The coldest, uninsulated hut in the Nelson/Tasman region?
Midwinter. Just after the shortest day.
Why not head up to find the coldest, uninsulated hut in Nelson Lakes National Park? I might not have quite hit that mark, but nevertheless thought I might have overachieved.
That meant heading into the most remote area of Nelson Lakes, with a five-hour hike to the first hut. Knowing that it would take me longer, I left with plenty of time, but the track is now overgrown in places, and at 5 pm, I was still 1.5 hours from my intended destination, a 1905-built old musterers’ hut, Downie Hut. The sun at that time set at 5 30 pm, but just on dark, I found the Matakitaki River I was following had changed its course, and the track had been washed away. Cliffs needed to be climbed, or rather, I crossed the thigh-deep river and marched up the wide river flats in the dark, and then needed to cross back. I’ve been to Downie Hut many times, but it still took me three more hours. I ate a quick hot meal in my sleeping bag. A serious frost in the morning.
I found my ageing body wouldn’t respond to my brain’s hopeful signals to do another eight-hour day. Instead, I stayed a day to recover, then heavy rain came down for 36 hours. Snow fell to just 400 m above in the hills. That meant I spent four nights there, then two nights further up the valley before returning.
I’ve visited Bobs Hut five times before over the years. The first was when I was 22 with my brother Peter and a friend Jo. On subsequent visits, I went alone. It’s a familiar place, which means I feel completely at home. My mind stills, and I feel at peace. There was nowhere I’d rather be at that time.
It was cold, -8°C overnight, with my socks, boots, and some water in a pot freezing. I slept with six layers of wool clothing under my raincoat to try and keep warm. The open chimney aided ventilation.
Here’s the thing. I recognise that on occasion it’s good to do hard things. It makes me appreciate the life I have. Eight days without internet or cell phone connectivity is a digital detox, although I did listen to an audiobook and the latest Boards of Canada album. Auditory, not visually intrusive ways of spending time.
The surrounding mountains provided the visuals. I spent much of the time collecting firewood and cutting it up with my folding saw, and wandering close to the huts.
I’m not always fixed on the repetition of previous mountain Little Adventures. This time, it was the first time I’d returned in eight years. I’m not trying to relive past glories. The familiar terrain just gave me one less thing to need to think about.
On the other hand, I’m not planning to go back, even at a different time of year.
There are still another 300 DOC huts to explore.