Day 64: Waitewaewae Hut to Parawai Hut

Distance Covered: 11 km

The short and simple of it is that we could have drowned today. We came very, very close to it. My family will attest to the (many) stupid things I’ve done where I’ve come close to ending things (in the name of science!). Today was probably the closest I’ve ever come, though.

At 6 AM, the rain that had been falling steadily all night with little wind stopped. We woke up and were getting ready to get up when the rain started up a few minutes later. This must be the “periods of rain” we were told about, we thought. We didn’t want to collapse the tent in the rain if we could help it, so we hung out in it, waiting for another break. Except it didn’t happen. We packed, ate breakfast, and waited. At about 8 or so we gave up, dragged our tent to the hut porch and collapsed it there.

In the meantime, an older couple had hiked out. They recommended the shortcut that involved fording the river and going upstream in a little creek. They said they hiked this all the time and, as long as we got out before the big storm hit, we would be fine. Water levels won’t rise that fast. Sounds good to us, everyone said. This is a great hut, but we don’t want to stay around in the mountains for big storms if there is a way out. We’ve hiked in lots of (much worse) rain on this trip, so it was no big deal to hike 10 km in this stuff. Especially when the trail is supposed to be such high quality.

Three other people left before us: a small Japanese woman hiking the Te Araroa and a local couple (her first hiking experience!). We talked more with the Storm Girls and headed out around 9, ready to get soaked. Their plan was to hit the trail a little bit after us.

So we headed towards the "shortcut". However, the map wasn’t clear on where the shortcut started and, by the time we figured out we had probably missed it, we figured the time savings wasn’t worth it. So we went the regular route up and around a big bend in the river.

It was along this section that we came to our first creek crossing. We were surprised by how high the water was… it came up over our ankles and was moving fast.  Nothing serious, just a mental note that the rain was going to get things moving in the little gorges. Shortly after crossing, we passed the Japanese hiker. She is perhaps 5′ tall and has a huge (to us) backpack so she’s not fast (but she’s tough!).

And then we got to a bigger crossing. Now this one had our attention. It was clear a slip here would get you soaked and push you downstream a meter or two while you regained your feet. The water was up to our shins. We crossed one at a time, wading into the pools and avoiding the fastest moving water over the rocks. We decided the best thing to do would be to wait for the Japanese woman to make sure she crossed safely. She showed up a few minutes later and we pointed out the pools she could cross in. But she doesn’t speak English well and the water was loud so she did it her way. She stepped on a large rock, intending to rock hop across. I cringed deeply and put my hand on my backpack strap ready to throw it all off to jump in if she slipped. But, somehow, she made it without slipping. I don’t know what’s on the bottom of her shoes, but it must be magical. She thanked us for waiting and we smiled.

A little bit after this, we found the point where the shortcut joined the main trail. The creek we would have been “walking” up for 300 meters was a white water torrent just below the knee. It may have been possible, but the challenge would have slowed us way down, negating the time savings. Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good.

From there, Emily and I rocketed on. We passed the local couple who were tentatively going around the mud. The woman who was hiking for the first time wasn’t so sure about all of it. Splish, splash, splosh we zipped past mud up to our knees. There were a couple more creek crossings along the way too and they were getting more serious. The water levels were getting higher with each one and the rain was getting noticeably heavier. We crossed one just after a muddy campsite that had us wondering about the Japanese woman. However, she was probably an hour behind by now and there was a pool to cross in if she decided to push on.

And, other than the whole trail being a couple of inches underwater and, in places, deeply muddy, it was good trail! Well benched, clear, and wide, the trail was about as good as we’ve seen all trip. I had just said as much when we came up to a sign. It basically said the good track was closed due to a landslide, but they made a rough “tramping track” to go around all the bad parts. It asked us to go sharply left and uphill and that it would add an hour to the trail. Hmm… We knew about this from the notes, but hadn’t expected the original track to be so great and the new track to be so… bad.

So we started up it and it’s bad… it looks like someone came through with a chainsaw and pick axe and made the rawest trail that could still be a trail. Vines crossed everywhere, there were a number of technical challenges over and under and around fallen trees, and so on. Imagine picking your way through a tropical landslide and that was just about it. But the worst part is that we were no longer crossing creeks at big, flat areas in the valley; we were crossing up the hillside where it was steep. We found out this could be a big problem when we heard the roar of a creek long before we saw it.

It was deafening. We were right next to each other and had to shout. Water was gushing down the narrow gorge and disappearing downhill past low trees and big rocks. We stopped and studied it. There were several pools just after and before the waterfalls on either side. If we were careful, we could use the branches above us and the pools to cross the worst couple of meters. I said I would go first and make sure it was okay. I unbuckled everything and asked Emily to do the same and then I stepped down from the steep bank and in. Whoa, I thought, this water was moving fast. It was just up to my knee in the fastest sections, but the overhead branches were perfectly placed so things looked better than they seemed. I made it across with only minor slipping and then guided Emily across. Man, I hated watching her cross… I’d rather do it myself a hundred times.

