Friday, March 04, 2016
Coincidentally the French(Belgians?) and I both got up at 6:00 AM, making us the best of roommates – almost. One of them snored and had a comically loud air mattress. I once received a complaint about my Thermarest Neoair, but his mattress sounded like a thunderstorm. I have no idea what it was made of – possibly tin foil and packing peanuts.
Thinking the light would be best in the morning, my goal was to climb Mt. Ossa before noon. I left the hut first, but the French(Belgians?) soon passed me in the forest. We reunited at Pelion Gap, where the Mt. Ossa side trail begins, and while they discussed which items to carry up the mountain, I set to work constructing a daypack from a dry sack, my rain jacket and a piece of paracord. A trail maintenance worker arrived and asked what I was doing. I showed him and said ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’. He said ‘it will get you there and back’. Such a lukewarm reaction…
The Mt. Ossa trail began with a steep climb, then levelled out for awhile before changing to a mix of steep trail and scree. Trail markers with arrows offered some guidance through the scree. Near the summit I got off-course, confused by how a clear trail extended in one direction but an arrow pointed in another, and ended up scrambling up a rock shaft. I would normally have been scared, but on this occasion I was too filled with anger at Tour Guide A since he had told me the ascent was just a walk. I was just thinking ‘Screw you, Australian. Screwyouscrewyouscrewyouscrewyouetc.’. A few minutes after reaching the top of the shaft, I saw the other route. Well, whatever. Whatever forever. Continuing the slog, I encountered the French(Belgians?) descending. They told me the climb was worth it, which it definitely was! Clear, gorgeous views in all directions from the summit.
There were a few small ponds up there as well.
I stayed for about an hour before heading down, passing the Belgians, another pair who had made the same error as me with the route, and Ontario Guy. The trail wound through open and forested country to Kia Ora Hut.
I didn’t realize how knackered I was until I spent forty-five minutes pitching my tent and let my pot boil over twice while making one and a half dinners. The huts have journals where people can write random things and, as of March 2016, Kia Ora’s is the funniest. It includes a saga about possums being able to open the hut door (they steal human food if they can) and way too many entries by a guy named Jack trying to get a girlfriend on Facebook. Move it along, Jack.