Rosemary's Ramblings

This is a continuation of my February Blog, taken from my holiday journal.

Diamond Lakes Holiday. February 2012

Thursday 16th February
This was the day we started on our Diamond Lakes trip. The bus brought Maurice and Katie from Nelson at about 9am. Margaret and I were ready. Bill and Paula were our guides. Maryann with her bad hips could not do the trip, and Paula needed to be there, because though a qualified guide she was not familiar with the area into which we were going. Steve our 'porter', had his car, so we had two vehicles. The big Bush and Beyond van we did not see this time.

We picked up Marie from her home and we were eight as we drove over Takaka Hill and up to the Cobb valley. Marie was a retired public health nurse. She had been on the trip that was aborted when Bill had his fall, and wanted to see the Diamond Lakes she had missed. That time they were coming in from Fenella, a much more difficult route than the one we were to take.

We had lunch at the much deteriorated 'gardens' across the Cobb dam. After that, carrying our packs for the first time, we trudged up the many switch-backs of the long hill through the bush and then along the short open stretch of track to Sylvester hut, We reached the hut at 2.30, had a drink and some potato crisps, and we must have had a rest, because it was a later that we went out for a walk to the site of the old Bushline hut.

Then it was I realized I had in my mind misplaced the Bushline hut. I had thought, for reason unknown, that Sylvester Hut had been built beyond Bushline, whereas in fact it had been built in the clear area before the last arm of bush on the track to Sylvester lakes. Bushline hut had been beyond that arm of bush. This was why I had looked in vain for the track to it as we came up.

Bill took us to the site via a path through the bush, which he said was a short cut. I doubt it was a shorter way, but it was more interesting than the road. I was glad to find the site, though I doubt I'll be back to visit it again. There was little evidence left of the hut, but the site was still clear. We returned to the 'road' and looked at the Sylvester lakes under brooding cloud-capped mountains and returned to the hut.

Near our hut we saw some yellow mistletoe, the trumpet-like flowers of which only open when pinched at the base to release the pollen, which then spurts out. Only three types of bird are capable to opening the flowers thus. One is the tui, another is the North Island stitchbird. I forget the third.

There was one other man sharing the hut with us. He was there when we arrived. Later, when it was dark, someone else turned up. Although he came into the hut, he spent at least part of the night out on the veranda. He certainly was out there when I went to the loo around midnight. He may have come in later. No one seemed quite certain. I did not speak to him, but according to what I heard, he had failed to find the hut in the dark and gone on up the hills.

Despite the cloudy evening, the stars were brilliant in the night. I am always amazed at the brilliance of the stars in the high country. In the distance a little red light flickered, a lighthouse somewhere near Nelson, perhaps. Margaret was up next morning to see the sun rise.

Friday 17th February
Today's walk was a bit of a challenge for me, but we had beautiful weather, and I greatly enjoyed the day. From the hut we walked up to the top of the ridge we could see from the hut, then down a long steep slope to a delightful little clearing through which ran a pretty stream. There was a small rocky outcrop nearby, where we rested for our morning snack.

We climbed up through the bush on the other side of the valley. Bill put extra markers on the trees where the route looked uncertain, so that Paula would have no difficulty finding the way when she brought a couple of women to do the same trip next month. Paula was a wonderful person, she should be a very popular guide.

Having climbed out of the valley we sidled around below Iron Hill to reach Lake Lily, in a basin in the Iron range. There was much bashing through tussock and tough vegetation. In the course of which some sharp twigs jagged my leg through my trousers. To my annoyance three little punctures bled profusely. When we stopped at Lily Lake for lunch, I poured a cup of water over the injury. Marie the nurse, dried it off. Margaret provided a long strip of Elastoplast, which Bill anointed with antiseptic cream and applied to the 'wound'. Altogether quite the performance! As a precaution I left the bandaid on until I got home. Blood had seeped through it, but no infection had set in. I do not think anyone else get hurt at all on the trip, which was rather amazing. Some took the precaution of wearing gaiters, but Margaret and Bill were bare-legged, and most were bare-kneed.

Lake Lily was the first of seven lakes on our itinerary. It was mandatory to take a drink from each lake. Not really, but that was the challenge. We did do that in three of the lakes on the itinerary. And of course we drank of the waters Diamond Lake, where we camped. The other three lakes we did not get near enough to touch the water, there being a change of plan at the end. Paula swam in the lakes we visited!

It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too hot. It was great to be in the high country, eating lunch by such a lake, with the promise of more such to visit.

Did I perhaps think the worst of the day's trek was over? We went up and over another ridge, then down a very slippery hillside above Diamond Lake. It was the long dried fronds of some kind of tussock that were the most slippery. After a fall or two, I decided the best way over this stuff was just to sit down and go, looking ahead at all times to make sure there was something to stop me going too far. There were patches of shale, and of course rocks. Not to mention the prickly bushes.

I was relieved when we reached the bushline. My relief was premature. There was a long way to go down through the bush. It was steep and there was no path. I kept hoping to see the lake through the trees. When we finally reached the lake, we were some distance from the beach at the end, the spot where we were going to camp. Then we arrived at the beach! All the effort had been worthwhile! A truly delightful place to set up camp. The beach was not sand, but little bits of shale (I think) worn smooth by the water. That first day the little stones were warm and dry to sit on.

