Most had not
set foot, boot, or seat in the Rees Valley, therefore it was with
great enthusiasm we set forth in our two 12-seater rentals from our
mildly frosty Friday night camp at Lake Sylvan. Under a cloudless
blue sky we loaded ourselves camel style and darted up the Rees,
enduring bemused stares from river grazing Hereford cattle. While
some headed to seek 25 Mile Hut, others carried on to Kea Basin.
Spongy uneven underfoot terrain slowed things at times, with a
number of 'wet' watery crossings to negotiate, along with a couple
of pulsing, wide-wired, electric fences to get through. Being a
standard stayer myself and not always up with the thoroughbreds, I
missed some of the excitement, but telltale signs were there to be
read on our catch ups - that of wet 'bottoms' and damp 'tops'. We
soon advised the removal of 'warm' clothing to alleviate the tops,
with light hearted bantering as to whom would lend a dry pair of
shorts to the 'bottom'. This also interested the pursuing sandflys.
Now heading
through bush following a reasonable track, we climbed for around a
couple of hours, passing some cozy rock bivvys, one of which was
grass/tussock based, to reach Kea Basin. With not a kea in sight we
set up camp in the shadow of Mt Earnslaw, having heard three
avalanches and seeing one on the way up. It was going to be a cold
night.
Following an
early tea most, along with their body-warming sustenance, gathered
for a night of heady high spirits. We learnt that at age four, a
male colleague used some pretty grownup terminology to refuse the
ballet lessons on offer! Being so cold I had opted for the sleeping
bag with my jaw clamped closed, not wishing to be accused of taking
over the show by 'chattering' all night.
Morning found
us with frozen boots, and still in the shade of the mountain. Some
were dunked in the creek to help thaw them. Leaving our camp in tact
we set out on the, in places steep and difficult, climb towards the
snowline. With breathtaking views right down the river valley behind
us, we tried our hands as film stars, posing as part of the
landscape for the camera. Back at base, now basking in sun, we
enjoyed a lunch and packed up, returning via a slightly different
route alongside the river to meet up at the vans for the return
home.
You will have
noticed throughout this article a lack of name dropping. To fix
that, 1 from 21, thanks heaps to Dave our leader, our drivers, and
all who took part.
P. S. We came close to fame, until we turned right from the Cromwell
bridge.....Shrek lives to the left.