“On a Mish” #139 No Hut Creek (Part Two). Hut Creek. Earl Mountains. Fiordland National Park. 22.1.2013. I like the fact that some of our places in the wild have reverted back to their te reo maori names. We have so many places with the names that are very bland or boring, or sometimes the names can be quite misleading. A good example of a misleading name is Hut Creek. Located in the heart of Fiordland hiking country, the track does have doesn’t have a hut or even shelter. But it does have a ton of epic scenery, and if you carry your own hut (tent) you’ll probably think that the place worth of its own hut. I mean it is called hut creek!
I found an awesome spot to pitch my tent with a grand view of Triangle Peak(2017m), and easy access to the pristine waters of Hut Creek. I set up my Hut Creek ‘hut’ under the watchful eyes of a couple of Weka, who seemed curious about this intruder in their backyard. After camp was completed, I enjoyed a swim in the warm afternoon sun in the refreshing waters of Hut Creek (the swim was seconds long thanks to the bloody cold water!).
The valley had a remote feeling to it that I really love and yet it was only two hours walk from the very busy Milford Road to get to this spot. I lay back on a perfectly shaped rock chair, and watched the grey granite on the mountains briefly turn a mix of red and orange as the last of the day’s sun disappeared behind Triton Peak(1651m). The perfect breeze meant it was one of the rare occasions in Fiordland when I could relax and not worry about getting slaughtered by sandflies.
Afternoon drifted on into evening and as I cooked my dinner I could hear the same Weka from earlier scratching around in the bushes behind my tent. Having wildlife to look at is a real treat in a place that like many has been infected with unwanted vermin. At dusk I watched a lone deer galloping across the valley, and although it is an introduced creature it seemed to blend in effortlessly with its environment.
The long Southland summer days meant it was still light when I retreated to the warmth of my sleeping bag. The light southerly winds cleared the skies and chilled the air. As I lay in my sleeping bag I enjoyed the peacefulness only found in the mountains. Hut Creek was trickling away beside me and in the distance I could hear calls from the Kea who call the valley home. My first mish into the Earl Mountains was going very well…