Maurice and Katie had their own tent, Paula and Marie each had her own. Bill told Margaret and me to sit on the beach while he and Steve set up a tent for us. Which we had not carried! Margaret had hoped we could have the tent at the edge of the beach, but Bill said if the wind rose, that would be unpleasant. Indeed, one night there was a terrific wind. Amongst the beech trees we were not far from the lake anyway, and a little farther in was a clearing where Bill and Steve built, or rebuilt, a great fireplace. Margaret and I did what we were told, and when our tent was pitched, made ourselves at home in it.

Bill and Steve rigged up a large piece of material for a camp kitchen. When at the end of our stay Bill came to take down the contraption, he had a hard time reaching the knots tied by the tall Steve. Bill and Paula cooked our dinner. We came and sat near the campfire to eat it. We were at home. For me it was reminiscent of other days. I could easily imagine those beech trees were maples, the beach was sand, and would not have been surprised to hear a counterfeit loon on the lake!

Saturday 18th February
Contrary to my usual practice when on holiday, I made the sketchiest of notes on this trip. This day was the sketchiest of all. I wrote, “Sat 18. Walk to Ruby Lake. Hard.”

Not so hard really with just a day-pack to carry. We walked through the bush on the north side of the lake, which was easier going than the way we had come in the previous day, though that was the side of the valley we had to climb eventually. We passed another pleasant campsite before breaking out into the open. Then we walked up the valley. At first we kept to the hillside, then we had to cross what would have been a swampy place on the valley floor had it not been so dry at this time. There were a few unseen mud holes to dampen our boots, but nothing treacherous.

We went up a hill through a band of the inevitable growth of low shrubs, including spear-grass, the unpopular 'Wild Spaniard'. An impossible thing happened here. Bill put down his glasses when he stopped for something. Perhaps some 30 metres farther up the hill, he missed his glasses. These were the same glasses that he had accidentally broken at our picnic on Greenhill. Maryann had asked him then how he could do a thing like that. “Quite easily” he had replied. That evening Maryann had mended them. Now I thought he had lost them after all that effort, but somebody, I think Marie, knew exactly where he had stopped and put them down. The needle in the haystack!

We got to the top of the hill. Now we had to go down into the basin that held Ruby Lake. Much slithering and sliding. It was steeper than yesterday's descent. Without my pack I did not mind, and I was really getting the hang of this bum-sliding, though I did worry for the seat of my pants. The fly in the ointment was the knowledge we would have to get back up that ridge! Ruby Lake was even more lovely than Lily, or seemed so because the memory of Lily was now a day old. Ruby Lake lay at the foot of Mt Benson, down which Bill had had his unfortunate slide. We had a drink out of the lake, we had another enjoyable picnic, and Paula had another swim.

Margaret has an aversion to going uphill straight after lunch. There was not actually much choice here. The first part of the hill was not bad. There were tarns to stop and look at. We temporarily named the tarns after the ladies of the company. The scramble up to the top was not bad either, there being little of the vegetation Bill calls “rubbish” on this slope. It was windy on top. We were on the Iron range. From there we were looking down into the Upper Cobb Valley. Unfortunately it was too cold to sit long and admire the view.

A decision had to be made as to where we would descend to return to Diamond Lake. Probably due to the cold wind, the consensus was, the sooner the better. So it was along the ridge for a while, then down between large rocks to the 'rubbish'. There was one place that was a miniature scree. I could not resist going down that way. I was not bold enough to scree jump as in days of yore, but I sat down and slid, rather to the astonishment of the onlookers. They told me that I had a renewal of life after that, because I was able to keep up with the leaders for some time. At one point, Bill looked around at the straggling line of his clients coming down the hill, and not seeing me as usual at the tail end, asked, “Where's Rosemary”? Right behind you! Needless to say, the spurt of energy did not last all the way home. Especially the last kilometre or so along the uneven valley floor was a drag. It was good to get back across the outlet of the lake to our home under the trees.

Sunday 19th February
Steve left us this morning, his duty of carrying the supplies done. Even if Paula carried much of the kitchen stuff, there were still two tents for Bill to carry, and he was not supposed to carry heavy loads anymore. Actually I do not know how he and Paula divided the load. I only know they both were carrying large packs. Margaret and I had only been given our sleeping pads to carry. Margaret carried them both, as she had room inside her pack for them.

Today we went to Lake Lockett – without those heavy packs. Lake Lockett I had seen 23 year ago from the ridge near Iron Lake. It had enticed me then, when I had glimpsed it through a window in the clouds. I had no thought that I would ever get there, it being off the beaten track. Indeed, off any track. Bill said that from Diamond Lake it was an easy walk, “just around the corner”. I was sceptical, but it was an easy walk, not far, and most pleasant.

