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Chasing the tramping bucket list

Chasing the tramping bucket list
The Canterbury Mountain Club's Cameron Hut with its purple door.

Early on a sunny Saturday morning in November, three tamping buddies paced about at the start of the trail up the Cameron River waiting for the telltale whump whump of a helicopter. It was a nervous wait, but not the sort you'd expect. It wasn't a rescue unfolding - it was the start of a much-anticipated adventure. Sharon Davis tells us more about chasing a walk on her bucket list.

It took weeks of planning, back-and-forth Whatsapp messages, a stream of emails to firm up the helicopter charter, and offerings to the weather gods for a good day once the date was locked in.

Finally, here it was. The whump whump whump grew louder and a tiny dot on the horizon quickly became a helicopter. It circled and landed. With a few formalities ticked off, our gear was loaded and we were whumped about 17km upstream and dropped off beyond Cameron Hut.

Our mission for the day was a short exploration toward the Cameron Glacier and then a fairly rough 18km tramp down the sparsely marked track back to the car.

The impetus for the trip started earlier this year, with a birthday that put me firmly on the wrong side of 55.

I overheard myself telling a colleague that I only had 10 years, or less, to tick off any of the major hikes I wanted to do.

You know how your motor mouth can run off and say what you need to hear? Well, it sunk in.

Exploring around Cameron Hut has been on my bucket list for about five years. We nearly walked it as an overnighter with dogs about four years ago, but the weather didn't play along with our plans that time.

When I moved back to Canterbury earlier this year we headed upriver with our dogs for a day walk just to see what the track was like.

Not long after that, my border collie developed an on-and-off limp. That ruled out taking Shanti on big hikes, while being a solo dog mother with no built-in dog sitter also ruled out overnight adventures without him.

So, I came up with a plan and pitched it to my hiking crew. They are crazy enough to join me in the hills roughly once a week - and they were crazy enough to say yes to my new fly-in, walk-out plan.

Although, sometimes (particularly with the wisdom of hindsight) I wish they'd say no more often.

We flew upriver and hugged the Wild Mans Brother Range as our pilot checked to see if any wild pigs had survived a cull a few weeks ago.

We popped over a rise where chamois are often seen and there it was - a tiny spec of a hut in a glacial basin surrounded by the lofty, snow-covered peaks of the Arrowsmith Range.

The views were even more tantalising up close.

We settled on a landing spot with a view up the Cameron River and watched the helicopter fly off leaving us alone in a jagged amphitheatre of stunning mountains.

We spent longer than planned picking our way laboriously through the moraine left by glacial retreat with Couloir Peak and the Twins calling us forward like Sirens.

But the reality of a six-hour walk from the hut, and a long drive home for one of the crew, called an end to the Siren song.

We turned in time for a late brunch or lunch at the Canterbury Mountain Club hut while soaking in the views.

Peg Col was instantly added to my reasonable bucket list (yes, there is also a probably-not-going-to-happen bucket list) while we sat there with a wide panaorama of chocolate-box scenery.

A steep drop down to the Cameron River.

We set off a few minutes before midday, and an hour behind our intended schedule, climbing a ridge for a view of the hut from above before joining the track through some chocky scree and boulders.

We soon joined the Cameron River, following the water as it tumbled and glistened on its journey toward the car park.

The trouble with my fly-in, walk-out plan for this trip was that the highlight was over and there was still a long slog to the car. That's not to say the scenery wasn't stunning - it was beautiful but less so than higher up.

The sun that I'd welcomed as it took the cold bite off the morning air was now baking down as we snaked along the riverbank and pushed through the odd scrubby patch.

About two hours later we started to climb as the trail rose to avoid a gorge.

On the descent on the other side, we wasted a few minutes backtracking as our "path" took us through a stand of matagouri that rivalled a rugby scrum in Goth gear.

Back on track we dropped down the steep bank to the river where it was time for a rest and to replenish water supplies.

We pushed on as tired legs had me heading into my zone out, head down, and put one foot in front of the other mode.

We passed the old musterer's hut, and soon reached a river swim hole where we had turned on the previous trip.

Familiar territory felt sweet, and for an added bonus some kind souls had been out doing track maintenance and the path was much easier to follow and far less overgrown than it had been earlier this year.

Three tired bodies arrived back at the car at 6pm after a long but thoroughly enjoyable day. Three hours exploring and a six-hour walk down from the hut. A worthy day out.

I had expected to feel a little guilty for adding to carbon emissions and taking the easy route in - but all I felt at the time was tired and pleased I'd been able to explore a remote area that had been on my bucket list.

There definitely was a time when I would have seen flying in as cheating but my thinking process has evolved over the years. If it is fine for hunters to be heli-dropped in for a hunt, or skiers flown in for a heli-ski, why is it wrong to fly in and walk out?

Getting out in the hills is my version of mental health care. I don't spend money on booze, fashion, concerts or dining out - and this is one way I can buy myself some pleasure and support a local business.

It's only ever likely to amount a once-a-year treat, if that. No I don't feel even the slightest bit guilty.

Know before you go

Despite our short-cut of flying in, it is still not the sort of trip you want to try if you not hiking fit and used to route finding and walking on less maintained tracks. Take a tent or emergency shelter and a personal locator beacon (PLB) or similar device.

Where: Mid Canterbury's Hakatere Conservation Park.

Cameron Hut: A basic nine-bunk hut owned by the Canterbury Mountain Club (CMC) at 1275m. Overnight use is free for CMC members and $10pppn for non-members.

Getting there: Continue past Lake Heron and Arrowsmith Station. There is a faint, unmarked track after a quarry that leads to the car park and start of the track.

The track: A semi-poled route of about 16km the requires some route-finding ability. The CMC rates the difficulty as medium with a time estimate of 5 - 6 hours. It took us 6 hours (including stops) going down, and I estimate it would take me 8 hours going up (as someone older and less fit).

Heli-charter: We used Heli Rural with the option to fly from Methven or from the trail head. The simple logistics of flying from the car park, which meant we could walk out to the car, won in the end.

Other options: If you're looking for something easier in the Hakatere Conservation Park consider a walk to Manuku, Double, or Boundary Creek huts or a walk around around Lake Clearwater or to the historic hut at Lake Emma. There is also a walk up the Stour River, up Mt Barossa, and an multi-day walk to Potts Hut.