Waiopehu Hut to Nichols Hut aka Te Araroa LASH Day 2

2193 meters of elevation gain. 2076 meters of elevation difference. 19 of the hardest kilometers of Te Araroa.

Now I know there will be some people reading this who will use larger numbers for elevation and smaller numbers for distance, so here’s the conversion.

7195 feet of elevation gain. 6811 feet of elevation loss. 12 of the toughest miles on Te Araroa.

To be honest, it doesn’t matter how you measure it. Today was brutal. Final point.

I woke up at 6am to the sound of strong winds whistling around the cabin. This was not encouraging as much of today was well above the tree line and the Tararuas are famous for being one of the windiest places on the planet.

So I did what any sensible person would do. I turned around and pretended I wouldn’t be hiking today. After another thirty minutes, I put aside this delicious fantasy and stood up.

I had breakfast, packed and at the last minute put on my wet clothes, put on my soaked slippers, said a silent goodbye as most of the thrus were still fast asleep and walked out the cabin door at 7am.

Gear failure

The day started with a steep climb through the infamous Tararua mud. The wind was not as strong as it had sounded in the cabin, and the occasional gust gave me a boost that continually reminded me that nature is firmly in charge today.

About two kilometers from my left pole I decided that some of them would like to stay on the mountain. This was disappointing for a couple of reasons. The first was that the pole had been very useful in helping me stay upright while struggling in the muddy conditions. The second was that the pole was an integral part of my shelter, since I have a tent with trekking poles.

Still, with very few options at the top of the range, I moved forward with the 83% of the poles I had left the cabin with.

After a couple of hours I looked back at where the day had started. The weather was decidedly normal. In a way it really added to the overall vibe and in a way I just wanted to be drier.

I arrived at the first cabin I would pass on today’s tour around 10am. I took a short break and chatted with a hiker for a few minutes. I had covered about four miles through a lot of mud and it was great to take a breather before the next assault on my body parts.

to the tops

The next section was a very steep climb up to the main ridge. This meant leaving the few bushes and small trees I had enjoyed until now and climbing to the top of one of the windiest places on the planet.

The conditions when I reached the top were… bad. The wind was whipping hard, visibility was poor, and the mud that one would assume would have been relegated to the tree line was as sticky as ever.

There is nothing left but to bite and move on. Other than the hiker he had seen at the cabin, there were no other signs of life. At the next intersection they welcomed me with this cheerful sign.

I’m not sure there’s a more deflating feeling than having walked for five hours to cover seven kilometers and being told you have another seven or eight hours to go. The Department of Conservation (DoC) does not indicate distances on signage here as it misleads many hikers into believing they will be able to reach the hut easily. I may have mentioned it before… brutal.

On a more positive note, the weather started to change around midday. I got a glimpse of the views this mountain range is famous for. What I couldn’t see was anywhere to stop for lunch, and my body began to politely suggest that it wanted to be fed. Since the wind was still howling and there was nowhere to hide and make lunch, I swapped lunch for my snack and ate a protein bar as I walked closer and closer to the next cabin.

Dracophyllum Cottage

Hut names like Dracophyllum tell you that Kiwis have a great sense of the absurd when they’re in the backcountry. The night before, many of the foreign hikers struggled with various pronunciations of the multisyllabic nightmare. They asked me for my expert opinion on the Antipodes and I was happy to tell them that their guesses were as good as mine.

However you pronounce it, when I stumbled upon this two-berth bivouac mid-afternoon, I was very happy to see a bench where I could park myself and prepare a very late lunch.

After shoveling a big dollop of peanut butter spread on some tortillas and washing it down with a protein drink, I felt…exhausted. I know I should say it gave me a second wind and I was ready to tear up the last section of the trail. It would be a lie. The temptation to simply collapse into one of the bivouac bunks was overwhelming.

The final push

After a good chat with myself (I hadn’t seen anyone else yet) I decided I had enough in the tank to get to Nichols. I returned to the track and began what could only be described as hell on earth.

The track became a sort of torture chamber roller coaster. You would literally go up a small steep hill, go straight back to the same height you were before the hill, and be faced with another small hill of the same approximate size and shape.

I could tell you I counted all these mounds, but I’d be lying. What I did do was stop looking ahead so as not to see each hill appear before me. I focused on my feet and figured this disaster of a section must end soon.

After a couple more hours, he did. The last kilometers of the day were spent walking through one of the most extraordinary forests you have ever seen.

I called it the Goblin Forest. Gnarled branches covered in vibrant green moss crossed the path that had thankfully become flat. As tired as I was, I couldn’t help but be in awe of this incredible place.

Of course, there was a steep climb to the top before descending to Nichols’ cabin. The wind was really dying down and I was delighted to arrive at the cabin just eleven hours after it had started.

It easily ranks in my top ten toughest days I’ve had on a trail anywhere in the world.

clock cabin

With the stick broken and the wind howling, I decided to stay in the cabin. The disheveled hikers continued to appear at regular intervals for the next two hours, and the eight-bed cabin had fourteen occupants when the day was over. This made for some tight sleeping arrangements. I’m sure not a single person in the cabin cared as we had all walked a very hard day and were happy to be inside and not move.

After a chat and some food, midnight arrived and I don’t think anyone had trouble falling asleep.

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