A Damp Awapoto Hut as we set off for Castle Rock Hut

The next four hours was quite enjoyable to start with despite the rain, but my mood soon deteriorated. Whoever said there was no water between huts on the inland track, hasn't been in torrential rain!! The path all the way was running with water - not just a mere trickle, but actual gushing and gurgling streams and on hills veritable waterfalls with water cascading over tree roots and pools ponded up behind them, some shin deep.

After a while I gave up trying to keep my boots dry and just waded through as the water had soaked through anyway. We climbed up hill after hill and back down again at top speed, far faster than any other day, spurred on by the miserable weather. The signs on the way to Moa Park were wildly underestimated, which made my mood even blacker. I wouldn't have minded if we had been going slowly, but we were nearly jogging down all the hills!! By two thirds of the way there, I was soaked through to the skin, my 100% waterproof jacket having given up against the deluge. When we weren't climbing hills I felt cold and we decided we ought to stop at Moa Park and not go on to Castle Rocks or we'd probably end up with hyperthermia. At last after four hours - a record time (everyone in the hut visitors books had been saying that four and a half hours was a wild underestimation!!!) we arrived at the clearing in the trees which is Moa Park, a tussock covered valley. The roar of the usually placid stream in the valley bottom reached our ears before we actually emerged from the trees, and I knew it was bad news!!! We got out of the trees and there was the hut (our haven) on a hill across the valley, and between us and it a hideously swollen raging torrent!!! One look said NO! to me. It was impossible to cross. A moment of panic ensued! We'd walked four hours, we couldn't go back. It would be dark before we made it anyway and we wouldn't have had a hope of following the orange markers. We walked down to the edge of the river and decided we'd see if it was possible to cross. I got in at the edge - 2 ft deep - and edged my way across to the edge of the main flow while Andrew kept a hold of me tightly from the edge. (Hang on, haven't we been here somewhere before !!?? (NOTE:- referring to a similar experience in Taman Negara in the Malaysian rainforest earlier on our trip)) The water got deeper, rising to my waist, and even at the edge of the flow the water was incredibly powerful, my feet slipping on the gravel on the bed and the current of the water rippling the fat on my legs (I was wearing shorts). It was impossible!!! What now?? We got the map out and looked for other huts in the area. The only other one was across another 'stream', that by now would be a river and it was too far away anyway really. Could we get to Castle Rocks across country?? Not a good idea with such poor visibility. We started walking that way anyway, upstream. We came to a raging tributary which put us off . Eventually we decided to try to cross the river upstream a bit, above some of the tributaries at a wider, less fast flowing and deep bit. So we waded across the tributary and picked a spot. I went first and Andrew eased in next to me and we side stepped our way into the flow, which again was incredibly strong and started to push me downstream, my feet slipping on the gravel and the water built up upstream of our bodies. Andrew, in a fit of inspiration and desperation, pushed us with all his might towards the other bank and we arrived in slacker water and scrambled up onto the other bank. We rushed back to the hut and got out of our clothes shivering with cold (and probably fright!!) and got into some other clothes which on the whole had amazingly stayed dry!!! Of course, no one had left us any dry wood except a few twigs by the fire and a bit more in the porch, which had got soaked with the howling wind and driving rain. The hut was pathetic and dirty - a shack with holes in the walls, damp and dirty foam mattresses, a grotty bench and table, and dirty holey wooden floor, but boy did it feel great.!!! It was home no matter what it was like. Somehow I managed to light a fire with damp paper matches, and the wood left inside, but it was a feeble affair which smouldered and spat and never got going enough to give out much heat. The wind battered the outside of the hut, rattling the bits of metal and the metal chimney. We ate copious quantities of chocolate ad a cheese ham and pickle sandwich. We realised that if we were going to keep warm, we'd need more wood, and so when the rain eased off a bit, Andrew went off up the path/stream into the wood, there being none in the tussocky area immediately around the hut. It took him five or six journeys and he got soaking. When he bought it back I chopped it and bought it inside. It was all soaking wet and so I tried to arrange it around the fire to dry it, but the fire wasn't giving out enough heat really and needed constant fanning with the visitors book to keep it alive and semi burning. The rest of the day was spent tending the dying fire basically, and thanking our lucky stars we'd got across the river without being swept away, and were safe and 'dry'?? We had pasta for tea cooked on the gas stove, and went to bed when we'd just about got through all our wood, having gnawed away at our damp logs. The mattresses were damp and struck cold as were the sleeping bags, but boy it was better than being outside!!! We wore all the dry clothes we had and tried to keep warm as the fire smouldered out!!!