Monday we were hit with a big snowstorm but today the sun was shinning brightly. I rustled up the boys and we hiked out to Castle rock. A superb day.
On the walk back the boys were giving me the usual banter when I quickly responded, "hey I have a photo of you boys holding hands" (cleverly snapped 2 hours prior) arrrh the silence was instantaneous. Heavenly.
But I can't resist boys - here's one for the daily mockery of my kiwi accent. So to the delight and laughter of blog readers - here's some Dave, Heath, Dave 'MANLOVE' (payback is a beautiful thing)
Another highlight today was that I was given a really cool tee to say thanks for my volunteering. It has a newspaper cutting print on the back which was the actual advertisement used by shackleton to gather crew for his expedition. Super superb.
During the evening I went to see my friend Talle speak at her travelogue run in the galley. She's a really keen solo tramper. Talle's spent a lot of time tramping hardcore backcountry tracks in New Zealand, visiting places that even many guru trampers and hunters are scared of. She often tramps in areas that don't have marked trails. She just packs her bag, talks to DOC, hires an emergency locator beacon, grabs her topo then heads into the bush. I remember sitting down with Talle near the start of the season and she showed me some absolutely amazing photos of her adventures throughout New Zealand's wildlands. She's been to some spectacular places.
Talle shared an incredible story with us last night. You know one where you raise your eyebrows, enlarge your eyes, and are left with your mouth wide open.
One day she whilst hiking in Kahurangi National Park, the weather suddenly turned and she became stuck in a severe storm. She came upon a section where two rivers crossed. As an experienced tramper she knew this is how many trampers die in the bush; from crossing flooded rivers. She had been in a torrential downpour for many hours. She couldn't get a fire started, as the fuel was soaked through. Unable to change clothes since her other clothes were damp (she was on day 9 of a hike) she reached for her sleeping bag to which she heartbreakingly discovered was wet through. To keep herself warm she built a step out of large stones and for 45 minutes at a time stepped up and down. Up, down, Up, down. She'd rest until she began feeling cold again then stood up and repeated the process. Around nightfall the river level had lowered enough for a safe crossing. She continued hiking all through the night, (remember this is unmarked/untrailed territory), until she reached the hut 8 hours later.
Now would be a good time to tell you that Talle is 63 years old.
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