Return of the Goon

OUTC returns to Welcome Flat Hut and the coast again, what on earth happened this time??

There had been a big build up to Copland this year, we had been planning for weeks, I couldn’t even sleep the night before. Dan, Jacob and I cruised past OUSA to the sight of 48 punters all kitted up and ready to go. There was a lively chatter throughout the bus once we were under way. The vibes were chill, the most exciting thing till Wanaka was the infamous talking toilets of Roxborough. It was once we got out of Wanaka that the trip really kicked into gear. As the bus moved away from the Wanaka liquor store I emerged from the on-board toilet, clad in kilt, tweed and not much else.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time in that kilt, other than the awkwardness of getting over fences without letting a bullock out. We did a few photo stops by the central lakes before the first dip of the trip at Blue Pools. Participation was high, although I think the definition of skinny dipping was stretched a bit by some. The water was refreshing, if not ball crushingly cold.

The retreat was signaled as the swimmers recovered from mild hyperthermia. There was one last stop at Thunder creek falls before we lost the light, everyone settled into their seats for the long haul to Lake Paringa. I was relieved to escape from the bus when we finally got there, many life stories shred later. I made full use of punter power to get the flys erected, even if this resulted in a haphazard construction. Meanwhile the rest of the punters were busily hurrying around preparing dinners of all shapes and sizes. I stood watching in true delagotory style. The cooker curiously appeared to be sinking, I wondered if maybe I should go easy on the beers. It was then that Christian exclaimed that the cooker was making quick work melting through the plastic table. Ah fuck. If we disregard that minor glitch my punters did an excellent job with the fry up I had planned. I’m just glad I didn’t have to clean that egg pot. Fed and tired it was time for bed. Being the experienced soul that I am, I choose to crash under the middle of the fly, nice and cosy with punters either side to shield me from the elements.

The next morning was punctuated by moans of how cold the night was, I really didn’t know what those whiners were on about. A big vat of porridge was cooked up and the punters were happily fed, along with a good brew of tea. When the porridge pot was emptied and there were still mouths to feed I was forced to think my feet. This was the genesis of the tea porridge hybrid, and I’m happy to report there were no complaints about it. Packs were squished, cookers were jammed and the lockers were closed (just).

Annie took the punters for some quick warm up aerobics when we reached the trail head. This gave Jacob, Dan and I time to faff around frantically sorting out what our plan was. During our frantic planning the punters marched off into the distance, only to be halted by an ankle deep river around the corner. Planning sussed I raced after the wild mob of punters before assuming my role as the vanguard on the group.

Sam: “Can you be tail end charlie Ruby?”.

Ruby: “Who’s Charlie?”.

I had the pleasure of Faolan and Mia for company as I ploughed ahead at the front. At one point we turned a bend in the track to discover a Swiss man butchering a Chammy carcass. The man explained that Chamois come from Switzerland, to which Faolan honestly replied “did you bring it with you?”. We had lunch at the lookout over the convalescence of the Karangarua and Copland rivers. As we ate a rather weary Dan came into view, complaining about barely being able to walk. I put this down to the 7kg ‘orgy’ tent that he insisted on carrying. Being the kind soul that I am I took his gin off his hands before the vanguard headed off on our way. We got to Welcome Flat Hut at around four in the evening, followed by a slow trickle of punters. It would have been rude to waste hot pool time so we slinked down to the water, wine in hand. As darkness descended I went back to the hut to give the tail-end Charlie, Jacob, a call on the radio to make sure he wasn’t dead. I was surprised when I got actually got reply, from none other than a rather shattered sounding Jacob. He requested a porter and since I couldn’t find any other volunteers, it was I, the slightly tipsy Sam, that ended up making the 10 minute run through the darkness back to the bridge to assist. As it turned out Dan was even more shattered than Jacob, although in Jacob’s defence he had tried his best to fall through a bridge. I shouldered Dan’s pack and we all shuffled down the track to the hut. I reached the hut for the second time just as the hut warden was giving her briefing. The next thing on the agenda after that was dinner. I had planned some pasta dish but with no thought as to how it should be assembled. This I left to the others and they somehow managed to pull the mish-mash of ingredients together into something resembling food. No sooner had the last pasta spiral left my plate my feet were heading off towards the hotpools. I embraced the scolding muddy waters, my aching body relaxing into its depths.

