A Sideline View - from Saxon Hut to Lewis

Ed is a step ahead as the Vowdens trek towards the next hut.

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by Brenda Vowden

brenda.vowden@nzme.co.nz

Day 3 on the Heaphy Track dawned with the rustling of sleeping bags, the shuffling of people off to the long drop, some spooning their dehydrated breakfast into their hungry mouths and others getting their gear sorted for the day ahead.

We had enjoyed a cosy, warm and dry sleep perched on overhanging mattresses atop the dining room bench seats. Preferable to clambering down from the top bunks and negotiating a path through tramping detritus and out in the night to the loo. A clear path to the dunny always uppermost in my mind.

Fed and re-packed, we had a fairly decent stretch ahead of us, from Saxon Hut to Lewis, the latter an older hut on the brink of demolition. Our plans had been rearranged due to a last-minute hiccup with our car relocation. We needed to get ourselves further along the track so we could meet our driver in time to take him one and a half hours south to catch his bus back to where he came from. So an extra three-hour roadie to tack on the end of our 82 kilometre walk and a re-juggle of where we would lay our heads each night after months of planning — no worries.

We took off along the glistening pink granite path, through the remaining red tussock of the Gouland Downs, past the Heaphy Track halfway point seat, through a "coal seam" and into the mossy corridors of the Mackay Downs. We marvelled at these forest treasures which lined the path, moist feathered jewels of many different shapes, sizes and hues of green hugging the hillside. Some had been shaped into "moss monsters", with the "goblin forest" lurking eerily in the misty background.

From small fluffy plants to large granite boulders, we were spoiled with the variety and changes in scenery, including some of the oldest rocks in New Zealand. Several plants found on the downs occur nowhere else, including a yellow-flowered lily and a small native foxglove.

We popped into the Mackay Hut to let our new tramping mates know we wouldn't be joining them for the night. This fairly new hut was another step up, boasting expansive views, separate bunk rooms and even an inside flushing toilet — that was taking things a bit far.

The next stretch was mostly downhill through beech forest and into a taller, richer and more diverse forest indicative of the West Coast — we were slowly advancing towards our final destination. We were getting pretty adept at either leaping or stepping across sharp, sloped or large slippery river stones as we made our way further towards the hut, situated on the convergence of the Heaphy and Lewis rivers. There were still many rough and rocky paths needing careful navigation before spying our first views of the river and a teasing glimpse of the hut. It was nearly dark by the time we finally made it, not sure what to expect as we unhitched our packs and tapped on the window. We weren't expecting the response, a woman shouting from inside, "Are you booked? We weren't expecting any more." I don't think we had the energy to respond, just happy to get our boots off and lug our gear inside before politely introducing ourselves and reassuring her of our booking status. The night was young.