Kepler Track

Good things come to those who wait. Well, we waited three years due to the manufactured COVID pandemic and finally found ourselves flying to New Zealand.

Aida, Art, Quan, Jasmin, Jen, Lilyn and myself boarded the Hawaiian flight to Auckland where apparently the cabin lights were so bright, they gotta wear shades.

We arrived at the largest and busiest airport in New Zealand after being bottled up for over eight hours in the air, passed through immigration control and some of us got two boxes of covid tests, a leftover legacy perhaps from what was once the toughest COVID rules in the world. Even stricter than Hawaii, if one can believe that.

The courtesy shuttle dropped us off at our lodgings for the night, the only time where we came into contact with the endemic flightless birds that are icons of their country. Yes, stuffed toys count.

We got a rude awakening the next morning in the form of texts and emails announcing that our Jetstar flight to Queenstown had been cancelled. A muddled meeting of the minds resulted in us booking an Air New Zealand flight to South Island. We paid for our continental breakfast where you say aroha, I say aloha.

Flying over the cloud and snow capped mountain range on our two hour flight.

Picking up our checked bags. Anybody missing anything? Like batteries?

We caught a taxi to our hostel to drop off our bags and walked around town where the changing colors of the leaves announced fall was in season in this neck of the woods.

The idea that toilets flush clockwise below the equator may be dubious, but elevator service still goes up, no matter the location.

We purchased food, clothes and stuff and grabbed our bunks back at the hostel, where I was graciously given the top bunk by King Arthur. The generosity of this man knows no bounds. Who is Arleen?

Going to dinner at Captains where we skipped the chocolate and culture shock was real in the form of no soda refills and no ice in the water. Spoiled Americans. What was for dinner? Lamb of course. Some of us had to make a late run to the drug store for replacement batteries. The price of stupidity.

Woke up early the next morning to grab some drinks, pastries and meat pies at the local bakery before boarding our bus to the trailhead.

On the two-hour plus bus ride as we passed by bodies of water, mountains and seemingly the three main livestock of the country – cows, deer and sheep.

Where’s the bus? Quan and I dropped off the groups extra baggage at the holding area and our bus driver, Nigel left us high and dry and took my cold carbonated beverage with him. No tip. Oh wait, they don’t tip in this country.

Day 1 – April 4, 2023
Eventually, another bus driver picked us up and deposited the collective group at the trailhead. This awe-inspiring track was designed to show one all the best features of Fiordland – mountains, native forest, waterfalls and glacier-carved valleys. Something for everybody.

We sprayed and slathered on insect repellant to ward off the dreaded sandflies that we had heard so much about before we pushed off on the trail. It would turn out that the bark was worse than the bite.

Hiking through the red beech forest and tree ferns on the well-maintained trail.

We passed the beach and picnic area and left it to all the sandflies.

Stream and shadow reflections.

A park volunteer demonstrating and explaining how the trap works, one of over 385 sprinkled on the trail. It captures rats and stoats (same family as weasels and ferrets) that threaten the endemic bird population.

Crossing over our second bridge that pass over streams flowing down from the mountains.

Taking our lunch break near the campsite that is popular in the summer with boaters, jet skiers, hikers and picnickers. Let’s not forget the sandflies.

Your time will vary depending on pace and the amount of pictures taken.

What’s a hike without a little mud on the trail?

Barking up the wrong tree.

Switch backing our way up as we started to gain elevation.

Look! Up at the limestone bluffs! Look! Your sunglasses fell off your cap!

Recovery successful. Thanks in no part to a forgetful one.

Art climbing the stairs that hugged and contoured the cliff.

Almost there!

We broke out of the tree line and had sweeping views of Te Anau basin and the surrounding mountains from the ridge.

Wind blown “art.”

Walking across the boggy area on a boardwalk.

Our home for the night.

Kia ora!

We signed and claimed 6 of the 58 bunks available in the hut. Good to arrive early, as nearly all the lower bunks were already taken. That left us with the top bunks.

