Isn't it funny how fast you can form an alliance towards something? Be it a football team, a home county or a nation. Maybe its human nature to bond and support things that are valued? So as our time in Otago starts to draw to an end, I can start to feel the strength of the bonds this region has cast over me. The laid back lifestyle, endless mountain and tramping possibility and the massive variety of adventures in and around the region.
It's easy to see this region has a lifetime's worth of adventures, both in the mainstream and hidden behind awaiting to be discovered.
But unfortunately our time here is short and we've already used half up! So with much regret, we make our way west, turning north by the sea and migrating slowly north.
We did have one final appointment within Aspiring National Park before we headed onto the West Coast. Gillespie's Pass, and according to the lonely planet guide it's on par with the Milford track (the finest walk in the world)...
Tents, waterproofs, three days worth of food, a 1600 metre pass and two proper river crossing's, a standard New Zealand adventure.
Although we had completed a few river crossings during the Pyke - Big bay route, the decent flowing waist deep water of the Mokoara river was a new exercise in teamwork. Me out front trying to take the force, Amy in my eddy and Lucy half walking and half floating at the back. Despite a few screams and squeals, the tactic seemed to work and we all got safely across. Unfortunately, for another fellow someway behind us wasn't as lucky as the current took him for a swim down the river after he lost his footing.
Having come away from the more touristy hotspots meant that camping on or near the trail didn't carry the same $500 fine as the great walks. This meant we could plan our trip around nice, tactical and flexible camp spots and weren't stuck to huts.
Our first spot was the free campsite at the Young river folks. Boasting the best drop toilet that Lucy's had the privilege to use was definitely a bonus. But unfortunately as the sun started to dip below the all surrounding mountain ridges, the sand flies came out, with a vengeance. So we decided to grab an early night, casually leaving our empty meal bags in the porch of our tent.
Waking in near darkness with a silhouette of a possum less than a metre away from my head, seemed to engage a very primordial surge in my brain. As I sat bolt upright, scaring Lucy half to death, my mouth struggled to find words from my still sleeping brain. "ARGGGG.... U... FFFFUUU.. OFF... UUU FUCKING.... RACCON....". Although the possum probably didn't realise that I had in fact called it a completely different animal, it got the gist of it and kindly scarpered. But apparently the leftovers of freeze dried meals were worth the insults of a half awake English man. The newest cross species game of what's the time Mr Wolf had three rounds. Then I saw sense or got increasingly paranoid and throw the bags out for the pesky possum to enjoy in peace.
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| Serbia valley |
The pleasant but steep track, up the Young valley side of Gillespie's Pass seemed to fly by as the cloud's gathered and darkened around the tallest peaks. Roughly 1000 metres of ascent in just over a kilometre distance. Needless to say, all the moaning was worth it as we reached the saddle. Big empty looking valleys stretching south and north-west, capped by the glacier clad Mt Awful. Arriving late to the saddle gave it all to ourselves, but time was indeed ticking on and we needed to find a camp spot in all the hilly terrain. I guess this is where the camping god's stepped in, and delivered us straight to a perfect alpine camp spot. Flat ground, running water, fire place and a nice dry wood pile. We must have done something right!
Sat round a fire, watching the stars was a perfect end to a hard day.
I've always heard that it takes three days for your body to accustomise to something. Be it walking, a new diet, quitting something, but on day three our bodies hadn't got the message. So our motivation to stay out another night was pretty low and we decided to see if we could walk the 30k out to the road. It was a mix of standard NZ tramping; native forest, alpine meadows, steep jungle like trails, farmland and river crossings. It all seemed to chug by and before our energy completely crashed we managed to get the first hitch and order a drink in Mokoara's only bar.
Although the Serbia valley (our second half) of the trail gets guided and more traffic due to flights and jet boats servicing access, the trail still held on to it wilderness vibes. Giving us a standard New Zealand adventure tramp. We even managed to spot our first Yellow Creasted Parakeet. This was a perfect adventure to end our time in Otago.
As we leave the region that has become home for the last six months, I look forward to the new experiences and terrain for us to discover in New Zealand.
Unfortunately there's not that many photo's as waking up in a bog was just a little bit too much for my camera, and we're only down to the Garmin VIRB and Amy's camera.
