Northwest Circuit on Stewart Island

[The start of the northwest circuit trail]

Hello all, I'm writing to you now from the comforts of my own home in Chicago (well, from the living room at home, then from lunch break at work, then from my desk... this post came together in parts). But what I want to depict is a world away. When I last wrote, I was still on Earth's southern most continent. While it is cold and isolated working down south, a huge perk (as if I need additional perks to going to Antarctica!) is that you travel through New Zealand on the way there and back. It is almost *expected* that you take a vacation on your return. I certainly wouldn't want to be the exception to this rule!

My original intent was to climb as much as possible. To this end I had two suitcases full of climbing gear in addition to my other suitcase with things I actually needed for Pole: a full trad rack including some pitons, a single rope for sport climbing, double ropes for the mountains, two pairs of crampons, three ice axes, a tent, a bivy sack, two pairs of boots, etc. The only thing missing was a climbing partner! Last year I had the fortune of running into Orin at
the pole, and had a fantastic time traveling and climbing with him (see blog posts from last year). However this year no partners materialized.

So, I decided to go trecking instead. Looking through the Lonely Planet treking guide at Pole, I searched the index for treks that were rated "difficult." The one that caught my eye was the longest trek in the book, the northwest circuit on Stewart Island. Before I knew it, the plan to hike this trek solo had been hatched.

Reading about the trek online, the commen themes from many trip reports were rain, sand flies, beaches, and mud. Lots about mud. Tales of knee-deep, thigh-deep, motivation sucking monsters of mud pits lurked in the lines of prose many a treker. But I figured that as long as I was mentally prepared for a wet, muddy experience I would be in great shape. And being an alpinist, what's in an adventure if it doesn't contain a little suffering?

The northwest circuit is a hut trek that circum-navigates the northern half of Stewart Island. Stewart Island is an island (imagine that!) which is located a few kilometers off the southern tip of the South Island. You get there by ferry. The single town on the island has around 350 permanent inhabitants. The circuit itself is a hut trek, meaning that the Department of Conservation (DOC) maintains huts for hikers to sleep in. The trek is usually completed in 9 to 12 days, depending on how many rest days - day hikes you take. I had other post-Stewart schemes, so I planned to hike it in 7.

I made it out of Antarctica on Saturday February 12, and spend the day on Sunday shopping, planning, and making reservations. Monday was then spent driving south. I drove through Dunedin, the hometown of one of my Uchicago friends, and ate dinner at a greasy, funky restaurant / convenience store.

[An amusing sign at the road-side cafe]

[Beautiful clouds on the road, just outside of Dunedin]

[It's true, there are a lot of sheep in New Zealand!]

After 10 hours of driving, I spent the night in the open air by the sea.

The next morning, I got up early and drove to the ferry port in the town of Bluff. It was a grey, blustery day - consistent with my expectations. The ferry took about 1 hour to cross over to Stewart Island. It was full of tourists, most of whom were going to the town. A few sported backpacks and looked to be heading over for a trek. In addition to the northwest circuit, there is also a 3 day Great Walk, the Rakiura trek, which is very popular.

[On the ferry ride to Stewart Island]

Once in town, I headed over to the DOC to check in and give them my intentions form. I paid $5 kiwi per night for five hut tickets and one night of camping, which would cover my six nights out. The lady helping me gave me the full lecture on the trek and how muddy and hard it was - I must have been looking at her skeptically because she ended with, "I hope I don't sound like I am talking down to you, but this is important..."

Then by 11:30am I was off!

[Leaving the DOC, ready for adventure!]

The first hour was on roads, then off to the first beach. The weather improved, and it was quite lovely along the beach!

[Beach!]

The first four hours were on the Rakiura trek, and were well manicured. I kept asking myself, "where's the mud!?"

Not to be disappointed, after reaching the first hut the northwest circuit split off alond the coast. The trail immediately disappeared into the deep, dark forest.

