Hiking the Kepler: The Single Most Disgusting Meal of My Life

It's ten in the morning and we were supposed to leave by now. I'm quite organised normally but I forgot about cutlery. Jess and I mentioned cutlery to each other throughout yesterday; but kept forgetting and here we are today without any. It's a mundane task but we're already going to be slumming it over the next couple of days so I don't particularly fancy eating rice with my fingers. So it's kind of important. 

We've had a really nice breakfast in the town at Te Anau as we knew it was going to be a last supper of sorts before the dried food and rice we're taking up the mountain. We try to savour the feeling but it's mostly just gobbled up in nervousness. Then we set off back through the town on a mission for a fork. 

Annoyingly we can't seem to find any anywhere so after traipsing back and forth around Te Anau we head back to the holiday park we stayed at and ask if they can lend us a fork. The woman on the counter gives us look that suggests she hasn't heard of such a contraption in her life. Then an eyebrow raises as she realises she understands what a fork is. Then both eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. And finally it dawns on her...that we need a fork. We explain it's for the hike and she finally gets the importance of it and searches for a fork. She finds one and allows us to borrow it until our return. Hallelujah. 

Having narrowly avoided a culinary disaster we're finally on our way. It's not the warmest of mornings and we're a bit nervous about the weather potentially turning bad but there isn't a lot we can do about it at this point so we just have to head out in hope. 

The lakeside is stunning and the water is so still you can't tell which is the mountain in the distance and which is the reflection. Well, you can as one is upside down, but you get the point. The lake is crystal clear. We follow it right around and soon enough the bush gets a bit thicker around us and we notice that the signifying car park is on one side. Then the sign is in front of us. 

The Kepler. 

We stop a moment at the point of beginning and it dawns on me that it's going to be a pretty epic trek we have ahead of us. The challenge for Jess is going to be doing the distance and still enjoying it. For me it's going to be the heights up the mountains. 

The Kepler is around a sixty kilometre track that's broken down into a four day hike. The recommended route takes you most of the way up a mountain on day one, the rest of the way along a ridge line and down another mountain on day two, followed by two days through the forest. We're doing it backwards, tackling the first thirty kilometres in one and cutting out a day as that section is all pretty much flat and I'm pretty sure we can manage it. The second day we're going straight up the steep side of the mountain and over the ridge line. Then we're going to see where we're at and either continue on to finish it in two days or (the more likely option) stay the night and do it in three days. That's the rough idea. I want to make this enjoyable so don't want to be worrying about times etc. So we're going to keep our options open.

There are three huts along the way that people can stay in. In the direction we're going it's the Moturau, Iris Burn then Luxmore huts. As it is peak season you actually have to book in advance to guarantee a bed. It's fifty four dollars per person per night. We've fairly begrudgingly paid over the cash for tonight at Iris Burn and have cash in case we decide to stay at Luxmore tomorrow. We'll see if it's worth it later but it's definitely quite a change from the tramping trips I did as a kid with Dad and my two brothers in tin sheds falling apart with only Dad's farts to warm us up. But they were free. So we'll see. There are also a few campsites along the way but, as we're on holiday, we've not brought our tent so they weren't an option. 

The upside to having booked ahead is we have a plan for today. The downside is we're tied in to going a full thirty kilometres today and aren't guaranteed a bed tomorrow as we've not booked one. So again, we'll just have to see how that plan pans out. 

We stop for a quick photo at the beginning of the tramp as I'm curious what the 'before' and 'after' photos are going to be. This one is all nervous smiles. I'm not too sure on the odds that that the 'after' photo won't be of Jess punching me in the head for making her slog up a mountain. Yep, you guessed it, we'll just have to see about that eventuality too...

About fifty metres in is the first sign alerting us to the fork in the track to decide which way you wish to traverse the terrain. I ask Jess how she's feeling and if she's still happy going the way I've (errr, I mean we've) decided on. She says she is and we're off. Straight away there is another sign alerting us to the native falcon and to watch out for it dive bombing. Carry a stick to defend yourself, it says. What? That wasn't in the guidebook. 

Oh well, best pick up a stick. 