Whew! That was crazy, we said. We even took a picture, but it just looks pretty and the danger isn’t captured at all. So onward and forward on the hack job of a trail we went. And the rain really picked up and the wind did too and it seemed that if this was “periods of rain” that the major stuff coming later was going to be wicked.

A little while later we came to a second creek and this one was worse than the last one. The water was higher (above my knees), the creek was wider, and there were fewer things to hold onto initially. For this one, we waded upstream in an eddy to get to the pools above the water rushing over the rocks. Then, about halfway across, there was a log above the water to kind of hold onto. So even though this water was more dangerous on its own, we were able to use our wits to get past it. Again, I didn’t enjoy watching Emily cross.

But we made it. No pictures this time as the adrenaline was higher and we were just glad to be past it. It should be noted that we did consider staying and waiting it out instead of crossing. However, the rain was really coming down now… big sheets of it with high winds whipping the trees up. It was clear the worst of the storm was starting several hours early. Also, we weren’t on good trail… we were on the narrow bushwhacked trail that went through steep, bush and vine covered hills. There was no place to stop. We could have tried to turn around, but that didn’t seem any better since the creeks were clearly rising and going backwards could now be much worse than going forwards. 
So we went forwards shaking our heads at both the weather forecast and the advice that the crossings shouldn’t be a problem. There was no warning about dangerous creeks in the notes, but the mountains are known for extreme weather and so we have to take quite a bit of the responsibility. It was with this hesitant mindset that we kept walking. And then we came to one more crossing and this is the one that nearly took us out.

This crossing was near to the last one, so we were trapped between two flooding creeks. Again, the roar of the water combined with the drenching rain and now strong winds made communicating difficult. We had to yell in each other’s ears with water streaming down our faces. We were so soaked that I put some of my now useless rain gear away and looked for ways to get across.

This one was different, though. The pools were upstream over a full width waterfall. There was no way to get up there because the creek was flying down a chute that was bordered on our side by solid, moss covered cliff. Downstream, the brown, sediment filled water churned over boulders to thunder down the steep hillside. If we fell in, we had the distinct impression that we probably would not make it out safely. In front of us, water was carving through the main channel about two meters wide, making it the most dangerous section. The question was how deep it was. Unfortunately for us, adding to the challenge was that there were no trees or branches nearby because of the rock wall.

I looked things over and we looked at each other. We didn’t know about this one. I grimaced and unbuckled everything, even making sure I could kick my shoes off if needed. Then I stepped into the water, just where the rock wall ended and made a little eddy. I searched for anything on the wall to grab onto, but found nothing in reach except for a little knob of a small tree trunk that was worn down. I could just get a few fingers around it. I used a trekking pole in my other hand to feel for the bottom of the creek a step in front of me. I was already knee deep and, even in the eddy, I could feel the water pushing me downstream.

I started edging towards the channel, feeling around for a safe place to put my right foot. My right hand was stretched out, holding the pole against the rocks on the bottom, trying to get leverage. It was about this time that we heard loud thunking from the creek. The water was carrying large rocks unseen under the water that were crashing into the boulders around me. It was a deep, hollow sound. Deep and loud enough that we knew there was a lot of energy in the channel where my foot was now probing. And then I felt one roll over my right foot. I had just planted it on the near inside of the channel when I heard another thunk and then felt it. I couldn’t see it, but it felt large and heavy and thought that only it’s forward momentum slightly lifted above the bed prevented more than just some pain. I decided to turn back.

But I couldn’t. The rocks were slick in the channel and my right foot kept slipping in further, while my left hand holding the knob didn’t have enough purchase to really pull. The water was near my thighs and lifting either foot meant it would be pushed backwards forcefully. There was a moment where I thought I might be in serious trouble. Emily said later that she saw that I was trying to come back and that “it was not good” and “I was not happy”, which is code words for what we were both really feeling. Fortunately for me, my right foot slipped downstream just a little bit against a large rock, which gave me the foundation to push/throw myself quickly back to the bank. If that rock had not been there, I would have been going for a swim.

Hmm… what to do? We talked it over while heavy rain kept streaming over our hair and down our faces. We could, in theory, just sit on the trail with the fly of the tent draped over us and wait it out. But the weather, as bad as it was, was forecasted to get worse and last all night. There was no way the tent could be setup without clearing a lot of downed trees… with our pocket knife. And, as said earlier, the creeks were rising so going backwards wasn’t necessarily going to work. So I decided I had to try again.

My adrenaline was pumping as I stepped into the eddy again. I searched everywhere for a handhold, but nothing was nearby. I squeezed against the rock face and took a step upstream, and then a second (the farthest I could go), figuring if I slipped I would roll my body and then lunge back to the bank. After the second step, I spotted a young sapling growing in a crack of the rock that was hidden from view until then. It was about a meter more upstream. I leaned forward against the flow and just got my fingertips around it and was able to bend it down. It was just the sturdy support we needed. It stretched to just after the central part of the channel and it held tight as I began to consider the next step. The water was over my waist and whipping my legs and feet around each time I lifted them. 