[Leaving the Rakiura trek, and heading into the forest on the northwest circuit]

Literally two minutes from leaving the fork I started seeing mud patches. I was wearing gaters and had bought a treking pole, so I was prepared. The mud immediately went up to my ankles. No problem!

Shortly thereafter, I met a man with a DOC uniform coming back down the trail. He had mud up to his knees, almost completely covering his gaters, and was grinning from ear to ear. "Gooday!" he said in a friendly kiwi accent. "This is the worst part. After this it just gets better and better the whole way around the trek!"

He was watching me as I entered the mud patch he had just exited, so I couldn't flank it through the woods. My pride was pitted against my relatively clean gaters. My pride won easily, and I plunged in. Literally. Up to my knees. Struggling with my single pole, I dragged myself to the other side and looked back. The hut wardan grinned and said, "You are going to be fine!"

[Mud on my gaters. Yes, that mud is up to my knees.]

I quickly realized that it was more energy efficient to avoid the mud if I could, rather than wade throuh it. The mud was isolated to the parts where the trail was in the forst, and the trail alternated between this and working its way along the beach. At one point the trail paralleled the beach, so I dropped down to walk along the sand. Unfortunately the trail only *appeared* to parallel the beach, when in reality it immediately climbed back up into the foliage. Instead of back-tracking to re-gain the trail, I decided to climb straight up to it. Bad idea; thick flora-thrashing up a steep slope was taxing. At one point I thrust my leg up through some firns, and rammed it straight into a branch giving myself a throbbing dead-leg.

[Wooden steps leading through the trees]

None the less, the hiking was beautiful, and I made good progress. Towards the end of the day my legs started getting wobbly from not eating enough. As the days progressed I would learn to stop and eat about once an hour.

[A pebbled stream outlet leading out to the ocean.]

[Still looking clean-shaven and washed on day 1]

I reached the second hut at 6:30pm, after seven hours of hiking. It was in an incredibly spectacular location! Situated on a small sand cove with sparkling blue water, a puff of grey smoke from the stove greeted me as I arrived. A cople from Slovinia were spending their last of three nights there. They fed me tea, and we had an enjoyable conversation as the sunlight faded and I cooked my dinner (fresh veggies in a spicy peanut stir fry for the first night!). They were spending two months in New Zealand, then had another month planned in Australia. They had picked a great vacation!

Day 2.
I woke up the next morning to an empty hut - the Slovinians had left at 5am in order to reach the ferry on time. This day had been planned to be a long one, my longest of trip. I was combining two days of the normal trek schedule, each one a six hour day according to the DOC information.

I started off with some beautiful beaches and the ever-present mud. Apparently the two weeks preceeding my arrival had been very wet, and the trail showed the results. By hopping on roots and rocks, I managed to avoid the lion's share of the slogging, justifying my actions to myself as "energy savings." Not sure if that is actually true, but I'll leave it to the physicists to calculate... wait a second!

[Beautiful Backcountry Beach]

[Mud. There isn't any way to get around these kind of mud-pits, so you go through them.]

I reached Christmas Hut is 5.5 hours, at the middle of the day. My legs hadn't settled into the routine of hiking yet, and they were fairly sore under my 40+ pound load. I was actually pretty tired by the time Christmas Hut came into view. I decided to take a longer lunch break to rest, and cooked up a ramen soup with Tabasco. Mmmmmm. Yummy.

[Kelp on the rocks]

[A trail marker on the east coast, between Christmas Hut and Yankee River]

In the log book at the hut, I read the past few entries, and to my amazement there were two people from Bozeman Montana who had signed in two nights previous! I calculated that if I stuck to my plan and they didn't skip huts I would catch them in a few nights.

After lunch I put my boots back on my feet and trudged on. At first things went quickly, then time seemed to stop. My map had five creek crossings, which I was using to gauge my progress. After crossing the seventh creek, I decided that the cutoff for a creek making the map was completely arbitrary and gave up counting.

I logged time in my head by counting minutes until I could eat my Mars bar. "30 minutes to Mars bar." "15 minutes to Mars bar." "5 minutes to Mars bar." Mmmmm, tasty Mars bar!

