TRAVEL TALES | NEW ZEALAND

When the Sun Was Beating Down at Us Hiking the Overgrown Trail

And our destination seemed to be hiding around just one more bend

The sun is shining on the mountain pasture I lie on while insects are buzzing and chirping around me. The mountain stream is roaring in the creek to my right.

This morning we drove down to Wānaka and around the lake. Just opposite the packed campsite at Glendhu Bay we turned off onto the gravel road and reached the car park of the Motatapu Track a few kilometers later.

After applying one layer of each, sunscreen and sandfly repellent, we loaded the bags and hit the trail.

The first part was rather easy following a small river and crossing several farmland fences while listening to the gentle flowing of the Motatapu Stream next to us. Birds were chirping in the trees and I want to say I heard David humming with the buzzing of the insects surrounding us.

The trail was rather flat barely climbing in altitude but here already, we could feel the brutal force of the sun and knew it was going to be a hot day.

My thoughts were getting disturbed by trail runners passing us at speeds I couldn’t grasp. David asked how could these people possibly enjoy the surroundings while racing up and down the mountain. But then again, he added, they might have run this trail so many times, they know the scenery by heart.

Also, I added, if planning on doing exercise, I’d much rather run up a mountain than jog along a busy road or cycle where trucks are passing me what many other athletes are doing. Here. In New Zealand.

And that, I don’t get.

I mean, I don’t get people enjoying running either. It’s never appealed to me. I had to run to keep up my stamina while playing handball in my youth but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. I’ve been running on beaches in Ghana but that was in the sand. It was different.

But now let’s say, running or cycling is your thing and you live or travel in New Zealand. A country with thousands of backcountry trails and adventure paths and you decide to use the highway inhaling the fumes of cars and almost getting taken out by trucks every few kilometers.

Why?

So yeah, I do understand these trail runners a lot more. I’d rather jog up a mountain than run on a treadmill leading me nowhere or race with cars on the highway.

Back to the creek. We’re alone again. The trail runners are either far up the mountain or back at the car park already. The sound of the river barely ever gets disturbed as the trail remains close to the flowing water.

The path was taking a turn to the left leading us into a narrow and forested gorge. Crossing the beech forest made up the second part of this hike and by far my favorite one. Protected from the heat of the day and in the shade of the big beech trees, we continued along the roaring river climbing across roots and boulders.

I listened to the sounds of the forest and felt the cooling air on my skin. Trees just add so much to these hot climates. They preserve the water down below and keep all lives cool and refreshed on the forest floor.

We sat down for a break and to inhale this beauty surrounding us. Eating two peaches each we had bought on a neighboring orchard, we rested in silence.

Throwing our bags back on, we climbed across more roots before a bridge led us to the other side of the river. We began to slow down as the trail was starting to climb in altitude and we stopped repeatedly breathing now heavier.

Soon enough, the forest stopped and we reached the open bushland ending up fully exposed to the sun. Walking on a narrow trail with grass and bushes mostly at hip height but sometimes growing above our head, it was very difficult to watch our step and see the washed-off parts of the trail.

This was when David admitted how he had underestimated the hike. Reading the average time to complete it on AllTrails, he assumed it was a 2-hour journey and an easy day for us. Knowing we were only halfway at that time, the average number must result from all the trail runners racing up and down.

After two hard and long days at work, our bodies were tired and we weren’t just feeling the aftermath but the sun as well. Either way, stopping more often and taking longer breaks in between helped us to continue the trail.

Also, I decided to walk ahead, a bit faster and at my pace, and then sit down to wait for David instead of stepping in front of him and nagging him by asking every few steps how he was doing while he certainly suffered.

He later on said he appreciated that and also admitted he told himself he could be upset and miserable and not enjoy the hike or just take it easy and embrace the surroundings. And he opted for the latter.

The side of the mountain we walked on was covered in tall grass and bushes while the opposite slope was characterized by the native tussock, a type of grass growing in these areas storing lots of moisture similar to moss.

Being now fully exposed on the open pasture, we walked past native plants and I enjoyed the colorful patches created by blooming foxgloves.

And then, there she was. The hut.

The Fern Burn Hut is located just about 750 meters above sea level yet hidden far back in the valley surrounded by peaks, steep slopes and two rivers flowing down a creek.

If you’re from Europe and expect to receive a cold beer and a full meal from a backcountry hut in New Zealand, you will be hugely disappointed. While the huts down under differ in size and capacity, most of them offer no more than a few mattresses and a roof over your head.

We even carried a tent with us as this hut wasn’t bookable and was said to be popular and therefore fill up quickly but on this sunny afternoon, we reached the hut before anyone else and decided to make use of it.

Throwing into the box two hut tickets we had purchased in the visitor center in town, we spread our sleeping bags on two mattresses and cooked lunch. Yes, it was maybe a little late for the midday meal but we were hungry.

While the hut had a water tank outside which was filled with rainwater, there was no running water inside and a long drop toilet was the only bathroom facility hidden a few meters behind the hut.

The roof over our heads, a table inside and wooden stairs on the terrace to sit on were already a lot more luxury than we had on our previous overnight hikes. So we weren’t complaining.

A bit later in the afternoon, we walked back down to the creek to take a shower in the freezing but refreshing mountain stream. Our muscles relaxed and we felt alive.

David even found a spot where rapids were coming together creating what he called a Jacuzzi. Sitting down in the river right there, water flowed heavily over your body. We had so much fun and felt clean afterward.

This was when I brought out my sarong, spread it on the grass behind the cabin and laid in the grass to embrace the last few rays of sunshine of the evening hours while writing in my journal.

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