It really is spectacular drive along the foothills of the Southern Alps. Blue lakes contrasted against the rocky, dry-brown land, jagged peaks in the distance, all framed in a cloudless blue sky. Makes you proud to be kiwi. Even the sight of the blue-and-whites out to accumulate his quota was not cause for undue concern – we were enjoying the picture-perfect day far too much.

The trip to Makarora from Christchurch might be long, but on a day like that day, it was priceless. We arrived at Makarora (West) sometime around 4pm, completed the necessary paperwork with those ever-friendly staff at the DOC centre and had crossed the Makarora at the Young River by about 6pm. I won’t say it was a saunter up to the shelter at the North Branch, but even with a full pack we were in fairly high spirits about life, the universe and everything really.

The first reality check was a fairly serious, and highly successful attack by Easy Company, North Branch, 1st Sand fly Battalion. I’ll bear the scars for many a day. The second reality check was to find we had left the butane in the car. But hey, after a swim, a meal warmed on the fire, a postcard setting complete with the sound of water cascading down nearby waterfalls, and a 10pm sunset, as they say, “who cares…”

Next day, after a 6-hour detour back to the car, we reunited the butane with our packs and set off up to the Young Hut. The contrast in the track from yesterday was the 3rd reality check. Well marked but with loose rock, lots of exposed roots, and plenty of vertical, made us feel the full weight of all those “extras” we had packed for the trip. The beech forest and the Young River was some compensation, but the new Young Hut was like the Taj Mahal. Clean, new, well laid out, screens on the windows and a classic bush setting, shared with only 4 other trampers, made us feel so good that we even talked to the Aussie in the group.

It was an early start the next day. After about half an hour we emerged onto the flat, grassy valley floor, the crystal clear Young River now a mere stream, and ahead a huge basin of loose looking gray rock, patches of ice and Mount Awful appearing through misty cloud. A cool breeze. Perfect for tackling Gillespie Pass.

The pass itself is not easy, but the track clearly marked and the view from the top was well worth every calorie it took to get there. Any remaining cloud disappeared while we enjoyed lunch, so it was starting to get very hot again. Eventually we reached the floor of Siberia Valley, after a heart breaking climb just when you felt you were about to emerge. The thought of a side trip to lake Crucible was well truly buried by the time we reached the fork, so we carried onto Siberia Hut.

There can only be a handful of accommodation as well placed as Siberia Hut. Expansive views up a glacial valley, dominated by Mt. Dreadful. After coffee, chocolate and a chat to tramper from California who had injured his calf trekking Gillespie Pass, and his guide, we set off to Kerin Forks.

Next day was again, crisp, clear, still and hot. Did I say hot? Such an understatement. Some seven (yes 7) hours later, we arrived back at Makarora. The lesson learnt – cross the Wilkin and walk the river flats – the path has not been maintained for years!

The general feeling on the way back was, ‘we must do that again’, with a definite plan to get to lake Crucible.

Trevor Lloyd and Eric Skiiling (scribe)

-- Uploaded by Eric Skilling on 6 March, 2010