Everyone was very eager to lighten their packs for the next day so the alcohol flowed freely. I gave massages in the vain hope that my knotted shoulders might get one in return. Alas I can not remember if they had that pleasure. What I can remember was Jacob splashing me and I getting water in my eye and an ear full of mud. Delightful.

The advantage to having an ear full of mud is that you can’t hear the snoring in the bunkroom. The disadvantage is that you have an ear full of mud. After excavating what I could I headed back to the pool to make the most of the experience. There were a few others down there, some of which hadn’t faired so well the night before and had ended up in bed early. These sorry sods eventually listened to their stomachs and trickled off back to the hut in search of food, the result of which being I had the hotpool all to myself. I enjoyed the serenity, and let myself space out whilst also trying not to fall asleep and drown. When I eventually did drag myself out of the pool and back to the hut, everyone was happily making breakfast, a chore I happily left to them. We managed to get the slow pokes out in drips and drabs and soon enough it was only Kiwi’s left at the hut, all willing to lend a hand and pitch in on the clean up. I had made the most of punter power by tying rubbish bags to punters’ packs so there was little left to carry out once we finally came to leave.

We formed a tight pack as we trucked along at great pace. When we reached Architect creek my legs got an itch, not helped by the large queue of punters waiting to cross the bridge. Figuring that there must be some perks to being a trip leader, I excused myself past those waiting, much to their collective annoyance. Lachie joined me and from there we went for a light jog which devolved into a fast walk as our enthusiasm drained. The theory was we could come back and help the stragglers if need be. As we powered onward the life preserver that I had so diligently carried with me on my back would occasionally get caught, causing break-neck whiplash. Surprisingly despite that I managed to get back to the bus with my neck intact. Jacob greeted us on our arrival, looking rather drained but elated to be able to put his feet up. We had all intention of going back to help but the thought became more distant as we let ourselves relax in the comfort of the bus. Whilst we were doing this the radio crackled to life with Dan saying that the back were doing fine. With this I put all thought of mounting an aid mission out of my head and instead cranked open a beer ready to welcome the stragglers. It only took an hour or two for everyone to be safely on the bus and soon enough we were on our way to our accommodation for the night in Franz Josef.

At the hostel we were briefed before we all dispersed in search of showers and food. Calling the leader card again I called first dibs on the shower. This was lucky, considering the hot water lasted about as long as silence in a room with Dan. While the foreign punters all went off to buy dinner at tourist prices I remembered the stash of food from Lake Paringa under the bus. I tentatively asked a few people if they wished to partake in my leftover feast. As if by magic Kiwi’s began appearing in the kitchen, following rumors of a free feed. I didn’t complain as what followed was a seamless operation of military precision. The food was cooked, the meal was eaten and the dishes washed without me so much as organizing anything. With the meal done (and some Asian tourist’s table serenity well and truly ruined) it was decided that it was time to investigate the bar.

It would have been rude not to have a beer or two. Ben challenged me to a game of pool and I tried my best to look confident whilst losing miserably. Punters were clustered around the bar in groups, to which I drifted around in search of intelligent conversation. I was rather confused when someone offered me the bacon out of their Caesar salad, leaving them with just lettuce and cheese (??!). As the night progressed Jacob got to know the barman and the bottom of a pint well, with his calls growing more marginal by the minute. The notable absentee from the Kiwi cluster was Lachie, I discovered later that night that he had made the questionable decision to use Tinder in Franz and had matched with the one other user in the district. This was much to the bereavement of the others in his room who were forced out of their room till the wee hours of the morning. As the night drew on we all gathered together and formed a rave, which was continued till the late hour of 11pm, at which time we were all knackered and falling asleep on the dance floor.

The Rainforest Retreat sure put on a good spread for breakfast the next morning, including REAL butter. I was in heaven. With time we managed to get our rag tag mob of punters fed, after which they shuffled their tired frames towards the bus. As if by magic the bus loaded itself without the punters having to do a thing (cheers Ben). With business settled we trucked off to see a glacier or something. I am happy to report we lost no punters down the potentially very deadly cliff at the lookout. Perhaps it was the punters that we should have been worried about me, as we decided freshen up the boring tourist walk with some classy cups of wine. Didn’t put that on the RAMS form.

