A story of learning to embrace the conditions and enjoy being alive. An easy thing to do when you’re in Paradise.

I lay awake in my tent listening to the rain pelt against the fly. The river roared below us. I heard voices through the darkness, it was go time. I managed to pull on my boots and grab my headtorch before I emerged into the dimly lit world of 5:30am. I found a huddle of humans under the shelter of the toilet block trying to cook their breakfast. I followed suit. It was porridge all round. It warmed our bellies and gave us fuel for the road ahead. I was offered a cup of strong black coffee. I needed it, or did I? It would make me pay for it later.

We piled into the van. Hamish was in the cockpit and 21 punters squeezed into the rest of the available space. It was cosy. The van rumbled down the road to the start of the Routeburn track. The teams assembled. There was Lake Wilson, set on climbing the Harris saddle and then going through the Valley of Trolls to the alpine lake. There was Mt Erebus, keen on ascending the roughly 2000m peak behind the lake. And then there was us, Mt Xenicus. We were intent on climbing the mountain that dominates the pass over the Harris Saddle.

Intentions were all well and good but the weather was horrible. We set off in the dark down the track in the pouring rain. A plan began to materialize that we would go to Lake Wilson and reassess our situation. The weather might clear up we thought. We might be buggered and want to turn around. It seemed like a sensible plan. We made good time though the murk, black silhouettes of trees loomed around us. The track is a highway, designed with high foot traffic in mind. It was not so popular so early in the morning though. Soon my body reminded me of my morning coffee. The sheer cliffs above and below the track forbade me from even thinking of going off the track. I had to hold it. We stopped to rearrange waterproof layers. In my state I was not prepared to stop. I told them I needed to go on. I found salvation 100m around the corner and scrambled up to a secluded spot. It is important that when one does go to the toilet in the bush that they go a reasonable distance off track and that you bury it afterwards. No one wants to see toilet paper in the backcountry. Lake Wilson soon caught up to my group. However, in my new lightened state we were able to speed off again. I felt like a bit of a fool when we came across a toilet just 500m up the track at Sappers Pass. Oh well. Soon we were over the pass and onto the flat river flats of the Routeburn.