I figured it would take 15 minutes to get to the hut after the Mars bar. Ha! An hour and a half later, I finally stumbled onto the porch of the Yankee River hut. 12.5 hours after leaving the Bungaree hut in the morning I could finally take off my pack. I was pretty tired.

I lit the wood stove to dry my socks, and cooked dinner and tea. Dinner was mac & cheese and tuna. In the absence of butter, I used some vegetable oil that was sitting on a shelf. It might have been soap, but I was hungry enough that such trivialities did not matter. After the important things such as eating and scratching my head were finished, I set up my tripod to attempt to capture the moon-lit landscape. Here is the result:

[The moon reflects off of Yankee River, north shore of Stewart Island]

In the log book of this hut was an entry from a guy who had paddled over from the mainland in a sea kayak. Then there was another entry by the same person after having completed a circum-navigation of Stewart Island. That would be a cool trip!

Day 3.
I had planned yet another doubled-up hut skipping day for day 3. This one combined five and six hour days, so I was expecting it to be less taxing than the previous day. With my breaks, I seemed to be hiking only slightly faster than the DOC information panphlet suggested.

I started the day by providing breakfast for the local sand flies. By this I mean they ate my arms and legs for breakfast while I laced up my boots. I think sand flies are not as bad as mosquetos, but the net effect is pretty similar.

The hiking commenced with a steep 1000ft climb, then drop back to Smokey Beach, one of the larger beaches on the trek. Low clouds hung around the beach as I descended through the brush, blocking my view. Amazingly it hadn't rained at all yet - apparently this place gets over 250 days of rain per year.

Down on the beach I was in the clouds. Kind of unusual for being at sea-level! I took off my boots and walked on the wet sand, letting the grains squish between my toes.

[My footprints in the sand on Smoky Beach]

At the end of the beach you must wade a shallow river to get to the next section of trail. I waded through the clear water down by the ocean where the outflow alternated with inflow from the ocean waves.

[Forest meets ocean. Leaving Smoky Beach]

Leaving the serenity of the beach, I re-entered the forest.

[Back in the forest]

The trail took me up and over a forested ridge, then dropped back down to a rocky beach just below Long Harry Hut. I found myself at a stunningly beautiful cove. Waves drifting eastward from the Pacific slowly rolled over and crashed into the rocks on the shore, sprinkling the bright aqua-blue water with strokes of white color. The sun shone proudly, causing the orange and white rocks glisten and sparkle. The deep greens of the forest, browns of the cliffs, oranges of the kelp and yellows of the grass joined together into an absolutely magical setting. A picture is worth a thousand words, so let me replace pages of haltingly clumsy prose with the following images.

[Splashing waves on Long Harry cove]

[What a place to eat lunch!]

[My favorite picture from the whole trip. Maybe my favorite picture I have ever taken]

I ate lunch. This was my favorite moment of the trip, sitting amidst the colors, basking in the warmth of the February sun, munching on crackers and cheese. This is why we go backpacking, why we get outside, what I miss by living in a city.

I wished to stay at this place all afternoon. If I had planned to hike the trek in 8 days, I would have. This however was not the plan, and my food bag dictated that I continue. A brief stop into Long Harry Hut, which has an amazing view of the cove and the cliff-lined western coast, and I was off again.

The trail climbed onto a bench above the cliffs and traversed through the forest for several kilometers. The brush was not as thick in this place, though it still blocked any views. Descending to Long Harry hut before lunch, and again here I saw two kiwi birds! These flightless birds are found only in New Zealand, and have an especially high concentration on Stewart Island. Many New Zealanders travel to the island specifically for the chance to spot one of these birds. They are about the size of a chicken and have duck-like feet. They run in a bounding waddle, and appear to be pretty blind. At least they didn't seem to see me very well. Both times I was just walking along the trail when I would see movement out of the corner of my eye, and out of the forest a chicken-like bird with a huge long beak would waddle right in front of me.