I needed to find something quickly. I found what I was looking for in a palm tree that was leaning just in reach if I lunged for it. I lept across the channel then grabbed tightly onto the narrow trunk with my right hand and then felt the whole thing crumble like wet cardboard. I immediately fell backwards and was only saved by being able to keep my left hand on the sapling. I rolled in the water then quickly got both hands on the sapling again and was able to stand up. And then, now really desperate and raw with adrenaline, just took a flailing leap for the other side. I flopped into a pool above a large rock, flipped quickly over, and grabbed at roots as my feet slid downstream. From there I was able to pull myself up. I had made it. But Emily was on the other side.

Wow, I did not want her crossing. It was so close for me that I didn’t want her to have to experience the same challenges. The sapling was still there. Then I saw that the large rock that created the pool I threw myself into had a branch above it. The rock was slippery with wet moss, but I thought I could pull the branch over with one hand and bridge the gap to the sapling with the other. I grabbed the branch, stepped onto the rock, and immediately slipped forward. I used the branch to stop myself, or tried to as it instantly snapped in half. I fell into the pool and again grasped at roots as my feet were taken downstream. Yikes.

I pulled myself back up and looked around again. Another sapling was on my bank and it wouldn’t reach as far as we’d like, but Emily would only have to take one big step across the channel and then I could grab her. We shouted loudly at each other what we were going to do. Emily is a strong person and, to be honest, we were so focused on success that we didn’t dwell on what could happen.

She stepped into the water and I was ready to jump after her at the slightest sign of trouble. But she worked it like a champ. She used the sapling, leaned into the water, stepped carefully and methodically, we made eye contact and then she put out her hand and we leaned towards each other until we could grab hands and then her arm and then all of her. I tell you, the rush of joy at being safely across that mess was intense. We kissed, just like a cheesy romance movie with rain pouring down on us and the wind blowing through our hair. It was intense.

Just then, the local couple showed up. We shouted at them to wait, we would help. We walked them through the process and I took up the same station, pulling them across when they stretched from the sapling. They experienced the same rush. It was crazy. They shouted that when they walked the trail to the hut two days ago, their feet didn’t even get wet. Nobody expected this kind of flooding, especially when the worst was (supposedly) to come.

Emily and I were ready to fly from the energy we were feeling and took off down the trail. Within just a minute, the trail became wonderful again as it rejoined the old path. There were no more creeks to cross. There were just a couple km of easy trail to get through and we would be at the hut. We were nearly giddy, although we were trying to stay grim and think through things. What about the Japanese woman? The Storm Girls? They could be one or two hours behind, or they could have turned back, or stayed at the last campsite option in front of the first bad creek. There was no way to know. We left the saplings bent down so hopefully (if they came through at all) they would have an easier time if it. Lots of questions and no easy answers.

We made it to the hut after crossing a swing bridge over the main river. We were soaked through, cold, and tired but amped. We just wanted to get out of our clothes and get warm. But the hut wasn’t empty… a couple was in there getting ready to go out hiking! Their destination was a few hours away uphill and they figured if they left now they would make it before the big rain started. We shared our experience with them and noted that the rain was heavy and the wind was whipping around already. They hesitated, but figured they would just turn around if it got too bad. Which is what we had told ourselves too, but we kept pushing the limit because it’s not too bad if you keep making it, right?

So they left, we had the hut to ourselves and we changed and got into our sleeping bags to warm up and eat. Thirty minutes or so later, the Storm Girls showed up. They were equally shaken up by the experience and everyone was talking fast sharing their stories. We found that they had crossed a creek after passing the Japanese woman and decided to stop and help her across. They made a human bridge and kept her upstream of them. At the creek just after the last campsite, they decided it was too dangerous for them to do the same thing and they had her stay at the camp. Fortunately, she has 3 days of food. Unfortunately, she has no locator beacon if she gets in trouble. But there’s hope… the couple who left the hut said that the storm is changing fast. It’s going to be bad all night, but will actually be clear tomorrow until the evening. So the water levels will hopefully fall quickly and let her get out safely. The Storm Girls will alert the Ranger tomorrow morning on their way out.

Lots of talking later, it was time for an early bed. Just as we were settling in, two women showed up. The parking lot is about a km away. They decided to come up here so they could hike to the hut we just came from tomorrow. Kind of unbelievable that it’s dumping outside with several inches of standing water on the trail and the wind is high and it’s getting dark and they decide to just walk through it so they can save themselves a km. You have to appreciate the New Zealand mentality. We shared our experiences and they think they might try it anyways, but will turn back if it gets too dangerous. Hmm… it’s like a catchphrase around here…

In spite of our challenging day, we think that if the weather is clear that we will push on tomorrow. It’s a ridge walk over a peak and then a long road walk. There are no gorges to get trapped in and we are impervious to the influences of mud at this point. We’ll see… we can always turn back if it gets too dangerous…

Note: Emily asked me to add that what we did was dangerous and everything they tell you not to do. She says you should never, ever, ever be dumb like us.