How things actually played out:
Sunday we rolled out to Borland Flat in Fjordland (rainy, wet, SCENIC in SW NZ) to do some geology. This time, the 75 person group was split into 3 and spent each of three days with a different lecturer. much more effective than field camp in Maerewheneua. Now I've got some homework to do... a map, report, cross sections, etc. It'll be great to go back to Whitman Regional trips and just take notes and drink beer in the afternoon, no extra homework.
The first two days at Borland were beautiful--overcast if not sunny. our third day revealed fjordland's true nature with saturating rain. Aside: when were being assigned housing (weird! we don't just stay in tents?) for this field trip they split the sexes and made some of the girls go to separate accommodations down the road because they didn't have enough room for everyone at the lodge. I was one of those girls. It was a little sketchy and pretty cumbersome to have to wait for someone to give us a ride to dinner and breakfast and bed, but i was thankful for the roof once it started raining.
Developments: Drew dropped a plate on his foot and sliced himself up. Rather than spend the next week in wet boots walking 15k/day, he decided to return to Dunedin and left Chad and I to tramp the Rees-Dart Track on our own.
From Borland we escaped without a second thought in Paul's vehicle, Black Thunder. After a delicious hamburger, Paul and Simon (hee hee) moved on.
The Rees-Dart is not a great walk, but it is fairly popular and moderately demanding. High river levels made us wary, but we were not to be defeated. Also, neither of us had a knife, so I made the necessary investment.
In short, we spent one day mucking through saturated ground and cow pies (puddles? gross.) as we went up the Rees Valley.
The second day brought violent rain and wind. We crossed the Rees Saddle in spite of the wind making it difficult to stand. Probably the sketchiest day of tramping I've done. Luckily we made it to the next hut and opted to pay the extra $10 for beds rather than pitch the tent in the rain. from the shelter, Chad and I watched the Dart River rise a meter between our arrival and nightfall.
Day three was BEAUTIFUL (and Easter Sunday!). initially apprehensive, we slipped into saturated boots and socks to day-hike up to the Dart Glacier near the Cascade Saddle. Clouds gradually lifted as we climbed the valley, revealing glaciers perched atop the peaks around us. Touched active glacier ice, spent a couple hours gazing at more glaciers, stood at the edge of a kettle, and marveled at what are the real-life versions of the Misty Mountains.
Day four: clouds hung atop peaks longer than we welcomed them. The Dart Valley is spectacular. not spectacular: sand flies. I heard they were awful before I came to NZ and it's true. they don't bite through clothes and they respect repellent, but they're everywhere and it takes but a few minutes before they smell tramper sweat and seek exposed skin. Many fell into our dinner as we cooked, so we got a little extra protein in our rice.
Day 5: we had an extra day to spend on the tramp since we couldn't bus back to Dunedin until Thursday (also why we couldn't go on the optional field trip the following weekend), so we sidled down the valley, stopping often to gawk and munch and dabble our toes in the river. As the afternoon slipped away we came to the end of a flat, looked back up-valley and decided that this was where we were camping for the night. It was either in the glory of ice-capped peaks just above a point bar on the matte gray Dart River or at the road-end car-park, inevitably surrounded by sandflies. picked up a few rocks off the beach, ohm-nommed our remaining honey, nutella, granola bars, and peanut butter for dessert, watched the pink sunset creep to the tops of the mountains, and slept to the white noise of river passing by.
Day 6: leisurely walk out to the road-end. swatted sand flies and bemoaned jet boat tours that passed every half-hour or so as we waited for the shuttle to retrieve us. Eventually we made it back to Queenstown with images of beds and showers dancing in our heads, only to find that every Kiwi takes Easter break in Queenstown, and there were therefore no hostel beds available. We grudgingly climbed yet another hill with our packs to pay nearly as much for a holiday park tent site and coin-operated showers as we would have for a bed and running water in a hostel. Bitter about sleeping another night on the ground, we set out to find pizza and beer before lapsing into food comas at 8pm.
We spent the next morning dawdling around Queenstown... bookstores, outdoor stores, gardens, candy shop, and people-watching made up the day that we started in a Starbucks with muffins and hot drinks. On any other day I would have refused to purchase from the franchise, but it was remarkably heartwarming to set up shop in a familiar armchair, listening to blues and jazz, and generally soak in everything Starbucks for a morning. The bus back to Dunedin was long and smelt of perfume-soaked body odor. I have no problem smelling like sweat--I deliberately avoid deodorant when tramping--but concealing that scent with chemicals makes me a little nauseous. At any rate, we're back in Dunedin now. I'm baking bread, but I'm afraid I killed the yeast so the loaf won't rise. I've got a lot of homework to catch up on and my camera and computer aren't getting along. I also have a lot of candy to share since my Easter basket arrived in the mail and I can't possibly eat all the sweets in there. Well, I could, but knowing me I'd eat them instead of real food and I'd end up rather ill.
