We were just walking along, minding our own business. It was our first day on the 120 kilometre Harper Pass Track that would take us across the Southern Alps. When the wasps started to swarm us, we kept calm. We were used to walking through multitudes of them in the forest and they never bothered us. This time, for some reason, they were mad. When they started to dive bomb us, Gord yelled, “run!” Elbows out, head down, poles clacking, we looked like two 90-year-olds making a break for it, tottering away as fast as we could. Gord got stung on his wrist (which later swelled up) and one flew up my nose and nailed me there. That we each only got stung once proved to be an auspicious start to the next section.
We walked through green cathedrals of old forest carpeted with beautiful moss, crossed more landslides, crawled over more humungous fallen trees, and enjoyed our first flat valley walk on a rocky river terrace after the long, gruelling downside of the summit (I far prefer going up). A highlight was crossing a river on a three wire bridge (each hand holding a wire while walking on the bottom wire).￼
Our feet haven’t been dry in days. Two days of rain were followed by three days with multiple unbridged river crossings. And we have been lucky! Any more rain and we would have had to cool our heels waiting for the water level to go down (which has befallen many). Usually the water didn’t go higher than our knees but once it was bum high with such a strong current, I knew that if I went down, I would be bodysurfing hell bent for leather to who knows where. It took me almost 45 minutes to inch my across the 30 foot river. Gord being taller and with more body mass was able to get across more directly, but still with adrenaline fillled care.
Last evening we were camped in the forest a few kilometres from the end of the track. We were relaxing in the tent when we heard an explosive crack. The kind of crack that means something calamitous is happening. It was followed by the crashing of branches. My first thought was that a landslide was coming down on us. Gord knew a huge tree was falling but also thought it was landing right on us. We jumped up (as much as you can in a 4×6 foot tent) expecting to be crushed at any moment. The crashing faded back to silence leaving nothing but the pounding of our hearts. As soon as we gathering our wits we raced outside to find the fallen tree. It had landed in the forest (in our direction) about 50 feet away from us. When a tree falls in the forest (hush, you know it’s coming), and someone is there to hear it, it makes a very loud sound!
We are grateful that the trail Gods continue to smile down on us.