NZ 4 - Karamea River Way

NZ 4  - Karamea River Way

It has been three days since leaving the Tablelands. Following down into the river systems of Kahurgari NP, deeper and deeper with each turn. The tramping has become a rythmn; mud, roots, rock and ford. Following marker after marker, on to the next waypoint and to the hut at the end of the night. The rain everpresent, sometimes a fine mist others a heavy pelting. Steam rises from this tramper, as constant motion seems the best option to keeping warm till reaching the far distant Hut. The track is but a rough boot beaten track, believing that the best way to ascend heights is direct, with little regard for switchbacks. Roots become your friend as you hual yourself over river terrace, rocky faces and mountain passes. 

The inner santucary of the Tasman Range is a rainforest on the level of the mighty Hoh, Queets and Quinault. And yet through it all there is a comfort in this place, almost like home. Ferns, lichen and mosses of uncomporable diversity abound in these valleys, leading the eye in every turn. The botanist in me screams for a good field guide to explore this Beech Tree rainforest. And yet I just travel and take it all in, flashing the camera through many images of rock, moss and fern. Trying to catch that moment of beauty best kept within that space. But some reason I still try. 

The Kea and Weka keeping me company with their songs amoung the sound of falling water in all direction. Rushing ribbon in cascades roaring over limestone cliffs and of small springs, coursing through boulders covered in deep green moss. I stop often to look into deep limestone canyons that are bridged by small steel cable bridges swaying with each step. Always it seems a robin looking down the trail following my progress down the deep gorges. They have became my companions, for other then birds there is little native creatures about. Perhaps they are all waiting out the storm, like the hords of other trampers. 

For over 7 days I only saw but one soul, A DOC worker minding his patrol cabin. Looking at me curiously, through the torrential rains falling from the edge of his porch. Had he never seen the likes of a true NW'ner? If we waited for the rain to stop falling, we would never reach those upper gorges in full splender. But then again, this is how I enjoy my backcountry splender. Solitude, allowing the chorus of nature to play without the competition of human dialog, just the sound of falling foot-falls across the muddy trail.  

One evening I cut out early, to take in a rare sunset. It played across the limestone walls above the river floor. At the confluence of the Lesile and Karamea River, 40 miles from the nearest trailhead, I sit along gravel banks. Watching the flow of two rivers joining as they seem to glide across their gravel banks. Innocent they glide, as a distant roar of the grand gorge travels in the air from just around the bend. A feeling of being in-deep come to the tips of my senses. I warm myself over a crackling fire, watching the light fade from the canyons floor, painting the high country tops with hints of the suns distant blaze. A hush, flowing over the country, with two blue ducks travelling above me down the rivers edge...

Could anyone ever desire a more beautiul place to roam in natures down pour? I can imagine not... But tommorrow I will push on down the rivers course, towards the Tasman Sea...