Lake Rotoiti, May 4, 5

 Looking towards the top of the lake.

On Friday I visited my brother Neil and his bride-to-be Jessie in Blenheim, to be briefed on my onerous duties as best man when they get married on May 18.
On Saturday, I drove on to St Arnaud and walked up the east side of Lake Rotoiti to the Lake Head hut - a distance of just over 10km. My normal walking pace of about 4.5km an hour was reduced to about 3km due to the vagaries of the surface, so it took a little over three hours.
It's noticeable that with age a reduced ability to focus means that it's harder to see exactly where your feet are being placed on tracky ground and there's also a reduced ability to step up and down on uneven and steep ground. In other words, you can't bound ahead like a mountain goat, but have to creep over tricky sections like an oversized caterpillar.

 Lakehead Hut.

I got to the hut about 3pm and had it all to myself. The sun went down behind the mountains at 3.30pm and as there were no lights in the hut and I hadn't had much lunch, I cooked a meal and settled down with a convenient book which someone had left in the hut.
I was musing over the fact that I would be spending the night further away from another human than I'd ever experienced, when I was rudely interrupted by five young people - winemakers from Blenheim and overseas. Although they greeted me on arrival, they then ignored me for the whole night, while they cooked and drank wine.
I crept off to bed at 6.30pm, finished my book and dozed on and off until the first glimmer of light soon after 6am. There was no movement from the other hut occupants, so I made tea and porridge, packed my stuff and hit the road by 7.30am
I first walked further up the Travers River nearly 5km to the swing Bridge.

After more than three hours of walking I was at the Cold Water hut - pretty well opposite where I'd started the morning.

 Top of the lake

The terrain improved as I went down the west side of the lake, but as time went by I was walking a little slower. There is a cruel section when you're almost at the bottom of the lake and the track climbs considerably, taking you on to the Mt Robert Rd. By the time I got down to West Bay, I'd been walking seven hours.

 Source of the Buller

I've always regarded the source of the Buller as a significant geographical landmark, so I was surprised that the new bridge has no marking that records it. For most people it will just be another bridge over another river.

 West Bay

It was good to get to the jetty and then trudge the remainder of the way back to the Visitor Centre - arriving after nearly eight hours on my feet. 

A tiring day, but good preparation for the journey ahead.