It’s hard to gain perspective in the hectic pace of urban life with its soundtrack of background noise. To escape the auditory assault on our senses, friends and I headed into a quiet corner of Nelson Lakes National Park.

We began our trip through luxuriant beech forest on the Loop Track in Kerr Bay. Below us, as we climbed the zig-zag trail to the bushline, the annual Antique and Classic Boat Show was in full swing on Lake Rotoiti, the water bustling with tiny dinghies, yachts, launches, canoes and motorboats.

We turned our backs on the parade and climbed to Parachute Rocks, where the calendar-worthy spectacle spread out beneath us: the familiar profile of Mt Robert, the diminutive bridge at the outlet of the Buller River.

After four hours we had reached the rarefied air on the ridgeline, high above the discordant cacophony 1000m below.
Then the air force arrived. Four jets in tight formation made a low pass over excited spectators, smoke streaming from their tails. If we were to enjoy peaceful mountain quietude, we would need to travel a bit further.

We tip-toed southward on the undulating razorback ridgeline that divides Marlborough from Nelson, a balancing act that required careful foot placement but nothing too exposed or scrambly.

At the saddle beyond Pt1787m, we turned left, descended scree and sidled through tussock to reach the giant tarn that feeds Rough Creek – truly a diamond in the rough. Our lake was a mirror reflecting wild mountain grandeur under a vast blue dome. 

Suitable tent sites were found, the billy was boiled, and as we dined together I pondered on how a tramping party of four is the perfect number to engage in meaningful conversations. 

As the sun sank below the ridge and shadows lengthened, there was not a breath of wind. The silence was glorious.