8 days of backpacking through the heart of my field area without a single drop of rain. If you asked me before I would have said it was impossible!
What a stellar trip! An 8 day off-trail loop traversing rivers and ridges, bush and beaches. It was 8 glorious days of geologic bliss. My boots were even dry most of the time!
Do not let the photos mislead you. Despite dry skies and low rivers, it was still a demanding trip. We absolutely had to make the most of every bit of daylight as not only did we need to travel 120km, but I also had to find the time to look at the geology along the way. This meant waking up before dawn and being ready to walk at first light (8AM), usually until well after it got dark at 5PM, sometimes hiking as late as 7PM to reach a reasonable camp spot. The upside to the cold and dark winter months- generally more stable weather and manageable sandfly populations.
To take advantage of the favorable forecast, this trip began with a 3:30AM departure from Dunedin and a long drive in the dark until we hit sunrise somewhere around Haast. While the east coast was getting hammered with weeks of rain and extensive flooding, west of the divide it was sunny skies and fine weather when we arrived. Although there had been a major storm on the West Coast mid-week prior, as evidenced by the large tree trunks not present on river banks a week before, the rivers were surprisingly low, lower in fact than I had ever seen. This was great news considering so much of this trip hinged on being able to cross rivers.
The route we chose, despite having all the makings of being a classic (shhh!), is only done on average once a year. The route is a 120km circuit, only 15% on tracks, the rest following either deer trails, ridges, rivers or coastline. We decided to do the route clockwise, which got the harder, more remote Cascade River crossing out of the way and gave us a better chance of good weather crossing the tops of the Gorge Plateau.
The route. Red dots mark the Alpine Fault. 10km grid.
This trip would allow me to do some touch-up fieldwork along the Cascade, scout for a future rafting trip down the river, document recent fault scarps crossing the Gorge Plateau, do some reconnaissance in Durwards Creek (which best I know has not been visited by a structural geologist), acquaint myself with the stratigraphic sequence exposed along the coast and verify previous mapping of the area (which definitely has room for improvement).
This would be a faster, lighter, more streamlined breed of fieldwork than I have been accustomed to. Since this was an 8-day backpack trip, weight mattered greatly and so my field gear was limited to a compass, map, field notebook, GPS and camera. I only sampled the most important rocks, frequently deciding that detailed photos were a lot lighter than rocks to carry (I took a lot of photos!). Because we had a large amount of ground to cover in the short winter days, my field notes had to be succinct, often leaving vague descriptions I could decipher later via outcrop photos. That said I still managed to come home with several kgs of rocks!
And so we set off. Traveling through dry bush was such a delight. We made great time going along the lower Cascade, easily crossing Woodhen Creek. Above Woodhen Creek, the Cascade River has abandoned its river bed and carved a new channel straight through the bush- we both considered this 1km walk up the middle of a dry river bed an eerie 1km of freebie travel. We then entered the dark lower gorge of the Cascade with its deep blue waters, frothy whitewater and sizable boulders. At one point we found ourselves clinging to weakly-rooted plants as we attempted to traverse subvertically bushed slopes to detour the worst of the gorge. We continued on well into the dark, eventually finding a suitable campsite in the gorge. I remember falling asleep thinking how weird it was to be a day's journey into the wilderness when I was in Dunedin just that morning.
Day 2 found us surrounded by frost, which would be a frequent occurrence most mornings of the trip. We found a very easy place to cross the Cascade River, which I learned was not one of my favorite things to do early on a frosty morning. We then continued up river through familiar territory to me, and then found the good spur ridge which made easy (but relentless) travel of the 800m elevation gain up to the start of the Gorge Plateau. Here we broke out of the bush into land reminiscent of a golf course. We crossed "fairways" of discontinuous swamps and meadows with tarns surrounded by stunted beech trees, the "rough" that was to be generally avoided. With our good luck the swamps were frozen at this altitude, providing us easy and dry travel across what would otherwise have been unpleasant swamp. We camped adjacent to a fault scarp and witnessed a fiery sunset on the already red ultramafic rocks of the Olivine Range. A cheeky kea kept sneaking up on our camp well into the starry night.
Going up the Cascade
Sub-alpine beech trees and the Olivine Range
Fault scarp in left foreground
Day 3 was perhaps my favorite as we traversed a 12km long ridge through the Olivine Wilderness with endless views of the coast, Southern Alps, the Darrans, the undulating tussocky slopes of the Gorge Plateau and spectacular views of one of my favorite mountains anywhere, the mystical Red Mountain. Granted it was a bit cold and windy, but the sights kept my mind sidetracked from such inconveniences. From one vantage you could pretty much see our whole 8 day loop. Along the way we passed some spectacular fault scarps including very impressive scarps of the Hollyford Fault System.
Although Red Mountain is not particularly tall at 1700m, it stands alone and demands full attention. This former chunk of the Earth's mantle sits between creamy pastels of serpentinized ultramafics and a snowy backdrop of blue schist mountains. It is hard to take your eyes off of and gives one a strange, almost ghostly, sense of place when looking at it. Photos do not do it justice. Best I know there is no Maori name for the mountain, which is a shame- I bet they would have had a great name and story for it. This is a place I really hope to return to and one with great geology to follow up on. We reluctantly left the tops via aptly-named Telescope Hill and camped at a very fortuitous (but alas, dry) campsite a few hundred meters below bushline.
More fault scarps
Fault scarp! Note far side has gone up and to the right.