We crossed lake outlet again, and went off into the beech forest, which was more open here. There were large rocks, mossy rocks, ferny glades, a few open spaces, many enchanted places. Bill was teaching Paula to find our position via GPS, so we had some stops while they found out just where we were. It did not take long to come to an open area beyond and above which lay the lake. With all our stops en route, when we got there it was lunch time. Paula had brought the makings as usual, and set them out temptingly, as usual. Both Paula and Maurice swam this time. Paula as usual chose some secluded bay out of sight, but Maurice entered the water in full view. All I did was bathe my feet.

We stayed there for some time. It was a beautiful lake in the sunshine. I took many photographs. Then we left to walk up through the woods, the first part of the climb to Mt Lockett. The part after that was not so pleasant, especially for Margaret who had had the unfortunate experience of sliding down, unintentionally, on mountain screes. We scrambled up the slippery stuff. There was a path of sorts, which was a little help with our footing, but it was intermittent. It was good to get on the short grass at the top of the slope, near the first of the small 'peaks' enclosing the lake.

As we came down other side of this minor peak, I was for some reason in the lead. When the others stopped to look at something I did not take the trouble to turn back. Bill, as he turned to return to them, said to me, go ahead and gaze at Mt Snowden. I went ahead out of their sight and gazed at Mt Snowden. I also gazed at the gathering clouds and was a bit apprehensive. It seemed I was all alone between mountain and sky, both looking a bit threatening. It also seemed a long time before the others appeared over the ridge that had hidden them from me. After that we crossed along a wide lonesome saddle above the lake, and on up to the summit of Mt Lockett, identifiable on arrival only by a cairn.

It was a good day. I had not only been to Lockett Lake, I had been up Mt Lockett, which I had not thought to do. Desiring to get down before the clouds, Bill tried a more or less direct way down to Diamond Lake that we could see below us. He had not been that way before, and went ahead at every stage to make sure it was possible. A couple of times he turned back, and I hoped we would not have to go all the way back up the mountain and come down a more conventional way.

We did not. It was not easy, but it was great fun coming down. There were rocks to scramble down and between, and shaly places to be careful in. There were many small pieces shale with patterns seemingly etched into them, which we assumed was lichen. There were a few bushes to hang on to, and there was grass to slide down – carefully! Also the Spaniard to avoid. We came back to camp.

That evening we had a bit of excitement when a weka took off with one of Maurice's boots. Katie was watching it the whole time, and made no attempt to stop it, and eventually most of us were watching. How far the bird would have taken the big prize we do not know, for it became all too aware of us and scampered away. Next I heard it was trying to take off with somebody's T-shirt.

It was our last night around the campfire, and some people told a story or two. Maurice and Katie had sailed a yacht about the world at intervals over 40 years. I do not mean they went directly round the world, but had surely sailed many seas. Based then in Canada, they would work for a while and then go off to sea. Maurice was an Invercargill man, and Katie was from London. Maurice was a school teacher. Margaret found out that he had taught English to the Inuit. Just as Jim McDiarmid had done! They had many tales to tell.

Monday 20th February
We struck camp and left at 8.30. We climbed back through the trackless woods and up a little ridge. The original plan had been to continue up the Iron Ridge, walk along it and descend to Iron Lake, thence to the Sylvester Lakes, to made it a trip of the seven lakes. However, clouds still hugged the heights, so we went out the way we had come in, except we did make the side-trip to Lake Lily. We could follow our own markers down into the pleasant little valley. I found it hard going climbing up the other side, but with many rests, reached the top of the ridge. Then we had to decide whether to go to Iron Lake from there. Some would. Some would not. The weather made the decision. No one did. But from here we could see the other lakes, and I at least had been to them before, so I could say I had done the seven lakes. I do not think I ever drank out of the Sylvester lakes though!

We had our last lunch there looking down to Sylvester Hut, or alternatively back across the valley to Lockett Lake. Then it was an easy stroll down to the hut, across the beautiful 'meadows' of gentian and eyebright and tussock. At the hut we had a drink, then it was down the long track to the Cobb valley. Margaret and I found the last stretch, the track alongside the Cobb Reservoir, tiring and endless. Margaret's back was aching. Even at the end she could not lie down and to ease it because that was where the rest of the party caught up with us and we had to walk to the cars at the gardens.

Titch Klements was there with a second car, and we drove back to Motueka. We had a final gathering at Bill and Maryann's place to say goodbye to Maryann. I was surprised to find they lived on Talbot street where Margaret and I had wandered looking for the carving in the Family Service Centre when doing the Art Walk of Motueka between trips. Then Bill drove four of us to the Hat Trick, where we unloaded our gear and said our goodbyes. Maurice and Katie crossed the road to the bus stop, and Margaret and I returned to our room. Later we went out looking for a place to have fish and chips and found a nice clean café run by friendly helpful Asians. We had a good meal.

Tuesday 21st February
Maryann had got us bus tickets on the 8am bus to the airport. We were the only passengers on the Ray was waiting for us at Hamilton airport. We had lunch at Subway in Te Awamutu, then called at Ray's favourite second-hand book shop at Kihikihi. He and I bought a couple of books each. We bought ice-cream somethings at the dairy at Kihikihi and then came on home. We had enjoyed another good holiday in Kahurangi.