Nina Valley

The West Coast wasn't going to play nice over the Easter weekend. Our plan to tramp to Frew Hut and Cedar Flats was thwarted by a strong suspicion of approaching wind and snow, leading us on a 450km loop to Lewis Pass and up the Nina Valley instead.
We left in glorious sunshine loaded with life support for 4 days in the bush. Somehow I managed to grab a whole heap of lead weights before leaving home which I sneakily hid in my pack and then forgot about...
The forest was just amazing. There had been some fresh snow the day before, which, under the bright sunshine, was rapidly melting, making the forest look like someone had left the tap running in the distance; tree roots creating mini waterfalls, and mossy logs little cascades. Tricksy mud pools lay in wait for the unsuspecting feet, hungry to suck your boots clean off. On one occasion, convinced that even with the weight of a small African nation on my back I could balance my way over a log and onto dry land, I succumbed to the arboreal embryonic fluid, plunging my arm right in. I was very surprised to feel an unexpected warmth deep in the slime, but decided not to investigate any further.
Nina Hut welcomed us in out of the cold after just over 4 hours, the light beginning to fade. It was the first time in ages I had walked some distance since that infamous knee "incident" and I was ready for a rest. The hut was quite full leaving 4 of us to find a small corner to call home and wait to see what the morning would bring.
More of the same. Clouds, dampness and an altogether grayness that would lead many to stay in bed. But on we went, on to Devilskin Pass, a pass that was far from devilish: a wide open pass with knee deep snow, long view of forest below and rocky mountain tops above. The odd bit of Speargrass did it best to cause discomfort but was soon forgotten as we slipped and slided down the hill.
Day two, to Doubtfull Hut was considerably longer, and by the end of it I was flagging behind. That, and the weather refusing to improve, meant that the sight of the Hut on the other side of the river was a most welcome view, when, drenched from top to bottom, we dripped our way inside. Our house mates for the night were a pair of hunters that were as different as two men can be. But that is to be expected I guess... afterall, what madness drives one into the bush on such a weekend anyway...
Conditions improved considerably when Adrian took control of the fire starting and before you could dial 999 (that's 111 to you Kiwis) a roaring fire began to that us out. after feeding ourselves, a few minor modifications to the hut to stop the leaks, and a weather check on the radio that I had lugged some of the way in it was time to wrap up in all my clothes and wait for daybreak.
Day 3 was no better. we split in two groups: the cripples and the keen. Tony and I were in the former, heading back to civilisation some 5 hours away, leaving Adrian, Steve and Ed to wander up the slope, through the snow showers and wind to Lake Mann.
With my new found river crossing skills (cheers Tony) we made it back to the relative comfort of the road, waited for the others before scooting our way to Maruia, and swapping the cold rain drops for hot sulpher pools, the smell of which has only just started to leave my flesh.
Not quite the weekend that was planned, but a fine one nonetheless.