[Kiwi!]

[Fleeing kiwi!]

Late in the afternoon I dropped down to a rocky beach.

[Trail marker on the steep drop down to the ocean side]

[Misty afternoon on the ocean]

It is quite depressing how much junk has washed up on these beaches, way in the back country. Many plastic items from fishing vessles adorne the beaches, including plastic booies and crates, ropes, and coolers. People use the colored booies as trail markers, making the best of a bad situation.

[Buoies are used as trail markers]

I stopped to eat my daily Mars bar on the far side of the beach, just before a long climb. While this was a good time to eat the bar from an I-need-energy perspective, it was not a good time from the I'm-getting-eaten-alive-by-sandflies perspective. Bite mars bar, Swat sandfile. Bite-swat. Bite-swat-sawt. Bite-swat. Bite-swat-swat. Apprecitate the lov-SWAT-ly beach and spr-SWAT-ying water. Wow-SWAT, it su-SWAT-re is pretty her-SWAT SWAT SWAT! RUN AWAY!!

I climbed steeply away from the beach, immediately leaving the sand flies behind. As the evening began to gather in the east, I arrived at the top of the last ridge crossin of the day, and dropped my pack to scrable up to the marked scenic overlook. If there is a scenic overlook on a trail that is marked on the map, it should be good. Oh man, it was amazing!

[View from the scenic view point. AMAZING!]

[A moment of success in the continual playful search for beauty]

I climbed up onto the rocks that pushed above the undergrowth and was greeted by an amazing view. The East Ruggedy cove spread out below me, with its glowing sand and aqua agua. Grey clouds in the sky gave the vista a mystical feeling, the timeless sense of rain that hangs in the air but doesn't ever fall. I snapped picture after picture, unable to capture the optical feast on my CCD chip. Sigh.

The thought that night was coming in a few hours convinced me to continue to the hut. I dropped down to the beach, then walked back up the river delta for 10 minutes to the hut. When I arrived in the gathering dusk after my 11 hour day, there were two packs, a stove, and a torn noodle package to greet me at the hut. I assumed this was from the Bozeman folks. I cooked dinner as it got dark, then made tea and flipped open my book (Dr. Zhivago). Still no owers of the packs.

Just as it got really dark, I heard two sets of footsteps on the porch. In the dark, two slim figures entered, and said the usual "Hello" in American accents. They had gone down to the beach to watch the sunset. Pretty soon they asked me where I was from, and I said "Chicago, but I grew up in Bozeman." "Oh yeah? We're from Bozeman!" Turns out that I went to high school with Ben's older twin brothers, and grew up only 3 blocks away from him. Ben's friend Dan had just
graduated from MSU. They had been living in New Zealand since October, just travelling around and hiking. Dan would have to go back to the US in June for his sister's wedding, but Ben had no intentions of returning any time soon. Next he was going to hop over to Australia to earn some money, and planned to be traveling the world for several years to come. Nice! Great guys, I had fun time talking to them.

Day 4:
Man, those kids can sleep! I was done with the hut-skipping for the time being, and the next two days were listed as seven-hour hikes on my pamphlet. I slept as long as I could, and when I couldn't sleep no more I got up. Ben and Dan were slumbering soundly. I leasurly made breakfast, relaxed with some tea, slowly wrote in the hut log, casually packed up, and eased into my boots. I left the hut porch to the sound of snoring still coming from the bunks of the Bozeman lads. Wow, I can sleep like a champion, but I have been out-classed!

The weather was deteriorating as compared to the beginning of my trip, with a mild threat of soft rain hanging in the air.

[Crazy clouds on the west coast of Stewart Island]

A quick climb through the brush up over a ridge and down again brought me to the East Ruggedy Beach.

[Dropping down to East Ruggedy Beach]

An asthetic sand gully lead down to the beach.

[Sand skiing, anyone?]

I was feeling completely relaxed, knowing that I had lots of time as compared to the previous days, and feeling my muscles and body finally settling down into the rhythm of hiking every day. I walked the beach in bare feet, letting the ocean waves run up over my toes.

