Day 62-67 | Km 1696-1945 | The Richmond Ranges

Porters Creek Hut

When I grow up I want to be like her… Fifty- something and as tough as nails. I met Willie at the end of my second day in the Richmond Ranges, she appeared out of a side trail shortly after I arrived at Old Man Hut. We traded trail running stories and shared common ground around ultra running and Outward Bound. Willie was heading up to wild camp on the ridgeline and then continue on to complete her ten day solo tramp. She was so full of life and passion for the mountains, it was a delight to meet her and so very inspiring. My love for time in alpine terrain was deepening by the day…

Pelorus River Track - Browning Hut: Entry to the Richmond Ranges for the Te Araroa trail is via the Pelorus River Track. A beautiful trail twisting and turning along the crystal clear waters of the Pelorus. I was joined initially by a poorly Jamie, determined to hike away his cold and bugs. He left the lovely OB instructor Nick and I to continue into the heat of the day. With Nick determined to reach Ada Saddle at a reasonable time the following day (in order to do some off trail navigation to Richmond Hut), we needed to sweat it out and push onward and upward! We reached browning hut at 8:40pm as the light was dimming and the sandflies were having their last feeding frenzy before nightfall. Cooking for us looked like some ankle slapping, arm flinching pain dance!

Crossing the Pelorus River on one of the many 1 person swing bridges

Browning Hut - Old Man Hut: Officially we entered the Richmond Ranges. As the trees fell away we met our first exposed ridge line. The wind and sun beat down as I said farewell to Nick at Ada Flats. It felt a little strange initially to be alone again but it wasn’t long before I found my happy place and tootled off to Old Man Hut, a cute hut about 20mins ascent from the ridge line.

The wind in the night was intense! I laid awake listening to the creeks and groans of the hut and surrounding forest. All the while I kept thinking Willie would burst in at any moment in an attempt to escape it!

Old Man Hut - Mid Wiaroa Hut: The day began with a steep climb up Little Rintoul (1643m). This was effectively a warm up for the actual Mt Rintoul (1731m), with the trail sending us down to only then scramble back up the rocks and scree to reach the second peak but oh wow was it totally worth it…

The start of Little Mt Rintoul

Glistening through the trees I saw a beautiful tarn (lake made from an old glacier), unable to resist the lure I stopped for lunch by its waters and headed in for a dip. Sandflies didn’t leave me hanging around for long though before upping and leaving for Mid Wiaroa. This was what I now see in hindsight as being a gentle introduction to the glorious sandfly…

Mid Wiaroa Hut had bad karma; wasps, sandflies and a stinking hot hut. After a quick splash in what looked like a perfect emerald pool I couldn’t stand any more winged insects for a second longer. I dressed in full rain gear to hide my skin, attempted some yoga, attempted to sit still, attempted anything for distraction until eventually, I gave up. Now too hot and bothered to stay in the hut I went to set up my tent outside to find a breeze and a safe space from the buzzy things!

Mid Wiaroa Hut - Hunters Hut: This was a technical stretch with lots of river hoppings but a well earnt treat at the top with a refreshing alpine waterfall bath. It was bloody icicles! Note to self- read Wim Hof’s (aka the Iceman) book on cold water immersion; I’m on a mission to get over a hate of cold water! After Upper Wiaroa Hut the terrain turned to the rich red rocks of the Red Hills and climbed steeply to Mt Ellis saddle (1374m). I didn’t want the day to end, so, after multiple more alpine baths to cool down I reached Hunters Hut with stunning views back down the valley and the Milky Way overhead at night.

Hunters Hut was built as a memorial to two DOC (department of conservation) workers killed in a flash flood when it destroyed the hut they were staying in. This was written on the wall in Hunters Hut, from the poem ‘Listening to the River’ by Brian Turner -

‘ the river is never silent. Even in its deepest pools thrive with dark or dreamy utterance. They shelter more than we can say we know.’

Hunters Hut - Redhills Hut: I was joined by a Finn named Miriam, a kindred trail running spirit who had managed to get entry into the UTMB this year - the Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc, an esteemed world trail race starting in Chamonix, France. It’s on my event bucket list so I passed the hours quizzing Miriam for details.

The red rock balancing act continued through to the next hut. Up until this point I’d successfully avoided getting stung by a bee but whilst doing a bit of lunchtime yoga one stung me in my armpit, charming! Rain moved in that afternoon and we bundled into Redhills Hut for the night to escape the bad weather. With low lying cloud I set off early the next morning to run the mountain bike trail leading toward St. Arnaud. I think a little piece of my heart is in the Richmond’s now, how grateful I am to live so close by these beautiful ranges. I’ll be back for more for sure, maybe even with Willie as a trail guide…