An hour into the walk we came around a bend in the trail and had a beautiful clear view back to Long Harry Hut. We stopped for a short rest and photo opportunity, the view down to the beach and across the water to the hut was wonderful in the morning sunlight.
The hiking through the forest was rhythmic by this point. We had figured out our strides and I had adapted a swinging gate to land on top of roots rather than stumble between them. The mud pools were no more than minor irritations most of the time and there was more than enough bird and plant life to keep me distracted when the hiking did get tedious. The first set of hunters we’d met at Yankee River hut had given me a quick lecture in New Zealand bird life so I could identify Fantails, Tui, Bell birds, Bush Robins, Wrens and the ginormous Bush Pigeons. Iain called the Fantails the ‘fluttery birds’ because they would move along the trail fluttering from branch to branch ahead of you. They would even call sweetly to us if we slowed down or stopped for a rest as if to encourage us forwards. They never failed to make me smile.
About halfway through the day we came to a boulder strewn coastline. The boulders were enormous, ranging in size from a shopping cart to the size of a pick-up truck. I had hiked ahead of Iain and was filling my water bottle from a stream in the rocks when he made it to the beach, it took him a while to spot me although I was waving like a mad woman. We started the long process of hopping from boulder to boulder down the coast, each of us taking a different route. I tended to stay near the bush line where the rocks were flatter while Iain took the faster route near the waters edge. I was trailing behind Iain when I saw him fall; he had jumped onto an algae slick rock and lost his balance about 50m from me. He fell forwards barely saving his face from a large boulder but smashed his shin in the process. I hobbled over to him as quickly as I could without falling myself and was relieved to see him cursing and flexing his foot. I was further relieved when he asked to have photos taken of his injury! A few antiseptic wipes later and we were making our way down the beach again, a little slower and a little more cautious than before.
We stopped for lunch on a wide flat boulder three quarters of the way down the beach. Iain was sore but game to go on after an hour soaking up the sunshine. We were both worried about his leg swelling up and determined to take a rest day at the next hut.
Along the trail to East Ruggedy Hut there was a short, ten minute side hike to a look-out point. We dropped our packs and poles at the turn off and headed through the muddiest section of trail we had encountered so far. Iain made the observation that everyone who hiked the trail once would do that short section twice so it made sense that it was twice as muddy, however I was worried about Iain’s open wounds and loosing my boots in the bog. The view turned out to be worth the muddy slog. We found ourselves perched on a rock surrounded by giant flax bushes looking straight down to a turquoise sea. The world seemed to end in a strand of puffy white clouds where the sky and the ocean blended together seamlessly. To the south-west there was another postcard pretty, golden sand beach rising gently into undulating sand dunes and cut with a meandering river. Past the beach was a string of jewel green islands looking toothy and prehistoric and puttering around below us was a long white yacht filled with eager scuba divers out exploring the teeming reefs. We soaked up the view, absorbed some vitamin D and then hauled ass towards that beautiful beach.
It turned out to be a long ways down. Iain wanted to have a much needed bath in the river before hiking on to the hut but I wanted to get clean and stay that way, not put on my sweaty gear and hike for another few hours so we both kept moving. It ended up being a quick half hour hike through the sand dunes. The manuka brush had grown up so dense around the trail we were hiking through a silvery green tunnel with slippery sand underfoot.
East Ruggedy hut was clean and well supplied with fresh water when we arrived. There was a small creek not too far away so after selecting bunks and storing our gear we went out to do some laundry and bathing. We were ecstatic to be clean and with the prospect of a rest day the next day we enjoyed a lazy evening. We chatted with fellow hikers, traded some chocolate and moonshine for a deck of card (yes, the bags were too heavy to take 52 cards but NOT too heavy to pack 500mls of over proof vodka…go figure) and after dark we headed out into the dunes for some star watching and kiwi tracking. We had heard the spine chilling calls of the kiwi birds all evening – they sound like dying seagulls with the male voice being a deeper death scream than the harsh metal-bending tones of the female. The birds themselves are quite funny looking. They have large rounded bodies, about the size of a soccer ball, with short spiky feathers, beady little eyes, a long narrow beak and great, huge noisy feet. Kiwi birds stomp through the bushes, there is no stealthy sneaking through the underbrush for them. Iain and I heard a bird rustling in the brush alongside the path on our way back to the hut. We used our flashlights to spot the kiwi and managed to get surprisingly close before it noticed us. We spent an hour stalking along the trail in the pitch black hoping to see more birds, waiting for them to cross the trail. Eventually we got too cold to either star gaze or bird stalk so we headed back to the warmth of the hut and bed.
We tried to sleep in the next morning, but the three hunters in the hut were up before dawn to try their luck for white tail or red deer. They were good guys, conscientious hunters who had helped us out by disposing of a deer carcass that had been hung and abandoned behind the hut. Next was the rustling, clanging cacophony of five hikers repacking and preparing for another day on the trail. Iain and I gave up fairly quickly and had coffee while everyone was heading off. When the last person had disappeared down the trail we packed a day bag and headed down to the golden sands of East Ruggedy beach. The day had started out beautiful but by the time we had tried our luck at fishing and mussel hunting it had started to rain and the sand flies had come out in force. Mid day we headed back to the hut and had a short nap before the next set of hikers began to arrive.
Iain and I thoroughly appreciated having a deck of cards that day and night and we played a few great games of crib while we prepared dinner and chatted with the folks around us. We decided against another nighttime kiwi foray hoping for a nice long sleep and early start the next day.
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