A Lunchtime Friend

The setting: Nelson Lakes National Park, on the South Island of New
Zealand. Spectacular scenery, with alpine slopes accented by beech trees.
The forest sounds alive with unusual sounds for someone from North
America - not a single bird is familiar. No small mammals are seen
scurrying either - squirrels and chipmunks, and for that matter, any
other mammal, are not native to the country (well, except a couple of
bats). But ever present are sounds of streams and brooks; it has been a
very wet season so far, and the streams are swollen and many of the
trails are mud paths, not dirt paths.

I have been managing to stay very dry. My past experiences in Hawaii and
Ecuador, in 2007, have both given me the knowledge I need on how to gear
and dress properly for these conditions. Proper rain gear has been worth
its weight in gold. So in spite of the perpetual mist and rain, and very
wet trails, I am comfortable.

I came into the National Park from St. Arnaud on the 29th of December.
The plan was to get to the head of the lake and camp, and then cross the
feeder river to the other side of the lake and make my way up the
mountain side to a hut at the edge of the tree line. From there, I would
head up a route (unmarked trail) across the ridge, and make my way across
the anticipated gorgeous alpine scenery to the next hut - situated near a
lake - to spend my New Year's Eve. With whatever company I found up
there.

With many things, the best laid plans often go awry. The rain! Oh, the
rain! And the long break from doing any kind of tramp, meant that the
first day - though I remained dry - took longer than expected to go the 8
kilometers to a hut, where I had planned to stop for lunch. Which turned
into an all afternoon affair, waiting for the rain to perhaps let up.
Which it did, but not until about an hour before sunset. I decided to
improvise, and stayed at the hut instead of going further. I got some
inquiries from the locals on how I managed to stay dry, and we all
swapped stories about the trip in.

I consulted with a ranger familiar with the park about some alternate
plans for my trip. The weather forecast for the high altitude was not
good for the next 24 hours, but after that it was supposed to clear
fantastically, with calm winds even at the high altitudes. After
modifying my plan, the next day I would head to a hut, at the base of a
route across an alpine ridge - a different one from my original plan.

And so we come to one of my best wildlife experiences ever. It's
somewhere in the top 10...

So, I awaken the next day, to beautiful clear skies and fantastic
mountain views. I bid good bye to many of the people I met at the hut,
and venture on to my destination - Hopeless Hut, at the base of an alpine
route, which will take me across the ridge to more fantasticness. But
prior to getting there, I will enjoy a lake side walk, this time in the
sun. Followed by a streamside walk, bridge to cross said stream, more
streamside hiking, and then up a hillside, following a mountain stream up
to the hut. Not overly ambitious, and so I amble - not hike, not tramp,
just amble - along the trail soaking it all in!

I can't hike all day without sustenance, so by mid-day, I start looking
for a good place to plop down and enjoy a lunch. I pack light, high
calorie foods, so though I don't have much to eat (peanut butter and
crackers), I do rather enjoy taking an actual break and resting while I
eat.

I find my spot. As I approach, I notice two robins hopping around in the
understory nearby, and decide how nice, dining companions! I have
encountered this species before in a few places, and I admire their
cheekiness. We had them on the hut's porch the evening before. And I've
seen them on my day hikes in a few areas. Very personable birds. I was
about to find out how much so.

I set down my pack, and open it to get at my food. And the birds come
ever closer. Okaaaay, I think, this is new. And find a nice place to sit
down. I'm in my rain gear, so in spite of the damp (well, let's face it,
sopping wet!) ground, I stay dry. And open my lunch items and settle in,
watching the birds. Who had hopped a little bit away as I settled in.
Then, apparently, curiosity got the best of them.

Hop. Closer one comes.

Hop. And still closer. And then...

Hop! Onto my boot! Onto my knee! Under my legs! Over my legs! behind my
head! over my head! on my boot again! back and forth, all around me! I
hold fairly still, then start to move slowly, to see how they might
respond. And they don't seem to mind. And so, I dine, watching the birds,
as I enjoy my lunch.

And decide, THIS is why all the hiking and travel and improvised plans
are worth it.This happened on December 30, 2010.