Shaz reports…

Mueller hut had been on my bucket list for several years. I was pretty run down from caring for Bob and working fulltime from home and I thought some “me time” in the form of an adventure would be a good idea.

Since I’d be walking solo I wanted a route that would be popular with enough passing traffic should something go wrong - and in the not too easy and not too hard category. Mueller Hut ticked the boxes and I chose the tail end of the season when I hoped it would be both cooler and less crowded.

Book hut tickets - tick. Book respite care for Bob - tick. Book a spot in the kennels for Shanti - tick.

Train and get fit… hmmm. Well, there wasn’t much time for that, and somehow I convinced myself that 5km up a local bump (the closest hill, which isn’t really a hill) would suffice. Or put another way - it had to suffice.

Bob went into respite care a few days before I left to give me time to pack and panic. Bob usually went downhill in care, imagining all sorts of things that couldn’t really be happening. These hallucinations got worse over time. This was one of the earlier episodes and not as severe, but let’s just say that respite care for Bob never worked out as respite for me.

The situation was complicated by the fact that Bob really wanted to do the trip with me - but obviously (well, obvious to anyone except Bob) since he couldn’t walk 500m, he couldn’t do a hike in the mountains…

I was even more frazzled by the time I had my gear in the car and was heading off to Mt Cook Village. I arrived in the evening as planned, picked a spot in the car park and hopped into my sleeping bag for a restless night.

The honking calls of some amorous geese got me up early to a grey and misty dawn that quickly settled into a determined drizzle. I was not impressed, but as it turns out it was probably a good thing. If I had seen the track and where I was supposed to go I’m pretty sure I would have turned tail. 

You wind through a valley and soon find yourself climbing 2,001 steps. Someone with a sick sense of humour thought it was a good idea to let you know how you are doing…

Huffing and puffing my way up I quickly realised just how unfit I was, and I was regretting carrying a second, heavier camera and a few other unnecessary items. A few people passed me on the way up before I reached Sealy Tarn. Then nobody. An endless stretch of nobody but me and my thoughts - and Bob phoning what felt like every 30 minutes to check up on me.

Once the stairs end you’re almost at Sealy Tarn - which is about two-thirds of the climb and half the distance you need to cover. The track gets a little harder and rougher from the tarn

The rain eased, but the mist hung around. It made finding the path through the rocky sections really difficult. Especially with nobody as back up. I sat down cried once or twice wondering if I should turn back, then when I took a few steps forward again one of those marker poles would mysteriously come into view and on I would go.

By the time I reached the last rocky stretch before Mueller Hut comes into view I was in a bad way. My legs were shaking with fatigue and it was hard to walk, but it was too cold to stop and rest. I could only guess (and hope) that I was as close to the hut as I hoped. And thankfully I was.

At that point some young, fit hikers overtook me… so I put my brave face back on and kept going. It was a great relief to see the hut appear in the mist.

I secured a bunk spot, trying to spread myself out in the hopes of claiming more space - but to no avail. The hut was fully booked for the night.

I had a rest and then went for a stroll to the escarpment edge for the view and best access to cellphone reception to report in and let Bob know I was safe.

The best decision of that trip was to book two nights in the hut. Not only because the rest day was very welcome for my extremely stiff and sore legs, but also because the mist only cleared late in the morning - after most people had left to head back. And along with the views the kea came to visit.

I had a wonderful day taking photos of the glacier across the valley, catching an avalanche on film, and spending time with the kea who would hop onto the rocks I was sitting on and get up to kea antics - and, for the afternoon, gently exploring.

Night two was also fully booked in the hut, but I was able to secure a better-placed bunk. Another score!

The sunset and moonlit vistas on the second night were other highlights.

The trip down on very sore legs was also hard, but not nearly as hard as the walk up. When I saw the route I’d come up I knew why my legs were sore! It was a clear, super-hot day and I passed a lot of day walkers and overnight trampers on their way up. I could only admire them for tacking this ascent on a hot day.

I got back down sore and elated - but also a lot more aware of how unfit I’d become over the last 18 months.

I can’t say I felt rested. If anything I felt worse off for my adventure. I should have opted for something relaxing and pampering to help me rest and recover, rather than a solo trip for which I was physically ill-prepared. Still, I’m glad I had the adventure.