Aida and Art decided to keep the bunks warm, so the rest of went off to explore the local caves in the area.

This was not the “cave.”

Inside looking out.

Descending down into the extensive cave system, one of 30 in the area.

Trickling water impeded further exploration into the cave.

Leaving the cave without having seen any stalactites and stalagmites. The formers grows down from the ceiling while the latter grows up from the floor.

These alpine parrots that are called Kea are known to be smart and very curious. We saw them trying to steal a towel, chew on sneakers and attempt to peck at our backpacks. I have also heard stories about how these “mountain clowns” have absconded off with gopro cameras, passports and other items left unattended. These endemic birds to South Island were once hunted by sheep farmers until a 1986 law granted them absolute protection.

Cooking with a view.

Doing the conversion math for the last holdouts in the civilized world. 105 km/hr winds converts to 65mph winds. -1 c wind chill converts to 30 deg wind chill. 10-30 mm/hr rain converts to .39/1.18 inches/hr of rain. The park ranger suggested we all leave early tomorrow to avoid the brunt of the thunderstorm that was forecasted to sweep the area. Duly noted.

Good night from our hut perched at 3,559′ elevation.

Day 2
Some of us woke up the next morning to a bad hair day.

Grabbing breakfast before the coming storm.

Photobombers.

Pushing off on the trail. We were all buttoned up from head to toe. Bring on the thunderstorms.

Leaving our warm hut behind as we trudged into the exposed elements.

Catching the breaking sunrise from our rocky perch.

Gaining elevation as the sun outpaced our climb.

The last known stable footing of Jen on the rock.

Strong winds pushed her off the rock, luckily it was just a short drop.

I left my heart in Luxmore Summit, along with the rock.

Contouring our way around the mountains.

The alpine parrot pecking away at berries in the bushes. They have built in insulation.

Switch backing our way down to the first of two shelters on the trail.

Seeking temporary shelter from the bone chilling winds.

It’s hard to say goodbye.

Crossing the saddle.

Framed correctly, others take note.

Different angle. Different perspective.

Walking on the short stretch of narrow ridge line.

Zig zagging our way up the next hill.

The sunbeams poked through the clouds spotlighting the lake and green and charcoal colored mountains.

Dropping into our last shelter before the hut.

Another break from the biting cold.

Back outside.

Going slow and steady down the steps, while the winds did not reach the promised 65mph, it was still gusty enough to knock one off balance.

We experienced a few scattered rain sprinkles and was rewarded with a rainbow. Thankfully, the forecasted thunderstorms was a no-show.

Jen going down the last section of steps.

Looking back at the set of stairs that we had just descended down from the hill.

Leaving the ridge line behind us as we descended down the 98 switch backs.

Who’s counting?

Getting off the ridge meant relief from the icy winds.

Dropping down to the valley floor as we walked alongside a river.

Bridge crossing with a waterfall.

Another bridge crossing with a waterfall.

Upside down waterfall.

We soon arrived at the hut in a tussock (grassy) clearing in the valley. Clouds of sand flies outside erased any desire to visit the nearby Iris Burn Waterfall. Besides, we saw enough waterfalls coming down from the ridge line.

This is what $102/night gets you. Possibility of bed bugs. Somebody will grab your bunk despite claiming it. Where is that loud voice when you need it?

Thumbs up doesn’t mean hitch hiking. What it does mean is that the park ranger, Nayte, had to be choppered out due to coming down with a case of COVID.

His replacement, Scotty, was plucked 30 minutes ago to be the conservation ranger. Who’s giving who the updates? Let’s retire early.

Day 3
Dental hygiene is the most important part of the day, besides breakfast.

Starting off on the trail that we were told was all about forest and ferns. They left out the mushrooms.

Bridge crossing. A constant on the trail.

Low clearance.

Entering the area that was created from a huge landslide that cleaned out the area.

Looking at another waterfall in the distance.

Avoiding the mud pits as best as we could.

Leaving the mud behind us.

