Stewart Island

This plaque inset into the trail head speaks for itself. Stewart Island is for the most part a true wilderness. However from a naturalists perspective, I was disappointed with the huge expense of time and money that goes into the trail systems and huts. It definitely detracted from the overall wild aspect that I kept hearing about when talking about Stewart Island. Granted, I did not get much opportunity to trek into the interior. We only spent one day hiking the actual interior. The rest of the time was spent near the fringe or on coasts.

This was the last day I think? Hot and sweaty with a thunderstorm brewing.

Halfway point of day two? Night was to be spent on that particular bay just visible to the center right of the large inlet in the distance.

Nothing like a map to tell you where you are not vs where you thought you were. Discombobulation in the jungle is rather easy.

Just one of thousands of cool trees and scenes.

Me harvesting Cockles. The shell that I have in my hand is a scallop. I threw it back. In the bag are Cockles. Clam like bi-valves that are absolutely delicious. I ate Cockles, Katrina ate mussels. This was by far the best meal I have had in New Zealand. Fresh picked off of the rocks.

One of many continuous beds of mussels. Delicious. King of the Cockle shell. Yet again, this area was a shell hunters delight. I didn't pick more then one or two total though. Extra weight on an extended back country backpacking trip just isn't quite in the cards.

Nice contrast. Low tide. We camped just over that hill.

Just another attempt at something different.

Last day. Storm moving in. We got back into town just after it started raining. Typical weather forecasts stated that it would be nice for our ferry ride back to the mainland. Yeah...that was a crock of crap. That night a gale hit and the ferry crossing the next day royally sucked. I make a very poor sailor. Our poor little ferry (I was too busy trying not to puke to take photos) was definitely pushing it. I estimate that the swells didn't get smaller then 10 ft tall and were more along the lines of an average of 14 to 16 feet. Half the boat was sea sick. The other half wanted to be. I have no idea how I survived the crossing without getting sick. This was a great tramp. I would have loved to spend another week on the island...but my feet, Katrina's job and the lack of proper equipment and food for hardcore backpacking sort of dictated that we needed to head back to the real world.

A Mountain Excursion

Fairly Impressive? I think so. This was the start to a wet, but easy hike up this valley. Below: A series of three photos that amuse me.

Katrina and Greg on the rocks. Kat scanning for Tahr, Greg looking at a map...and me behind the camera a point over.

Katrina photographing me. No clue what I was trying to photograph.

The photo Katrina took of me while Greg photographed the both of us.

Sun bands and mists. Behind us...Helms Deep from the Lord of the Rings. In front and on the horizon...the hills of Rohan.

At the top of treeline. This was the last tree. It took us 6 hours of hiking, climbing, sweating, and scouting to get to this point.

Taken on the hike back down. A bit of perspective of degree of slope. Nice Back drop.

Our "hut". It was a might bit primitive. It did keep the sand flies from eating us alive and had it been raining...we would have at least stayed dry. But as it was...I wouldn't book your next holiday in this high class highland retreat. Sure it has class....but its a place only a hunter could love. And yes I would go back.

A random shot of sedges, grasses rocks and moss. A micro environment. Interesting and perhaps one of my favorite photos of the trip.

Greg and I on the rocks on the hike up. This really was a bugger of a hike. My legs hurt for a couple of days. Its too bad the Tahr had moved back up into the high country.

Me on the rocks. I have no idea what I was doing or when this was shot. I think this was after we hit camp and were trying to figure out how to get out of the valley and up onto the upper slopes.

Lunch time. Or was it dinner? Food. Kat and I debating the theory of a "watched pot".

My favorite photo of Greg. Looking Sheik and stylish packing his .243 cal. rifle up a creek, through the canyons. Great shot.

All in all I took about 140 photos. This is but a small sample of this trip. We would have needed one more day to get high enough to get to the Tahr. They were just out of manageable reach. There is no water in the hill country and absolutely no place to camp. Its necessary to climb from the river bottom, up the canyon walls and onto the ridges, steppes and mountain tops to find Tahr. Unless you know exactly where to go....it could take ages to find them, reach them, harvest them and still get back to the valley before dusk. Not the safest place to be tramping about in the dark.

It was a good trip. I hope to have the opportunity again.