We're pretty much straight away into some dense bush with the Waiau river heading over to Lake Manapouri off to our left. Just by the entrance to the track are the control gates to allow water out from this river. It's really nice seeing it through the trees and with the sound of rushing water and the tweet of the birds it definitely feels like I'm home in New Zealand. 

We start off with a fairly casual pace, adjusting packs constantly. We've borrowed two of my brothers day packs. Nothing bigger than a small backpack and I'm guessing around twenty five to thirty litres but we've managed to pack all our stuff in. When we were explaining to people what the plan was they looked at me like I was an idiot and looked at Jess with pity but at this point I'm still ninety nine percent positive that travelling light is going to make things easier. We've cut out nearly all luxuries from the pack weight but I'm positive we'll make up for it not having to lug around twenty kilograms. Although some things, like a fork for example, were pretty imperative to pack. Yet again, we're just going to have to see if I'm right on this one. 

The canopy above us is quite high, meaning that very little light is coming through to us. We're a bit nervous about the cold and wet as I'd completely forgotten when booking this trip that this area of the country has over two hundred days of rainfall a year. That what makes it the sort of lush countryside that films are made in (I'm not going to name the film, you know which one I mean...) but also makes for a potentially rough couple of days. Hopefully not. 

We catch up to and then pass a couple who are going a bit slower than us. Soon after I decide to stop for a photo and they pass us. It happens a couple more times over the next hour or two and eventually we walk with them for a bit and start chatting. They're from Melbourne and have been taking a campervan around the country doing small day trips but aren't really set up for doing the full multi day hikes. I try explaining they don't need much equipment but I don't think they quite grasp the fact that there are huts available. Oh well, no matter. Soon enough we pass on and they're just out for the morning so we don't see them again after this. 

It strikes us as well that this path is very well maintained. I'm used to moving around the British countryside, some of which is really well laid out, some of which isn't. I also grew up moving around the New Zealand countryside, very little of which ever seemed to be this well maintained. In saying that we were on the Boulder Bay track in Christchurch last week and I was ruefully surprised by how well looked after that has become. So maybe this one has only in recent years been gone over as there are walkways over streams and ditches on the side of the track to avoid water logging. Either way it does make the going nice and easy which is what we need as it's going to be a long couple of days. 

The sun continues to poke its head down through the trees on occasion for us and I'm a little gutted that the canopy is so complete as tomorrow is supposed to be terrible so it would be good to be in the sun today. But oh well, it's still absolutely stunning being in this environment. 

The river rushes beside us still and we see a jet boat speeding its way down on its way sightseeing the 'shire' at Lake Manapouri. We stop and look at it a moment and I notice the bank we are on has slowly eroded over time so there is an overhang on which there are trees about to fall off but currently perched precariously on the top of the bank. We take a step back. Best not tempt fate. 

The route goes inland for a while away from the river as it wends its way back and forth through the countryside although we soon rejoin it on its way back. Occasionally we go through a nice open field and it's quite a nice surprise. After hours in the shade it's quite pleasant to unexpectedly feeling the sun tingle your face. 

I ask how Jess is doing and she's managing completely fine. She still looks nervous but at least is feeling slightly more confident having done nearly three hours and not collapsing. The bags we've borrowed from my brother Tom don't sit too well on our back so we stop a moment to rearrange and end up actually swapping. Unfortunately she's tied a spare pair of shoes to the back and they are swinging back and forth on my backside. Fine for her but they bug the crap out of me so we stop again and tie them back on the bag she's carrying. I don't know why...but I can't handle dangly bits. She seems fine with them though so it's not an issue.

It's not too long before we approach Rainbow Reach. This is where some people choose to start the walk as there is a car park on the other side of the river which you can stay in or get a bus to. In the distance we can see the people we were walking with briefly, seemingly having passed us again, making their way off the path and back toward civilisation. 

There is a large wire bridge here to get to the other side which is why it's a landmark on the route so we walk half way across to admire the scenery. We repack our bags so that mine is a bit heavier. It's only fair as I'm used to spending a long time on my feet. Plus we now know what points are digging into our backs so it's a good opportunity to repack things so that the weight is distributed evenly and nothing is poking or jabbing out at us. We have our first One Square Meal bar of the day for lunch and then just look out over the river rushing and surging below us. Then I can't help myself and break the serenity pulling funny faces and wobbling the bridge. 

