Lake Alexander | Ferny Gair Conservation Area, Marlborough
Forecast rain had the leader looking for alternative destinations. The only dry piece of real estate in Aotearoa was Marlborough, so the destination was changed. Pell Stream Hut will be still waiting for us.
Della and Dion did the driving to get us up the Waihopai Valley Road, inland from Renwick. We eventually found Bernie Mason's green letterbox, and met the legend himself, now living on a piece of his father's original farm at Avondale. He gave us his gate key and a map and a long lecture about his track-clearing exploits with a chainsaw. Paul and Dion did the four-wheel-driving - through half a dozen farm gates and two fords - for 6km up to the trackhead.
Initially, an easy but greasy path cut through manuka scrub, matai, then eventually beech trees. The undulating track had a few gnarly bits and stream crossings as we followed Bernie's assortment of track markers to the toi toi-lined shores of Lake Alexander. Before you could say 'Tummil Hut, this 6-bunker was moved here in 2010 to replace Bernie's old slab shanty nearby, which is still standing but uninhabitable. (Time: 2.5 hours.) Ray and Sharon obtained water from a beautiful pool, some eight minutes' walk up the dry river bed. Everyone else dragged driftwood to the woodshed, then Rob got the bush telly firing. A light curtain of drizzle arrived, as we hit the pit early.
On Sunday, we sped off up the dry river bed to Bernie's rock cairn and quirky signage - the latter entertained us for the following five hours of rough travel. Initially up a creek, his marked route arrived at a quaint rock bivouac, then topped out at Wild Sheep Saddle before traversing the slopes of Parakeet Valley, weaving through treefall and negotiating drops with lengths of rope and Number Eight fencing wire. Despite no signs of trapping, we noted the prolific birdlife in this neck of the woods... tui, bellbird, fantail, robins.... plus a number of wild goats.
Lunch was enjoyed at the helipad near Bernie's rustic Wild Pig Flat Hut, which sports seven bunks but is 'private'. A couple of hours' later we were spat out onto an interminable road, which brought us full circle back down to our cars. Nearby, on a high perch, was the Tummil Ridge Resort, yet another idiosyncratic marvel built by Bernie to accommodate testosterone-filled shooters. This hut was decorated with a range of animal skulls mounted to the walls, and a string of comfy sofas on the verandah. (Time: 5.5 hours.)
Overall, our decision to head east of the Divide kept us dry. All four visitors (Paul, Sharon, Rob and Della), proved themselves fit and confident trampers, and were excellent companions.
-- Ray Salisbury (leader & scribe)