What makes the Dusky so challenging?

Remoteness

Located deep in Fiordland in New Zealand’s south-west corner, the Dusky Track is only accessible by boat or sea plane which sees few people attempt it each year. Once dropped off with transport disappearing off into the distance you are on your own and need to be very self sufficient. This puts many trampers off. I couldn’t tell you the number that tackle the track each year but based on hut book entries it can’t be that many, making for a very uncrowded track that provides a sense of real solitude. Exactly what I was after. During my trip I hiked solo during the day, meeting up with others for three nights at mountain huts and spending the remaining three nights alone. Night time company was certainly enjoyable. I love hearing and sharing stories with others while cooking up dinner, reliving our most enjoyable (and hated) sections through the day and bitch about sandflies. The nights alone were also enjoyable but it really drives home just how remote and isolated you are out there, knowing there is not a sole for at least 6 to 8 hours either side of you.

Seven other intrepid trampers travelled by boat with me across to the trail head at the northern end of Lake Hauroko. A group of three young, ambitious New Zealanders with a long weekend off, had set themselves the challenge of completing the direct route over 3 days. With a long day ahead to Lake Roe they pretty much disappeared onto the track immediately on landing and we never crossed paths again. There was a father and son who were loaded up with 11 days of food, who would take their time moving from hut to hut each day, including the Supper Cove side trip. And there was a Canadian couple, Jackie and Alex who set out with the same plan as me. We would spend the next three days walking separately but meeting up at the huts each night. By day four the Canadians had decided they had seen enough of the Dusky Track and choose not to head to Supper Cove, at which point we parted ways. I’d cross paths with the father and son just once on my return from Supper Cove as they were headed in.

All in all, using 7 passengers on the boat as an average, twice weekly over the peak season, mid November to early January, and then once a week from late January to end of April, I put the numbers stepping out on the Dusky from the southern end somewhere in the vicinity of about a hundred a year.

The Terrain

Being such a remote track the Dusky is more of a route than a true track and sees little maintenance. The standard track surface varied substantially each day. Sections of beautiful single track with thick mats of decaying vegetation providing a soft cushioning underfoot would soon give way to long sections of southern beech tree roots where feet would not touch solid ground for hundreds of metres at a time. Spreading sideways in the shallow soils, the beech roots meander every which way to form a criss-cross pattern across the trail. Treacherous in wet conditions, especially when aligned to the direction or your foot steps, forming the perfect slippery surface; and when forming small, foot sized arches patiently waiting to catch a misplaced shoe and trip you up. Many huge holes exist under the tree roots as well and it wasn’t unusual to place to walking pole out in front only to find half the length disappear instantly under ground. At times walking poles were essentially dead weight, not to be relied on for the usual support they provide. If they didn’t disappear into holes, they would sink deep into mud pockets along the route.

Over time, with the passing of thousands of footsteps, the shallow soils have been cut through to the underlaying shale forming small channels across much of the route. Being the line of least resistance water tends to find its way into these channels, collecting to form small pools or running creeks. During the few days of rain I experienced, it was difficult to distinguish if the track was in fact in a creek or a creek had formed along the track. In flat areas and anywhere where water couldn’t adequately drain, deep, thick, sucking mud quagmires were the norm. Occasionally these would catch me off guard. Expecting a slightly muddy foot I was always surprised when I instantly sank knee deep or further into the muck. It wasn’t unusual for these muddy sections to extend for 50 to 100m.

Other than the odd reroute of trail markers to divert the track around major obstacles like land slips and the occasional window cut into large tree blow downs to provide some sort of step up and over, there is little track maintenance carried out along the route. Most maintenance time is spent on keeping huts serviceable and three wire bridges in tact. Across the length of the full Dusky there are 21 walk-wire bridges suspected high above the rivers they cross, often requiring climbing a ladder to then delicately balance out onto the wires. Quite the challenge with a pack on. With so much rain annually, it is not unusual for some of the lower suspended bridges to be completely wiped out during flood events; or sections of river to rise across the track surface cutting access off. Fiordland receives around 7,000 mm of rain annually. I was prepared for the possibility of being stranded and having to wait for water levels to drop by carrying an extra two days food.

I could never understand the rangers cutting a step into trees down across the track rather than clearing a path right through. If you are standing at a tree down with a chainsaw in hand why just cut a step and not a whole wheel out of the tree? Most days would see an average of a dozen large tree blow downs that had to be negotiated, mostly massive beech trees with thick bases and heavy crowns that had toppled over in shallow soils. It would be a case of finding the line of least resistance which could me bush bashing around, climbing over, crawling under or picking a route through the mass of branches.

At other times landslips would be encountered that had completely obliterated all signs of a trail. Jumbles of rock, scree and dead trees scattered at the base of a steep mountains leaving behind with a scar of naked rock where the debris had slid from.

Across the high passes near Roe Lake and Centre Pass the track opens up to cross open plains of snow grass and thick moss beds offering impressive views out to snow capped peaks and deep valleys, tarns littering shallow depressions up high.

Other sections of track are essentially tree root ladders which sound exactly as described. Very steep descents or ascents, vertical in places, with a mix of exposed rock and criss-crossed Beech roots, requiring the use of all four limbs to negotiate. At times I would simply throw my walking poles down slope or off rock ledges to be collected once a tricky descent had been made. Several sections, in particular the climb down from the Pleasant Range to Loch Maree and the ascent from Kintail towards Centre Pass, required the use of stainless steel chains that had been installed to assist travel. One small cliff face on the way to Supper Cove makes use of a ladder to climb up to a narrow ledge that then skirts across slope high above Loch Maree.

The Dusky was a full body workout – not only did my feet and knees know about the very steep ups and downs, at the end of the day my arms would also let me know they were at the party as well.

It’s bloody wet

Fiordland is notorious for foul weather and has been shaped by rain and snow over eons. With something like 7 metres of rain a year, it is rare that a full week of fine weather opens up to walk the entire length of the Dusky. I was lucky on this trip with light rain experienced on Days 1 & 2 and again on the Day 7, with the intermediate days a mix of cloud cover with no rain and sunny days. I was incredibly lucky with sunny days through the most challenging sections of the track. Late in the afternoon of Day 2 at Lake Roe Hut the misty rain turned into snow and I was thankful for the shelter of the hut. Even on the sunny days, the odd showers came and went. Everyday saw some moisture fall from the sky.

I don’t think I’ve ever hiked in such a wet place. Expect wet feet everyday. At times it was like every inch of the ground seemed to have water seeping from it. Trickles of water bleeding out of seemingly nowhere. Flat ground would pool water with moss covered surfaces acting more as sponges than anything else. With every foot placement in the soft mats, the moss would disappear underfoot only to have a pool of water rise around it saturating shoes. It is this sort of terrain where trail runners have the advantage over leather boots. Both are guaranteed to be wet at the end of the day, with trail runners able to be completely dried by a night time fire. The two Canadians I started this trip with were wearing leather boots. Rather than embrace the suck, they went out of their way everyday attempting to avoid wet boots only to end up with wet boots anyway. Most days they were diverting significantly off track at each pool, scrub bash around anything wet, massively lengthening their days to doubling DOC’s max expected times each day (noting most DOC recommended times are very conservative)

Sounds bad right?

Well, don’t let my description the track put you off just yet. There are so many aspects of the Dusky that I absolutely loved and New Zealand in general. Features that keep drawing me back to this region of the world. Stay tuned and I’ll fill you in.