With the peace broken we move along again. We're not making particularly fast progress as we're both quite happy pottering along and conserving energy for tomorrow which is going to be the hardest day. We're still making okay time though with a bit over three hours on the clock and thirteen kilometres in. Projected times are still, at this point okay. 

It doesn't look to be too much further to the first hut and today's halfway point and there is a sign telling us it's a similar distance as it was to here from the control gates so things are looking okay. We move on back into forest and are soon met with a really nice view of the river from higher up so we stop again to watch the fisherman paddling about below and wonder how the hell they got out here as it's a bit of a mission even just from Rainbow Reach. I hope they're catching something decent for dinner. 

After this interlude we now leave the river on our way inland. The forest becomes dense again. We pick up the pace a bit and haven't been talking as much as we were. The excitement at beginning has worn off and we're settling into a nicer pace for the afternoon. It's peaceful and...surprisingly relaxing. For me anyway. I'm hoping Jess is enjoying it as much as me. I think she is...

After another hour or so we see a sign pointing off to a lookout and decide to take a gander. It's a random wooden walkway winding its way over a marsh out to the edge of a lake. It looks like I imagine parts of Southeast Asia do and the end is simply a platform to stand and stare out across the lake. We stop. We stare. No words. Just birdsong and the hum of mosquitos. It's incredibly peaceful. I look around and just drink it all in. 

I ask Jess how she's doing once more and she says she's okay. She looks happy and content. Which makes me happy and content as the whole point of this trip is going on an adventure and showing her some of my country so I really want her to be having fun. 

After a few minutes we start moseying back and rejoin the track. We soon realise that this whole area is actually marshland so the prominence of the wooden paths becomes higher. There is some amazing flora to be seen here. For the first part of the day it was all huge trees and now it still is but with a boggy marsh to add into the mix. And the fauna. The birds. It's incredibly relaxing (are you sick of me saying that yet?) and I'm really enjoying being back here with Jess. 

I'll admit though I'm trying to keep the thought of the huge mountain range we're traversing tomorrow out of my mind. 

We start to notice as well that we are passing loads of little holes in the ground and wonder where they are coming from. It's really bizarre as they are in certain areas only. Then I click that they must be from kiwi's foraging at night. They're very small but deep holes in the ground so I say to Jess that they must be made by the kiwi beaks while they search around at night. 

We cross another wooden bridge over what looks to be an extension of the marsh around the lake a short while ago. There's a sign in the middle telling us that the marsh around here is incredibly important to the ecosystem and that it's around five metres deep in most places. It then points out because of the fragility we shouldn't stand on it. I don't know about Jess but I'm pretty sure I don't want to be five metres deep in marsh so I'm more than happy to staunch any rebellious inclinations and adhere to the request. 

We potter on and shortly come upon an amazing natural formation. It's a hole in the ground perfectly formed in the shape of a square. It actually looks like part of a video game, Skyrim, but where the developers couldn't be bothered to render the graphics to a detailed shape. At the bottom there's one happy little fern bush just chilling and having a gay old time in the forest. I can't resist. I jump in. Jess (jokingly...I think) threatens to fill the hole in and once I've had my fun I get out. 

Soon after there's is a hollowed out tree and I find myself just having to get in this one as well. Jess rolls her eyes but I pull a funny face which makes her giggle so it's all good. I need to make sure I keep her smiling for later on in the day when she's likely to start hurting after a few more hours of walking. 

It's not too long before, as we're chatting, a structure looms out of the forest at us and we realise we've made it to Moturau Hut. We take the opportunity to use the toilets. Flushing toilets? In a forest? Luxury this, innit?

The hut is situated on the shores of Shallow Bay at the edge of Lake Manapouri. We take a minute to go down to the lake and have a look around and it's stunning. Nearly as nice as Lake Te Anau that we left behind this morning. Jess only lasts about thirty seconds as the sandflies are trying to eat her but I take a couple of minutes to stand on the beach and look around before rejoining her on the park bench outside the hut. 