Frozen moss and tarnlet
Telescope Hill Trig
Day 4 we continued down the hill, faithfully following my GPS down discontinuous ridges to Durwards Creek. Here we ditched the packs thrice (resulting in sighs of relief) and explored nearby creeks for traces of the Alpine Fault. Although the fault trace itself appears to be buried by omnipresent glacial, river and landslide deposits, some interesting Australian Plate fault rocks were documented and collected. Durwards Creek was pleasant travel, but demanded caution as the boulders had unusually low coefficients of friction. Eventually we reached the Pyke River and the start of the track to Big Bay just as the light began to fade in the darkening bush. Here we made the decision to continue hiking the 8km to Big Bay by headlamp along the rutted ATV track. Fortunately the track was easy to follow as an ATV had used it recently and we stayed to it the whole way (veering off the track would involve a nightmare scenario of trying to navigate in the dark through a swamp). Crossing the Dry Awarua gave me strong flashbacks to wandering up a dry desert wash under a starry sky. We made great time as going fast kept us warm and put us that much closer to food and sleep. We arrived at Big Bay Hut at 9:30PM where I slept wonderfully. In the end we made the right decision to continue on to Big Bay in the dark as this was pretty much the only stretch of the trip that would be feasible to do at night (and was least interesting with no geology), and helped us gain enough ground that we had amazing places to sleep the next 2 nights.
Durwards Creek
The next 3.5 days we walked the coast over surprisingly varied terrain of large boulders, small boulders, cobbles and sand beaches with the occasional bush sidle to bypass cliffs. The stretch of coast from Big Bay to Awarua Point was particularly plagued with uber-slippery ultramafic rocks. A heel injury made this travel significantly more treacherous. Sidle tracks are marked with fishing bouys, which seem to wash ashore in abundance. Crayfish Rock was a welcome lunch respite as it was curiously devoid of sandflies. Along much of this coast we followed the remnants of a 1970s bulldozed mining road from the Cascade to the Pyke. The road is essentially a discontinuous boulder-free strip of beach in the intertidal zone. It is hard to imagine it ever functioned as a road! This coastline was wild and immensely satisfying. I was brimming with a sense of adventure and at times felt I could have been a 100 years back in time. Something in the low light on the red boulders and the clouds flirting with the hills enhanced these feelings. I enjoyed a beautiful sunset as we approached the home stretch to Hackett River, where we were brutally ambushed by sandflies while crossing the river. Here we found a superb campsite beneath giant cabbage trees, had a driftwood fire and a much needed bathe in the river.
Awarua Point looking very distant
Crayfish Rock
Big Bay. Old "road" in foreground.
"Shangri la"
Day 6 we hiked along my two favorite stretches of coast. The beauty was in the details between the Hackett River and Ryans Creek where the waves have sculpted the sandstone rocks into exquisite and seemingly-deliberate shapes revealed only at low tide. The bit of coast surrounding the Gorge River area is probably the most spectacular, with its high hills, gorged river mouth, limestone bluffs and large offshore rocks. We arrived at the Gorge River Hut in early afternoon giving us a bit of time to explore the area. Next door to the hut is the residence of the Long family who have the distinction of being New Zealand's remotest family. Robert Long has lived in this humble house 2 days travel from a road for 30 years! He was later joined by wife, son (17) and daughter (14), the latter two of which have lived their whole lives at the Gorge River. A pretty incredible story and people I would have really enjoyed meeting. Unfortunately the Long family were not home (as we later found out they were in Dunedin!), so hopefully another time. They live off the land as best they can and have an impressive garden. Fences, hammocks, rugby goals and even a 2m tall toy helicopter made out of driftwood recall the craftiness of the Swiss Family Robinson. I think I partly understand the attraction of this place to them. We checked out some small stalactited caves in a limestone bluff nearby and then enjoyed a fantastic fire in the cosy Gorge River Hut.
Social limpets
Wish I knew where half these rocks came from...
House of the Kiwi Family Long
The Steeples
At the start of day 7 we borrowed the Long's leaky dinghy to cross the Gorge River and continued up the coast. I found some interesting rocks at Cutter Rocks where I was once again abused by sandflies. Stretches of this beach had very steep banks of beach cobbles which we walked on top of. The waves would rush up the steep side, lose momentum, then rush back down carrying cobbles down with them as they made a distinctive clattering/grinding noise that is hard to describe. We ran into a group of 3 trampers (people!) at Sandrock Bluff and continued on to Cascade Bay where sunset forced us to camp on the only suitable place we could find, a tent-sized patch of grass a touch above high tide.
Cascade Bay
The track in the Lower Cascade
We got an early start the last day as we had over 20 km to travel. We walked the few kilometers to the Hope River and then along the surprisingly pleasant (but seemingly endless) 4WD track through the bush. Across farmed flats with distant views, we eventually reached the Cascade River, which we once again were fortunate to be able to cross with ease. Shortly after crossing, we hitched a ride back to our car with the good farmer who farms the south side of the river, who spared us walking the least interesting bit of the whole trip.
I was obviously limited in what I could accomplish geologically, but the trip was successful in that I was able to do some reconnaissance of a large portion of my study area so that I have more specific goals for future fieldwork. I collected some good structural data and I think the samples I did collect should prove to be very interesting. Aside from being some of the most enjoyable fieldwork to date, this trip was also some of the nicest backpacking I have ever done. Thanks to field assistant Lara. Photos of me were taken by her.
In celebration of my 100th blog post, I could not help but indulge the few regular visitors with a teaser of a project I have been working on for quite a while now in relative secret. What started as desperation to find local caves has turned into an obsession of sorts, as each subsequent visit has revealed an ever-extensive network of sea caves unlike the world has known. In terms of beauty and joy to explore, these sea caves are unrivaled in my opinion. Decorated halls, echo chambers, extensive mazes, long kayak-able passages, impressive squeezes, and abundant sea life, all guarded by unassuming entrances and formidable seas. Before I knew it I found myself exploring several of the world's longest sea caves, a list soon to be re-written. You heard it here first :)
