Sunday, April 20, 2008

A love affair with Mt Hooker in South Westland

Finished this at last - new pics lower down.

Mt Hooker is another of those mountains sort of in the middle of no-where and thus can be seen from everywhere! Many of us decided in 1973 that we had to stand on it's summit! These shots were my first acquaintance with this beguiling area. Since they were taken I've spent about 80 days trying to achieve that goal over many years. OK I made it so close twice, but in storms. Sitting and waiting for a clearance to not only see the entry to the last gully to the top, but also simply wanting to see the view when I got there.

Anyway this trip was a 10 day affair - we at least got a peek at the usual access ridge, but we had to pass all but a short ascent of same up, as we only had x.. amount of food. Our route was Haast river > Landsborough river > Clarke river > Marks Flat > Otoko river > Paringa river.

My trusty VW 1500 of the time bogged heading up the Landsborough river - just another effort to postpone the heavy pack until the last minute. That's Mt Hooker you can see above the car...
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After crossing the mighty Landsborough [all 6 of us clutching a log as we kick/floated across], we got hot and sweaty in the humid airs of the Clarke valley. Here we see my old friend Dave [now lives here in Wanaka too] demonstrating his diving skills - boots and all...
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While following a lovely trail left beside the first gorge in the Clarke [don't worry - there were about 4 more really gnarly gorges!] by a resident meat hunter [deer] we found a canoe he obviously used to cross the river with his victims. It had blood in it, but we could not resist a paddle and swim in this magical place...
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We knew we might have to retreat from Marks Flat back down the Clarke. In this high rainfall area, crossing side streams can simply stop all in their tracks. On one we knew could be troublesome, we found a cable, so here we practiced how to cross same. We did work out a technique, but thankfully it never came to that...
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It took a few hards days to get to one of the most beautiful camp sites I've ever known - Murdoch Creek on the slopes of Mt Hooker. The perfect staging post for a summit attempt that was not to be...
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None of us actually worked for the Ministry of Works, but for South Westland we loved the impervious yellow PVC parkas - perfect for the copious rain here where any tendency to sweat never comes close to how wet you can get if you have a poor parka. That's myself on the left, then [now sadly the late] Chris, and Bruce [who went on to became one of NZ's most active conservationists]...
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Under the red fly is a four person tent - there were six of us, so keeping warm in the light snow that was about to fall the evening of this shot was no problem...
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Sunset light through beech forest...
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Some new snow in the background adds another dimension to this awesome bivouac spot. Every morning at precisely 6 am we'd been woken by a Kea visiting us briefly - in my growing education re. this incredibly intelligent native New Zealand mountain parrot I was to realise, starting at this point in time, that they have a very accurate sense of timing...
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It was time to be on our way or we'd run out of food, so we climbed up for maybe an hour above the camp with all our swag, and stopped briefly to admire the route above we had designs on, but not this time [I was to return later with others to camp up there and climb]. After a bite to eat and many photos we headed down to the right to Marks Flat...
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Marks Flat with the legendary Kea Cliffs on the right. OK we missed out on a climb of Mt Hooker, but part of our dreams incorporated exploring and wandering around in this unique cirque-like landscape. It turned out to be quite boggy, but we still enjoyed a night down there all cosy under a rock, before heading around to the left to Lower Otoko pass the following day...
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After a straight forward descent to Marks Flat we found the desired small bivy rock to sleep underneath of, but I was more captivated by these rare blue ducks in the nearby stream than I was about the extremely low roof...
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The next morning it was raining, but hunger is a great motivator and we toddled off across Marks Flat [actually almost swamp like in places] to cross Lower Otoko pass - our route to the West Coast.

It was an honest climb up from the Flat with waist deep snow grass to wet us from the bottom as well as the rain coming down steadily - travel about as miserable as it can get! However I achieved my desired Zen like state of being "in the zone" and next I recall the misery escalating as we started wrestling with the next challenge: chest high alpine scrub. This medium is not an easy vegetation mode to gain height on... you sort of stand half in it bereft of any solid footing, grab the next armful of springy tenacious and dripping wet foliage and heave upwards, to the next wobbly stance, where oxygen is sucked in.

It was getting about as awful as it could when a cheerful Noddy [Michael N - now sadly "the late" and ex Kurow] yelled out to me from above "hurry up Donald, we've got a fire going". I would have sworn at what could have been a cruel joke, but never having been one for wasting words going uphill, and somehow thinking "something unusual is happening up there", I pulled over the last bush and lo... there was a huge overhanging bluff on the left, complete with a generous firewood supply. Chris, Dave and Noddy did indeed having a cheerful fire going, setup to reflect the welcome heat off the rock. A brew was soon on and here we see Chris drying his shirt...