She's got the bug spray out already and I take some once she's done. It's one of the things that most worried her about the trip as they can be quite a pain in the arse and particularly so if they bite you on the ankle or somewhere that's going to rub on a sock, shoe or backpack. I'm not too bothered being more used to them from similar trips as a kid. But in saying that I still don't want to give them free reign. So we put more of the spray on and keep them at bay.

It's a good opportunity for me to bring up the topic of our game plan for the rest of the day as we munch and lunch on our second muesli bar of the day. We've made it here in around five hours. Just under twenty kilometres from Te Anau. It's about three in the afternoon and it looks like the next section is supposed to be five to six hours. The sun is going to start setting around nine. I've got a head torch in my bag so I'm not nervous at all about walking in dusk but I know Jess is so want to do my best to make sure that doesn't happen. 

Of course I don't mention this to her directly as I want her to focus on enjoying herself rather than times and pace and so on. That's my job. As I normally pore over stats when running I also want to focus on enjoying myself so haven't been checking the GPS or even the time but I've also got a responsibility to keep us safe so want to make sure I still check on it once in a while. 

So I settle for again asking her how she's feeling? She's okay. Any blisters or hot spots? Nope she's good. Mood? Pretty good. Ready for another lot of the same before bed? Well she doesn't have a choice so has to be. Does she hate me yet for making her skip a day's rest here? Surprisingly not. 

I take the above as a pretty good gauge that we're in a good place not having bickered once. We've been passing various couples along the day who are of course on their last day of hiking. Nearly every single pair has had at least one person with a look of thunder on their face and really grumpy. Usually the one carrying the bag and clearly doing all the work. So I'm pretty glad we're not in that situation. There's still time I guess but we seem to manage pretty good so I'm pretty confident we won't end up hating each other. 

We set off again and, for a while, we're going along the edge of the rather massive lake. I comment that it reminds me of going around the back of Derwentwater in the Lake District at home in the UK. It's quite nice to be back by the water again after a while away from it. 

The route eventually then meets the mouth of a river and starts following its bank. It's a bit busier than the placid forest with the lake so still you can use your reflection as a mirror. It makes for a nice change of scenery. There is quite a lot of debris next to it and driftwood floating around.

We go back and forth next to this for a while and after a quick check of the rudimentary map we got from the Department of Conservation office we realise that this is the Iris Burn river and this will be what we're following pretty much all the way to the hut (and bed) for this evening. 

Soon we come upon the first 'shelter' of the track. I'd thought this was going to be a small shack that people who have been caught out by bad weather can stay in for a night to recover and try to get some warm food cooked. Basically, an emergency shelter. What it actually is, is a couple of picnic tables under a wooden roof with no walls that's completely open to the elements. Lucky we weren't relying on it. 

We decide to sit down to catch our breath. Sandflies arrive. We leave twenty seconds later. We are met with a river crossing. Jess is wily and cautious and gets across drily. I'm over confident and one foot meets a slippery rock and then the demise of its dryness in the flowing river. I laugh it off but I'm met with the annoying conundrum of having one wet foot and having to decide whether to balance them out by purposefully dipping the other. What to do? I opt to leave it and we continue. 

At this point the route starts on a very minor uphill slope which we know is going to be the case for the rest of the day up to the foothills of the mountain range we're traversing tomorrow. It's very minor though to a point where it's not really noticeable. 

We look ahead of us and see the mountains we're aiming for. It's hard to really tell exactly which ones we're going towards as they're still quite a few kilometres away but one thing is for sure...they're huge. 

We keep on at a pretty steady but not too strenuous pace and slowly start to feel a bit tired as the hours wear on. We've not really eaten a huge amount, not really feeling too hungry but I'm conscious that we need to keep an eye on energy levels as an energy crash sucks badly any day of the week so I'd like us to avoid one wherever possible. 

I have also often found while running that very gradual uphills can be almost harder than steep ones as you push nearly as hard as on the flat and most of the time forget you're going uphill but then gradually feel more and more terrible and don't know why. You just get grumpier and grumpier until a reality check reminds you that you're on a hill, working harder, and hey, it's no wonder you feel knackered, right? So I'm keen to make sure we avoid that too. 

