14. Life in the Bush

I had a full day off and went up to the Pass with one of the younger lodgees. It was a sunny day after many days of rain. We started just before the walkers left at 7:30am and kept to a steady pace to stay well ahead.  Once we reached the DOC hut, Mintaro, we knew the walkers would have a break there so decided to keep going to build some distance.  

We reached the zigzag path up the Pass and as we climbed, the bush line thinned out until it eventually disappeared.  Beech, fuchsia trees and ferns were replaced with tussock grass, alpine daisies (both bright yellow and white varieties), astelia and flaxes.  Flowering alpine hebes were flowering and also along the rocky path were the occasional yellow buttercups, now nearing the end of their flowering season.

I watched as a couple of kea squawked above us and as we approached the monument, they settled on the cross.  I quickly grabbed my SLR camera and started taking photos.  There were just a couple of juveniles with the surrounding of their eyes and lining their beak bright yellow - this colour disappears once they reach around four years of age.  They didn’t mind me getting closer and in fact seemed to enjoy the attention.  

A few people arrived up onto the Pass and the parrots flew off as they did not like to be around too many people.  I wondered if they recognised me, as I recognised them.  On a previous walk up to the Pass, I found them on the path trying to get into a stoat trap.  The traps are now bolted down now to prevent the birds using their beaks to break in. 

A few days later I had a two day break and I booked to stay the night at the first lodge of the track, Glade House. Before I reached Glade House, I met the Clinton Hut DOC Ranger on the track and he said on my way back tomorrow he could take me up to the water intake area.  There is a lovely waterfall up there.  Sure, I replied.  I’ll see you tomorrow. 

Once I got to Glade, I caught up with the Relief Manager there who I had befriended at the very start of the job.  She was a similar age to me and it was interesting to hear how she was getting on.  

It’s not an easy job, she said, especially being away from friends and family for six months.  She was from Bundaberg in Queensland. It’s changing there, she said, like a lot of places.  Used to be cheap but people are moving out of the expensive cities and moving to places like Bundaberg, and house prices are rising.

I got talking to the Glade House Lodge Manager the following morning at breakfast time.  She had been working there for a number of years now and loved it.  She’s a bit older than me and has built a life around working six months of the year then travelling for the rest. 

We were in the kitchen chatting while she peeled potatoes for the evening’s meal.  Let me give you some useful advice, she said. She went on to tell me that I didn’t need to have a plan for my life anymore, not at "our" age and stage of life. I watched as picked up another potato from the skin full of them and dug the peeler into it before twisting the potato around it until all but the sides had been removed in one long strip.  She looked from the potato to me as she continued with her advice. It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you enjoy it, just don’t over-think it.  

I thought back to my chat the previous night with the Relief.  I AM NOT COMING BACK HERE! - she had stated.  I told her that I had told myself the same thing.  The work is too hard.  There are easier jobs, she said, especially in Oz where you can just walk into a job and back out again if you don’t like it.  Here… I’m kind of stuck, she told me.  

About a month or more ago I told my friends and family I was about to quit.  However, from somewhere I found some more resilience and I was still here.  But my back is broken, I told her.  All the carrying wet heavy linen from laundry to dry room has seized my upper back.  All the lodgees complain of the same thing... even the young ones. 

The Lodge Manager picked up a new potato and waited until she was peeling before she told me that for next year, she wants more “mature” women on her team, like we have at Pomp.  They just do the job without complaint.  Hahaha, I laughed to myself.  We are definitely complaining, but perhaps have a greater sense of commitment to the job than the younger ones.  Glade had just recently lost two of their younger lodgee staff with another one about to leave.  

I had been itching the many welts on my arms and legs. On my way down I had stopped by the river for lunch and no sooner had I taken my shoes and socks off, a swarm of sandflies swooned over me and started biting. That night I was sitting outside on the porch with the Relief Manager when a swarm of sandflies started bombing us. All the frantic slapping of thighs didn't help at all. As we rushed back inside, we both agreed that this place, the Milford Track, would be perfect if it wasn’t for the sandflies.

There aren’t many people who get to live here, the Lodge Manager told me. You should just enjoy your time while you are here.  Just a handful of people get to live at the lodges… she added.  She recalled how some lodgees who had arrived on the first day decided to leave again hours later, saying the place was too remote. 

I don’t seem to mind it, I told her.  I had begun to appreciate the nature that the weka, kea, kaka all lived in… even the beautiful buttercup and mountain daisies that survived the harshest of weather.