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Crossing Lower Otoko pass the weather improved a bit, but we did not linger - we were wet but drying, and also mindful of the unknown descent. We knew it'd been done before, but as you can see in the photo below the pass [and just above difficulties] the terrain is very dynamic, highly mobile and glacial lakes like the one here are even more so. We had not a clue how we were going to cross it, as we knew bluffs would force us to do so...
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Here Ken crosses the first of the couple of lakes cautiously and is oblivious to being distracted by the taking of this by the author, who was endeavoring to get an embarrassing/funny shot, but he refused to stand upright...
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Close scrutiny of this shot will reveal one of many cunning techniques often employed in South Westland to keep clothes dry [well not totally as dampness pervades - and polypro had not been invented yet - we were merino wool and bushshirt kids] Today we'd be called organic... [as I compose this blog I wonder how I got so elevated to take this shot... I've never been able to levitate this high even to get above ice cold glacier water!]...
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The author in his early days [has his hair always been silver and here it's been rinsed?] He does seem to have that middle distance stare even at such an early age - a sure sign of too much time of a reflective nature in the bush, focusing on sandflies, and being lost...
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The going gets easier over an area cleared of vegetation by a winter avalanche. The night's camping spot is close...
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The night however was not an easy one as we had several inches of rain, and the river raged beside us. I recall a heavy mist coming through the tent fly, and rolling up my sleeping bag to keep it dry and sleeping in my parka. We had a good tea before turning in though - it was Dave's birthday and we made fancy instant puddings with dried milk and decorated them with jelly beans. Unfortunately Ken had lost his veteran kea nibbled bowl porridge bowl, but we managed somehow. It may have fell victim to the nearby river.

There don't seem to any other shots I've scanned - nothing stellar anyway as for the next two days we travelled in heavy bush and fern, only getting relief when crossing precipitous ravines on tree trunks felled across them by the local meat shooter, whom we never met as we travelled down the Otoko and then down the Paringa to the West Coast Road. Here we witnessed a "heavy dude" on a motorbike fail to take the corner to the bridge and end up uninjured in a gnarly patch of black-berries, just close by where we had a car depot'd to get us back down to the Haast. A rude entry back into so-called civilisation!

Sunday, April 6, 2008

Seeking primordial swamps and puddles in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand

I joined my friend Roger for a few days off to seek definitive photographs of the primordial sort in New Zealand's very remote and wild Fiordland National Park. Art was the objective. I feel so privileged as I compose this blog as it reminds me yet again [2 days after completion] of how such a journey is where we can learn from being tested as nature imposes it's rules and time-tables, thereby challenging us to be gentle in the soul and mindful of how to best live our lives...

Our entry point to this remote land was the Middle Fiord of Lake Te Anau - here we see it in the distance to the right, from Te Anau Downs at dawn...
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Our boatman Vern, a living legend in Fiordland with a wealth of information gleaned from a lifetime's professional hunting with an accompanying acute observation of nature...
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At the head of the Middle Fiord we walked to another lake where we transitioned to another of Vern's boats [heli'd in several yrs. ago] to take us further west...
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The left ridge on this mountain was one of our potential goals - we did get to the bottom of it, but not up it, but then, being Fiordland, the next front was upon us the next day with accompanying rain...
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The views boating were stunning, despite the bite of old man frost...
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It was sobering to consider just how remote we were going, when you need so many resources to just get in and out to the start of the foot work! This was as far as we could go with Vern's help , so we said our good-byes, asked him to pick us up on Friday, Roger stepped ashore, and we pushed him off into the current...
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We then headed up this river bed into the frost smoke. Note the hut on the right in the shade - one we would be so happy to warm up in on our very wet and cold return journey...
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Yet another lake, but no boat on this one! After crossing the outlet seen here, on a nearby 3 wire bridge we then tackled the rather rugged marked route which was to take us around to the area seen here a bit on the right of center...
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Into the primordial stuff...
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We had a couple of days in a hut with Roger doing some solo exploring and myself enjoying a day off from life snoozing, as the rain pattered about. But all good things come to an end, and we headed off early on Friday to retrace our steps in quite a storm - about a 7 out of 10 on the Fiordland scale, with periods of approx. 1 inch of rain per hour falling. In this sort of rain even kit inside plastic bags gets wet, and we were to witness sheets of water hitting the lake surfaces and then bouncing up again - something I've seen before, but it's still a marvel! This shot shows the waterfalls starting to leap into action, with a nice primordial swamp foreground...
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Rain or no rain, Roger had one shot left, so out came the "third member" [tripod], the big Technorama pano film camera and I held a hat over proceedings...
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The trip out was technical - this is not disneyland in the rain, but Fiordland in it's enchanting natural uncompromising state that simply forces respect and humility and lays a flavour of fragility over one's self...
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Roger on one of the 3 wire bridges - once mastered their consistency of footing is a welcome change from accompanying courses of green boulders, slippery tree roots and branches [yes, you're often well off the ground in this terrain, be it on bridges or on land]...
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There is always on-going attrition in the rain-forest - the trick is to not be under a tree going down...
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Not far from meeting Vern - the rain is easing, the bush enchanting, with the shades of green defying description in their luminosity...
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The last hut out before the boat, and just as you'd expect from a considerate and gentle seasoned campaigner in the hills, Vern was in there with a couple of Wapati hunters who'd come down from the tops before the storm, and they had a brew on the fire ready for us soaked rats, and the hut all nice and cosy...
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Back on a Lake Te Anau after our first boat trip in the wee local boat, and now into the larger one for a bumpy trip home...
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Looking back...
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