It goes without saying that we opted for neither of these, and that we had two more hours to go. At long last, we made it back to the carpark and drove on to Invercargill – a great place to rest, since there is absolutely nothing to do here.