The Lodge Manager continued. “We are a part of the ancient beech forest that has been here for millions of years.  To see 500+ year old red beech trees with their huge roots and straight trunks that tower over 30 metres above...  yes, I am here still only because of where we are.”  

I told the Lodge Manager how I had walked down the track towards Glade the previous day and saw the occasional but spectacular pop of red from flowering Southern Rata; big substantial trees that stood out amongst the green mass of large beech trees. I also saw the pretty flowering tree fuchsia and a scarlet mistletoe high up in the canopy.  How I’ve not tripped over and hurt myself was a miracle, I chuckled out loud. “And yet, I have struggled to stay here” I continued and I watched as she continued to peel the dozens of potatoes in the sink. 

I explained to her that it’s the vast contrast of an impossibly tough work environment and also being in one of the most beautiful places on earth.

She agreed that it is a place of extremes. 

I couldn’t work in Antarctica, I said, thinking of a similar job.  That would be even harder.  I know a few people here have applied… but it’s hard to get a job there. 

I left the Lodge Manager to her potatoes and made my way back to Pomp.  One of the Glade House lodgees joined me and she pointed out where an old hut had burned down sometime in the 1940’s, its dead occupant was discovered still in his bed. Over the many years, huts have been blown off the Pass, destroyed by avalanches, burnt down or carried away in a torrent of water.  Nature is tough.  We are now exactly half way through the season so tough is what I’ve got to be to stay here until the end of the season.

I found myself thinking back to when we first arrived.  It was freezing cold, was dark early and the work was suddenly very over whelming.  We had to learn the numerous duties and get used to the physical toll on our bodies. We all lost weight after running up and down the numerous stairs, working long hours, hard work.  We were tired and grumpy… until suddenly we knew the duties and it wasn’t so stressful anymore.  We all got along and started to work better as a team and somehow it got a little easier. 

“You’re not a quitter!” one of the younger lodgees told me recently.  I wanted to be, but I also knew, everything comes to pass.  Soon, the season will end and I’ll feel proud for sticking it out.  

The lodgee and I chatted as we walked along the path before turning off at Clinton Hut.  The Ranger was there and I introduced the lodgee to him.  He led us to the helipad and then stepped off into soft spongy spagnum moss and I felt the dampness spread into my socks. 

“Walk on the sides of the track as some places are quite deep” he warned us.  I followed his steps as we headed into the forest.  There were some old makeshift bridges that we had to cross one at a time.  Eventually we saw the black water hose and followed it up the hill, deeper into the beech forest.  We went past a settling tank that helped to remove some of the twigs and leaves and their tannins from the water.  It takes the pressure off the filters further down the line, he told me.  

We kept climbing until we reached a pretty waterfall.  He pointed up and there was a huge rock face with water cascading down.  That’s the part you can’t see from the hut.  It continues further up… and I’m sure there is a small lake up the top, he told us.  

“It hasn’t been raining for a few days so I come up here to check the water intake” he explained.  “If it’s been raining, this entire area, where you are standing now, is a gushing torrent of water.” 

Two huge tree trunks lay over the pool of water and I guessed they had fallen down from far above.  From this higher position I looked across to the mountain opposite us.  There was a big rocky slip down one side and he explained that this entire area was once carved out by a glacier.  Over time peat built up enough soil for trees to grow but they aren’t deep-rooting.  When one tree goes, it becomes an avalanche of trees and you end up with these huge slips.  

He offered us a cup of tea when we got back but I said we needed to head to Pomp. Along the way back the lodgee showed me some of the biggest and oldest red beech trees on track. They looked majestic! The Ranger had told us he thought these trees were more like 800 years old.

The hike back took over five hours with all our stops and I felt tired by the time we got back to Pomp. It had been a beautiful sunny day and for the first time, it actually felt like summer. More lately, the days had been long and warmer, peaking at about 20.C. The sunlight was still on the peaks of the mountains well past 10pm and life became easier with the longer light. 

The season ended on 12 April and I found myself counting down…once I get back from my week out, it will be just Feb and March to go.  I can do this!

The following day there was a weather warning with heavy rainfall, flooding and high winds. I felt sorry for the walkers who had to navigate the very wet and soggy tracks. The radio crackled with a message telling guides to return to Hirere Falls hut as the water was reaching waist deep on the track. How quickly things turn, I reflected. I was only on the track the day before and it was as dry as tumbleweed.