[Narwhal skull]

[Rocks in the surf]

At the end of the beach I saw an arch in the sea-side cliffs and decided to scramble over to it. A bit of 4th class scrambling on super-crumbly rock over deep-blue seawater channel brought me to the arch.

[A super-cool arch on the sea coast]

The red arch spanned a deep channel of dark blue water which flowed in and out around a large rock outrop with each incoming wave. The kelp which was attached to the sea cliffs swirled slowly back and forth in a never-ending dance. Beautiful!

Back at my pack, the Bozeman lads caught and passed me as I put my shoes on. Without stopping they charged on into the forest, towards the next pass. I felt a mix of my competetive side urging me to hurry up and keep up with them, and my wiser side reminding myself to take
time in the truly beautiful places. My wiser side won. So I set up my tripod and took a self-portrait.

[Look mom, no hands! Thanks tripod]

Off into the woods again, the rest of the day was a moderately long hike through the hills with lots of mud.

[More mud.]

[Not happy about Mud]

The clouds hung low and I thought it was going to rain all day. Just as the sign for the hut came into view, the clouds opened up to release their large pearls of water. I ran for the hut, making it
before I became too wet.

As I was taking off my boots, two kiwi hikers arrived from the opposite direction, grumbling about how they had finally found the hut. I think they had had a long day. The Bozeman lads had made the hut a few hours before me and were already reclining in post-dinner relaxation. I made chili-ginger-garlic stir fry for dinner, which was super tasty!

After dinner, since we were on the west coast I headed out to view the sunset. The Hellfire hut is high above the ocean, at the top of a sand slide that extends from the ridge all of the way down to the beach. I wonder what causes this formation? It almost looked like an avalanche path.

I talked to Ben a bit as we watched the dusk settle in around us. Ben figured that the clouds were going to block the sunset and headed back to the hut. I decided to slide down the sand gully in hopes that the sun would poke through below the clouds as it set over the ocean.

Sure enough, the sun dipped below the clouds flooding the sky with yellows and oranges. I alternated between taking pictures and running down the sand dunes. I made it to the beach just after the sun had set below the horizon, but caught the full reflection of the sun off the clouds above and the water below. Yet another magical moment.

[Sunsets are just awesome]

[Down on the beach, soaking in the color]

I took pictures until it was dark. Then it started to rain. I "ran" back up the sand gully, and arrived at the hut more wet from sweat than rain. I wanted to make tea and read for a bit, but all four others in the hut had already gone to bed and I didn't want to disturb them, so I lay down and fell asleep immediately.

Day 5:
I awoke to the sound of the wind tearing at the trees and throwing drops of rain against the windows. This blustery weather encourages long breakfasts, and I obeyed the call. I got up well before the Bozeman lads, however once out of bed they only took 20 minutes from pillows to hiking boots.

According to the guide book information, this day from Hellfire to Mason Bay was supposed to be the most demanding. The day started off with a fun ridge-top traverse with nice views down into the central low lands of Stewart Island. Clouds blew in and out giving the atmosphere the feeling of a rain forest.


Next I worked my way down from the ridge top to the beach in a long, very muddy decent.

[Hiking down to the beach. This picture illustrates the amazing variety hikingfound on Stewart Island]

However, I was treated by two kiwis which hopped out in front of me on different occasions.

[More kiwis!]

I passed two trail crew members working on the section of trail. Their primary tools of choice were weed-wackers! They also had banannas, and I druled a bit, having not eaten fresh fruit or
vegetables for several days.

Down on the beach it was very pretty and very windy.

All that remained for the day was a climb up and over a ~1000 ft ridge, then several miles of hiking along Mason Beach. This climb and descent was supposed to be the hardest part of the entire circuit, so I went into it expecting the worst. The climb was fine, as expected. The descent was quite steep, inclined enough that a hand-line had been installed. There were steps made in the mud from usage. The primary problem was that the trail went straight down, instead of switchbacking. This section could really benefit from a trail engineer (Brian?). Despite this it hadn't rained substantially in 5 days, and the section was much drier than it commonly is, which I appreciated.

