03 February 2014

Dawn light from Leon Kinvig hut

In the late afternoon of New Year's day, rain began. I tried to relax, tried not to think about the river crossing the next morning. If the river flooded, I wouldn't try crossing — it was as simple as that. I'd left instructions with a friend and if I didn't manage to contact her by my time-out deadline she'd ring the cops. They'd send a helicopter over my route and check the log books at Toka Biv and Leon Kinvig, where they'd either find me or find an entry saying the river had gone down enough to cross so I'd be heading out via Knights Track. They'd find me easily enough.

So, I relaxed in the hut that evening, tried to enjoy the sound of the rain on the roof, wrote extensively in the cahier. Just on dark, the rain stopped. In the morning the river seemed not to have risen at all and I was treated to this view from just outside the hut.

[2 January 2014, Olympus OM-D EM-1, 12–40 mm at 19 mm, ISO 200, 1/8 at f7.1]

All content © 2014 Pete McGregor


Lesley said...

I'm glad you didn't need the rescue helicopter, Pete!

Even though a Personal Locator Beacon is being carried on the trip, I always feel anxious when I'm the contact person and have responsibility for phoning the police once the deadline is past (usually 24 hours after the intended exit time to allow for a delay because of bad weather and flooded rivers.) We're so lucky to have a free Search and Rescue service, including the helicopter. That's something overseas visitors don't always seem to realise when they venture into the mountains without posting their Intentions with someone and sometimes not even entering their intended route in the hut book before they leave.

Seeing the first sunlight of a new day catching the tops is always a special moment. The toetoe look rather beaten and bedraggled, but I expect they quickly dried out and raised their heads again when the sun reached them.

Barbara Butler McCoy said...

Glad you are safe and able to enjoy this paradisiacal view! Me thinks I can hear birdsong ;>

pohanginapete said...

Lesley, I've been just as bedraggled as those toetoe on trips in this area! Having the hut as a refuge in wet weather is a godsend. I've seen the river rise and flood, too, so I don't take it lightly.

Thanks Barbara. Compared to many places overseas, New Zealand's forests can be very quiet, except where intensive predator control has been carried out — there, the dawn chorus can be spectacular. This area has had a stoat/rat trapping programme operating for a few years, so perhaps I can look forward to noisier mornings ;^)

Ruahines said...

Kia ora Pete,
Just lovely, and the light on the toetoe is just stunning. I must admit to usually having mixed feelings about rain on the tin roof. A desire to enjoy the melodious sound and warm hut tempered by thoughts of what it might mean the next day. Particularly when on a river. Glad you had a morning like this e hoa.

pohanginapete said...

Thanks Robb. One of the reasons I enjoyed mid Pohangina hut so much was the feeling of being able to relax completely even in iffy weather, knowing the swing bridge offered a safe crossing in any weather. Now, with the bridge removed, it offers no extra advantage over the other Pohangina huts. Been a long time since I've stayed there. Noho ora mai ra, e hoa.

Zhoen said...

The feathery plant in the left lower corner balances and brightens the whole image.

pohanginapete said...

Zhoen, thanks for noticing. You're right. The framing was deliberate.

The plant is the toetoe (roughly, 'toy-toy') Robb referred to.