Group photo on the Droopy Eye Bridge.

Scrambling down a section of rocks.

High clearance.

A moment of confusion. Go to the bathroom? Go to the shelter?

Art crying wolf or mocking the sandflies. Not sure which.

The Pepsi Challenge. Drink the water straight from the drink. No takers.

Some developed an unhealthy obsession with mushrooms on the trail, bordering on OCD.

Valley of the ferns.

Going up another slight hill.

Eating the apple to the core. It’s not for everybody. Even slathered with peanut butter.

A South Island robin or Kakaruwai kept us company at our rest stop, flitting through the trees and the ground.

Going down another series of switch backs.

A man and his shadow in the forest.

Mushroom overload.

Some of us spent 30 minutes that they will never get back trying to patiently record what they thought was the Takahe, a flightless bird that was thought to have been hunted to extinction by the Maori and Europeans until it was rediscovered in 1948. Turned out to be a woodland pigeon. Wait, how can a flightless bird get up in a tree?

Random stop at the hollowed out tree stumps that were made for posing.

We followed the lakeshore around Shallow Bay to arrive at our last hut on the track.

We had a lot of time to kill after we signed in and grabbed our bunks. Played Uno. Ate a late lunch or early dinner. Somebody said bonjour, he heard bone jaw. Just give us your Tim Tams. Tried to put a jigsaw puzzle together in an hour. Mission Impossible. Listened to the hut talk which was chock full of regional information.

Day 4

Woke up to a cold snap and caught the moon rise over Lake Manapouri.

Group photo at the last hut before embarking on our shortest hike of the trail.

Never mind the sandflies. Photo on the beach with the morning clouds smudging the mountain views.

Somebody assumed the fetal position. It was bone chilling cold. The coldest day on the trail.

The sun filtering through the forest and taking its sweet time to warm up the air temperature.

Crunching the morning frost on the boardwalk.

Viewing area of the lake that was accentuated by the reflective views and morning fog.

Man-made and natural fencing.

Swaying on a suspension bridge.

Forced perspective.

Looking down at Waiau River which is fed by the Te Anau basin.

Art trying to remain incognito.

Switch backing our way down through the beech forest.

Going over Waiau River which translates to river of swirling currents, is the largest river in South Island.

Our last bridge crossing on the trail.

We reached the end and waited for our 10am shuttle pick up. Glad to know that Hawaiian time knows no geographical boundaries. The shuttle driver was nice enough to drop everybody off at their final destinations, which was the rental car for us.

Our four day tramping covered 36.08 miles on one of nine Great Walks in this country. It was filled with different landscapes, fun times and good company and memories. Most importantly, we basically escaped unscathed from the biting sandflies.

Photos taken by Aida Gordon, Art Young, Jen Odence, Lilyn Avendano, Quan Haberstroh and yours truly. Not necessarily in order.

Note: I have been made aware that some hikers have been using my blog as a hiking guide and getting lost on the trails. Please note that this blog was made to document the hike for the crew(s) that did it. That is why some of my comments will seem to have no relevance or meaning to anybody outside of the crew(s) that hiked that trail. My blog was never meant as a hiking guide, so please do not treat it as such. If you find inspiration and entertainment from these hikes, that is more than enough. If you plan on replicating these hikes, do so in the knowledge that you should do your own research accordingly as trail conditions, access, legalities and so forth are constantly in flux. What was current today is most likely yesterdays news. Please be prepared to accept any risks and responsibilities on your own as you should know your own limitations, experience and abilities before you even set foot on a trail, as even the “simplest” or “easiest” of trails can present potential pitfalls for even the most “experienced” hikers. One should also always let somebody know of your hiking plans in case something doesn’t go as planned, better safe than sorry.

Tagged as: big slip, brod bay, control gates, dock bay, forest burn shelter, hanging valley shelter, iris burn hut, kea, kepler track, lake manapouri, luxmore cave, luxmore hut, moturau hut, rainbow reach, rocky point shelter, shallow bay, spirit lake, te anau