[Steep trail dropping into Mason Bay]

I arrived at the extended Mason Beach just as high tide was ending. It was very windy, and I actually took my hat off and clipped it to my pack because I was worried it would blow off and disappear into the occean.

[On Mason Bay]

The hike across Mason Beach was pleasant. Well, I had to wear a jacket to block the wind. And a hat because it was cold. And ignore the flying sand which threatened to sand-blast the skin off of my lower legs. Aaaand I couldn't find anywhere to stop for a break that would be out of the wind. Ok, maybe it wasn't that pleasant, but it was still beautiful!

[Looking back along Mason Bay]

I arrived at the Mason Bay hut and experienced a bit of culture shock - lost of people! There are several ways to get to the Mason Bay hut. You can walk the northwest circuit. You can take a water-taxi into the Freshwater hut from the east and hike 4 hours of flat boardwalk. Or you can actually fly in a small plane and land on the Mason Bay beach. There were people staying at the hut who had taken all of these forms of transport.

I sat down at the dinner table to cook, and stared at my meal of rice and a package of soup. All around me were others eating fresh tomatoes and lettice, gourmet cheese, uncrushed crackers, and some even drinking wine! Oh well, my dinner was great. Really, it was delicious. Mmmm, rice. Grrr, wish I had a tomato!

Setting up to cook, I chatted a bit with a guy who was also finishing the northwest circuit. He was on day 10, having taken a relaxed schedule and several rest days on the way around the circuit. There was a family who had flow in and were hoping to see a kiwi. The mother was completely dominating, and almost completely oblivious to everything outide of herself. She talked loundly and rapidly, and jumped on anyone who mentioned they had seen a kiwi. Unfortunately this was me at one point, but I escaped by explaining that I had seen kiwis on the trail numerous kilometers and several large hills away.

I ate a relaxing dinner and ended up talking to a very interesting retired couple who told me they were from San Diego. Being a nosey individual who likes to pry into other people's lives, I asked a few more questions. It turns out that the couple is retired, and lives on a sail boat. They spend their time sailing from here to there around the world. They were in New Zealand "until the cyclone season finished," which was about 4 more months, then would be going to Fiji to snorkel. Nice work! They were quite enjoyable to talk to.

While talking to this couple, I looked out the window and the entire sky was pink! I immediately excused myself, grabbed my camera, and literally ran back down to the beach. I got there just after the sun had disappeared from view, but the extensive colors were even better than the previous night! It was still fiercely windy, but fortunately the wind was blowing to the West, out to sea, so I could take pictures without worrying about my camera being destroyed by flying sand. And oh man, what a sunset!! The red and orange light reflected off of the clouds and the water on the beach, surrounding me with brilliant colors. Here is a humble offering of the glorious display.

[Amazing sunset. Notice the sand blowing out towards the ocean along the ground]

After the sun went down completely, I returned to the hut with the four other people who were out taking pictures. I ended up sitting out on the porch talking to Ben (Bozeman lad) a blond girl from Holland and a guy from Spain. The girl was on a five week vacation in New Zealand between college and nursing school. Holland is very flat, so I asked how she had become interested in hiking. Growing up, her family had taken yearly trips to the Italian alps, engendering in her a love of nature.

I retired to the bunks, read a bit from Dr Zhivago, and shut my eyes.

Day 6:
I awoke to sunlight and no wind. After the previous day's clouds and never ending large-scale air circulation, this was a very nice change.

[An old homestead]

I was sick of oatmeal, so I had a quick breakfast of tea, peanut butter, crackers and nutella. I was on the trail by 8:30am.

[Early morning shadows on the trail]

The Bozeman lads were still sleeping. The first streatch wandered into the interior of Stewart Island, heading almost straight back east through marshland. This was back on well-maintained track, with endless boardwalks then narrow dirt ATV roads.