Franz was our pitstop for lunch before we were once again on the road, now heading in the direction of the Mahinapua Hotel. This drive should have been boring, except for the fact that a good number of folk had decided that it would be a good opportunity to predrink for the night ahead. The result of this being a busload of very tipsy punters spilling out in every direction when we reached our destination. We used the sheep dogs to get the flock back into shape and after yet another briefing (almost like people are worried about students?) everyone unloaded the bus and started exploring. For me this took the form of a quick look at the lake (it looked like a lake), the sea (it looked rather like the sea as I remembered it). With my curiosity satisfied it was time to call the mob together for a tasteful group nuddy shot. The cold water licking at my loins resulted in me making a beeline to the spa tub after our shoot was completed. Of course this accelerated the effects of alcohol on my system and made me very tired. Dinner was served (delicious) and the party started. In the meantime I went back to my room to grab something and somehow ended up asleep in a heap for an hour. I awoke in a rush wondering if I had slept through everything. I doned my outfit, grabbed my sax and opened the door. Jacob was standing outside wondering where I was. We proceeded to the bar where I let the sweet subtle harmonies of George Micheals Careless Whispers flow amid the electronica.

The rest of the night followed a rather repetitive formula: Find girl to dance with, spin her round, get tired, go outside for some air to stop sweating, repeat. I did at some point try and find the glow worms but alas they managed to evade me. I can’t really blame them, as by this point I was waltzing around half-naked wearing a sailor hat and suspenders. Terrifying. By all accounts my night was very tame, at least compared to some of the other stories I heard coming out of the woodwork the next day. To cap off the night I managed to save two damsels in distress who had been locked out of their room. They set up in one of the spare beds in my room with my sleeping bag whilst I relied on my fur coat for warmth.

The next morning was a little chilly, and having no sleeping bag there was little incentive to stay in bed. I attempted to cure the lingering grogginess with the spa and a bottle of water. As the morning grew old punters emerged from all sorts of nooks and crannys in varying states of disrepair. It was only when the smell of bacon wafted across the courtyard that I managed to pull myself from the spa. With full bellies the punters then filed onto the bus, which again magically loaded itself (cheers ben). Everyone made themselves comfortable for the long (or expectantly short) 5 minute drive to Hokitika. The weather had decided it was sick of being nice and so the heavens opened, but this didn’t stop us intrepid trampers. I had been to Hoki before on my travels, so I gave Izzy and Ruby a scenic tour including such famous Hokitika landmarks as the driftwood sign and the visitors centre. Exhausted from all this activity we crashed at a cafe to chill out for the remainder of the hour. As our time dwindled I hoovered up the remainder of the girls food before we plodded back to the bus. I struggled to stay awake once back on the bus, luckily João, Julia and Annalies were there to entertain us all with short readings from 50 Shades of Grey. Jacob stopped the bus at Deadman’s Corner so we could all play in the freezing cold sleet at the viewing platform, much to the amusement of the local Kea. At the highest point on the pass we stopped again as the sleet had actually turned into heavy snow, providing ample photo opportunities. Not wishing to get my cotton shirt wet (cotton is rotten) I decided it was only fitting to leave it on the bus (after all, it isn’t hard to stay warm when you are one hair away from an Orangutan). Our mob frolicked happily in the snow, much to the bemusement of passing motorists.

Once my tits had frozen off, we got back underway. A short toilet stop in Arthurs Pass Village punctuated an otherwise uneventful, conversation and sleep (not for me, can’t miss a minute) filled ride to Geraldine. I kept Izzy awake with scintillating conversation about New Zealand’s unwritten constitution. Maybe this is why no one wants to go tramping with me? At Geraldine we made our last stop, for dinner. I went with a pack of punters to some Indian joint. This very nearly resulted in us all being left behind, as the food took so long to come out. It was a sprint back to the bus with a stomach full of curry, to face an unimpressed Jacob. From there I settled down next to Annalies to see if I could make small talk about something unrelated to the constitution of NZ. We cruised into Dunedin late that night, the bus filled with rounds of applause for Jacob, friend requests and a few regrets (What was that about 10% Lachie?).