This section is quite a long stretch constantly following the river all the way up. Then out of nowhere I see through the trees what looks like a hut and shout to Jess to tell her we've arrived. A pretty audible gasp of relief comes from behind me accompanied by a couple of expletives. Then we get closer. And a bit closer. And I regret my enthusiasm as we realise it's not a hut but some huge boulders we have to climb over instead. Oops. Thankfully Jess doesn't look too murderous for giving her false hope when she's exhausted and vulnerable. 

We come out of the forest onto a scree slope and out of the canopy and get a clear view around us at where we actually are. The river is winding its way down a gully between two rather large mountains, one of which we're at the foot of. We're in a dried up riverbed streaming down between two of the mountains which in winter would be torrential with rainwater making its way down to meet the Iris Burn below us. 

I shout out to Jess behind me to come up and see this. It's absolutely spectacular. The sheer dominance of the range surrounding and completely enveloping us overwhelms me. I grab her up in a hug and tell her this is what I wanted to show her. This is why I wanted her to come to New Zealand. To see raw nature like this. We take a moment to take it all in then she tells me she's carrying on as she can see a faraway look in my eyes suggesting we'll be here a while if she lets me linger. 

We carry on a short while longer and come across another crossing pretty similar to the last and because of all this any worries in the world just disappear. I feel like I'm finally able to not worry about anything else that's going on in the outside world and just focus on what's happening in the here and now; and that's a hike through a mountain range with someone I love so I feel pretty happy right now. 

I sense that Jess is starting to hurt a bit at this point and try to make sure to keep checking in on her that she's okay and make sure she knows I'm here and care in case she needs anything. She says she's okay but starting to get a bit sick of walking. That's fair enough. We've been walking pretty much non-stop for nigh on eight hours so she's done well to be feeling good up until now. 

Soon after we come out on another clearing only this time it's massive. We pass a sign that announces we've reached the Big Slip. We pass another one telling us of diving birds and to get another stick. Neither of us bother though. 

It's quite a nice area as again you get a real sense of where you are whilst walking through the middle of two mountain ranges and the enormity of your surroundings. The area was the scene of a massive geological explosion in the seventies whereby the never-endingly torrential rainfall in the area went subterranean until it couldn't hold any more and exploded the mountainside, spewing forth rocks as big as houses all over the valley below. 

As we walk through the valley the remnants of the event are still strewn about with huge boulders every which way you look. The side of the mountain is now a cliff with the pieces that used to be attached to it littered around us. In the distance there is a massive cataract cascading down from hundreds of metres above to the valley below. 

I muse aloud whether that may be the Iris Burn waterfall where the hut is. Jess holds out far less hope than previously thanks to my former mistake and says nothing, preferring to just wait until we're there. I stop for a photo and she carries on saying I just need to keep up so I get the idea she's starting to get fed up and wants the days walking to be over. I try to stay positive and say nice things to take her mind off it. It doesn't work that well but she appreciates the effort...so far. 

Overhead a group of three birds hover and circle and I wonder if they are the ones the signs refer to and keep a wary eye on them. They swoop low overhead but don't look to be interested in us, though I still glance behind me every now and then in case they are about to swoop down for a sneak attack. 

There are also small pools around the valley that are covered in a weird oily substance, giving them a shiny surface and the appearance of bottomless pits from afar. I've no idea what it is that covers them but it looks pretty interesting. We've noticed through the day at other points as well lots of pools with what looked like volcanic rock making them look almost rusty and it's no small wonder film companies want to come to these remote shores to make their movies. 

We reach the other side of the valley and I'm still hopeful we'll make a left turn soon up to the waterfall we saw earlier but alas it's not forthcoming and we have to continue to trudge through the forest. 

Jess is becoming increasingly irritable. She's not directing it at me but I want to do my best to make her feel better so hide behind a tree and pull a stupid face. It's not the sort of thing she wants to see right now but it distracts her for a moment which is nearly as good. I try to just keep her talking but she's not particularly interested so I just keep babbling my inane malarkey at her which seems to do the job partially as she hasn't yet told me to shut up. To be honest if it was the other way around I would have told me to shut up. 