[Endless boardwalks leading to the Freshwater hut]

I saw my final kiwi on this streatch. I reached the Flatwater hut in good time, and ate a bit of food while reading a National Geographic article about wines from the Bordeaux region from 1987. This is where the water taxi picks people up to shuttle them back to town. That shuttle avoided the next streatch of trail, which was a poorly-maintained climb over a steep ridge. So I stepped off the manicured boardwalks, and started climbing.

The trail in this section was in bad shape. In fact, it was in the worst shape of any trail on the entire circuit. Lots of mud, lots of slippery tree roots and eroded embankments. There were several points where the trail had been completely washed out by stream outlets, and the only option was to step on 3-foot tall boulders that were still 6 inches below the surface, or wade up to my waist. I chose speed, hopping across the boulders and getting my boots wet.

Coming down the far side, I stepped on yet another tree root. Unfortunately my boot came down at a bit too large of an angle relative to the normal vector of the tree root surface. My foot shot out and I plunged downhill head-first. I caught myself with my left hand, and snagged my pinky on a log. Initially I thought I had broken my finger, which hurt quite a bit. After confirming that I could still move the finger and deciding that it was not broken, I found that the log had also broken my watch band. Grr, I still need to get that fixed!

I re-joined the Rakiura track in the early evening amidst light rain. An hour later I arrived at the North Arm Hut. I was supposed to continue on for another hour to the Saw Dust campground, but it was raining so I decided to stop at the hut and cook dinner.

The hut was much fancier and better decorated than the huts on the northwest circuit. All of the people at the hut were on the Rakiura trek. One kiwi who really liked to talk kept asking me about all of my backpacking gear, my stove (whisper light), my oragami bowl, ... He was nice though and entertaining to talk to as long as you kept your attention level below 50% Another solo hiker heard me mention that I had just come from Antarctica and started asking me about my research. Turns out he is from Britan, and is planning on starting a PhD in marine biology with the goal of working on sustainability issues in the fishing industry. Cool goal!

At one point after dinner I was standing outside, talking to the British guy and scratching my sandfly bites. I looked down and blood was flowing from my foot onto my sandle. Oops, scratched that sandfly bite too hard!

There were plenty of open beds in the hut, so I ended up just staying the night, as the rain continued to patter down on the roof.

Day 7:
The next day I awoke to flashes of light across the ceiling and hushed shouting. Then a loud "SIZZZZLLLLEE" and the flashed died down. I rolled over and went back to sleep.

The british guy had a alcohol stove and the fuel that he had bought for it roared up into a huge flame. That was what had caused the light on the ceiling, and they had pushed it into the sink to put it out. I'm not sure what had gone wrong, but he didn't want to try it again.

It was raining lightly, and I had a relaxed 4 hour hike ahead of me, so I took my time making breakfast and packing. I chatted with the kiwi who liked to talk, discussing american and New Zealand politics among other things. When I finally left, he was the last person still at the hut.

It rained the whole hike out. After 6 days of no rain, I didn't mind it too much. I passed a couple, one of whom had a hiking boot which had split its sole completely in two, right under the arch of her foot. Good thing she wasn't too far from town! I aslo saw one last kiwi bird on the trail in the morning. That made 7 kiwi sitings for the trip!

The hike went faster than expected, and I was back in town in 3 hours. I was completely soaked from head to foot. After stopping into the DOC to tell them I was out safe and sound, I headed over to the ferry dock. I had booked myself on the 6pm return ferry originally, but seeing as it was only noon, they were able to switch me to the 3:30 ferry. I then headed over to the hotel and thoroughly enjoyed my first non-camp food meal, a delicious plate of fish and chips. After a coffee in a funky coffee bar / spa, I hopped on the ferry, and floated back to civilization.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip! I would recommend doing the hike in the suggested 9 days if you have the time, though 7 was certainly doable. The mud wasn't as bad as I was expecting, though I imagine it is usually much worse if there is more rain. So, in conclusion, northwest circuit = go do it!