Family Trek to the Travers & Sabine

Machine-read text (unproofread)

Read from the scans by software, so it contains mistakes. Typing it up properly would help blind readers: use Suggest an edit.

Family Trek to the Travers & Sabine Peter Aitken The Wellington ferry terminal was busy. It was lower Travers River that night for trout, but had the height ofthe holiday season and full of people no luck. Next morning I went on a short walk looking for friends and baggage. Our party for around the lake and saw eight or nine trout but this trip was most of our family, my parents, they still proved to be difficult to catch. younger brother Andrew and myself. We finally Eventually I prodded them with the tip of my rod found our way aboard the ferry and found seats and watched them speed off into the depths. in a little corner. It didn't take long for Andrew and I to locate the video parlor, shop and That morning we headed up the Travers Valley on cafeteria and spend our money, so the rest of the a clear track that sparkled from yesterday's rain. ferry trip was spent reading and dozing until we We walked for about four hours, enjoying the fine entered the Sounds. Then we went out on deck weather, looking for trout and stopping for to enjoy the view as the ferry cut its way through lunches and sunbathes in the many grassy spots the narrower stretches of water, with the hills we found by the river. raising up on each side and little beach houses invitingly nestled down by the waters edge. Mum and Dad stopped and stayed the night just off the track with the sandflies. The younger On arrival at Picton our luggage was hastily Aitkens carried on up to John Tait Hut after tea. tossed off the trucks. We hurried over and We walked and walked and it got darker and collected our packs and found the waiting bus darker, but we finally approached the most which would take us to the small town of St. comfortable looking hut we'd seen and bunked Arnaud in the Nelson Lakes area. From St. down. This hut was spacious and well organised, Arnaud we would start our tramping trip, which with room for 24 or so, well sited for both sun would take us up the Travers Valley and back and view. down the Sabine River. Next morning we had breakfast, then packed up. It was a hot ride to St. Arnaud through long Eventually Mum and Dad arrived but wanted a dusty valleys, but a shower of rain and ominous "brew" before carrying on, so reluctantly I looking clouds starting to bring doubts into my unpacked my pack to get the billy and primus mind as to whether it would clear sufficiently to out again. It was a good spot to sit and wait and go over the Travers Saddle in a few days time. interesting to talk to the other people. At St. Arnaud we visited the Ranger Station and From the John Tait Hut the track became spent some time studying the interesting displays steeper, but it was a good day and the track was of the area's history, geology and geography. still in excellent condition. Sweating a lot I Then it was time to check our reservations with gained enough height and stopped on a warm the water taxis for Lake Rotoiti and Lake Rotoroa sunny slope for lunch. I looked around to see if and the mini bus which would collect us from any chamois or red deer could be seen, but it Lake Rotoroa and return us to St. Arnaud. seemed as if I was the only one alive in the quiet Finally we confirmed our plans with the ranger valley. Refreshed by my lunch I carried on up to and set off in the rain towards the jetty at the the hut. edge of Lake Rotoiti where we were expected. Just below the hut an enormous avalanche of ice When we arrived at the jetty a fisherman was and rocks had come down wiping out a lot of loading up his boat, so we waited around in the trees and scrub in its path. The scenery was drizzle for a couple of minutes, then the marvellous, pure exhilaration raced through me fisherman came back and told us that he was the as I reached the flat area before the hut. It was water taxi we had been waiting for. The packs amazing the height of the majestic peaks were loaded into the boat and we sped off. After a surrounding the tiny valley, with the hut nestled bouncy trip up the lake we arrived at a small hut in it. by the beach and found that we had company, a middle aged tramper and his marauding band of The rest of my family caught up and Andrew and mozzies. He was a quiet fellow, well used to the I moved into the hut for the night while Mum and hills and seemed undisturbed by his flying Dad opted to camp out by a stream under some friends. The hut was quite small, just 8 bunks, beech trees, as there were several good sites with with a verandah and built-in fireplace, spectacular views. Once again the hut was very surrounded by a brick wall. Very friendly for roomy and comfortable, divided into two quite sitting in and watching the lake, while the rain separate bunk and living rooms. pattered down on the roof. The next day was a rest day, so I chopped wood Andrew and I tried fishing both the lake and the and generally lazed around while the others n - - walked up to the saddle to see what they would By early morning the weather cleared and the be faced with the following day. The general river was dropping quickly, so off we went opinion on their return was that it wouldn't be towards Lake Rotoiti. Now the track was very too bad as long as we left before the sun was too easy, gently winding down through the forest, so high in the sky. Andrew and I left Mum and Dad to wander out with some new acquaintances from Stewart The next day was the hardest. It was quite a pull Island and we hurried down to get in some extra up onto the saddle with our packs, but well worth fishing. the view when we arrived. All around us, below and above us, were mountain peaks, some topped At the jetty on the edge of Lake Rotoroa we tried with snow. Then down, down far below was the again to lure those evasive trout onto our lines, Sabine valley. It was straight down to the river, but they seemed to be a particularly experienced watching our step all the way on the loose scree, and wily breed of trout. However, it was good and dodging flying keas who seemed to resent our just being there, relaxing in the sun, enjoying the interruption of their peace and quiet. By lunch sight of the lake rippling in the breeze and our time we were pleased to be in the bush on an lack of success with the trout didn't seem to easier track, able to relax and enjoy the beech matter too much. forest and a picnic by the Sabine River. We felt we'd earned a rest. Soon after Mum and Dad arrived we heard the water taxi zooming across the lake. Once more After lunch we carried on down the track by the we loaded up the boat and headed this time down Sabine River, which was easy going, yet Lake Rotoroa, bouncing along and thoroughly interesting. Part way down, the Sabine River enjoying the breeze and the spray. The mini bus disappears into a narrow gulch, not very wide but picked us up as planned and returned us to St. very deep and quite awesome to cross on the Arnaud, where we collected some gear we'd left narrow wooden bridge. with the ranger, and strolled round to our camp site at West Arm Bay, Lake Rotoiti. We had a choice of accommodation that night, the Sabine Hut or the Sabine Forks Hut, both It had been a good trip and we all relaxed feeling very comfortable and well cared for, and just ten very pleased with what we had accomplished. We minutes apart. That night it rained sufficiently had seen some beautiful scenery, met some very for us to decide another rest day was in order. To interesting people, and felt much fitter than when fill in the day I went fishing in the now turbulent we started. It was with much satisfaction that we river while everyone else, including some visiting set about organising our new camp. Australians, slept, read or played cards. A dedication to all the Club's Fishers: Down by the Pond I'm fishing Don't talk, anybody, don't come near! Can't you see that the bish might hear? He thinks I'm playing with a piece of string; He thinks I'm another sort ob funny sort of thing, But he doesn't know I'm fishing - He doesn't know I'm bishing That's what I'm doing - Fishing. A.A.Milne