I suggest we sit down for a few minutes to catch our breath and just have a rest. The time is wearing on and sunset will be soon so I want to keep that in mind but it's not worth exacerbating the situation too much more and a rest can usually provide quite a big boost. Jess says she just wants to get it over and done with and continues. A few minutes later I suggest it again and she still carries on. She looks like she is getting more and more angry, at the situation rather than me so I want to help out. I eventually just grab her by the shoulders and say that I want a break, that she needs one too, and force her to sit down. 

She tells me she didn't want to sit down because getting up just makes starting again all the more harder. I say that will be the case for thirty seconds but then it will feel a bit nicer and she'll feel all the more better. I even go as far to promise she'll feel better after a short rest and inwardly hope I won't regret it later. 

We're sitting on a log and she has her head on her knees so I gently pull her legs out to stretch them so that she isn't just sitting down and still putting all her weight on her feet. That kind of defeats the purpose a bit. After a couple of minutes she relaxes a bit, I give her a hug and she evens manages to muster a smile. I make her eat another muesli bar even though she doesn't want to, to stave off the imminent crash. She's not happy about it but manages to eat it anyway. 

At this point we notice the Kiwi holes again. At this point I realise I'm a complete idiot. At this point I realise that the holes are make from peoples walking poles rather than Kiwi's. I point it out to Jess and she gives me a tired smile which I somehow manage to coax into a laugh. 

We give it a couple more minutes then decide to carry on. Thankfully it has boosted her spirits. Just by stopping a monotonous trudge and not staring at your feet and the underbrush never-endingly can be a welcome change and it seems to have done the trick here. 

I consider checking the GPS to get a rough idea how far away we are but decide against it as we were wanting not to pore over those stats and it's not going to get us there any quicker. Only thing to do now is carry on. I am a bit nervous about the dusk though as I can see the forest is starting to get almost dark now. I'm not too sure how far away we are, though I suspect and hope we're not too far. 

A few minutes later I see something through the trees that looks like a window. I don't want to say anything when Jess is mentally probably fairly close to a breaking point and especially after being wrong last time, but two or three minutes later I can tell it's definitely a hut and point it out. She lets out a huge pent up gasp of breath once again and I give her a hug. 

We've got through the day without any arguing and it's been a considerably tough one as well having done a two day trek in one, only just making it in time with the sun setting behind us now. We step up to the outside decking, kick our shoes off and go inside. 

The first room we walk into is one of the bunkrooms. Most of the good spots to sleep are taken but it's separated into sets of three bunks with their own semi-walled off areas and another level above them. Somewhere around twenty five to thirty bunks in total. At the back of the room we find one of these bay that no one has taken yet so are able to have three to ourselves. Unfortunately they're the top bunks so there is a ladder we have to climb to get up there. Oh well, needs must and all that. We throw our stuff up there and just as we are about to climb up the park ranger comes in and says hi. He's a particularly happy fellow and I must say it's infectious. He asks for our tickets, I hand them over and he asks what section we've done and comments on quite a nice day we've had for it. 

He offers us a tour so we all toddle over to the other half of the building to the mess room. He points out the gas cookers and shows us how to use them. I realise we forgot matches although it looks like there are some there thankfully. 

He tells us where the lake is and suggests we go jump in as it's quite good for sore muscles. Although a bit of a shock to the system. Jess looks like she wants to kill this man so I light heartedly decline. We thank him for the genuinely enthusiastic hospitality and go back to the bunkroom to get ourselves sorted. I unload some of my bag to try to make sure anything I might need in the night is there, we set up our sleeping bags and head out to make dinner. 

Tonight we have the choice of either freeze dried honey soy chicken or freeze dried beef bourguignon. Topped off with a nice pouch of microwaveable rice as we had more muesli bars than we were supposed to through the day but no rice which we were supposed to have for lunch. We opt for beef and look at the instructions. It's pretty simple. Heat water. Pour into bag. Leave to 'simmer' for six minutes then open it up and pour in the flavouring. Mix away and you're done. 

We try our first bit and it's...actually pretty nice. Quite a rich flavour but definitely palatable. We've still only got the one trusty fork so we take turns at a couple of mouthfuls each. It disappears pretty quickly and I don't think either of us realised quite how hungry we were. There's even a little sack of mash that goes down a right treat. 

