Time: 3 hours and 45 minutes (including dilly dallying and a 30 minute lunch stop)
Distance: 12 km
Starts: D.O.C. car park on Harper Road in between Lake Evelyn and Lake Selfe.
The Rakaia Valley and Lake Coleridge Area have been formed by millions of years of glacial advance and retreat - carving out a strange landscape of hollows (lakes) and mounds (mountains).
The Ryton Track runs around the base of Mt Ida starting at Lake Evelyn, bypassing Lake Ida and continuing on to Lake Catherine. This walk is "fucking stunning" as my sister put it when she saw the photos. And yes, that is a fair description I reckon. So definitely pop this wee Cantabrian gem on your to-do list. Choose a nice day and be prepared to get wet feet. Take a polarfleece, windbreaker, gloves and togs. Don't forget the sunscreen.
It was a 1 hour and 45 minute drive from Haswell, via well graveled shingle roads to a small car park with D.O.C. signage in between Lake Selfe and Lake Evelyn. Lake Selfe is an intense glacial blue with the snowy peaks of the Southern Alps in the distance. A photographers dream.
A fresh breeze was blowing with a decent bite to it. We donned down jackets and with cameras poised, set off up the track which weaved its way through the matagouri/tumatakuru schrubland and sidled around Little Mt. Ida. About 10 minutes later we were in the shelter of the mountain with the sun streaming down. We shed the layers and put on sun hats.
After about 40 minutes we descended past the pines to Lake Ida. A superbly picturesque spot with the defunct Lake Ida Lodge perched on the shore. This was once a "go to" place for ice skating and curling. These days it seems there are still some hardcore enthusiasts out there. Defying Global Warming. You can read about their nutty escapades at Ardwoolf Natural Ice Reports.
We crossed over the lake on the thin 'dam' of stones. The Nor' Westerly was strong at this point and small waves were breaking over the rocks. There was nothing for it but to get wet feet. The water was surprisingly warm. I had brought my togs but yeah nah.
From Lake Ida onward, the track got kind of interesting and we went unintentionally off-piste multiple times. The was partly because we were chatting and also because we had wandered along the farm road instead of following the poles. Actually, the track marker poles were haphazard and not entirely reliable. We could see one down by the river and so we descended to make the crossing (we actually should have stayed on the track at this point).
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| Matagouri/tumatakuru |
The river was crystal clear but flowing fast and was deeper than expected (waist height if you fell in). We dilly dallied about and ended up making a dodgy leap of faith over a narrow bit. Nicole unexpectedly went first and I had no choice but to follow. The other side of the river was swampy and the track had been mostly washed away from the recent flooding. We squelched over the field past the hut and arrived at Lake Catherine. You can't really get to the lake shore here because of the rushes in the shallows but we went a little around the corner and up onto a mound. A lunch spot where the views were fabulous.
The return journey felt faster. Less dilly dallying. We crossed the river at a better point closer to the lake (marked by a pole) where there was a plank of wood strung across two rocks as a makeshift bridge. It was tilted at an angle and so we shimmied across precariously.
We watched a deer bounding up the steep face of Mt. Ida, then dipped our toes once again in the Lake for the crossing. We peeked inside the Lodge (derelict) and then squelched on back to the car park, enjoying the scenery.
We drove back down the shingle road leaving a trail of dust but came to a sudden halt at Lake Georgina. Two crested grebes were swimming about. We could hardly believe our luck! Crested Grebes are on my list of "birds I would like to see". I may even rate them now as my third favourite bird (after the Royal Spoonbill and the Black-backed gull).
We continued on - well overdue for a shot of caffeine. We zipped past Windwhistle and Dunsandel and pulled up at the Hororata Cafe. Famous for its pies. We drank fabulous coffee and ate stodgy food ("quantity rather than quality"). We pondered: why are the lakes all named after chicks? Evelyn, Ida, Catherine and Georgina. There was even a Henriette further up the valley. And who was Selfe? When I got home I searched the internet high and low. To no avail.
