August 30-August 31st
The morning after my interview, I was standing on the side
of the road, thumb up, at the edge of Franz Joseph Township. The first ride
took about an hour to catch, mostly because there weren’t many cars driving north.
The good weather was continuing to hold so it wasn’t a terrible wait, except
for dealing with my own impatience.
A RV filled with rowdy college students pulled a fake-out on
me at one point (pretending to pick me up at first but then tauntingly rolling
forward as I approached). Then 15 minutes later a man in an old truck pulled
over and I was able to hop in without having to chase him down. He had gone on
a drive along the coast for the morning just for the sake of it and was on his
way back home. We chatted briefly in spurts and listened to the radio in
between our occasional talk. On the drive, the man smoked a few cigarettes, so
I focused on trying to not inhale his smoke and looking out the window to
admire the views.
He dropped me off at the main traffic circle in Hokitika. As
I was walking to a good hitching point, I put my thumb out when cars went by,
as every good opportunist does. I was still walking when someone offered me a
ride. He was heading back to
Christchurch from a weekend of visiting his family.
He was almost
the exact opposite of my last driver. Very talkative, with no shortage of stories.
They were good stories too about his travel all around Australia. I listened
intently as I munched on the apple turnover he had offered me (part of the
large supply of food his mother was sending him home with). He’s been stuck
trying to hitch hike from a few buildings surrounded by miles of uninhabited
desert, hours from the closest proper town. To him, a five-hour drive to the
West Coast to visit family for a day was nothing. He also took some time to
describe many of the deadly insects and animals he came across during his
travels. I probably should have been taking notes. I mentioned my worry about
all the animals in Australia that could kill me. He assured me that as long as
I don’t go around poking things with a stick like many teenage boys do, then
I’ll be alright.
He ended up going about half an hour out of his way and
dropped me off at my car. No broken windows, now slashed tires, and everything
inside looked all in order. Sweet. I walked to the grocery store, bought some
food and a bottle of wine. I left the wine at the backpackers with a note in
exchange for my car keys. It was only about 3 in the afternoon and I felt like
I needed to do something before heading back to Dunedin. Long story short, a
few texts and a phone call and I had plans with Manu (gentleman I had met
earlier that week) to go hiking and climbing on Mt Somers.
Mt Somers was a short 30-minute drive from where I was. I
parked in the lot to see heaps of cars. Right, it’s a sunny warm Saturday, of
course people are going to be hitting the hills. I went for a run while I
waited for Manu. When he arrived, we decided to sleep in our own cars in the
car park that night and head out at a leisurely hour in the morning. The sign
at the start of the track noted the hike would take about 3 hours. Well, with
Manu being a ranger in the summer and me Funemployed fit, we covered the trail
in about 1 hr and 45 minutes. Conversation was brief and only held on the
flatter bits of the trail when we both had air to talk and walk.
We crested the ridge I saw the familiar site of Pinnacle hut
sitting in the wide valley, just below the features that earned the hut its
name. Rounded, pocketed limestone
pinnacles protruded from the slopes. Above them, short wavy basalt walls stuck
out of the steep slopes that were otherwise covered in scree or bushes
A short while later we arrived at the hut, just in time for
most of the occupants to be heading down hill. We chatted with the folks briefly and I looked around for
topo drawings of the climbing areas that were here 3 years ago. With the last
minute planning, we didn’t have time to get a guidebook. Unfortunately, the
topos were gone (though I did find a copy of the entertaining 'Antics', a publication made by the University of Otago Tramping Club). Luckily Manu had the blessed and cursed smartphone, which helped us find information on a couple of crags. The arcing wave of basalt columns that
were called the Christian Principles caught our attention (I for the looks and
Manu for the name). It was one of the furthest crags but it looked like it had
a couple of decent moderate climbs for Manu (who didn’t climb a whole lot). I
glanced at the note that said the crag was not as big as it looks and decided
it would be a fun adventure, we must go.
About an hour of scrambling up and down scree fields and on
top of bushes, we finally arrived at the base of Christian Principles. I
instantly learned to pay better attention to the small print in guidebooks. The
wall was about half the size I though it to be from the hut. I realized then some of the walls closer
to the hut would have been preferable to this. But we were there. So we found
some bolts and cracks and did some climbing. I led and Manu top roped.
My psych for climbing was high at the start of the day and
rapidly decreased once we were at the crag. Meanwhile, Manu started the day
with a low psych for climbing, and after struggling up the first climb
remembered how fun climbing could be. His drive to climb something clean perked
up and he hoped on the second route I put up.
After a couple of hours at the wall we headed out and back
down to the car park with less spring in our steps than coming in. We arrived
at the car park rather hungry, and despite my low climbing psych, content with
the day out. We quickly loaded our cars and met in Geraldine 20 minutes away
for a fish and chip dinner. After loading up on the cheap greasy meal, we said
our good byes, and I hopped in the car to finally make my way to Dunedin, a
mere three hours away.