Now to make the rice. Not quite as well engineered for this sort of thing, more for microwaving. Never one to turn down a challenge I decide to throw a little Kiwi ingenuity it's way and see what I can boss up. I figure we can go for the same approach of pouring some water in the bag and leaving it for a few minutes to heat into the rice and voila...Uncle Bens egg fried rice at the ready. 

We wait in anticipation. We ogle this specimen to see if it's going to work. I take a tester morsel, one slender grain out of the packet. It's still solid. No problem. We can just throw some more boiling water in. I take our friend Mrs Metalmug back to the stove, fill 'er up and soon enough there's plenty more water in that sack o' rice. 

We wait another few minutes, staring hungrily then decide to tuck in. There's quite a lot of newly flavoured water at the top but no matter we stick our fork in past that and trench up a steaming forkful. Jess gets the first lucky bite...and nearly spits it back out. She pulls a face like a wet cat chewing peanut butter and hands me the fork. Puzzled, I take a punt. 

Oh my god this is the most disgusting thing I've ever put in my mouth. It tastes like Danny de Vito farted on a headless chicken then left it to ferment for six weeks. This thing is an abomination. Kiwi ingenuity my arse. I want to cry. I look back into the pouch forlornly. All I can see is boiled water with a slightly yellowish tinge. I know that underneath that putrefied water lies a horror no man or woman should ever have to know. 

Unfortunately though, getting rid of it is not an option. We've brought exactly the right amount of food for the three days this hike is likely to take. I close my eyes, think of a field of daffodils and a plate of meat and two veg and hope beyond any fathomable reason that the steamy broth gets a little better. I pick up the pouch and delicately take a swig. 

Nope, still tastes like a dead hedgehog. I pass it over to Jess, still reeling from her last encounter with this monstrosity, who tentatively takes a swig and pulls another face not quite as bad but still as if she needs an exorcism. In reality the likelihood is that she's going to give me an exorcism this evening as only a child of Satan could create something so soul destroying after such a hard day. 

We each take a few more swigs and temper them with some forkfuls of the mushy-on-the-outside, solid-on-the-inside grains-of-melee attacking us from below the surface. After a minute or two's breather we muster up the strength to carry on trooping. 

I tell her in a loud voice it's yum and she can't help herself. A small giggle creeps out, which starts me off and soon enough we're both laughing so hard we can't eat anything at all. After such a long day we've both got a lot of pent up energy natural for this sort of thing and it just all comes out; laughing and falling about ourselves into this disgusting sack of rice. 

So do we finish it? Sadly, yes. We can't afford to throw away the nutrients but if had we brought even one spare bit of food this would have been in the lake as quick as we could blink. Actually scratch that, that might have a detrimental effect on the marine life so I think it would be best buried away from any risk of harming the local fauna. It's a struggle but eventually we lick our lips at the end of our frankly disastrous dinner then think ahead in wonderment at how the hell we're going to get through breakfast which is, yup you guessed it, a nice old sack of rice each. 

After that lovely sojourn into the realms of evil we decide to go to bed for the night. The ranger has told us it you listen careful you can hear the local Kiwis (the actual bird not the people named after them). He even demonstrated a mangled screech which took us by surprise but at least we know what to listen for. 

This is the opposite of the face she pulled...

We brush our teeth to get rid of the awful taste and climb up to our bunks. It's a bit tricky to get to sleep having had such a long day and in anticipation of the mountains tomorrow but we manage it eventually. In the middle of the night I wake up, as does Jess and she needs the toilet so I join her. She asks if I've heard the Kiwis and I confess I've not. 

It's freezing here in the middle of the night. When standing only in your undies it's antarctic but soon enough we're back in bed. Well, I am anyway. When Jess tries to climb back into her sleeping bag something seems to go wrong and she spends about fifteen minutes rustling about in there. It sounds like a helicopter taking off and I've no idea what's going on but eventually she sorts out what she's doing and we have peace again. 

After a while we get back to sleep. I'm so knackered I forget to even listen for the Kiwis. 

Now for day two...

Here's the GPS tracking if you're interested: